#but no. my boss just gets us into one of the drinking tents set up by local bars and then we stand around for hours and hours | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

stevenbasic · 10 months

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GITJ Post 340: A Saturday at Melissa's. p15 (11:18 pm)

I was laying in Melissa’s lap, her hand idly stroking my hair as we were apparently waiting for someone to bring me a cup of milk. She wanted to settle my stomach before bed, and forgive me I was just so enthralled by this gorgeous young woman (and exhausted by my evening) that I didn’t complain at all. Yeah, it was emasculating, embarrassing, even infantilizing, the treatment I was receiving. Certainly it was not the actions and behavior a semi-successful, almost-middle-aged physician should be engaging in around his employees. This whole day - though for some reason I only seemed to remember bits and pieces of it, - was full of misbehavior. But,goddamnit, I’d had a tough couple months so I was, uh…allowing myself these indulgences. After my divorce, these young women were becoming my friends, my new, uh, social circle. Melissa was a simple girl, and I thought I should be able to enjoy the simple pleasures she could provide and the, um, benefits of my new friends. That’s, at least, what I was telling myself. In reality the memories of even just the last hour or so in Melissa’s bed made my skin crawl a bit. What had she just done with me?? I knew she was strong but…whoah.

Since I’d woken she’d cleaned me up, dutifully, using some of the wet wipes she kept in her side table. She’d allowed me to gather some sheets around myself, in a modesty that she would call silly. Someone was on their way up and the last thing they needed to see was their boss naked, right? Melissa was still in her thin white robe, pulled tight over her young, bulging chest.

It was Shanette that came in, finally, with mug of milk in a strangely familiar pink mug. She shut the door behind herself, the latch clicking softly. In a set of pink pajamas, decorated with red hearts, she looked our way and smiled warmly. “Are you guys ready?” she asked, and began to step towards us.

“Yes!!” Melissa sang, wriggling a bit in her seat against the headboard of her queen-sized bed. She adjusted me on her lap a bit, sitting me up a touch. I brought my hands down to the sheets, making sure I was still covered.

“I brought a nice warm cup of milk for youuuuu…!” Shanette cooed, in a little song herself that already began to indulge my deepest fantasies. Shanette, more than any of the others, embodied a maternal charm that struck some deep chords within me. They were notes so many women around me were learning to play, but Shanette knew the tune well already, and with her now being more than six feet tall at this point and built nearly as bosomy as Melissa, it made her music hard to ignore. She was, just like Melissa, a dream girl to men of this new generation, who all seemed eager to relax, regress and let mommy take over. What she and her new boyfriend did together? I shudder to think.

She handed the mug to me. It was warm, as if it had been heated for me and it read, “It’s Not Easy Being Queen” on its side…again something that jogged a memory. But I didn’t have too long to muse on Melissa’s Mom’s coffee mug collection before - one hand behind my head for support, the other under the mug - Melissa urged the milk towards my lips. Laying in her lap like I was, I was sort of in an awkward position to drink but she was here to help.

Mmmmmm it smelled nice, the warm milk, and once more a sense of deja vu hit me. I felt the sudden, unconscious urge to take a nice big drink opening my mouth wide only to be stymied before I could even get a taste.

“Little sips until it cools,” Melissa stopped me, hand taking hold of the mug from below.

“Yes hun don’t burn yourself,” Shanette agreed, looking down at us from the bedside. She and Melissa shared a glance, and it was only when I nodded in understanding that Melissa slowly released her hold on the cup.

More carefully, now, I put lips to rim, tilted the mug up, and took a tentative sip. Mmmmm wow, it tasted great. Like, somehow, just what I needed. A familiar taste, an unusual brand maybe, something with a particular type of sweetness. Immediately I wanted more. I looked up at Melissa. “I-it’s not that hot…” I said.

“Shhh,” Melissa said, her hand once again under the mug to help guide it, “Just be careful.” She let me take a sip, a drink, and then under her and Shanette’s dutiful gaze I braved a small gulp.

I spilled a bit.

“Tsk tsk,” came Melissa’s little scold, as she used the hem of her robe to dab my lips and chin. I shrank a bit in embarrassment in her lap as she took the mug in hand again.

“Do you want to help me feed it to him?” Melissa asked Shanette.

“Of course!”

“I-I’m okay..” I immediately protested, though Shanette had already begun to climb onto the bed anyway. First with one knee, then the other.

“Here why don’t we use this…” she suggested, reaching back and taking hold of the plastic straw in the old cup of milk on the nightstand leftover from last night. As she turned, twisting at the waist and causing her pajama top to bunch and tighten around her chest, I was able to appreciate the size of her big breasts. She turned back around, slid the straw into the mug of milk, and Melissa presented it to me again. I looked up at her.

“That’s right, sweetie,” Melissa urged, “Suck.”

“Suck?” I asked.

“Suck,” answered Shanette, crawling in closer to us and leaning in now, directing the straw to my lips. The little red hearts of her silken pajamas were right in front of my eyes, stretched tautly over twin swells. She was obviously braless, with the faintest hint of a nipple poking through the thin fabric. Cleavage of chocolate skin peeked out from her neckline, beckoning softly. Her buttons strained to contain her, gaps appearing between each of them with slivers of shadowed, deeper cleavage tempting me further. So much boob, but if I turned to my right I was faced with even more - Melissa’s enormous chest ballooned above me in her white robe.

And so I sucked, mmmmm, the warm milk through the straw, enjoying its creamy sweetness that tasted like a memory. When had I grown to like milk so much? Something you’ve taught me, I guess.

Suck, suck, suck. I pulled eagerly at my drink, cheeks collapsing around the straw in suction. With nowhere else to look my eyes drifted naturally from the chests of Shanette to Melissa and back again. Suck, suck, suck.

“There you go, that’s a good boy for Auntie Shanette,” Melissa would coo, when my eyes went forward to the stretched red hearts.

“…and for Melissa…” said Shanette, when I looked back and up.

“…for all of us, for me,” continued Melissa, “for your big mommy-girlfriend.”

At that, my eyes went wide, my mouth parting from around the straw. Shanette giggled, chest jiggling, and reached in to caress my cheek.

“Tell him, Missy,” she said.

Melissa giggled herself. “That’s what I want to be,” Melissa purred, fingers lazily caressing my hair, my scalp, the back of my head, “your mommy girlfriend. Do you know what that means?

“You do, don’t you?” Shanette queried. Yes, it was a common trope these days, one you read about frequently. Just a look at Urban Dictionary will tell you that a mommy-girlfriend is a woman that dates men who love being treated like an incapable child. These men are treated to home cooked meals, their clothes are bought or picked out for them, their rent is paid and food is served to them on a silver platter. When she gets home from work she uses her seemingly endless available time to listen to his problems and concerns and makes sure that her boy-man is taken care of. To me, it seemed that more and more women were desperate to find secure love and were happy providing this sort of affection to these immature men. Being fully supported and controlled by a woman can make a man feel safe, and in these weird times it’s probable that they’d never leave.

“I, uh, yeah…” I agreed, shamefacedly. Was this me? Was this her?

They both saw the confusion on my face. “I want to teach you how to accept it,” Melissa offered gently, “Shanette’s here to help.”

“Wh-wh-??” I tried, failing to really comprehend what was going on.

“Shhhh, hun,” Shanette stopped me, moving the straw back to my lips, “Drink up.”

And so, with a bit more anxiety forming on my brow, I set back to sucking. More milk, more warm milk filled my mouth and fed me sweetly. The girls, for their part, cooed and clucked down at me dreamily, surrounding me with their softness and entrancing perfumes. I knew Melissa and Shanette had been roommates in the past. Was this something they’d done before? With other men? Was this some sort of weird, intimate game of theirs?

“You’re getting close to done now, aren’t you sweetie?” Melissa asked, as the mug had grown light.

“I think he is,” answered Shanette.

“I think it’s so sexy,” continued Melissa, with a crinkled nose and dimpled smile, “watching you drink breastmilk.”

I sputtered, I goggled, I looked up at Shanette.

“Shhh shhh shh…it’s not hers..!” Melissa laughed. My eyes got even wider and shot up to her with even greater fear. “Or haha, omigod mine!”

Jesus!!! Her assurance brought me some thin relief that nonetheless quickly vaporized. What the actual fuck! What…whose…had I been drinking?!?

“It’s Katarina’s,” Melissa explained, voice calm, “And don’t worry, you’ve had some before…”

?!!? Gah what?!?!

“Don’t you remember?” Shanette giggled.

“N-n-no..!” I sputtered, “I honestly don’t!” But, wait…did I?

“You really liked it…”

“When did-?”

“Earlier tonight, sweetie,” Melissa continued patiently, “when you were a little out of sorts, you took a little taste.”

“From…?!?” Please don’t tell me that I…!

“...from a mug, this same one..!” Melissa laughed, “Don’t worry!”

“Lots of us did haha!” Shanette followed, “The girl makes enough to feed a whole family. We had to try it!”

”But, I have to say,” Melissa smiled, “you seemed the most eager, little man…”

“Oh my god…” What the?!!? What had come over me? Had I been drunk?? Why couldn’t I really recall-

“Maybe somebody took some video…”

“And Kat really liked seeing you drink it,” Shanette said, “All the other girls loved it too.”

”Especially me!” Melissa sang, joggling me on her lap, up and down, “It gives me so many fun ideas…” She giggled, she wiggled her chest at me.

I realized, laying there, how much I had become the shrunken recipient for all of their heightened maternal impulses, for all of these mommy-urges women were apparently getting everywhere. Yes, yes, this was the trend in the world, the hot new thing, and apparently I was becoming a victim of fashion. What the fuck was I supposed to do? It was, in the end, ridiculous but…jesus…so fucking hot.

Shanette and Melissa urged me to drink more.

“It’ll make you big and strong.”

“Or small and skinny.”

“Haha omigod shorter…”

“…weaker…”

“…tiny…”

“…just like we want you!! <giggle!>”

Oh, lord. Yes, they were just joking but goddddd. Suck suck suck. They were joking they were joking they were just joking but my heart beat red in my face.

Finally, I was done. The girls, apparently, were satisfied. Shanette took the mug, turned again to put it on the nightstand.

Melissa stroked my bare chest. ”So,” she asked me, “Bedtime?”

Before I could answer, though, Shanette had leaned in to whisper something to Melissa. Her eyes widened a moment later, and they both looked down at me and giggled.

What’s going on? “What’s going o-?”

Suddenly, I was forced silent as Melissa raised a finger to her lips and gave me a shushing motion from above, peering down at me in good humor. Good humor that made her eyes sparkle when she saw how easily she’d shushed me.

“Go brush your teeth,” she told me, already moving to help me sit up onto the mattress from her lap, “You can use the one in my bathroom.”

My eyes went wide again. “G-go brush my teeth? With y-your toothbrush?” I responded as I sat, repeating her instructions like a small child struggling with what he was told to do, simple as it was.

A brief laugh came from them then a bigger smile formed on Melissa’s face. “I would brush your teeth myself to make sure they’re cleaned properly,” she said, in her best house-frau voice, “but I’m holding back…for now.” She watched my face. Yes, I’m listening. “But you are to brush, floss and use mouthwash.”

“Ok, but…” I looked at Shanette, I looked down at myself, I looked across the room to where the bathroom lay. Then I looked back at Melissa. “I’m naked.”

The girls both giggled.

“It’s okay, hun,” Shanette offered, “I’ll close my eyes.” Mischief wrinkling her dimpled cheeks, she lowered her long-lashed lids and put her hands over her eyes.

“Now go. Scoot,” Melissa directed me, pulling back the sheets and exposing me as she pushed at my lower back from behind, “Go brush your teeth. It’s bedtime.”

Hopping off the mattress - god, my feet don’t even touch the floor - I jogged across the room towards Melissa’s en-suite bathroom, my half-thickened cock slapping awkwardly against my thighs.

“No peeking!” I heard Melissa scold her friend from behind me, and the two dissolved into frisky giggles.

Once in the bathroom I immediately grabbed a bath towel and wrapped it around my waist, and soon I had found her toothbrush, some toothpaste, and I was scrubbing away. It didn’t, strangely, strike me as too odd that I was using someone else’s toothbrush. Normally: yuck, right? But maybe after all I’d been through, this was just a small irregularity. In fact…can I taste you on it? It…it felt nice, using her brush.

Anyway, maybe because I thought they were watching me (they told me not to close the door) I felt extra motivated to do a good job. Brush brush brush, brush brush brush. And then - floss, floss, floss. I never flossed, but tonight I did. And then - garglegarglegargle - mouthwash! Haha, done.

I stepped back out of the bathroom, confident in my newly cleaned oral cavity, and froze. They were both kneeling on the bed, facing me, side by side. Shanette’s top was unbuttoned, Melissa’s robe undone. They were posing, enormous chests presented. I was just in a towel, and fuck I was getting hard again.

“Come here, baby,” Melissa cooed.

“We need to check…” said Shanette.

“… that you did a good job,” finished Melissa.

Slowly, I stepped towards them. They waited, each unmoving, and looked down at me when I found the mattress’ edge. It was like two impossibly built, statuesque genetic supergoddesses were gazing down from on high.

“Say ahhh!” Melissa instructed, taking my chin in hand.

I opened. “Ahhhhh….” I said, as wide as I could.

She inspected me, looking carefully into my mouth. “Do you want to see, Shanette?” She turned my head gently towards her friend.

“Ahhhhhhhh…”

Shanette nodded, also pleased. “Good job, honey.”

“Yes, good job,” Melissa agreed, “Now, are you ready to get some sleep?”

“I’m…uh…yes, ready.” Is she going to be sleeping with us?

Shanette's hand went to Melissa’s tit and she pressed her fingers into it, sinking them into soft flesh through the thin white robe. “Don’t worry hun, you’ll have her all to yourself,” she said, as Melissa giggled, “Your pillow is going to be so soft and so warm. It’ll support you just right.”

“I-I-I, uh…”

“It’ll help you nod off…”

“…and make sure you have sweet dreams all night,” Melissa continued. My eyes being clearly fixated on her left tit as it made even Shanette’s big hand look small only added to her amusement. But, she was now scootching backwards, and laying down in bed, onto her right side facing me, supporting her head with one hand. Her big breasts still bulged between the open flaps of her robe. “What kind of dreams do you want to have?”

“I bet he’s been having them already,” Shanette offered as she reached down to offer me her hand. I took it, and she helped me climb up into the tall bed.

“Maybe…” Melissa mused, watching me get settled next to her, as Shanette helped me lay, on my back, aside her. She saw that I had my hands crossed, awkwardly, on my chest, my head on a pillow and dwarfed by the boobs that looked just to my left. . “Do you, sweetie?” she asked, “Do you dream about me?”

Yes of course I do.

“Want to make those dreams come true?” Shanette said and then - getting a silent nod from Melissa - laid down on my other side, also facing me, also positioning her big soft breasts right next to my head.

I looked to my left: Melissa. I looked to my right: Shanette. Each way, all I could see was cleavage, bulging boob. Creamy, tanned. Chocolate, milky. Floral, vanilla, coconut perfumes and oils filled the warm air around my face.

Shanette also had her head supported by her hand, left elbow up on her pillow. “Does the little man need some boobie time?” she cooed.

“Shanette’s going to help me make your dreams come true,” Melissa said to me, “Just tell us what you want…”

They inched in closer to me.

Unable, now, to find the courage to do what they obviously wanted - to just turn to one of them and lose myself between their tits - I laid on my back and stared up at the ceiling. The lights were gentle.

“You look so shy, so insecure, so vulnerable…” Melissa said.

“I-I…I’m sorry…” I can’t help it.

“Shhhhh…” Shanette hushed, “…we love it.”

“We’ll protect you,” Melissa whispered.

“You’ll be safe between us,” Shanette assured, as she reached over, over my passively upturned face, and peeled Melissa’s robe open, away from her ballooning chest. I’d turned my face a bit to watch, and moaned in a shudder as a big, white left breast came to view.

“oh my god…” I groaned. It was huge, far larger than my head, skin smooth and taut with a swelling brown nipple and areola the size of my palm. A basketball, maybe? Bigger?

Without a word, Melissa’s arm reached over me in turn, peeling Shanette’s silken top, decorated with hearts, away from her chest. Also huge, also swollen, also bulging towards me with burgeoned softness her breasts were deeper in complexion than Melissa’s but a shade paler than the rest of her skin. Her nipple stood already engorged, the bumps of montgomery glands dimpling her darker areola.

“There, sweetie,” Melissa purred, as I stared into the chest of her big, tall, high school friend, “Do you feel better?’

I…ugh…I I I I turned to Melissa’s breast.

“Oh Missy,” Shanette giggled, “he can’t even talk..!”

“Yeah, he gets this way,” Melissa replied, one finger reaching out to run itself from my forehead, down the bridge of my nose. She tapped its end, playfully. “Boop! Don’t you honey?”

“I-…” I couldn’t say a word.

“Boys really are helpless when there’s a pair of tits in their face, aren’t they Missy?”

“Or two pairs!” Melissa giggled, pressing her left press down with her shoulder, causing it to squeeze and bulge towards me.

“Have you ever been with two girls with breasts bigger than your head?” Shanette asked, “Hm, Dr. J?”

“I don’t think he has, Shanette.”

“No, hm?”

“How do you like it, sweetie?” Melissa asked, raising herself up a bit on her right elbow and turning her torso more towards me. This brought her massive left breast in to squash into my face and head, along my left side.

Shanette followed suit, turning her shoulder down into me and mushing her right boob into my face. Instinctively, my body tensed and stiffened, my head sinking back down into the pillow behind me as far as it could. The twin masses of boob just followed, molding around my face, cheeks and ears until nearly all light was blotted out. I was surrounded by pillowy soft, perfumed flesh, firm and warm. Above me I heard the giggles.

“Look, we can just sandwich you in between them,” Melissa said.

“I can’t even see him anymore Missy,” laughed Shanette.

“Oh no!” came another laugh, this time Melissa’s, “my boyfriend’s disappeared!”

“It looks that way, huh?”

“What’s this like, hm sweetie? Like you’re being attacked by two big marshmallow monsters?”

“Smothered between two pillows?”

“Smooshed under two big balloons full of jelly…or eaten by two big marshmallow monsters?”

“You said that one already, silly.”

“<giggle!> oh yeah!”

Around me I felt hips turn towards me too, as the two bountiful young women closed in closer.

“Do you want me to take this towel off him?”

“Yes please,” answered Melissa.

I felt the air now on me, and now a thigh over mine.

“Ooooh Jay, isn’t this cozy?” Melissa asked, her voice coming to me through the flesh of her chest, “Do you feel safe and warm like this, your darling little head between our big breasts?”

“Just relax,” Shanette cooed, her voice also both muffled and amplified by her huge tit, “Feel our big, soft breasts against your face.”

“That’s right, sweetie, relax,” Melissa urged, as her big thigh now came over my left leg, trapping it, “Melt for us.”

The girls now giggled and cooed, squirming and squashing against me, in perfect unison. Their breasts mushed into my face, surrounding it, my mouth and jaw now opening and closing like a starveling guppy. All the air I breathed came from their skin.

“There’s a certain type of guy, a guy who loves breasts,” I heard Shanette begin saying, musing, “Guys who want to wake up with them as their first sight. Who want to take their first meal from them, spend all day held to them, surrounded by them…”

“Oooo that sounds familiar..!” I heard Melissa laugh, pressing into me playfully, “But aren’t all guys that way?”

“Seems that way these days, huh?” Shanette agreed, “But this one here is yours.”

Above me I heard a deep moan from Melissa turn into a laugh. “Omigod Shanette this is too much!”

“…And at night they want to fall asleep held to them, between them…” Shanette began to finish.

“…so small and tiny and weak…”

“…Are you that type of guy, Dr J?” she finally asked.

Was she…was she actually expecting me to answer? From down here, buried beneath boob? I was not just speechless but unable to speak.

“You are, aren’t you sweetie?” Melissa laughed, the eager exhilaration in her voice plain as day, “You’re my little boob-monkey, huh?”

That’s what you want isn’t it? Me clinging to you like an infant chimp to its mother. I couldn’t do anything but agree. I didn’t dare argue, or god forbid lie. Under the gentle weight of their breasts I slowly tried to nod.

“There you go…” Shanette purred, “…good boy. Isn’t it nice to admit how much you need them?”

“It is, right? And, isn’t it so much better when you just let people help you?” Melissa cooed, “Sometimes it’s nice to just lie there and let someone else take care of you. That’s all I want to do baby, take care of you and make you feel good. Make it nice for you.”

Boob. Boob. Everywhere boob.

“Missy let’s let him out for a minute.”

“Okay…”

Slowly, I felt the squeezing press of their tits lifting off me. Shanette’s breast, smelling of coconut oil, pulled away smoothly. But, my skin felt stuck to Melissa’s, cheek-to-tit, whether by her perspiration or mine. The heat and our sweat must have stuck us together…or there's something else happening. My face followed her breast as my head was lifted off the pillow.

“Oh my god look at that,” Shanette said.

“Yeah and he’s not trying to pull away,” Melissa commented. “Are you sweetie? Ooo look at you…”

It was true: my face remained plastered, stuck to her breast by the cheek. What was this?

“You really like my breasts, don’t you?” she giggled, “Rubbing your cheek against me like that?”

Do you think I’m doing this on purpose? Under my own strength?

“I bet it’s been so long since he’s gotten this kind of attention, Missy, and maybe he just doesn’t want to let you go!”

“Is that it, huh?” Melissa cooed down to me. Gently, she began to lower me back down again, the back of my head resting again on the pillow, cheek still stuck to her skin. “Maybe you’ve never had somebody do this for you before? Hm? Poor baby…I’m here for that now.”

The two girls clucked and purred down at me. I felt Shanette’s hand petting my hair.

“I think it’s time, Missy,” she said.

“Okay, yeah,” Melissa agreed, and then I felt Shanette’s gentle fingers holding my face and Melissa use her hand to peel her breast from my cheek. Shanette then guided me, turning me more towards Melissa.

“That’s right Missy, put your nipple right there. That’s good,” Shanette instructed, as I watched and Melissa positioned herself more fully over me. I was face to face with her big nipple. “You just lie there, hun,” she told me, “we got this.”

“Mm hm, we got this,” Melissa echoed, and inched in closer.

“Now, Missy,” Shanette said, “have him suck.”

Melissa gently worked it in until her nipple was between my lips. I’d opened my mouth already, instinctively, and my world became darker again as Melissa softly dropped to rest her huge breast onto my face. Her right hand no longer supported her head, and had slid underneath mine to cradle me to her. “Here we go, baby,” she whispered, as I closed my mouth around her.

“Just lay there and do as mommy says,” Shanette spoke.

“Suck, baby, suck,” Melissa purred on cue, “suck suck…”

“There you go baby, that’s right…” Shanette purred. I felt her hand petting me gently, caressing my arm. “This is good practice for you two,” she said.

“Mmmm I like it..!” Melissa giggled, as I had begun, earnestly, to suckle her. Her nipple was big in my mouth.

“It’s called dry-nursing,” Shanette said, “Missy…make sure he has a good latch.”

“Yeah, baby, seal on tight there,” Melissa cooed down to me, using her free left hand to reposition the weight of her breast at my face. I settled my mouth and lips around her more firmly, and continued to suck. I was keeping a slow rhythm, relaxed. My eyes just cleared the mass of her breast, and when I looked up I saw her watching me. I closed my eyes again.

“That looks good, Missy,” Shanette commended, “He’s a natural.”

“It feels nice,” Melissa agreed, gazing down at me. “I’ve been waiting for something like this, something to get us closer, start breaking down barriers.”

“That’s right, that’s good. Just relax, the two of you, bond together,” Shanette purred from behind me, “Dr. J, just let yourself drift off, think about Melissa, know how much she loves you.”

“Yes yes sweetie, I do love you, so much,” she cooed, “just keep sucking…”

I felt Shanette’s lean in, her breasts now squashing into my shoulder as she brought her lips to my right ear. “You tried Katarina’s milk earlier,” she whispered, “You liked that?”

I groaned, purrling and mewling into Melissa’s tit.

‘“Think about it, as you suck here on Missy,” she continued, her voice big and close, making my toes curl, “wouldn’t it be nice…?”

I groaned again, my whole body shivering.

“That’s right, that’s right baby,” Melissa spoke, “Suck on me. Suck on me like a hungry baby that needs milk.”

oh god oh god oh god.

“He’s doing so well, but he’s a little worked up,” Shanette now said to her friend, “A little tense.”

“Oh, sweetie, are you tense?” Melissa cooed, her voice sweet and heavy with honey as I dry-suckled her breast, “You poor thing.”

“I bet a nice orgasm would help him relax so much”, Shanette continued, indulgently, and then I felt her take hold of me. “He’s so hard.”

I stiffened, and my body jerked. There was actually some pain but the direct cause wasn’t her actions. Rather it was due to my exhausted reproductive system still trying to perform. It had never worked this much over such a short time period, and it was exhausted, tender, inside and out. I felt like, yes, I needed relief, release, but getting there might hurt.

“Oh, sweetie, shhh…” Melissa purred down to me, “Shanette…be gentle.”

You can tell, can’t you?

“He needs a mother’s touch,” Shanette cooed, and soon I sensed the scent of coconut oil, and things became slick around me, in her hand. Had Melissa helped out? Squeezed something onto me?

And now, rather than encircling me with her palm and fingers, Shanette pressed my erection against Melissa’s bare midthigh. Oh, yes, that feels nice. <suck suck suck>. She began to rub it gently and slowly against the soft, silky skin of Melissa’s tan, clean-shaven leg, the juice of oil lubricating and slippery.

“That’s nice, isn’t it?” Shanette’s hand was slick up and down my long length, Melissa’s muscular thigh warm and welcoming. I continued to suck, to suck, to suck, slowly, slowly, slowly and felt the pleasure seep into my bones. A mother’s touch. A mother’s touch. A mother’s touch.

“You feel so nice, up against my leg,” Melissa cooed, “And you’re doing such a good job sucking at my nipple.”

“Nice and slow, nice and slow,” Shanette purred, and I began to groan. I was sore, yes, but the climax was building already inside my swollen sac, making my belly tremble. “It’s okay, we’ll go at your pace…nice and gentle.”

And then Shanette began to humm, low and soothing behind me, as she pet me into Melissa’s leg . A familiar melody began to form. And then she began to sing. Quietly, at first, but there was something about it, something with a palpable magic:

“When you wish upon a star

Makes no difference who you are

Anything your heart desires

Will come to you…”

“Omigod Shanette…” Melissa praised, seemingly at a loss for words. Her voice, yes, was gorgeous. Shockingly so, in fact. The timbre, the tone, the very essence of her voice was like a casual siren song, and it covered my waking thoughts like a warm blanket. Melissa’s singing voice - she’d sung to me on our first date, in her car - was nice, also, but Shanette’s, here? It struck deep, deep, deep and I felt it close around me and my mind like a gentle hand, embracing me but also opening me up for them. My cock was throbbing now, still being rubbed into Melissa’s thigh by our songstress. She continued softly and slowly with her lullaby:

“If you wish it in your dreams oh my god if you knew what I wanted how big I want you

No request is too extreme <suck suck suck>

When you wish upon a star can it come true?

We’ll grow for you… wait what?

“Shanette that’s lovely,” Melissa gushed, as the magic of the lullaby faded and I continued to dry-nurse at her massive breast and - oh my god, on hearing that last line - I started finally to rut into Melissa’s leg, “I didn’t know you could sing.”

”I didn’t either…”

NNNNNggghhhhh….

I came, in an easy gush, onto Melissa’s leg, all my tension draining away as I nursed myself to sleep…

===============================================

Thanks again to ResistanceIsFutile for helping me through another big one

My Patreon

#growing into the job

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theresawritesstuff · 8 months

Note

MidgeLenny: “Less apologizing. More kissing.”

(this one got steamy)

New Year's Eve 1960

She slipped quietly up to the open bar, her sights set more on the familiar figure standing there than they were on procuring herself a cocktail.

"Fancy seeing you here."

She smirked to herself at the surprise on his face as Lenny turned around, her sneak attack successful.

Still, she kept her tone casual. "Would have thought you'd be ringing in the new year on a beach somewhere instead of back in another blizzard."

Lenny chuckled, waving the bartender over for her. "Beaches are overrated."

She arched a curious brow at him, waiting to see if he felt like giving her any further explanation.

He smiled sheepishly, continuing, "Gordon invited all the guests of the show that were on this past year. My manager thought it would be a good idea. Try to play nice and all that."

"I see," she replied, accepting her martini from the bartender.

He leaned an elbow on the bar, coming in a little closer. "The real question is what brings you here? Because I am quite certain I would have remembered seeing you next to that desk."

She took a swig from her glass. "I work here."

"No kidding."

"Yep. Gordon's resident lady writer as of about a month ago."

His brow quirked, considering his reply.

"Congratulations."

"Thank you."

"So we should look forward to seeing you take your rightful place in the guest chair in the coming new year," he surmised.

Midge let out a humorless chuckle. "That was the idea the way Susie pitched it. Unfortunately, it would seem my comedy was not the set Gordon was interested in when he hired me."

Lenny hummed a monosyllabic reply into his drink.

A brief note conveying so much. Disapproval of her boss being a slime ball, understanding why he was, and how much it must suck for her to deal with day to day…

Honestly she was used to having to make men take her seriously for more than her looks. She'd been doing it her whole life.

She just hadn't realized how much worse it would feel, how much lonelier she would feel facing it after having someone see her, value her, adore her for all that she was like Lenny had…

"Speak of the devil…" Lenny murmured, noting Gordon approaching from across the room.

"Ah fuck." Midge downed the rest of her martini, bracing herself.

His brow lifted almost imperceptibly at the sudden shift in her posture.

She glanced up at him tentatively. "Know any good excuses a gal can use to get out of dancing with her boss?"

He exhaled thoughtfully, glancing over her shoulder to gauge Gordon's arrival.

"I might know one," he replied. "But you'll have to trust me."

"I always have."

He looked into her eyes then, struck by how immediate and decisive her answer had come.

He didn't have the chance to comment.

"Lenny! Good to see you again," her boss greeted warmly, an empty champagne glass in his hand.

"Gordon." Lenny nodded curtly into his whiskey.

"I see you've met our latest addition to the writers room," Gordon commented.

Lenny smirked, setting his glass aside. "Well I generally try to seek out the funniest person in the room at these shindigs for the sake of my sanity."

His arm wrapped around her, hand settling on her hip in a gesture that skirted the line between friendly and just a little bit possessive.

She was more than happy to let him, already feeling that much safer.

"Lenny's an old friend," she explained vaguely, drifting comfortably closer to further illustrate the point.

God he smelled good…

Gordon blinked. "I didn't realize you two were acquainted."

Lenny fought back what she knew to be a very bad smile. "You could say that."

"Uh-huh…" Gordon set his glass on the bar, obviously having a hard time reconciling this fact. "How exactly did you two meet?"

"Hebrew school," Midge replied brightly, placing a hand along Lenny's back.

Lenny almost broke but covered his laughter by clearing his throat.

Just then the band picked back up, playing the strains of a familiar tune.

"'Scuse us," Lenny smirked, taking the excuse to lead her away out onto the makeshift dance floor.

"There. Consider your dance card full," he drawled.

Midge shook her head, smiling as her hand found its familiar hold at the back of his neck.

"That was your plan. 'I asked her first'?" she laughed.

"I did ask you first," he reminded her. "Back in Miami."

"Ah yes, when I had a hair out of place. You didn't ask, by the way. Just told me that we were going to after a lot of staring."

"The question was implied," he chuckled at her ribbing. "Either way, it worked."

"Yes it did."

All too well she was afraid to admit.

"How am I doing now? I haven't lost a step, have I?"

His tone was playful but she could tell what he was really asking.

Were they okay now? Or has things at Carnegie ruined his chances with her?

"Oh I think you'll pass," she assured him. "Only way to find out is to keep dancing, though."

"That worried Gordon would try to cut in?" he chuckled, holding her a little tighter.

"Not really. I just…"

A blush crept into her cheeks as she considered the feeling of her hand in his.

"It's nice dancing with you again," she admitted.

"I concur."

He brought her arm up gently, holding it steady just as he had before.

He swayed her quietly for a while before commenting, "You know, we never did find out when they scheduled the ritual sacrifices, did we."

She let out a laugh, resting her head against his collarbone as she recovered. "No I suppose we didn't."

"Something to keep us awake at night," he mused.

As if they needed any more of that.

She looked up to study his face.

He looked good. Healthy. A little more color to his face than when she'd seen him last. But there was a look behind his eyes she knew all too well.

"How are you really doing, Lenny?"

He smirked, shrugging in her arms. "Oh you know…Trying to balance work and being a parent, constantly hearing my mother criticize my choices in both."

"I know the feeling…" she murmured.

"It's good though. Or it will be, I think. Eventually. Except..."

He let out a sigh, suddenly looking self conscious.

"Sometimes I still find myself missing the snow. I've grown sort of fond of it."

She smiled softly, looking out at the eddies swirling past the windows.

"Me too."

One dance led into another.

They talked about their kids, about work, about life, and sometimes not at all if only just to enjoy not having anything funny to say, until the hours on the clock dwindled away.

She'd missed him. God had she missed him.

Judging by the way his hands never left her, she had a feeling he'd missed her too.

A few more songs and another trip to the bar had her cuddled against his shoulder along the outskirts of the party, melting into his embrace, feeling content and safe and just this side of impulsive as the clock counted down.

She looked up into his eyes, fingertips trailing lazy patterns along the nape of his neck, itching to feel the soft curls just above it.

His gaze drifted to her lips and suddenly she barely registered the din of the crowded room just beyond them.

"Five…Four…three…two…one!"

Her lips found his like it was the most natural thing in the world, as if midnight was theirs alone to share.

She felt his hand tangle in her hair and it was all she could do not to come undone.

He broke away breathlessly, his forehead resting against hers.

"I'm sorry," he murmured.

"I'm not," she replied, pulling him back in hungrily.

He moaned against her lips, gripping her closer until his willpower won out and he pulled away again, just enough to speak, shaking his head. "I meant for before. How we left things. I should have called. I should have–"

“Lenny. Less apologizing. More kissing," she insisted.

He nodded, shutting up in favor of letting her nibble on his lower lip, pressing her against the wall.

A chorus of auld langs ide reminded them belatedly that they were not in fact entirely alone.

"I don't suppose you know somewhere a little more private we could go…" he ventured.

Midge bit back a smirk, slipping her hand into his as she led him out the door and out into the hall.

His lips were on hers in an instant, following blindly as they retreated, eventually finding their way into an unlocked office.

They tumbled down onto the soft leather couch, hands roaming in search of skin.

"Missed you," she whispered between kisses as she straddled his lap. "Missed this."

A low chuckle rumbled in his chest as his hand teased its way up her thigh. "Sweetheart, you have no idea."

She was just about to get to work on his belt buckle when the door to the office clicked open.

Mike blinked at them from the doorway, wobbling slightly on his feet.

"Midge?"

She didn't think to move. It was all she could do not to break into a fit of giggles.

Gordon had sprung for the good champagne.

"Yeah?"

"What're you doing in George's office?" the booker asked.

Lenny cleared his throat.

"Me, I believe was the intent," he quipped, still pinned beneath her, looking rather disheveled and happy for her efforts.

Mike craned his neck slightly, squinting into the dimly lit room. "Oh, hey Lenny."

"Thanks for the invite."

"What are you doing in George's office, Mike?" Midge wondered, hoping it would be enough to distract him away from having a word with human resources when he sobered up.

"I was gonna throw up in his desk," he admitted without remorse.

Midge let out a laugh. "Okay then."

She got to her feet, righting the hem of her dress before helping Lenny to his feet.

"You want us to stick around to hold your hair back? Get you some water or anything like that?" she asked.

Mike had become somewhat of a begrudging friend since she was hired. Sort of a grumpy adopted older brother figure.

He was a good guy.

She figured it was the least she could do to offer.

The fact that it made it less likely that he'd rat her and Lenny out was beside the point.

"Nah," Mike waved her off. "You kids have fun…Just not here."

Lenny gave the other man a lazy salute, taking Midge by the hand.

"So… Where to now?" he asked once they were out in the hall.

Midge smiled, adjusting the lapel of his jacket. "That depends. Are you going to run away again if I bring you back to the upper west side?"

He shook his head, grinning as he tucked a loose strand of hair back in place behind her ear.

"Not a chance."

#Midgelenny #midge x lenny #tmmm fic #Woke up early this morning and finally broke out of my writing funk

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smolgloves · 6 days

Text

To Bitter Endings and New Beginnings

Summary: After earning the respect of many, Freya must now decide where she will go.

Tw: vore mentions, mentions of sex, mentions of drinking blood, near death mentions, trans/enbyphobia mentions. Nothing too insane tbh, call this another Pallette cleanser from @sm0lprism 's chapter 10 fic 😉

It wasn't long before Astarion and Tav were dug out from the ground and quickly brought back to camp. Tav's injuries were more severe so they took up the majority of Shadowheart's time. Not that Astarion needed as much healing as them, downing a potion while he waited for Tav to wake up would do just fine for him. Astarion pressed the bottle to his lips, grimacing as bitter taste, if only these potions could come in a more delectable and bloody flavor.

His eyes wandered about before settling on Wyll's tent. Since returning, Freya had settled on the table chatting with Wyll for some time. Normally, Astarion would have no problem inserting himself into a conversation; especially with someone as dashing as Wyll, but seeing that shaken look on Freya stopped him. He wasn't sure why he was letting a borrower stop him from socializing, but perhaps it was best to let her talk with someone more trustworthy than a vampire.

But then, after some time, Wyll had left Freya to herself, and Astarion grew tired of sitting in silence; it was time for a chat.

The tiny blonde was fiddling with that peashooter, seemingly lost in her own little world, but Astarion noticed a quick glance as he approached, only to avert her eyes the closer he got. Even when he was towering before her, Freya still kept her focus on her weapon and Astarion had no idea what to say.

“Are you just going to stand there all day?” Freya sighed, breaking the awkward silence.

“Perhaps,your tinkering is quite a show.” He said casually.

“Is that so?” Freya clicked her tongue. “Then I suggest you crouch down to get a better view.”

“Oh, I prefer the angle up here.”

“Well, you're blocking the sun from me, and It's affecting my work. So please, have a seat.” Sarcasm practically dripped from her voice towards the end.

Astarion scoffed but did drop to a knee. “Look at you, bossing around a vampire. A crueler one would have bit you in half for having the audacity to make such a command.”

Freya sighed and set down her peashooter to look up at him. Those storm gray eyes were puffy and bloodshot likely from crying, yet despite how clearly exhausted she was from today's events, there was a sharp gaze in those eyes. “How's Tav?”

“They'll be fine.” Astarion cleared his throat. “Just a few days of rest and they'll be ready to go, as Shadowheart put it.”

“I'm glad.” Relief washed away Freya's stern look, leaving behind a softer smile. It was actually nice to look at, to see her guard lowered for once giving a lovely smile that brightened the features of her face. Perhaps if she wasn't so short in stature, Astarion would have indulged in her as well.

“So, is that all?”

Astarion snapped out of his thoughts, his eyes never strayed from her but now she had his full attention. “Well actually…” He cleared his throat. “I was always under the impression that borrowers were like spineless rodents, ready to run off the moment they faced danger… but you didn't.”

“That almost sounds like a compliment.” She retorted.

“Look, I'm not really good at this.” Astarion sighed, he could feel his mouth drying up. Why was she having this effect on him? “I'm trying to thank you… for giving your herbs to buy us some time.”

Freya remained quiet for a moment as she let his words sink in. Astarion could tell she was suspicious, she had every right to be wary of his gratitude or even reject it for all the shit he put her through; it wasn't until the corners of her lips perked up that he knew what her intentions were now. “Don't mention It.”

“So what do you plan to do now that this little adventure is over?”

“I’m… not exactly sure.” She glanced away, the smile fading away. “I can't exactly return to Skaars Hollow, perhaps I could go searching for a new colony to live at?”

Astarion furrowed his brow, that was logically the best solution for her. She'd likely die on her own and a borrower has no place being around normal people, yet Astarion couldn't help but be intrigued by her. There was a new side of Freya that he wanted to get to know, and he couldn't do that if she packed up and left right away.

“You know, it would probably take you years to find a new colony on your own, given your… stature.” He chuckled. “If you'd prefer, I'm sure the others wouldn't mind if you tagged along.”

Freya raised an eyebrow. “Are you offering me a place to stay?”

“I'm not offering anything, I'm just telling you that your chances of covering more ground are better if you join us.” The vampire scoffed. “Besides, we both know Tav would want you to come along with us.”

“I'm sure they'd have a heart attack if they didn't know I was safe.” Freya chuckled, then shot a playful look at Astarion. “I'll accept, until I find a better place, of course. I prefer my company without fangs.”

Astarion laughed and leaned over the table, his slender frame looming over her. “And I prefer my company to be of a higher standard.”

Freya had to crane her neck to keep her glare on him, it was rather amusing seeing her attempt to keep an intimidating stance against the vampire. “How charming.”

“Oh, I try to be.” Astarion flashed a grin at their banter, it was just as fun as when he was seducing Tav. His mind wandered back to them, surely they must be waking up soon. “Say, how about we go check on Tav.” He lowered his slender hand in front of the borrower. “I know you want to.”

Instead of hopping on, Freya just stared at his hand, her jaw went slack and her eyebrows knitted together as if she was trying to decipher his intentions. Astarion rolled his eyes. “Don't tell me you still don't trust me to carry you around.”

Freya let in a sharp inhale. “Borrowers don't normally live after willingly climbing into the hand of a vampire, you know.”

“I'm well aware, but don't worry, darling. I've already had a bite to eat earlier.” He lowered his voice into a hushed whisper. “So I don't need a snack, just yet.”

He watched her fidget as he spoke. Her cheeks flushed into a lovely shade of pink and he had to suppress a smile as she scrunched her nose to hide just how flustered she became. “I'll make sure you choke on me!” She said with a scoff.

“I'm sure you will.” He purred. “But we really should check on Tav. So either climb on or don't. It's your choice.”

“Okay okay, just… give me a second!” The borrower let out a sigh, her limbs shook as she continued to inch towards his hand. Finally, she climbed up onto his hand and shuffled towards the center of his palm. Her heart pounded against her ribcage, and for the first time in a while, Astarion felt a pang of… guilt. He was no stranger to striking fear into people, but watching Freya tense as he raised his hand higher made him think: was being held by a vampire really that terrifying to her? No matter, if she is to travel with them, she will have to learn to deal with him.

~~~

Tav had been in and out for a while. They'd become accustomed to the fever dreams that plagued their recovery, but the strangest one had to be seeing Freya and Astarion laughing together along with Shadowheart by their bedroll.

“I still saved you twice, in case you forgot.” The vampire grinned. “That hardly makes us even.”

“The first time shouldn't count.” Freya scoffed. “You didn't even know I was there!”

Tav blinked a couple times to adjust their eyes to this new sight. “I must be dead if you two are getting along.”

The three all snapped their heads over and Freya scurried over to Tav's face, her eyes lit up as she stopped just a few inches short of them. “You're alright!”

“Yeah, I'm alright.” Tav felt their heart flutter as Freya's smile only grew wider, they would have thought she’d have left after that fight. Did she just stay to make sure they were alright? “What happened while I was out?”

“The three of you fell into a pit, I'm surprised you're all alive.” Shadowheart explained.

“If it wasn't for that herb Freya collected, we would have choked on poison.”

Tav immediately shot up, their side seared with immediate pain, leaving them to cry out.

“Easy darling,” Astarion said as he helped them sit up. “We can't have you hurting yourself more than you already have.”

Their eyes fell on Freya, her shoulders immediately grew tense as she stared up at Tav. “You… used that plant you needed.”

“Of course I did.” She scoffed. “We were going to die if we didn't.”

Despite her hardened demeanor, Tav could see her holding back those tears. All they wanted to do was scoop her up and hold her close, but Tav instead laid their hand out as an offering to her. When she gave a soft nod, Tav wrapped their fingers around her and pulled her close to their chest for a hug. “I'm… sorry it came to that, I know you needed that for your colony.”

“What's done is done.” She let out a shaky sigh, then reached out to pull Tav's thumb close to her, it was so small, yet Tav could feel the warm embrace of her hug. “I'm just glad you're okay.”

“Same to you.”

Shadowheart sent a coy smile over to Astarion. “Well it looks like we're chopped liver.”

“And here I thought Freya and I were starting to see eye to eye.”

Breaking the embrace, Freya snapped over to Astarion given a glare that wasn't quite as malicious as it used to be. “Sorry, but you wouldn't understand, it's a short race thing.”

Astarion let out a giggle. “Then perhaps I'm better off not knowing.”

Tav couldn't hide an eye roll. “This short person saved you.”

“Speaking of that…” Astarion smiled and leaned closer to Tav, the smell of rosemary lingered off of him. For a moment, it looked as though he was about to kiss the halfling, but his smile was wiped away and a glare bore into Tav. “What in the sweet hells were you thinking?! You nearly got yourself killed playing the hero!

“Excuse me, but I had to!” Tav scoffed. “She was going after the two of you!”

“That doesn't mean you go and get yourself killed for us!” Freya chimed in.

Astarion chuckled. “See even dear Freya knew how bloody stupid that was.”

“Not you too!” Tav groaned and fell back on the bedroll. “You're supposed to be on my side.”

“I'm on your side until you do something as reckless as that!” The borrower crossed her arms, shooting a glare that would have rivaled the glare of Tav's own mother.

“This isn't even the first time they've done stuff like this.” Astarion exclaimed. “They tried to stand up to a mother owlbear after it slaughtered two people!”

“Seriously, Tav? An owlbear!”

Tav feared they were never going to hear the end of it but thankfully, Shadowheart cleared her throat. “As entertaining as this is, perhaps you two should leave so Tav can actually rest.”

“Oh fine,” Freya huffed out, before shooting a playful grin at Tav. “But just so you know, this isn't over.”

They smiled back. “I'd be a fool to expect otherwise.”

Freya nodded before looking over to Astarion, who quickly scooped her up as gently as he could; it was unbelievable to witness this. Tav kept their eyes on Freya to see if there was any form of discomfort. Astarion seemed to catch on and smiled as he rose to his full height.

“Oh don't worry, dear Tav. I'm not going to eat her.” His smile grew more mischievous. “I'd much prefer to taste you, instead.”

A blush immediately scorched Tav's cheeks. “Okay, thank you, goodbye!”

He quickly exited the tent but that smile never left his face. He knew he left Tav with some thoughts and he was absolutely pleased with that.

“Those two certainly got close.” Shadowheart said once they were alone.

“I still can't believe it.”

“It's for the best, since Freya looks to be staying with us.” She smiled, rummaging through her pack. “They'd be quite the odd couple though.”

Tav raised an eyebrow. “Do you honestly believe they'd ever go that far?”

“Who knows, weirder things have happened within our group.” Shadowheart pulled out a potion to hand it Tav. “But perhaps you're right, maybe they're just better off as friends.”

“Who knows…” Tav chuckled a bit but their mind lingered on that thought, a borrower and a vampire as a couple? It was such an unlikely idea, yet Tav couldn't help but feel disappointed at reality. They enjoyed being around the both of them, but sadly, Tav knew if their bonds grew stronger, they'd have to choose.

~~~~~~

Night had fallen and Freya finally got some time alone. She wandered to the edge of camp to look up at the stars, reflecting on what happened and what is to come now that her life is going down a different path than she ever would have thought.

“Freya?” A hushed voice called out through the bushes, she didn't have time to process whose voice that was before Kes sheepishly emerged from the leaves. His eyes darted around to make sure no larger beings were nearby.

“Gods, Kes!” Freya practically tackled them with a hug. “How did you manage to get all the way out here?”

“That devil man and Gith were in town today, along with a bearded man.” Kes mentioned. “That put the colony in a panic; they thought you sent them to hunt us down.”

Freya rolled her eyes, she couldn't fault everyone’s fear; yet her heart sank knowing that her people truly thought her as a traitor. “Do you think that?”

Kes couldn't meet her eyes, yet he still spoke as sincerely as he could. “You know I don't, Freya, that's why I had to find you; to understand why they're still at Skaars Hollow.”

“They stopped the source of the plague and wanted to get paid.” Freya said flatly. “Look, I may have left out some details in my trial, but I was telling the truth about their intentions.”

Silence hung in the air, making Freya wonder if Kes doubted her too. Their eyes glanced back at her, holding her in their gaze before they finally spoke. “Did you have something to do with that?”

A smile formed on her lips. “Of course I did, I'm the best.”

Kes let out a chuckle. “Wouldn't expect anything less.”

“You know I tried to bring back some Aixosfeaf for you guys… but stuff happened down there, and I couldn't bring it back.” Just admitting failure made Freya’s throat tighten at the last words. “Maybe you could tell Mirable to scavenge stuff from the healer's in a few days, when the townsfolk gathered more supplies?”

“Sounds like a plan.” Kes nodded. “Speaking of plans, what are you going to do?”

“I'm going to travel with Tav's group… until I find a new home.” Freya couldn't look Kes in the eyes. Somehow, telling him about her plan was more nerve wracking than dealing with vampires or fighting hags combined.

“Gods, you're serious…”

“Well, what else am I supposed to do?” Freya snapped, tears were threatening to pour out her eyes. “I can't just live in the woods fighting for scraps!”

Kes grew quiet. “I don't know… maybe I was hoping you'd… still hang around for me.”

Freya's anger died down as she stared at her older cousin. This was someone she looked up to as if they were an older sibling, and she would be leaving them behind. “You and I both know Mirable would try and have me executed if she caught me sneaking around the colony.”

Kes pursed his lips and shrugged. “She's probably less dangerous than a Gith… or vampire.”

“Oh, don't sell Mirable short like that.” Freya laughed, despite Kes’ discomfort. “She could probably keep half the camp in line if she tried too.”

“You know what I mean...”

Freya stared at Kes, worry lines were etched into his face. The fact that he ventured out of the colony to find her took an amount of guts Freya didn't know he had. “They're not as bad once you get to know them.”

Kes shook his head, the very idea of a larger being being good was just something he couldn't accept, yet his eyes lingered on his baby cousin, studying her words as if he was trying to make sense of this new situation.

“Freya?”

Tav's voice cut through the air, making both borrowers jump. Freya had been gone for a while, which might have caused concern amongst her new companions. She spun to see Tav trudging towards her. “What are you doing out of bed?”

“Apologies, but I had to know you were okay before I turned in for the night.” There was a smile on their face as they looked past the borrower to see Kes. Tav planted their feet to the ground and lowered into a crouch. “Hello, who's this?”

Despite the gentle tone, Kes’ face morphed into pure terror! He refused to utter a word, he just stared up at Tav like he was staring up at the apocalypse approaching him. If it weren't for Freya, he would have likely ran far away.

Tav wouldn't dream to hurt Kes, but Freya couldn't let his fear seize him. “Please, give us a moment.” She told Tav as she shoved her cousin into the bushes before anyone had time to react.

Once the leaves obscured the two borrowers, Freya looked at her cousin who was now on the verge of having a panic attack. She knelt down, squeezing their shoulder. “Hey, you're okay.”

“They saw me!” He gasped.

“Yes, but they're not going to come after us.” She tried to reassure them.

“Right, I'll just… wait by the fire when you're done.” Tav called out as their footsteps faded away, letting the silence creep back into the night.

“See?” Freya chimed in. “Nothing is going to happen to you.”

Bewilderment flickered in the older borrower's eyes. “I… don't know how you'll get used to being around… larger beings all the time.” He said, pushing himself to his feet.

“It'll definitely take some time getting used to.” Freya laughed but a knot started to form in her stomach. How long would it be before she could look someone in the eyes without craning her neck? Even with the help of the group, there was no guarantee she would find a group of borrowers so easily, or that they would accept someone who so willingly ventured with larger beings. Even if they did, they wouldn't fill the void of never seeing Kes again.

“You know, we don't have to say goodbye.” The utter shock on Kes’ face was palpable, but Freya didn't let that deter her plea. “You could come with me, you wouldn't have to worry about anyone giving you shit for your identity, Tav would always make sure you're comfortable while here.”

“I'd never be comfortable around a bunch of giant beings.”

“Then let's just make it temporary.” Freya cried out. “Let's find a new colony together… one where you could feel more accepted!”

“Freya…” Kes looked away. “You know he tries.”

“Barely.” She grumbled.

A shaky sigh slipped from his lips. “He's not perfect, but he’s still family.”

The urge to scream out was strong, was Freya not family too? Did her feelings not matter just because she was not from a direct bloodline as him? It would be so much easier to lash out at Kestrel, accuse him for not giving a damn about her, part with him on bad terms. Yet, when she looked into his eyes, she could see the tears that he held back too. Neither of them wanted to part ways like this but there was no going back.

“I understand.” Freya whispered in an attempt to believe her own words. “Just promise me you won't take shit from anyone even when I'm not there.”

Kes formed a thin smile. “I won't, you stay safe out there.”

The reunion was about to come to an end, but Freya couldn't let her cousin leave without giving them one last thing. She reached into her pack to present the peashooter to them. “I want you to take this.”

Kes gingerly took the prototype in their hands, running their fingers along the elastic. “You found something to complete the design?”

“That was one of the perks of getting caught.” Freya chuckled. “It may be a rough design but it got me out of some trouble.”

“Are you sure you should part with it?” Kes asked, trying to pawn the peashooter to her. “You'll need it out there!”

“Please, I can make a new shitty weapon along the way.” She folded her arms into her chest. “You, however, know how to improve it. You should have it, Kes.”

Despite the hesitation, Kes accepted the gift, stowing it away in their pack. “Alright, should we ever be so lucky to cross paths again, you'll see it with a whole slew of upgrades!”

“I better.”

Before the two decided to part ways, they embraced in one last hug. Teardrops fell onto Freya's head, she couldn't hold back her tears either, wiping them away on the ash scented shirt Kes wore. Gods, she never realized how much she was going to miss that smell until now.

“You're still a borrower.” Kes said, pulling away. “Don't ever forget that.”

“I won't.”

“Good.” They gave her a smile taking a few steps back. “I should go… before anyone realizes I'm gone.”

As painful as it was, Freya nodded. “Take care, love you.”

“I love you too, cuz.” Kes peered out of the bushes to make sure no one was lurking nearby, once the coast was clear, they slipped away, disappearing from Freya's life for good.

She croaked out a sob, they could have had an eternity to say goodbye and that still wouldn't be enough to cushion the pain that cut its way into her heart.

It wasn't bloody fair, but what's done is done, Freya made her choice and now she would live with it. Wiping the tear streaks from her cheeks, she left the cover of the bush to head back to camp. Tav was true to their word and waited by the fire.

“Hey, I didn't mean to startle your friend.” They crouched down as Freya shuffled towards them. “Are they alright?”

“Kes will be fine.” Freya replied. “He just wanted to… say goodbye.”

“Are you alright?”

“I will be.” She spoke in a hushed tone, the tears still threatened to pour out.

“I'm sorry this happened Freya.” Tav said. “If there's anything I can do, please don't hesitate to ask.”

Freya gazed up at Tav, their green eyes met hers, no words needed to be spoken for her to know that Tav meant every word they said. “I think right now, I just need a friend with me.”

“Would you like a hug as well?”

“I wouldn't be opposed to it.”

Tav nodded and wasted no time cupping their hands around Freya's small body, bringing her close to their chest. Freya buried her face into the fabric of Tav's shirt, it may not have given her the same feeling as Kes hugging her, but Tav's hands lightly pressed her close, letting the warmth engulf her. There was so much uncertainty ahead of the borrower, but with Tav holding her close, Freya knew she would be alright in the days to come.

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myriadxofxmuses · 2 years

Note

Emily: 🗝 ― a memory you never want to forget.

Oscar : 👥 ― a memory involving a friend.

Joker: 🧠 ― a memory that had a big impact on you.

Orfeya : 🌈 ― a memory you’re not sure actually happened

Ethan : 🌑 ― a fading memory.

A soft chuckle escaped him "I don't have too many memories that aren't faded. I don't see much need to reminisce about such meaningless times throughout my life. However, if a memory is one that you want, a memory is what you'll get."

He shifted in his seat, discomfort creeping through his veins as he recalled his youth. I t was full of lot of doubt, self hate, and solitude. There wasn't a time that Ethan didn't remember where he was surrounded by friends and family who loved and cared for him.

Except maybe once.

"This one is fuzzier than the rest," he started with a small motion near his head. "I remember it was dark and quiet before I was blinded by a bright light. I had no idea what was going on and a pair of hands started pulling me closer to it. And then all of a sudden there was lots of noise - machines beeping, voices I didn't recognize, that sort of thing - and I started crying. It was honestly a little terrifying," he feigned admitting, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yea. I think my birth was probably the last time I truly felt any love from my mother. From my while family really," he added with a nonchalant shruge before a conniving smirk tugged at the corner of his lips before allowing his laugh to fill the air - the memory total bullshit.

Orfeya : 🌈 ― a memory you’re not sure actually happened

"I'm not sure if it was a dream or not, but there is only one memory that fits the bill," she started with a slight smirk. "It's nothing scandalous or adventurous or anything like that. It is a very small, romantic gesture that may or may not have happened. We had been partaking in a mindmeltingly hot day of floating. By the time it happened my brain was fried and I was tipsy, so it is quite possible I had imagined the whole thing."

She began recalling a few seemingly necessary events from earlier in that day - everybody getting to the campsite, setting up, the float itself.

"I don't know if I imagined it, but even though it had technically been deemed a 'team building retreat', Scott always managed to find a way for the two of us to be teamed up. I thought it was pretty cute actually and we had a blast. I honestly don't know if I would have had as fun as I did set up with someone else," she admitted freely.

She shifted her seat and rocked a bit from the tingle of euphoric excitement as she let the memory fondly play through her mind.

"You know, it gets surprisingly cool at night by the river," she mused as her mind lingered on it. "I guess that's why people still want to have bonfires in the middle of summer. Especially after a float. But we had one just the same as all the other floaters. They dotted the edge of the water like fireflies," she said with quiet amazement. "I remember ours was going and I was sitting on the ground on a log we'r turned into a makeshift seat. Everybody was all around drinking, grilling, doing their thing, and Scott came over, sitting next to me. And this is where things get a little fuzzy," she started explaining with a wave of her hand by her head. "We had some small talk - some that were there have accused us of flirting - and I was feeling extra loose because of the alcohol and I may have....sort of....maybe kissed him? It's horrible to admit, but after that I dont remember a thing. I woke up in my tent. Alone and hungover, feeling like total shit. When I came out to try Scott scrounge up some breakfast, Scott acted as if nothing had happened. Everything had gone back to normal," she told them openly, not knowing that she had passed out as soon as her lips touched his which accounted for the lapse in memory.

"I've been too embarased to bring it up because I was so drunk that night. And in front of my boss. I'm surprised he didn't fire me over it. It was very unprofessional of me. But also because if it did happen, I'm kind of for it and he hasn't brought it up, which has to mean he wasn't. Right?"

Joker: 🧠 ― a memory that had a big impact on you.

"There is only one memory worth giving such credit - my rebirth," he said with a small flourish.

He couldn't remember much before that fateful night, but he had to assume there hadn't been too affected by anything. Otherwise he would have remembered it. Right? But this memory was the most complete one left on the shelves of his mind.

"The night was like any other - cold, dark, and gloomy. The ideal setting for the perfect crime. Or so I thought," he started, a grimace tugging at his lips with the reminder of the failure that brought the Bats his way. His eyes stared off at nothing as the memory was pulled from the shelf and dusted off for his regaling.

"I was minding my own business --"

A complete lie.

"-- on my way to work the night shift at the factory. Ace Chemicals. It was tough work, but it put food on the table," he continued lieing.

In reality he had been hired to take out a thorn in the Maroni family's side - Thomas Wayne. The wealthiest resident in Gotham and gotten himself mixed up with the wrong family. The big man himself, Sal Maroni, couldn't let the Wayne fortune used to run him out of town and hired J to dry up the Falcones reservoir. It set of a chain of events that would forever change Jack Napier's life.

"I was almost there when I came upon a cour being mugged. I ran up and tried to help them, but it was too late. They were already dead," he said feigning sadness. "Worse still they had a kid with them. I found the little bugger hiding behind a dumpster. Guess he missed the whole thing because he had the nerve to think I had done it. He yelled for the coppers and I took off. I wasn't waiting around for them to pin this on me. I was innocent. But that's not what impacted me," he said letting his lies lay dormant and began to recall the truth.

He leaned in closer and stared into the her eyes. "Do you know that later - and by this time that tyke had grown up to become a very busy billionaire? Turns out those were the Waynes killed in that alley and lite Brucey was the only witness. Pegging me as the perp. Can you believe it? Little old harmless me had destroyed a loving family. Insanity, I know, but everyone believed him."

Anger stewed and forced his smile to falter, his eyes momentarily going back to the nothingness ahead. He should have taken of the little brat when he'd had the chance.

"But I digress," he said snapping back to a joyous storyteller. "Seems Ol' Brucey hired a certain vigilante to track me down. And he did. I was where I was most nights, checking the vats at Ace Chemicals. It was my job you see. To inspect them."

Ok. So he still wasn't letting the entire truth free, but he was getting the life changing moment.

"The Bats showed up and scared the Dickens out of me. Before I could explain the mix up he hit me. We tussled and that's when my foot slipped. I fell right off that walkway and into the largest vat in the plant. I should have died, but the acid became my life force. It allowed me to leave the old me far behind to become who I am today. I guess maybe I should be grateful to Batman, but he just won't give me a chance to show him my gratitutde," he finished with a low growl before breaking into a maniacal laugh.

Oscar : 👥 ― a memory involving a friend.

"Oh, um, let's see. Memory with a friend" he stumbled through with a small huff. His mind ran ts fingers over his catalog of memories and those categorized under 'friends' had very few options.

But there was one that would suffice.

"Ok, When I was, I don't know I guess I was around ten or eleven, we had just relocated to another city for dad's work. We were only there about six months and Emily was about five or six at the time, so she may not remember the place, but there was a group of kids I had managed to get in tight with. Turns out they were the neighborhood badasses. When I ran with them we got into fights, we snuck out, we even stole some cars and had a few joy rides during that time. They weren't bad kids, thet were just uattended most of the time and they just ran the neighborhood getting into mischeif."

A smile gently tugged at his lips and he dropped his head momentarily. Looking back, if they had stayed there just a few months longer and his life would have taken a very different path. His current sense of morals didn't come in to play until much later in life.

"However there is one very specific memory with them that will always stick with me. I went over to my buddy Noah's house and most of the group was already there. As usual. So I went in, said what's up to everybody, and sat down. We hung out fora good forty five minutse before Noah says he needs me to do him a favor. Says he needs help moving his old carpet outside to trash it."

"It hadn't even clicked with me that there was one just sitting in the middle of the room, rolled up - like it was totally normal thing. I didn't think anything of it, so I shrugged and said sure thing. We all gather around it and starting lugging it through the house toward the back door."

"One thing to note, Noah's place back up to a creek, so there was a decnt sized hill leading down to it, and it was quick, so a lot of people dumped crap back there just to have it whiked away. Shitty of people, I know, but it happened," he said stating the obvious and moved on.

"So we're struggling to get down the back stairs - our boys Joe and Dave going down first, with me and Noah folling with the other end. And Joe drops his part and the whole roll starts to topple. I see a quick glance inside the tunnel and notice hair I ask Noah what the fuck is that and he tells me they had to kill a guy and I'm helping them move the body. "

Another, gentle chuckle fell from him and he shook his head, he still couldn't believe that this was actually a true story he was telling them.

"I'm not gonna lie. I was terrified. I was crying and freaking the fuck out, but I still did it. I helped them get that damn thing all the way to the edge of the creek before they all dropped it and Gibbs jumps out from the roll and screams at me. I was pissed. I motherfucker'd them and went home. I didn't say shit to them for a week." His smile softened. "We left three weeks later and I never saw any of them again," he told them with a small shrug, unknowning how they ever turned out.

Emily: 🗝 ― a memory you never want to forget.

A smile tugged at the corner of her lips as one of her favorite memories was pulled from her banks with the question.

"I will always remember the day I first saw Jace. I was busy at work, inking a client, when the shop door's bell jangled with his entrance. Glancing toward the sound to see who is gracing us with their presence is totally normal. Sometimes if we're all in the middle of a session it can come across as very Stepford Wifey the way we all look that way at the same time," she laughed softly through her explanation. "But that day, oh man, when Jace walked through the door it was like an angel appeared. Even the sun glowed around him creating a holy aura. I almost slipped and fucked up the tattoo I was working on he was so distracting. Luckily, my client made her own observational comment over his dashing good looks and brought me back to reality."

She thought back to how, after being caught so off guard with his presence, she stole as many glances his way as he walked to the counter. Her ears craned themselves and did their best to drown out the rest of the sounds around the shop to focus on his conversation with Cali as she took down his info.

"Turns out he was wanting some work done, a biggish piece that would have taken a few hours - which usually wouldn't have mattered, but he managed to mosey in about an hour and a half before we closed. I don't know what came over me, but I couldn't let him leave. As Cal was penciling him in with Tony the next day, I shouted over at her that I could squeeze him in. I lied and said I was almost down with my client and would stick around after hours. Selfishly I wanted to get him alone. He was too hot to pass up," she admitted with a coy smirk. "

Her heart fluttered as the memory continued to play through her mind. The way he smelled as he walked past her to the chair. The way his hair fell slightly against his face. His entire being radiated confidence and she couldn't get enough.

"I felt like I was doing my first tattoo all over again. I don't know how I managed to keep my hands from shaking while I worked on him, but I did and now he is the proud owner of a tattoo by Emily Lockmoore. And I am the proud girlfriend of Jace Cato," she finished, her smile widening.

#not in any particular order. lol.#fiendish-insanity-in-the-written #[comfortably numb: ethan]#[swimming in strange waters: emily]#[no one left behind: oscar]#[i am what is; what hath been; and what shall be: ofreyja]#[why so serious: joker]#[with you it's ride or die: jace&emily]

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soggykookiesandcream · 11 months

Text

𝐵𝒶𝒸𝓀 𝐹𝑜𝓇 𝒴𝑜𝓊 - 𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝒳𝒳𝒳𝐼𝐼𝐼

Taehyung's POV

Yoongi scoffs, "Go ahead. Kill her. I don't give a fvck."

I chuckle, "Oh, I will. She wants my dear dead, huh? She will be the one who'll be dead."

"Good," he says, "I'll be happy if she's dead."

"Don't be too happy," I smirk, "You might end up dead too. Now, tell me your purpose of visiting Egypt, Mr Yoongi."

He gulps.

Yuna's POV

"Good job, everyone," Mr Bang says to us sitting in front of him munching on food, "We've successfully set up the camp before nightfall!"

The guards cheer drinking soda. I lean onto Seokjin and link our arms, "It's kind of cold."

"Lean onto Namjoon. I'm eating," Seokjin pushes me.

"So mean," I pout and lean onto Namjoon, "Namjoon, Seokjin hates me," I fake cry.

"Look what you did," Namjoon scolds Seokjin playfully, "You made our baby cry."

"I'm sorry, baby," Seokjin offers a bite of his food. Hoseok chuckles seeing all of our drama.

"We should go to bed soon," Hoseok suggests, "I'm kind of tired."

"Yeah," Namjoon stretches, "Let's go. Rock paper scissors to see who shares a tent."

"You and Yuna go first," Seokjin says.

"Okay," Namjoon nods, "The winners will share the room."

"Okay, ready," I set my bowl down and turn to him, "Rock, paper, scissors."

"I won!" Namjoon cheers, "Now, Hoseok and Seokjin."

"Rock, paper, scissors," Hoseok and Seokjin play for a while until Hoseok squeals saying he won.

"That took a while," I yawn standing up and leaning onto Seokjin, "Let's go."

"Good night," Hoseok says before leaving with Namjoon.

Seokjin climbs into the sleeping bag murmuring a small good night to me. I smile and get inside my sleeping bag. I toss and turn pulling my sleeping bag along with me.

"Ugh," groan lightly to make sure Jin doesn't wake up. I feel homesick. I was fine at the hotel because Taehyung was with me. I want Taehyung. I frown and get up walking out of the tent. Maybe a walk will tire me out.

"Where do you think you're going?" I hear Seokjin. I smile and turn around, "Going for a walk."

"At night when it's freezing?" Seokjin asks shivering in his coat and I shrug.

"You're feeling homesick. Aren't you?" Seokjin's expression softens as he sees me look down, "Come on. Let's go walk."

"Aren't you tired?" I ask him as he wraps his arm around me stating that it's cold.

"Actually, I can't sleep either," he grins.

Jimin's POV

"Jungkook!" I yell in a whisper to him, "Stop peeking into their tents!"

"I was just checking," he whispers harshly.

"Come on," I wave my hand for him to follow me.

"I'm kind of thirsty," Jungkook says.

"Remind me not to bring you again," I scoff.

We keep walking further into the camp to find the boss's tent. Just as we were about to check a tent, we hear giggles and... a horse? Jungkook and I snap our heads in the direction the sound came from and see two of the archaeologists we saw before.

"Act natural," I whisper to Jungkook and nods with wide eyes.

"Oh, hey?" The girl looks at us.

"Hello," I bow to her.

"You both," she pauses coming closer to look at us, "I don't remember seeing you guys here. Can I see your ID's?"

"Sure," I show my forged ID to her.

"Oh," she raises her eyebrow, "Funny, I didn't see you anywhere when we setting the camp or when we were having dinner together."

"We were here, ma'am," I reply.

"Really?" She asks.

"Yes," I nod.

"Then can you tell me rule number 14 from our briefing?" She asks.

I gulp. Busted. I look back at Jungkook to see him slightly shiver, not sure if it was because of the cold or just fear.

"Hmm?" She encourages me to tell.

"Uh," I look around.

"Don't know?" She asks.

"N-not really," I stammer. Oh, fvck my life.

"I see," she nods, "It's a hard thing to remember all the rules. I'll ask a simple question — What is rule number two?"

I look back at Jungkook. He was sweating. I look back at her and gulp.

"Don't know?" She asks, "Ok," she chuckles, "Can you at least take me to your designated tent?"

"Okay," Jungkook says from behind me, "We'll take you."

I widen my eyes at him and he nods at me lightly.

"Okay, then," she steps back, "Lead the way."

Jungkook walks taking the lead and takes us to a tent. I raised my eyebrow at him and he just nods firmly. She hums unzipping the tent and looking inside. I peek inside to see that it's empty. I sigh out in relief. She looks around before inviting us in.

"Now," she looks at two bags on the floor, "Which one of these belongs to you?" She points at Jungkook. He looks at the two bags nervously. He points at the blue bag.

"Okay," she picks the bag up, "I'm gonna open the bag and see inside. You're gonna tell me the contents of your bag."

He gulps visibly nervous and looks at me. I was helpless. This was the first time we ever got caught like this.

"U-underwear," Jungkook stutters and she hums.

"Toothbrush," he says and she looks around the bag nodding.

"Clothes," he says and she hums.

"Flashlight," he says gaining confidence.

"What else?" She asks, "Nothing important?" I could see Jungkook visibly tense up again.

"Books," he says.

"Books?" She raises her eyebrow, "How many books?"

"Three," he randomly answers.

"Where's the third book?" She asks.

"I-I lost it," he replies.

"What are the two books in the bag?" She asks.

His eyes widen and waver.

"Tell me," she encourages.

This is enough. I am tired of this. I usually don't go for violence but she is giving me no other option. Getting caught means several lives being ruined. They'll get dragged around by the government. I quickly pull out the gun on the guard's suit and pull the girl to me pointing the gun at her head, "Scream and I'll blow her brains off."

The guy who was watching us all before tenses, "Please, don't do this."

"I won't," I say, "If you keep your mouth shut."

"Yes, okay," he surrenders.

She squeals lightly. I push the gun further onto her forehead, "Keep quiet."

She whimpers.

"Okay, now," I look at the guy, "Keep your mouth shut and go back to wherever you came from. Tell someone about what happened here, I'll kill her. If someone comes searching for us, the first thing I'll do is kill her."

"Okay," he says, "Please don't hurt her or... touch her."

My eyes soften at his concern for the girl, "Is she your girlfriend?" I ask.

"No," he shakes his head, "Best friend."

"I promise I won't hurt her the way you're thinking that I will," I reply.

"Please, don't do anything to her," his eyes water.

"I won't," I slowly step back with her and jut my head to Jungkook to follow.

"Now," I whisper to her,

"Be a nice girl and show us the safe way out."

1217 words

A/N- F in the comments for Jimin :(

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seijorhi · 3 years

Text

No Strings Attached

A commission for the lovely @hearteyes-candyskies, hope you like it bby! 💕

Bokuto Koutarou x female reader

TW Age gap, power imbalance, manipulation, toxic behaviour, nsfw(ish)

Three months ago, you would have laughed at the very idea of having a sugar daddy.

Then again, three months ago you were still living with your boyfriend and had a steady paycheck coming in every week. You can blame losing the latter on bad luck and an asshole boss, but the former-

You knew your relationship with your ex was far from perfect, but coming home from losing said job to find him buried balls deep in your next door neighbour was a bit of a slap in the face.

Needless to say, in the space of a few days you were out a job, a boyfriend and an apartment. Which, somewhat inevitably, led to you being six wines deep, slumped over your best friend’s bed, sobbing over the wreckage of the life you’d built, suddenly ripped out from beneath you.

You can’t really remember whose idea it was, only giggling drunkenly between yourselves as Misuzu set up your ‘sugar baby’ profile. “Shh, no this is gonna be great,” she’d said, hitting at the hands that tried to grab back your phone. “Meet some hot rich old dude, ride a little dick, let him shower you in cash; all your problems? Poof, sorted!”

And even with the heady, rose tinted haze of your wine fuelled inebriation, you knew that it was just a joke, a bit of stupid fun born more out of an attempt to cheer you up than a viable plan to get the tattered remains of your life back on track. Calling some old creepy dude ‘daddy’ and pretending to love him (not to mention the whole letting him fuck you thing) just for a little money wasn’t exactly your idea of a good time.

Plus, you were fairly sure that you weren’t what most people had in mind when they thought ‘sugar baby’. It wasn’t ever meant to be anything serious, just dumb, drunken fun with your friend.

So when you woke the next day a little after mid morning with a head full of regrets and a pounding headache, the last thing you expected was to find a message from BigDaddyKou82 waiting for you, better sense told you to ignore it.

Honestly, you didn’t really want a sugar daddy, your love life was enough of a mess without throwing in a power imbalance like that.

You should have ignored the message, deleted it or shot him a quick reply politely explaining that you weren’t interested so you could put it out of your mind, and you would have-

If Misuzu hadn’t caught sight of the message first, snatching the phone out of your hand with a gleeful shriek.

—

If you’ve learned anything in these past months, it’s that Bokuto Koutarou doesn’t do anything by half measures. So when he tells you he’s booked dinner for the two of you at an upscale restaurant in the city, you should have expected the package that’s hand delivered right to the door of your shitty little apartment. The dress is beautiful, expensive - though you could tell that just from the elegant matte black box wrapped in golden ribbon it arrives in. It’s exactly his style; short, revealing and just dancing along the edge of impropriety, not that that’ll bother him in the slightest.

But it is gorgeous, and loathe as you are to admit it, it flatters you well.

It’s not the first time that he’s bought you clothes, your tiny closet’s almost overflowing with pieces he’s gifted you. He likes seeing you in the things he’s bought, sometimes a little too much, you think. But you’ve learned it’s better just to go along with it - he gets this wide eyed, beaming grin whenever he sees you dressed in the pretty things he’s bought you, and the sight of it never fails to make your cheeks heat, warmth curling in your stomach.

The dress was not unexpected. The soft, lacy lingerie that comes in the accompanying box, on the other hand - that was new.

And of course, you barely have time to unwrap your gift when your phone flashes to life, an incoming call from the man himself.

“D’ya like it?”

The giddy excitement in his voice is unmistakable, and if you close your eyes you can picture the look on his face - golden eyes all hooded and hungry, that glittering, eager grin he wears when the two of you are out in public but his mind’s occupied with all the filthy, wonderful things he wants to do to you the moment you’re alone.

Not that he’s ever that patient.

“Um, it’s…” Fingers tentatively reach into the tissue paper, pulling the sheer, lacy bra out, warmth blossoming in your cheeks. The matching panties - a tiny scrap of lace held together with bows and thin black straps - really aren’t much better. Like the dress, the lingerie is clearly well made, probably cost more than your weekly rent, and the delicate set is arguably gorgeous (you can’t even argue his taste), but–

“You’re gonna wear it for me tonight, right, baby?”

It’s not really a question; of course you will, because you always do. You would have thought by now that you’d be used to the gifts he showers you in.

“Yeah, but Kou, you really didn’t have to spend all this money on me. Dinner’s enough,” you tell him, setting the lingerie back down.

Dinner, and everything else for that matter.

A chuckle echoes down the line. “But I like spoiling my girl. Like buying you pretty things,” his voice dips, “like tearing ‘em off you afterwards, too.”

And despite all the apprehension curled up inside of you, a shiver of excitement runs down your spine.

—

“So…” Misuzu pushes, leaning across the countertop with her chin resting on her palm and looking entirely too pleased at your discomfort.

“He… asked me to meet him.”

Her eyes widen, sparkling in delight as she gasps, “For dinner?”

“For a drink - one drink,” you clarify. You elect not to tell her that he’d initially tried to sway you into dinner, and it was you who’d talked him down to a drink. Truthfully, you’d probably feel more comfortable getting coffee, but meeting at a bar was fine.

One drink, and if things got awkward or he turned out to be a creep you’d be out of there in a heartbeat.

“Oh my god!! My baby Y/N, all grown up and manipulating old, lonely men for money. I’m so proud,” she wipes a fake tear from her eye and bursts into a fit of giggles.

A crinkle appears between your brow as you frown at her, “He’s not even that old,” you grumble, “and it’s not like that. You know it’s not.”

“No?” she asks, her lips curling into a teasing smirk. “You know, for somebody who was so against me messaging your soon to be sugar daddy, you sure move quickly.”

She laughs at the glare you shoot her way. “You were the one who started this.”

“Mhm, and you were the one who didn’t stop it. Funny that, don’t you think?”

She looks like the cat that ate the canary; smug, glittering amusement written all across her face. And you hate, more than anything, that she’s right.

Because you’d meant to put a stop to it the moment you managed to wrestle your phone back from her. Afterwards, you’d blame the lingering hurt of having your heart broken, the insecurities and bitter humiliation that plagued you, the feeling that you weren’t good enough to stop your boyfriend from straying for making you so pathetically vulnerable and desperate for approval - but when you opened the chat instead of the sleazy come on’s you expected, his first message makes something inside of you flutter, warm and pleasant.

Holy crap, you’re beautiful.

Not exactly a sonnet from Shakespeare, but you can’t remember the last time any guy, much less your ex, called you beautiful.

It didn’t exactly hurt that instead of the aging, creepy looking letch you were half expecting, the profile picture showed a rather fit, attractive man in a crisp, black suit with silvery grey streaked hair and an easy grin. Of course, it was a fifty-fifty chance that the pic wasn’t even him, or if it was then it was outdated or heavily edited, but it was enough to make you pause.

Enough to make you… curious, if nothing else.

But ridiculously attractive or not, you weren’t going to lead him on. If he wanted some pretty, simpering thing to fuck and throw money at, to call him daddy and be his sweet, obedient little girl - that wasn’t you. You’d explained that you weren’t really sure if this was your thing, that you probably weren’t what he had in mind, but surprisingly he hadn’t been put off by that.

Well what’s the harm in finding out for yourself? Maybe you’ll like it more than you think ;)

—

There were rules, when you started - lines you both agreed wouldn’t be crossed.

First and foremost, while it wasn’t exactly a conventional relationship - at least, not the kind you were used to - it was still a relationship of sorts, and there was an expectation of honesty in lieu of absolute exclusivity. You’d tell him if you were seeing anybody else, and Bokuto would tell you the same. Considering sex was on the table, it made sense.

You swore right from the beginning that you wouldn’t allow yourself to become financially dependent on him - you knew all too well that relationships were fickle things to begin with. That kind of dependency was half the reason you were in this position in the first place, and you wouldn’t - couldn’t - let that happen again. That didn’t mean that the arrangement wasn’t transactional. After a few initial meetings that went better than you expected, the two of you came to an agreement; a nice little sum of money he’d deposit weekly in your account in exchange for you being there when he wanted you. Dinner dates, skype calls when he’s travelling, spur of the moment weekends away in expensive hotels - whatever he wanted... within reason.

The thing is, despite his flaws - the little funks he gets into, his immaturity despite the age gap between you, the way he clings to you, mopes if you don’t pay him the attention he wants - you genuinely like Bo, he’s oddly endearing. Loveable, even. He reminds you a little of a puppy; eager for affection, bright and boisterous with boundless energy (and enviable stamina). He’s sweet and adoring and funny and he has this uncanny ability to make everything else fade away when you’re with him, to make you feel like you’re the only woman in the room, beautiful and perfect and entirely his-

But that didn’t make him your boyfriend.

You weren’t lovers, and whether it was in two weeks or two years, you both knew this arrangement had an expiration date. And because of that, there were no strings attached. At any point, either one of you could end it without an explanation - no questions asked, no feelings hurt.

—

Truthfully, you don’t know an awful lot about Bokuto’s line of work, only that his position within the company is senior enough that he can move around his schedule pretty much as he wants, leaving him free to see you whenever he likes.

Which wasn’t a problem when that was once or twice a week.

“Sorry, Koutarou, you know I can’t. Maybe tomorrow?”

The petulant whine that echoes down the phone fills you with an odd sort of guilt. “Why not? You said no on Friday, too,” he pouts. “I miss you, baby. Wanna see you again.”

You shove down the faint, flickering unease that nudges at your gut. You’re not his girlfriend, and you find yourself wondering whether or not he sometimes deliberately lets himself forget that.

Nibbling at your bottom lip, you frown, “I told you I have work today. It’s too late for me to try and find someone to cover my shift, and if I call in again-”

You can kiss your job goodbye. You’re already on thin ice with your boss, and it’s not like new waitresses are hard to find these days.

“Well… what time do you finish?” he asks, his voice thick with dejection, as if he already knows what your answer’s going to be.

You bite back a sigh, “Late. I’m on close again.”

The short silence on the other end of the phone is deafening. “… I’ll come pick you up afterwards.”

This time you can’t stop the soft sigh that escapes, “Kou, I’m gonna be exhausted, I won’t be any fun to be around.”

“Still wanna see you. You’re always working,” he grumbles. “Feels like you don’t have time for me anymore, baby.”

Slowly your eyes flutter shut, and you take a deep breath. It always comes back to this. “I need this job, baby. We’ve talked about this… I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? I have the whole day off, I’m entirely yours.”

“All mine, hm?”

You smile, “All yours, promise.”

He hums in acknowledgement, not entirely happy, but temporarily placated. “Fiiiine. But I’m holding you to it.”

As if you expected any less. “I have to go get ready for work. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“I’ll see you later,” he promises, and you hang up a moment later.

When he said that, you assumed that both of you were on the same page as to what ‘later’ meant.

Three hours into your shift, you hadn’t expected to return from the kitchen to find a grinning Bokuto lounging in one of your booths.

“He asked for you specifically when he came in,” one of your coworkers tells you, shooting you a playful wink. “Didn’t know you were into silver foxes, Y/N. But I can’t say I blame you, he’s hot!”

“Yeah, thanks,” you mutter distractedly, glancing over your shoulder to check your manager wasn’t watching before making your way over.

The smile on your face is tight as golden eyes flicker towards you. “Bokuto,” you begin quietly, “what- what are you doing here?”

An odd look passes across his face at the use of his family name, but the smug grin remains. “You said you had to work tonight,” he says with a cavalier shrug, as if that explained everything.

“Yes, because I’m working! Kou, I need this job, I can’t-” you break off with a huff, darting another glance over your shoulder. Thankfully, your manager’s busy berating your co-worker for a screwed up order and hasn’t noticed your absence yet.

Taking advantage of your distracted state, Bokuto reaches across the table to take your hand in his, his thumb stroking back and forth along the back of your palm. “Hey, hey, relax. You’re here to work, I get it, baby. I’m just here for some food, cross my heart,” he swears, drawing an imaginary X over his chest with his finger.

Gently tugging your hand back, you ignore the hurt little pout he gives you. “So you decided to drive twenty minutes across town just to eat here?” you ask, trying to keep the exasperation from colouring your tone.

He shifts a little in his seat, cheeks flushing a dusty pink under your narrowed stare. “… Well, maybe I wanted to see my pretty girl, too,” he admits, “But I swear I’ll be on my best behaviour!”

Somehow, his words don’t fill you with confidence, but what are you supposed to do? Kick him out? Snap at him for coming despite the fact you told him not to? Taking a deep, steadying breath through your nose, you force yourself to relax. Bokuto’s not hurting anybody by being there, and so long as he keeps his hands to himself, so long as he behaves, it won’t be an issue.

He’s a paying customer, and you’ll treat him just like you would anyone else who walked through the restaurant’s doors.

Yet despite trying to reassure yourself of that, you can’t escape the niggling sense of unease sitting in the pit of your stomach. Even if he’s the perfect gentleman tonight, the perfect stranger, you’ve worked hard to keep your boring day to day life and the one you’ve created with him in nice, neat, separate boxes. Bokuto hasn’t met your friends or your family and outside of Misuzu they don’t have a clue about your arrangement with your attractive if somewhat clingy benefactor.

You don’t want them to know.

Him being here threatens that - it makes you nervous.

But you’ve been with Bokuto long enough to know that you can’t tell him that without hurting his feelings, and you definitely don’t have the energy to deal with that tonight. It’s a conversation for another day.

Instead, you allow a small smile to tug at the corners of your lips, “You know the food’s pretty average here, you might be disappointed.”

Bokuto grins again, mischief sparkling in those golden eyes, and your traitorous heart skips a beat. “Yeah, don’t think that’ll be a problem,” he leans in closer, “I’m far more interested in what’s for dessert.”

Warmth floods your cheeks as he snickers.

—

For the most part he keeps his hands to himself, but you can’t quite bring yourself to relax when you can feel those golden, hungry eyes burning a hole into your back as you move around the restaurant serving other customers.

You pretend you don’t see the scowling glower he sends to the harmless office-worker who spends a good forty five minutes flirting with you every time you go over to check on his table.

Bokuto orders enough food to feed a small army and stays until close, leaving a more than generous tip on his way out.

It goes without saying that he waits for you to finish up. The moment you slip out the door, calling out one last goodnight to your coworker, he’s on you, pushing you up against the brick alleyway wall, hiking your legs up over his hips as his mouth attacks yours, greedy and eager, swallowing up any and all protests you might’ve had.

He doesn’t take you home like you ask, but back to his penthouse suite, and neither of you get much sleep that night.

—

You’re halfway through washing your hair a few days later when your shower head splutters once… twice… and stops completely.

A blockage in the plumbing, your landlord informs you rather apathetically. It’s affecting the whole floor and it’ll take at least a day or two to get somebody out to fix it properly, leaving you without running water for the entirety of that time.

In hindsight, there were at least three other people you could have (and probably should have) called first, but he’s already answering the phone before the thought even occurs to you.

And then it’s too late to backpedal. You find yourself grateful that he can’t physically see the way you flush and fidget, pacing around your living room as you awkwardly try to explain the reason you’re calling at ten in the morning.

“Would, I mean, i-is it okay if I come over to use your shower? Just for this one time, mine kind of got interrupted this morning.”

God, from the way you stutter, stumbling over your own tongue, you’d think you were asking him to marry you. You’ve spent the night at his countless times before, but asking for a favour, even a small one like this - maybe you’re toeing an unwritten line in the sand? Bokuto isn’t with you because he loves you, he’s with you because it’s mutually beneficial for both of you, because of an agreement.

He wants fun, easy, not you saddling him with minor inconveniences. Calling to ask him to come save you, albeit from something as mundane as a lack of access to a functioning shower, feels like something you’d ask your boyfriend to do.

Not your sugar daddy.

But just as you’re about to backtrack and apologise for interrupting his morning, he speaks. “What d’you mean? Just come stay with me till it’s fixed.”

He says it with such certainty, as if it’s the most obvious solution and for a moment you’re stunned into silence. “A-are you sure? I don’t want-'' Don't want what? To be an inconvenience? A problem? “I don’t want to be in the way,” you finish lamely.

Bokuto just laughs, “Don’t be stupid, baby, of course you won’t be in the way. Just swing by the office and I can give you the keys. Or I can just get you another set made? I don’t know, we can figure it out later. I’ll see you soon, ‘kay?”

And you have to admit, as apprehensive as you were stepping into his penthouse alone for the first time, showering in Bokuto’s fancy ensuite bathroom (which you’re fairly sure is bigger than your actual bedroom) is a hell of a lot nicer than doing it at home. The lotions he has are all expensive brands with french names you’ve never even heard of before, but they smell amazing and they leave your skin feeling all soft and silky. Even the shampoo he’s bought for you to use is far nicer than the one you have at home, though you’re secretly pleased that its scent’s similar - your favourite, actually.

Did he buy them knowing that or was it just a coincidence, you wonder. You never thought to ask.

Without work, or Bo for that matter, to occupy your time, you decide to take advantage of his gigantic TV, opening up Netflix and settling into his ridiculously comfortable couch…

… And wake, a few hours later to the feeling of fingers carding through your hair and a pair of lips pressing against your cheek.

Bokuto’s home, you realise with a start, and there’s drool on your chin. Face burning with embarrassment, you hastily wipe it away with the back of your palm and try to sit up, only for Bokuto’s hand to wrap around your wrist, halting you in your tracks.

“No, don’t get up, baby,” he says, easing down onto the couch beside you and shifting your head onto his lap so he can continue threading his fingers through your hair. “I like coming home to this.”

Still half asleep, curling up and nuzzling further into those warm, thick thighs of his, you miss the intensity of the adoration burning in golden depths as he coaxes you back to sleep.

—

The two of you are in bed, your cheek resting on his chest, his arm slung over your waist and knuckles brushing idly along your side, when Bokuto breaks the comfortable silence.

“Move in with me.”

You tense in his arms, heart skipping a beat. For a split second, you’re almost positive that you misheard him. “I-I’m sorry?” You push yourself up onto your elbow, turning your head so that you can look at him properly.

But Bokuto doesn’t miss a beat. “Move in with me,” he repeats, golden eyes bearing down on you.

The expression on your face is frozen halfway between disbelief and hysteria, and you’re staring at him, waiting for that stupid grin to break across his face, for him to laugh and tell you how ridiculous you look, because of course he’s joking.

He’s joking, right?

“Koutarou,” you begin slowly, “Wha- I don’t… Why would you want me to move in with you? We barely- I mean, we’re not…”

He shrugs his shoulders, “Why wouldn’t I? It makes sense. My place is bigger and nicer, and I like having you here with me. Feels right.”

It feels right??

“I-I can’t just move out of my apartment, Kou.”

His eyebrows knit together, and he huffs, “Why not? It’s a shitty apartment.”

“That’s not the point!” Knocking away the hand that reaches for you, you push yourself all the way up until you’re sitting properly. “I don’t want to move.”

Owlish eyes narrow, a flash of irritation sparking. “Why not? It makes perfect sense for you to move in here with me. You wouldn’t have to work at that stupid job anymore for one,” he huffs.

“Bokuto, I’m not going to quit my job,” you mutter. “We’ve talked about this.”

“Why, though?!” he explodes. “You don’t need the money, I’ve told you I can take care of you, whatever you want, baby, name it and it’s fucking yours. You don’t need to work and you don’t need that shitty little apartment!”

Like a crystal glass slipping from numb fingers, the fantasy you’ve convinced yourself you’ve been living shatters into a thousand jagged shards in the space of a single breath.

Oh, how naive you’ve been. How fucking stupid.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you inhale deeply, “Kou, that’s not-”

Strong fingers grip your jaw, and your eyes shoot open as he tugs your face back towards him. Your breath catches in your throat, heart hammering painfully against your ribs. His eyes are wide, pupils blown out, but it’s the intensity in his gaze as he stares at you, the blank expression-

“I love you.”

—

39 missed calls. 72 unread messages.

Flowers, bouquets of roses, peonies and chrysanthemums piled up by your door between boxes of chocolates and other gifts you won’t bring yourself to open.

Wide eyed, Misuzu gingerly steps over them, holding two steaming mugs in hand. “Holy fuck,” she murmurs, and for the first time since this stupid, awful mistake began, there’s not a trace of mirth to be found. “Y/N, I…”

But she doesn’t have the words, and you can’t blame her.

“He told me he loves me,” you sigh. “He asked me to move in with him and told me he loved me, and I grabbed my clothes and all but ran.” You still can’t get the image of Bokuto’s face out of your head, the raw, aching hurt swimming in his eyes as you all but stumbled over excuses in your haste to get out of there. But he didn’t lift a finger to stop you, didn’t say another word.

He just watched numbly, hunched over against the headboard as you fled.

There’s a short beat of silence between the two of you as she sets down the drinks and collapses into the chair beside you. “And… do you love him back?”

Exhaling loudly, you drop your face into your palms. “I-”

You like how he makes you feel beautiful, the filthy, wonderful praise he lavishes you in when the two of you sleep together, the way he touches you, fingers and mouth so eager to please as his cock fills you, inch by delicious inch.

You like being adored, treasured, and you liked Bo, but… you don’t love him.

That was never on the cards, that wasn’t what your relationship was.

Every line he ever crossed, every boundary he toed, you keep replaying them again and again over and over in your head like a never ending loop. You hadn’t even wanted this whole stupid sugar baby relationship to begin with, and every step of the way he was the one to coax you forward.

And you let him, swallowing down your doubts and your insecurities each and every time. You let him think that this was something else entirely…

How had you not seen this coming?

“No,” you admit.

The hand that takes yours is soft, and when you glance over with eyes beginning to burn with unshed tears, Misuzu squeezes it gently. “Then end it. Walk away.”

And with your head on her shoulder, her arms wrapped loosely around you, you type out a short message to Bokuto. No strings attached and no questions asked, you’d promised each other that much when you’d started this mess. You wonder if it still holds true.

I’m sorry. Clearly we were on different pages and want different things. I didn’t mean to lead you on or for things to go as far as they did, but I can’t do this with you anymore.

You send it and block his contact, and when the tears come and painful sobs rip their way free, Misuzu holds you tight and murmurs soft reassurances. It’ll pass, all breakups hurt.

—

A week after your ‘breakup’ you get a notification on your phone that money’s been transferred into your bank account.

For a moment, you think that maybe it’s an accident, a recurring transaction he’d simply forgotten to cancel (you doubt he’d even notice) until you click into the transaction itself.

It isn’t the sum itself that startles you - twice the usual amount - but the short note attached in the description.

I need to see you. Please.

You transfer the money right back into his account.

—

Without your weekly supplement from Bo, it doesn’t take long for you to come to the realisation that your current salary just barely covers rent and your bills, and if you want to eat anything other than two minute noodles in the foreseeable future, you’re going to need either more hours, or a second job.

Thankfully, the timing works out well. When you go to your boss with your most winning smile to try and convince her of your plight, she simply shrugs and agrees, having had to let one of the junior staff go only a few days before. The one catch being that instead of working a mix of morning and afternoon shifts with the occasional closing thrown in, you’re now exclusively on close, five nights a week, Tuesday through Saturday.

Mostly, it doesn’t bother you. The shifts are long and you always leave feeling aching, drained and barely human, but usually it’s quiet enough, and so long as you can get the last few lingering customers out early enough, the actual close runs pretty smoothly between you and the other staff.

It’s not what you really want to be doing, but you’ve learned to make the best of it. This is adult life, and for the first time since high school, you’re supporting yourself entirely. It might not be the greatest job in the world, and there are absolutely days when you just want to throw in the towel completely, but there is a slight pride to that fact. You don’t need anybody in your life to coddle or support you, you’re figuring this shit out as you go along.

You just wish, sometimes, that you could do that without having to work until the early hours of the morning.

On paper, the kitchen closes at midnight and the last customers are supposed to be out within half an hour of that. Then, between yourself and another server, you can usually get the restaurant tidied up and closed a little after one.

You knew right from the moment you clocked on that tonight wasn’t going to be one of those nights. The girl who’s supposed to be on close with you called in sick and your boss hasn’t bothered to replace her.

It’s not the first time you’ve had to close by yourself, but it’s still a pain, especially when the last few customers take forever to finish up and leave.

One of the kitchen staff offers to stay back, his bag slung over his shoulder, hand already on the door handle but you just shake your head with a tired smile.

“Nah, I can handle it. Thanks, though,”

To his credit, he doesn’t immediately take the offered out. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. See you tomorrow.”

Without any help, it takes almost twice as long for you to finish up, and it’s a little after two when you finally flick off the lights and lock the doors.

Your feet are killing you, and all you can think about is sinking into your bed at home, burrowing into your blankets and sleeping for a week straight-

“Hey, baby.”

Leaning against the hood of his car, arms folded across his broad chest and eyeing you with an unreadable expression, is Bokuto.

The tiny hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.

There's nothing inherently threatening about him being here, but it’s the middle of the night, you haven’t seen him in almost two weeks and you don’t need to glance around to know that the car park’s empty. There’s nobody in sight.

Just you and him, and the few feet of distance separating you.

“K-kou, what are you… what are you doing here?”

He smiles at that, the way his name slips from your lips, but only for a fleeting second. It fades, and a cold, uncomfortable feeling settles in the pit of your stomach.

“I missed you, y’know?” He pushes off the hood and takes a step towards you, “You didn’t call me.”

He’s always been bigger than you, towering over you looking like some Adonis with those rippling, powerful muscles of his. You used to like that strength, squealing in wicked delight when he’d hoist you up with a grin, hands gripping your thighs, squeezing your ass, your back shoved up against the wall so he could drive his cock deeper into ‘his pretty fuckin’ pussy’.

But that was then.

You’ve never been scared of his strength. Even that morning in the apartment, he didn’t lash out, didn’t scream or yell, he just… shut down. He wouldn’t hurt you, you know that.

That doesn’t stop you from skittering backwards like a frightened little bunny, your back hitting the wall.

The very moment you do, you watch as his eyes widen in surprise, hurt flashing for a split second-

-before they darken, his face twisting into a scowl, and you can’t escape the feeling you’ve made an awful mistake.

Dread creeps its way up your spine, tightening like a vice around your chest, making it hard to breathe. Your brain is screaming at you to run, adrenaline surging through your veins, but even as your heart races and your breathing spikes, you can’t seem to move your legs.

It wouldn’t make a difference even if you could - with your back up against the literal wall, Bokuto and his car blocking your only escape route, you’re trapped; a fact that hasn’t escaped either of you.

Paralysed in fear, you can’t so much as twitch as he takes another slow, calculated step forward.

Desperately, you open your mouth - to try and placate him? To apologise? Scream for help? - but all that escapes is his name in a choked, breathless whisper.

“Bokuto…”

As he stares at you, he almost looks regretful.

Almost, if not for the grim determination resolving like steel in those golden eyes of his. “I love you, and I know you love me, too,” he says, closing the gap between you. “I’m doing this for us, baby.”

#yandere haikyuu #yandere bokuto x reader #yandere bokuto kotaro x reader #yandere bokuto koutarou #yandere bokuto kotaro #yandere bokuto koutarou x reader #tw manipulation #tw toxic behavior #tw kidnapping

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chrisevansjellybeans · 3 years

Text

Undercover | Mob!Steve Rogers

I saw this post by @rosierose-e and got inspired to write this mob! Steve Rogers smut. All mistakes are my own.

ALSO THANK YOU FOR 400 FOLLOWERS! Love you all and appreciate the support immensely! Thank you :)

Warning: Smut!!! NSFW choking, cockwarming, swearing

Part Two

Word Count: 5k

You squinted as you looked at yourself in the mirror. The weight of the false lashes a foreign feeling on your eyes. You felt like a clown. This was not you at all. You wore the basics: some foundation, concealer, blush, mascara and if you were really feeling fancy a lip gloss. But nothing heavy. One, your skin was unforgiving and if you went heavier than the BB cream you used you would have pimples for days. Two, in your line of work heavy makeup just wasn’t ideal.

“Wow, you look amazing.” You looked up in the mirror to see the rookie Peter Parker getting into the van behind you. Peter was sweet, a little naive, but a good agent nonetheless. He had joined the force about three months ago and Director Fury had insisted he learn from the best, so now he was your partner for the remainder of the year.

“Thanks, Pete.” You sighed as you straightened up, pulling the hem of the skin tight black dress down only to have it bunch up again. “I feel ridiculous.”

“Well you don’t look it.” He handed you a cup of coffee and you took it with a grateful smile. You needed all the caffeine you could get tonight.

Tonight you were going undercover at the notorious Red White and Blue Gala hosted by none other than notorious mob boss Steve Rogers. It was his lame attempt and pretending to be an upstanding citizen but hosting an event in honor of the men and women in service. A good cause but for a bad reason. It was rumored that more than just helpful charity happened at this event.

You and the rest of your team had been tailing Rogers for close to two years. Trying to get anything to tie the bastard down to all the crimes you knew his organization was behind. But he was good at his job. Leaving no trace evidence that could link any of the nefarious acts back to him.

He was a cocky son of a bitch and you wanted to be the one to nail him.

Peter glanced down at the watch on his wrist before clapping his hands together. “Almost showtime, partner.”

You felt your hands get clammy as the nerves started to wrack your body. You had done undercover work before in the last seven years you’ve been a part of the force but there was something different about this one. Something more dangerous. Steve Rogers was a dangerous man.

You turned back to the mirror and fixed your hair and makeup one last time before letting out a long breath. You again tried to pull down the hem of the dress but with no avail. You wanted badly to be mad at the catering company that you had been able to infiltrate but you knew that this was probably the work of Rogers. Sick bastard.

You slipped on the four inch heels they gave you and you nearly stumbled into Peter as you tried to take a step. Heels. Another thing not usually worn in your line of business.

“Okay, this is a listening device.” Peter explained as he pinned a small but beautiful butterfly pin on your right breast. You couldn’t help but chuckle as his hands fumbled as he accidentally grazed over where your nipple would be. “Sorry.”

“It’s a boob, Parker. It’s fine.” Peter just nodded before finishing pinning it.

“Anyway,” he continued. “It’ll be recording everything that we need and coming right back here to my feed in the van. It’s small enough that it won’t get detected by any scanners. Unfortunately we won’t be able to communicate but if you say ‘pineapple’ we’ll come in and get you out.”

“Pineapple.” You said more to yourself than to Peter.

“Pineapple. And I mean, Y/N. Anything starts to get fishy you get out of there. Roger’s is ruthless.”

“I know.” You patted his shoulder. “Thanks for looking out for me, rook.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He pushed you out the van. “Kick ass, partner.”

You gave him a small salute before turning around and following another group of girls dressed just like you into the expansive mansion in front of you.

You tried not to be too awestruck as you took in the structure of the building. It looked like something out of an old mystery novel. The entire place was dark. Dark wood and dark furniture. The lights all a dimmed tan light that fed into the mysterious atmosphere. Your eyes darted to the artwork that littered the wall, all depictions of a fall from grace.

Is that how you see yourself, Rogers? A fallen angel?

“Hey!” You snapped back to attention as a frantic voice called over to you. “What the hell are you doing? Get to the kitchen.”

You bit your tongue as you glared at the rude man before following the rest of the women into the kitchen.

Dressed all like you, there were probably about twenty other women there. All of them easily could have been supermodels. The rude man pushed you towards a group of about three of them who were all balancing drinks on a tray.

“Grab one and go.” The man, Stan you gathered from his nametag, said before turning to another group of women. You picked up a tray and prayed to all powers in the universe that the combination of full glasses of wine and these heels didn’t cause you to completely embarrass yourself.

The ballroom was huge. You suddenly felt very small as you wandered around the room, offering drinks to some of New York’s most high profile residents. You kept your eyes peeled for the familiar mob boss. Your heart rate sped up as you noticed him across the room, chatting with a beautiful woman. You watched as he leaned down and whispered something to her, causing her to blush before playfully pushing his shoulder. He just smirked before turning his attention to the man on the other side of him-Clint Barton, completely ignoring her now, but she still stayed by his side watching his every move.

Pathetic.

You had to get to him. Get him alone and get him talking. But how?

“Well aren’t you the prettiest thing in the room.” You felt yourself stiffen as a pair of hands wandered down your back and rested on your hip. The smell of expensive cologne attacking your senses.

Slowly you turned around to find James “Bucky” Barnes looking at you like a predator to its prey. Bucky, was Steve’s right hand man. His best friend. He was handsome. Dark hair, even darker blue eyes and a smirk, that if he was anyone else, would have your panties melted off before you could even blink. You glanced down at the infamous metal arm that was hidden underneath an expensive suit jacket, but his hand flexed slightly as he noticed you looking at it.

“Thank you, Mr. Barnes.” You forced out. “Can I offer you a drink?” You pushed the tray between the two of you in offering and also creating more space.

“No, I’m all set, doll.” He raised his glass of scotch. “Just wanted to talk to a pretty thing like you.”

“There are plenty of other beautiful women here.” You said, your voice slightly cold. You hoped he would get the hint.

“None quite like you.” He smirked and you fought everything in you to roll your eyes.

“Does that line actually work?”

Bucky took a step back at your bluntness. You see out of the corner of your eye, Rogers and Barton start to head towards the door. You had to make a move, because if he left to go do business he might not come back down for a while.

“It was nice talking to you, Mr. Barnes.” You quickly moved past him, ignoring his short “wait”. You rushed, but not too obviously, towards where Steve was heading. If you went fast enough you could cut him off. You felt your heart drop to your stomach as you tripped over your heels, the tray in your hand shooting forward and the glasses of red wine landing square on Steve Rogers’ suit.

“What the fuck?” The room went silent at his angry outburst. You stumbled as you tried to stand up, but were immediately hoisted up when his large hands wrapped around the tops of your arms.

“I’m so sorry, sir.” You sputtered. For a moment you forgot where you were. Why you were here. His blue eyes, dark with fury, scanned your face as he held your arms. You had never really taken a good look at him. All pictures in his file weren’t anything special or high definition. But now, seeing him up close? You were beginning to understand the woman from earlier giddiness.

He was beautiful.

You bit your lip as he ran his tongue over his bottom lip. You suddenly felt very aware of your body and the fact that he hadn’t taken his eyes off of you.

“Go.” He pushed you towards the door he had been walking to with Barton. You walked through the door with shaky legs as you heard him mutter something to Barton before following you.

“Sir, I’m so-”

“Shut up.” He growled as he stepped through the door, the heavy wood slamming shut behind him. “Walk.”

You hesitated. You didn’t know where he wanted you to walk to. Grumbling, Steve once again pushed you forward and you just started walking down the hallway. As you walked down you noticed a door that was slightly ajar. You glanced in while walking past and took note of the firearms and drugs that were very obviously there.

“Keep. Walking.” Steve’s voice was harsh in your ear before you heard him slam the door shut.

“Yes, sir.” you muttered.

The two of you continued to walk until you made it to the room at the end of the hall. Tentatively you opened it, waiting for any different direction, but Steve remained silent behind you so you continued.

The room was...different. It was very different from the dark vibe of the rest of the house. There was a large bay window to your left that overlooked the back of the house that homed a large garden and pool. The walls were painted a soft beige and the furniture a lighter wood than the rest of the house. Even the bed was covered in a white duvet that looked like a cloud just waiting to be jumped on. It was homey. It was nice.

“Mr. Rogers-”

“Who do you work for?” He demanded, shutting the door.

You froze. You tried hard to make sure your face didn’t give away anything as he stared you down. You didn’t let your gaze falter as he stalked closer to you.

“Lee’s Catering.” You answered earnestly.

“Bullshit.” He was now only a foot away from you. His broad shoulders heaving as he raked you up and down. “I know every single girl that works for Stan. I’ve never seen you before. So answer me again and honestly this time. Who the fuck do you work for?”

“So he’s not allowed to hire new girls?” You snapped, immediately covering your mouth with your hand.

Fuck.

“Watch your tone with me, sweetheart. You’re on very thin ice right now.” He closed the final gap between the two of you and you gasped when his hand went around your throat, but not tightening enough to cut off any oxygen.

“That old bat isn’t allowed to hire anyone that I haven’t vetted.” He hissed in your ear. You shuttered as the vibrato of his voice sent shivers straight down to your core.

“Please.” Your voice came out in a whisper as your eyes pleaded with him.

Steve opened his mouth but nothing came out, his nose brushed along the curve of your neck and you sucked in a breath as his mouth latched onto the sensitive spot underneath your jaw.

“Strip.” He commanded, pushing you back causing you to fall onto the bed.

“What?”

“Take off your fucking clothes so I can see if you’re wired.” He snapped. You slowly pulled at the hem of your dress before drawing it up your body and over your head. Before you could fully get it off he stopped you. Your heart stopped as he reached over to the butterfly pin and pulled it off the dress. You watched in horror as he walked to his door, opening it and calling out to someone at the end of the hall.

“Yeah boss?” You tried to see him, but Steve’s frame was blocking the small opening in the door.

“Take this and run a test. Let me know if it’s bugged.” He demanded before closing the door. When he turned around he raised an expectant eyebrow at you letting you know you still had to take off the dress. You resumed your actions and turned your face away when his eyes flared at the matching set of red lingerie you had on underneath.

“See? No wires.” You whispered.

Steve didn’t say anything as he stalked towards you, rolling up the sleeves to the dress shirt he had on. Your body flushed as he leaned over you, his strong arms resting on either side of your chest. Slowly, he moved on hand to the strap of your bra before lowering it down off your shoulder. His thumb brushed over your pebbling nipple and you wanted to smack the smirk that formed on his face straight off.

“I better double check you’re not hiding anything anywhere.” He muttered before pulling the cup of your bra down, exposing your left breast. You shuttered as his thumb brushed over it again, this time with no barrier. His mouth was hot as wrapped his lips around the bud, causing you to let out an unwilling moan. Your hips bucked up as his tongue expertly ran over your nipple. His deftly unclipped your bra and moved his mouth to your other breast and continued the same assault. His hands moved down to your hips to steady them from bucking against his growing member.

“Hmm, looks like we’re clear up here.” He chuckled as his lips moved up to your jaw before capturing your mouth with his.

The kiss was fiery and embarrassingly so sent a wave of pleasure down to your aching core. You moaned into the kiss as you ran your fingers through his hair, giving it a tight tug. Steve growled at your movements as he fully leaned into you now, his muscular thighs trapping yours on the bed.

You ran your tongue along his bottom lip before slipping it in to find his own. You nearly came as Steve moaned into your mouth, his hands tightening on you and pulling you up to meet his rutting hips. Using all your strength you spun the two of you around, your mouths still connected, so you were now straddling his pelvis. You pulled away from the kiss and sat up.

Steve slowly opened his eyes, his pupils blown in desire as he looked up at you through hooded eyes. You began to unbutton his wine stained shirt, running your hands over his porcelain skin when it was fully opened. You traced your fingers over the tattoos that littered his abs and ribs. You took pleasure in the fact that Steve would shiver with every pass of your fingertip.

“I’m sorry about the stain, Mr. Rogers.” You said innocently, leaning down, your breasts pushed together as they rested on his now bare chest.

“You should be, princess.” His voice was deep. You let out a small yelp as one of his hands gave a harsh slap to your ass. “This is an expensive shirt. And don’t even get me started on the trousers.”

You hummed in understanding as you gave tiny kisses across his jaw and neck, taking time to suck on the skin around his collarbone. Your hands wandered down his body till they came in contact with the trousers in question. Slowly you sat up, running your hands over the stain on his pants but your eyes never leaving his.

“I hope you can get the stain out.” You licked your lips as you moved your body down his own until your face was directly by his crotch and the stain. You sucked on the stain near his cock and smiled when his member jumped in his briefs. You slowly pulled down his pants until he was just in his underwear, his cock trying so hard to break free from it’s confines.

Steve groaned as you finally freed his aching member. You gave the tip a little kitten lick as you looked up at him. He was now resting his weight on his arms as he leaned back and watched you in absolute wonder. You brushed your thumb across the tip, dragging the precum that had gathered there down the rest of his shaft. Your mouth watered at the thought of having him in your mouth. But you wanted to torture him a bit more.

You ran your tongue along the vein on the underside of his cock, while your hand squeezed lightly at the base. You wrapped your lips around the tip, your tongue playing with the slit there before pulling back with a pop.

“Mhmm, tasty.” You continued treating him like your own personal lollipop, but never fully enveloping his dick in your mouth.

“Sweetheart, either fucking suck it like I know you can or I’ll shove it down your fucking throat.” Steve wrapped your hair into a makeshift ponytail and forced your head up. “Got it?”

You didn’t respond, instead you finally took him into your mouth. You pushed past your gag reflex and took him all the way in until your nose brushed against the hairs on his naval.

“Oh fuck.” Steve’s voice praised as he started moving his hips, fucking his cock down the back of your throat.

Your eyes watered as you let him use your throat as his own little fuck toy. You reached between your legs trying to relieve the tension that was building there. You moaned around his cock as your fingers toyed with your clit.

“Shit, I wanna come in that fucking pussy.” He moaned as he pulled you off the floor and threw you back on the bed. You laid back, your fingers moving back to your clit as you watched him fully take off his clothes. He watched you with interest as you moved your lace panties to the side and slid a finger up your slit, gathering your juices before gently rubbing your clit again. He ran his hands up your legs before grabbing your hand and stopping your actions.

“This,” He patted harshly against your pussy and you moaned at the sensation. “Is mine. Don’t touch, unless I tell you to.”

“Yes, sir.” You moaned as his fingers replaced yours. Your back arched as he dipped one finger into your hole.

“Fuck, baby. When was the last time somebody fucked this little cunt? You’re so fucking tight, baby.” He moaned, watching as your pussy greedily closed around his finger.

“You’re gonna feel so good around my cock, sweetheart.” Steve’s eyes met yours and for a moment he looked like a man that you might actually want to be with. His cold exterior was gone and replaced with a man who was just as lustfully lost as you were.

“I want your cock now. Please.” you cried out as he slipped another finger in. Your body bucking as he curled his fingers up hitting that spot that so few had been able to get to with you.

“Yeah? My little slut wants daddy’s cock to fill her up?” He leaned over you, capturing your lips again. You moaned into his mouth at his words. You never admitted it to anyone but you always had a little bit of a daddy kink. You wrapped your arms around his neck, holding onto him tightly as waves of pleasure crashed over you.

“Please, daddy.” You whimpered against his lips as your hips bucked against his. “Please fuck me.”

Steve chuckled darkly, kissing you quickly again, before ripping your panties clean off your body. You didn’t even care that he just ruined the most expensive pair of underwear you owned. You just needed his cock in you now.

You bit the inside of your cheek as you watched him lineup his cock with your dripping hole, slowly pushing the head into your tight channel. You both let out moans as he bottomed out. He fell forward, his forehead resting against yours. You whined as you tried to move your hips against his but he just forced them down with his hands.

“Steve!” You all but screamed. “Please.”

“Patience, baby.” He said through gritted teeth. “Your pussy’s so fucking tight. Squeezing daddy’s cock so good. I just need a minute.”

You let out a humph as you continued to buck your hips against his.

“What the fuck did I just say?” He growled, he leaned up and wrapped his hand around your throat. “Don’t be a fucking brat.”

You opened your mouth to apologize but it was overtaken as you let out a yelp as he pulled himself out before slamming his cock back into you. You threw your head back as he fucked into you relentlessly, his hand tightening around your throat. You were in a state of euphoria as his cock dragged in and out of your walls.

“Oh my god.” You mewl as he continues to completely destroy your pussy. Before you could process what’s happening, Steve flips you over so your face is pushed into the fluffy comforter. He pulls your hips back so your ass is in the air and he easily slides back into you.

“Tight little cunt fucking loves my cock.” You cry out as his hand delivers a slap against your ass before moving to your hips and pushing you back onto his dick. You feel your eyes roll to the back of your head as the tip of his cock hits your g-spot.

“Daddy!” You call out. Steve leans over and pulls you up by your neck, causing your back to be flush with his front as he fucks up into you. His other hand moves down to play with your clit.

“Are you gonna come baby girl? I feel your pussy milking my cock. You wanna come?” He growls in your ear. “Huh? You wanna come all over my cock?”

“Yes! Oh god, yes!”

“I’m so close, princess.” He drops his head into the crook of your neck. “Come on, baby. Squeeze my cock, make daddy come with you.”

You feel that familiar feeling in your tummy as your orgasm approaches.

“Shit.” You breathe out as your orgasm gets closer and closer. Steve’s fingers move faster against your clit. You cry out as your orgasm finally crashes over you. Steve lets out a groan as you feel his cock twitch inside of you, his cum shooting inside your walls.

“You feel so good.” He breathes as his orgasm dies down. You hum in agreement but you’re too tired to say anything else. You close your eyes as you feel Steve lower your both to the bed. You whimper as he pulls out of you.

“I’ll be right back.” He presses a kiss to your forehead and you just give him a nod. You’re completely incoherent. Totally fucked out. He’s gone for a couple minutes and you hear the water in the bathroom running before he comes back. With your eyes closed you don’t see how he pauses at the side of bed, appreciating the curves of your body as you curled yourself under one of his many blankets.

You whine as you feel him move the blanket before running a washcloth between your legs. “Steve?”

“Yes, princess?” You hate that your stomach flutters at the nickname.

“Don’t leave.” You mutter, closing your eyes once more.

Steve doesn’t respond for a second and at first you think that he’s going to leave but then you feel the bed dip and a strong arm pulling you close. You smile to yourself as your hand lands on top of his.

“Get some rest.” He whispers in your ear.

“Mmkay.” you hum and you don’t know if it’s your imagination or not but you swore you felt Steve smile against your skin.

You wake with a jolt. You glance at the clock and curse silently. You’ve been asleep for two hours. You turn over and see Steve still there, his eyes closed and his breathing steady. You find yourself staring at his long eyelashes and how they rest gently along the tops of his cheek. He doesn’t look like a scary mob boss here. He looks human. He looks peaceful.

“I can feel you staring.” Steve opens one eye and gives you a small smile. “Like what you see?”

You gasp as he grabs you and has you straddle his hips. You rest your hands easily on his chest and stare down at him, smirking as you feel his cock start to stir.

“Hmmm, I love these.” His hands reach up and twist at your nipples causing you to bite back a moan.

“Steve…”

“And your pussy is so responsive to me, princess. It’s like it was made for me.” He rubs his thumb across your clit. “I can feel how wet you are again.”

“Well you’re playing with my clit. Of course I’m gonna get wet.” You retort.

Steve raises an eyebrow at you. “You really think being sassy is in your best interest?”

You roll your eyes but don’t respond. Steve grumbles before lifting you up a bit and impaling you on his now hard cock.

“Fuck!” You slap his chest and Steve chuckles. Nonetheless you start rocking your hips against his.

“Nuh uh,” Steve tuts. He holds your hips still. “You’re just gonna sit here like this. Keep me nice and warm.”

“Steveeee.” You whine, lowering your head to his chest.

“Don’t be such a brat then.” He growls. You raise your head to look at him and even though his words are tough, his eyes are soft. And for a moment your taken back. “So sit still for daddy.”

You groan but stay still. Steve runs his fingers up and down your back, tracing patterns along your skin and you hum in appreciation. Your peaceful moment is upended though when his phone rings on the nightstand next to him.

“Rogers.” He answers quickly. You stay quiet as you hear the voice on the other end of the line talk about the product movement. You smirk to yourself as Steve begins to discuss logistics, completely ignoring your presence.

“I’m a little busy, Stark.” Tony Stark? As in Mayor of the city Tony Stark? He was in on this too. “I’ll call you back.” Steve threw his phone back on the nightstand and brought your face up to his to pull you into a searing kiss.

“Please, daddy?” You say against his lips. You start rocking your hips again and this time, Steve doesn’t stop you.

You're a moaning mess as Steve’s hips snap up yours, your orgasm fast approaching.

“Gonna cum already?”

“Yes, yes! Oh god, I’m so close!” You breathe as he quickens his pace.

“Cum, baby girl. Make a mess on daddy.” He groans, his head tipping back.

“Steve!” You choke out as your body spasms with pleasure. Steve comes quickly after you and you shutter as you feel his seed leaking out of your worn out hole.

You lay your head down on his chest again and try to gather your thoughts. You need to get out of here.

“I should go.” You whisper, sitting up. Steve’s cock is still inside you and you almost don’t want to leave because you feel so full.

“I wanna see you again.” He runs his fingers across your cheek. The sense of power you feel seeing the country’s biggest mob boss underneath you, drunk on your sex is overwhelming. You love the feeling.

“You will. Soon.” You lean down and give him a deep kiss. “I promise.” You peck his lips once more before gathering your clothes from the floor.

Slipping on your shoes you give him one last wink before hurrying out the door and down the hall. You manage to find a way to the kitchen without having to walk through the rest of the party and you sneak out behind a delivery man who brought in a ridiculously large ice sculpture.

Once you're outside you take your heels off and run towards the van down the street. You hurriedly knock on the back, checking your surroundings to make sure no one sees you. Peter opens the door and he looks like he’s seen a ghost when he sees you.

“Y/N!” He pulls you into the van. “Oh my god, I was getting worried. When we heard him say that he wanted to check the pin I had to turn off the devices so they wouldn’t get traced. And then you didn’t come out. But Fury said that you would be fine but man, I was so nervous and-”

“Parker, shut up and hand me a piece of paper.” You clapped your hands together, pulling him out of his ramble. Peter nodded and handed you a pen and paper watching intently as you started writing down everything you overheard on the phone call.

“What is this?”

“Rogers is working with Stark and they're moving some sort of product tomorrow.” You said proudly.

“How did you...this is huge!”

“My Ma always said that there are two ways to get to a man. One is through his stomach and the other is in his pants.” You shrugged.

“And I’m guessing you didn’t make him a grilled cheese sandwich.” Peter makes a face.

“Not exactly.” You laugh. “Now let’s go. We gotta get this to Fury.”

Part 2

#chris evans imagine #steve rogers imagine #chris evans smut #steve rogers smut #chris evans x reader #steve rogers x reader #stever rogers x reader smut

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kiridarling · 3 years

Text

𝐁𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐎𝐌𝐒 𝐔𝐏!

shouto todoroki | f!reader, ceo heir!shouto, mirror sex, hair pulling, choking, inappropriate use of showerhead, alcohol. minors dni!

— 3k words

"You're so pretty when you make a mess, aren't you?"

Miss Y/N,

I couldn't help but notice the latest project my father assigned is extremely difficult. If I'm going to be completely honest, you'll work yourself to death at this rate, and your greys double by the day. Drinks on me at Club 777 at 7 pm. Sound like a deal?

— shouto todoroki

“A club.”

“Glad you could make it,” Shouto gives you a small smile; it’s anything but hostile. And yet, that’s all yours is as you assume the space to his right in the velvet crescent booth. “I hope it wasn’t too hard to find. Club 777 is pretty popular around he—what are you doing.”

As your fingers fly across the keyboard, you give him an indignant huff, the screen highlighting the underside of your face electric blue as you continue hacking away at your presentation. If you’re going to be forced to go out, you’re going to make the most of it—and that’s by getting the work that you would be getting done at home, at a club. And a rather loud one, at that.

"You're a workaholic," he observes with a sigh, and you flash him a fat sarcastic smile. Stupid fucking CEO heirs and their entitlement.

"Congrats, you've solved everything! Can I go home, now?"

"No," Shouto frowns before he rudely snaps your laptop shut and sets it to his right. Pushing a plate of clear-colored shots your way, your eyes bulge—there have got to be at least fifteen. "Drink up—it'll take the edge off."

You blink between your coworker and the shots. You trust Shouto and you've known each other for a while...somewhat. His father is your boss, and with Shouto as the next in line you’ve got no choice but to play nice. He’s as cocky as he is aloof, but you suppose he’s fine overall—and he's seen you break your back over this project for a solid month and a half. Positive you won't be able to keep your conscious from running laps over all the work you have to do otherwise, you snatch the first shot and chuck it down your gullet with worrying enthusiasm. Shouto lifts an eyebrow and you reach for another.

"Thirsty?" He chuckles, before grabbing a shot for himself. The second shot burns, but never as much as the first, and the back of your hand catches what doesn't make it into your mouth as you say:

"More than you could think."

"And then—and then I was like, um no sir, I think you got my change wrong by at least five bucks! He didn't believe me, like at all."

"Did he make a fuss of it?"

"Of course."

"That means he has a small dick," Shouto advises with the second to last shot in his hand, wrist-watch glinting in the club light. His face is a deeper red than his hair and you've never noticed how nice a suit fits him as if you don't see him in one every day. You giggle at that, too far gone yourself to be offended on the stranger's behalf. Shouto's jacket drapes over your shoulders like an oversized blanket even though you bickered about not being cold, with enough alcohol in your veins to warm a village.

"Probably," you rest your head against the crescent booth, dismissive at the softness from the red velvet that’s probably ruining your hair. "Either way, I pulled a Karen and called the manager on 'em.

Shouto nods, "As you should. Once I tricked my father into thinking he had a very unhappy customer by sending him a million emails from 'John Appleseed' and calling his personal secretary twice as much."

You cackle, throwing yourself across the table at the thought of your Boss’ face hot and red with anger (as it does.) Shouto's loved nothing more than to make his animosity against his father well-known—to you, at least—and to say bored Heir been getting creative the past few months is an understatement. "Oh fuck—when'd you stop calling?"

Shouto shrugs, muscles rolling underneath his white dress shirt, "Once I filled his voicemail box.”

He holds a smile, small and distant, as he watches you wheeze as if he just told the funniest story in the world. In your defense, Shouto's never really been a funny guy, but he does funny things. Like when he stares at you when he doesn’t think you notice, or when he gets so close your chests nearly touch, but doesn't notice it. Doesn't point it out, at least. You find your laugh dying along with the smile on his face, though, and when he says nothing afterward but stare.

"...Shouto?" You snap in his face to make sure he's still in there—but it's hard to tell, with his glazed eyes and scarily steady breathing. His arms find either side of you, and you're too tipsy to realize you've been caged against the booth until it's too late.

"Your eyes are quite mesmerizing, Miss Y/N," he marvels. You can smell the vodka on his breath, and positive that compliment would’ve set your face aflame if the alcohol hadn’t already, any hints of cherry obscured by the neon club lights.

"I—um, thank you," you giggle, and if you were sober, you'd shoot yourself in the foot for reacting like a school girl. But you suppose you can give yourself some leeway—this is Shouto Todoroki after all, and for some reason, he's complimenting you. "You...you aren't too bad yourself."

"You wouldn't mind if I got a little closer, would you?" Though Shouto holds a cheeky half-drunken smile on his own, knowing any closer will result in nothing but a kiss and perhaps a little more. His eyes flicker to your lips the same time yours flicker to his, and you and you catch a heat in his eyes you didn’t notice before.

"Not at all."

You blink and Shouto's lips are on yours. They’re soft, painfully so, and it's clear he knows what he's doing—with his hands dropping to your waist and tilting his head ever-so-slightly to the right. Nudging your lips open, his tongue easily finds it's way around, mapping the insides of your mouth and taking note of what makes you shiver the most.

Shouto tastes like vodka. It's a familiar taste, one that you associate with seven minutes in heaven and quick make-out sessions in high school—and yet this time it spurs your heart to beat faster, your arms wrapping around his neck to pull him in even closer, as if it's possible.

When you pull away it’s clear neither of you really want to, but unfortunately you need to oxygen to live, chest heaving in unison as your eyes catch his own. Shouto's grip tightens around your waist as he licks over his already wet lips, glossed by what you assume is your spit.

“You’re one dangerous woman,” he rasps with swollen lips. You giggle, but you know he knows his words’ effect on you because goosebumps are impossible to hide.

“Thank you,” you respond, a bit awkwardly—because what else are you supposed to say?

"I'm positive it isn't the alcohol talking when I say I want to take you right here." Shouto growls as his eyes hold you in your seat. You shiver, the request sounding impossibly inviting, and your thighs discreetly rub together to take the edge off a bit.

"Bathroom," you breathe against his lips, this night turning for the most unexpected.

"Off, off, get all of this off," Shouto pants the moment you two step into a gender-neutral singles bathroom. You don't doubt they made it gender-neutral for this exact reason, but that thought leaves as quickly as it enters when Shouto pins you against the sink starts to pepper hot kisses down your neck. He scrambles to bunch your dress to your waist over taking it off completely and growls at the sight of your lower-half in absence of your usual attire.

"Do you know how long I've wanted you? Hmm?” He's breathless as he settles between your legs with a lick of his lips, pushing the excess of your dress into your hands. You really don't know how long he’s wanted you, but you find yourself biting your lip at the prospect anyway—that you've been driving your boss's son, your future boss, just as crazy as he's been driving you.

"Shouto—"

"Shhh," he interrupts, pulling your panties to the side. "Let me take care of you. You've been working hard these past few months, no?"

You guess so.

Either way, all clarity dies when Shouto licks a fat stripe up your slit, chuckling when you slide a tentative hand into his hair. Your grip tightens when his lips wrap around your clit and suck, slipping a finger between your folds to elicit a whimper or two. He bites his lip when you tug a little.

"Keep doing that and you just might ruin me," Shouto groans, before his mouth returns and he’s adding another finger. When the digits curl just right, your hips buck in faint frustration—they're moving too slow.

"Can you, um," you blush, eyes skittering to the bathroom walls instead. The club music permeates despite the fact that they look like they're made of solid brick, vibrating the floor and sink underneath you both. "Go faster?"

Shouto's eyes snap to yours. For a second you’re afraid he's going to say no, but he tosses your leg over his shoulder and adjusts your hips until they're at a perfect level, licking his lips and growling:

"My pleasure."

You're positive whoever loiters near the bathroom door hears your yelp as his mouth descends to devour your pussy, eating you so enthusiastically that you see you're slick smeared across his pink cheeks. Shouto pulls your hips deeper into his face with a defiant growl and you have to drop your forearms on the sink to keep yourself from falling to the hard ground, your grip around the porcelain ever-tightening.

"Feel good?" He rubs a heavy thumb over your clit in place of his mouth and stuffs you with a third finger. You nod with a broken moan as he pulls his digits out all the way out before burying them knuckle-deep again, grasp on the sink slipping. He flicks your clit, "Answer me."

"Y-Yeah," you nod again, near-hyperventilating. You’re sure Shouto’s getting a kick out of it—at least, if his chuckle has anything to say about it.

"Good girl," he coos, the circles on your clit slowly quickening, "You're so pretty when you make a mess, aren't you?"

You're nodding along with him, though you're not exactly sure why—but then his mouth returns and suddenly, why doesn't matter as much.

Shouto's more vocal than you expected, groaning into your sweetness as your thighs trembles next to his head. He holds you like you're precious, like you're actually something to him, but you're much too drunk to unpack all of that right now. Instead, you tug at his hair. It pulls a much louder moan from his gut and you find yourself enjoying the vibrations, yanking harder to hear him again.

"W-Wait, Shouto," you whimper out, painfully close as you pull at his hair but this time to pull him away from you, "I wanna—wanna cum on your cock...if that's okay."

Shouto blinks once, twice, and then you're staring at yourself in the mirror listening to him frantically undoing his belt, cursing when the metal slaps him across the palm. You giggle.

"Eager, are we?"

"You don't even know," he pants, and the tip of his cock kissing your entrance has you biting your lip. His eyes meet yours in the mirror and they melt when he fits the head of his cock inside, the grip he has on the porcelain sink turning white as he pushes further.

"You are—you are painfully tight, Miss Y/N," Shouto wheezes into your neck, teeth grit as his pelvis finally brushes against your ass. You resist the urge to wheeze with him, his cock filling you to the point where your lungs struggle to find room to breathe.

"I'll take that as a compliment," you joke, eyes fluttering shut. Shouto tuts, grabbing the underside of your face as he says:

"Eyes open, Miss Y/N. I want you to watch yourself fall apart as I fuck you."

Your eyes peel open, albeit reluctantly as you whine, not understanding why you need to watch your own face when you can enjoy the sight of him instead, "But Shouto, that's embarrassing..."

"Just trust me," he grunts, and his hips are snapping into yours, sending you jolting into the sink to the point where you have to brace a hand on the mirror to keep yourself from being squished flat against the porcelain. Shouto leans over, "You trust me, don't you?"

And well. When he puts it like that...

"Look at yourself, not at me," Shouto says, catching you redhanded. You whine when the hand holding your head moves to your neck and squeezes, cutting off your oxygen supply just enough for your eyelids to drop halfway. "See? See how good you look? So wrecked for me already and we've barely started."

"S-Shut up," you moan more than you say, finding yourself mesmerized in the way your lips part and by the redness of your cheeks. Shouto dips his head into your neck and sucks, prompting your free hand to find his multicolored hair again and pull. His reaction is almost automatic, the way the smooth rock of his hips changes into a quick snap in a heartbeat. It has you keening, his cock reaching places spots you weren't aware you had, and he crushes you against the sink to rub at your clit.

"Fuck, you're so gorgeous for me," he grunts, hips finding the energy to pick up the pace. You whimper and he's sucking a hickey into your neck, hot breaths punctuating along with his sharp thrusts. "Feel so good around my cock, like you were made for me—shit—"

This time you break the rules, eyes flickering to look Shouto in the mirror as you watch him come undone. His hips stutter as he muffles a broken moan in the back of your neck, body shuddering while he fills you up. His thrusts slowly dissolve into nothing and soon it's just your heavy breathing between brick walls, until Shouto pulls out with a hiss.

"You didn't cum."

"O-Oh, um," You blink at his unimpressed gaze through the mirror as if you got caught redhanded. "I...usually can't. Without a vibe.”

Shouto hums at that but says nothing. You watch something in his brain churn, eyes surveying the room before a lightbulb appears above his head and he's snapping his fingers.

"The shower."

"...What?"

"The. Shower." Shouto says, a little cheekier this time, as he guides you towards a simple shower hidden behind a curtain. Now, why there’s a shower in a club bathroom is beyond you.

"Well. This seems awfully convenient," you click. Shouto shrugs.

"Sun (the author) says it's to clean up the drunks who vomit all over themselves." He takes the only shower seat available, back pressing against the tile.” I think she just wants you to ride a showerhead ****if I'm being completely honest."

"Maybe she tried it for the first time recently or something,” you hum absentmindedly, but that thought flies out the window as Shouto grunts:

"Either way, it's irrelevant. Strip."

"I—completely?" You exclaim, covering your body despite the fact that it's already covered by your dress again. Shouto raises an eyebrow, settling both elbows on his knees once grabbing the showerhead from its bar.

"Unless you want your outfit to get soaking wet, yes. Completely."

Touché.

You're naked fairly quickly and Shouto lays you across the tile even quicker. You watch him test the different modes on his hand, before choosing the one with the most...gusto. You spread your thighs and fight the embarrassing blush dusting your cheeks from the exposing position.

"Ready?" You roll your eyes.

"I swear Shouto, if you do—o-oh."

He presses the rushing water to your clit, and you have to take a step back, fully unprepared for how nice the pressure would feel. Shouto chuckles at that, the soles of his loafers soaking in the lukewarm water with you as he sits with his legs spread, brazenly enjoying the view.

"Feels good?"

You nod, hips subtly grinding into the hot stream. Shouto bites his lips at the view and it turns you on that much more to know you can have such an effect, before his free hand drops to his palm himself through his dress pants.

"I get the perfect view, too," Shouto growls to himself, tilting his head ever-so-slightly as you release a broken moan, bare hips stuttering against the tile. "A perfect view of that pretty little pussy. Ah ah, keep those legs for me."

Your inner thighs quiver with an impending orgasm, the edge looking much closer than it did previously. The combination of Shouto's words, his sounds, and the steady beat of the water against your clit is enough to have anyone shaking, and the only complaint you have is that you wish he wasn't so fucking far.

"S-Shouto," you whimper, hands scrambling across the slippery tile. "I'm close."

"Yeah? Do it then, make me proud," Shouto growls with a feral smile, grip tightening around his cock—you nod, chest shuddering.

“Y-Yeah just adjust the—oh fuck, Shou, right there!”

Your thighs clench as you gasp and your fingernails dig into the grout between the tile as you orgasm, your moan nearly bordering on a scream. Shouto groans, grip tight on his cock through his damp suit pants, and you nearly giggle as your high ebbs.

“Have I ever told you how dangerous you are, Y/N?” Shouto says cheekily. You grin back, cocking your head to the right.

“Only a million times.”

“Well then I owe it to you again,” he says lowly, and you get the message you two aren’t done as he joins you on the wet floor to cradle your jaw.

“You’re one dangerous woman, Y/N.”

a/n: i fully expose myself in this, and you know what? i'm fine with that.

click to return to CLUB 777

#— 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐎 #CLUB 777 #The VIP Booths #todoroki smut #shouto smut #bnha smut #mha smut

615 notes · View notes

aki-mochi · 3 years

Text

Levi x Reader: Drunk Love

WARNING: NSFW!! Levi stood there, completely nude, in front of Erwin and Hanji as he covered his stuff while avoiding their gazes. His cheeks turning pink with his hair messy with fly-aways in every direction and his body covered in bites and hickeys. Erwin stood in Levi's living room, not amused, while Hanji was laughing until she was in tears.

"Sooo...you wanna tell me why you are...?" Erwin trailed off.

"I dunno....I-I...just woke up like this...."

"You were drinking last night, huh?" Erwin asked, more like stated.

"A little...." he mumbled, then clicked his tongue.

"Woooow Levi~!" Hanji laughed more.

"Shut up" Levi slightly growled as he tried to remember his actions last night.

~flashback~

Levi sat at a table in a bar with a few of his friends and co-workers, passing time and attempting to get away from the stress of work. Eren, who happened to be one of his best workers, offered him some food while drinking his drink. No sooner did another song start to play, a familiar woman entered the bar with Mikasa.

"I've never been in a bar.” Mikasa stated.

"We can't buy alcoholic beverages so we can just have water and some food. Give us some free time from all the work we've been asked to do." Y/n replied.

She nodded in agreement, looking around at her surroundings only to see the men at Levi's table looking towards them. Truth be told, Y/n and Mikasa worked in the same building as Levi, just on different floors. The two had met on a few occasions and even had small talk in the elevator whenever they were going to the same floor for meetings, but never actually got close to one another.

Levi glanced at the two as they came in and made a bit of a face. "I guess they're getting the same thing you are, Eren." He smirked behind his glass as he looked at Eren's drink suited for him being underaged. Eren pouted and gave somewhat of a glare towards his boss. "If you weren't my boss, and I wanted to not get fired, I'd slap you like I do Horse-face." He mumbled in his glass of apple juice.

"You sound like you're plenty drunk on apples," Levi stated as he set his glass down. "Now you finally have a chance to talk to that girl. I've seen you eyeing her at work." Hearing his comment, Eren did a spit-take with his drink; coughing and pounding his chest a bit. Once he got his breath back, he looked at Levi like he grew two heads.

"Are you insane or drunk?!" He slightly yelled in a whispered tone.

"I'm neither. You shout about being better at your job than The Titan Company down the road but you can't even talk to a girl."

"Yeah?! W-well what about the girl you stare at?! You seem like you stalk her!"

"The only time I even see her is on the elevator. Are you sure you aren't drinking beer?" Levi retorted.

"I'm underage to be drinking unless someone spiked it when I wasn't looking." Eren calmly stated as he took another drink.

"If no one did, they might need to so you can actually grow some balls for at least an hour and act like a man instead of a loud little kid."

Eren glared. "Shut the hell up....I do act mature. Just on some levels." He, then, turned away to stare at the ebony female with a slight blush on his slightly dark skin.

”Can you prove that?" Levi smirked at Eren's attitude.

"What did you say?" Eren growled, thinking his boss is picking a fight when he doesn't feel like throwing a punch while Mikasa is here.

"I said to prove that you aren't a child and go talk to her," Levi told him.

"Fine. I will." He suddenly stood up and walked towards the two sisters, feeling confident in his moves. Levi smirked as he watched, wanting to see how much of a train wreck it would turn into. But the minute Eren was only five steps away, he froze. His face turned a sheer scarlet red and felt his palms get sweaty. But what he didn't expect to happen, was that Mikasa noticed him and gave a small wave to him, making him lose his cool and speed-walking back to his seat before face planting the table. Mikasa flushed a faint pink but couldn't help to give a minuscule smirk from his failure to walk over.

"You’re a wuss" Levi muttered.

"Fuck you....." Eren mumbled against the table.

Levi smirked and took a sip of his whiskey before standing. "Let me show you how it's done," he stated as Eren groaned and watched him as he made his way towards the girls.

Levi walked over to the older of the two with a confident stride, the alcohol taking the edge off of his normal attitude. Y/n was too busy talking to Mikasa to notice him. Taking a french fry off her plate, she ate it and smiled as she was talking about her latest masterpiece for the company due to being in the advertising department. Mikasa mentioned a work project that’s due next week before looking over Y/n's shoulder to see the male.

"This seat taken?" Levi asked.

Y/n turned towards the voice of the male and her eyes widened. "M-Mr. Ackerman....! It's nice to see you again." She smiled softly at him.

"The same to you" he stated. "We don't see each other often. I thought we could talk."

"Of course! Come sit with me!" She smiled and patted the seat on the other side of her. He gladly sat, looking towards Eren and winking in success mainly to show off before talking to the two women. Eren growled and slammed his hands on the table and walked over once more before offering a hand at the grey-eyed female.

"May I sit with the beauty who I'm looking at~?" He asked with a smile.

Mikasa looked and blushed brightly at his words but nodded. “Sure."

With a small hum, Eren sat beside her before gently holding her waist to bring her closer to him. Her blush darkened, looking at her plate of food like it was the most interesting thing in the world.

Y/n eyed the boy, a little surprised at his actions before drinking her iced water, smirking behind her glass as she knew Mikasa has a crush on him. Levi rolled his eyes, ignoring Eren as he talked to Y/n, keeping up a conversation about her interests. About an hour later, Levi was not feeling like his usual self. His cheeks were flushed while his eyes were dilated, black pupils taking up more of his steel-blue corneas. Y/n had offered to take him home while Mikasa stayed with Eren since he's completely sober. After that, Mikasa waved as she left with the green-eyed boy.

He tried to refuse, saying he was fine but she insisted, eventually giving up as he slumped over the table. Y/n slung one of Levi's arms around her neck; the other around his waist while leading him outside. Digging in his back pocket for his wallet and keys, she pressed a button to activate its panic alarm. Upon hearing a frantic horn, she turned to her left to see the flashing lights of a sleek black Ford Mustang. After calming the automobile, she gently helped a drunk Levi into the passenger side before slipping herself behind the wheel. Y/n opened up his wallet and found a small piece of paper with his name and address written in beautiful cursive. Pulling up the GPS on her phone, she punched in his home address to help her navigate before revving up the engine and beginning to drive to him home.

Levi did his best to keep the alcohol's side effects from taking over, grinning as he remembered the feeling of her hand in his pocket but stayed quiet until they got to his house. Once Y/n had gotten him out of his car and into his house, after she had unlocked the door with his keys, she walked him to his room and placed him in bed. She gave a small huff from how heavy he is for a short man. As she tried to leave the room, Levi had grabbed her wrist to keep her in place.

"(Y/n)," he muttered.

"Levi. You're drunk. You need to rest." She said softly so as not to hurt his pounding head.

"Only if you rest with me." He said, not because of how many shots he’s had, but because he’s wanted her since the first day he saw her and this was the only way he could get himself to say it. Y/n smiled and pried his hand off her arm so she could help him get comfortable by stripping him of his clothes. Y/n flushed a scarlet red when he was now only in his briefs which held a proud tent.

He smirked a bit as he watched her. "You can look if you want"

"I-I rather not, thank you...." she stuttered before going to find him some bed clothes he could wear; giving him time to look over her body that was shown by the jeans and shirt she's wearing. Her hair pulled up into a ponytail and her feet dressed in regular tennis shoes. He blushed from more than the booze in his system as he looked over her, letting her help him dress before laying in the bed with him. Y/n covered him up along with herself and sighed softly as she turned her back to him so she can sleep since it's after midnight.

But with Levi still drunk, he couldn't go to sleep. No. He didn’t want to go to sleep. He had a beautiful woman in his bed and he wanted her to be his woman. No one else’s. Levi took advantage of his drunk state and suddenly rolled Y/n onto her back, pinning her to the bed. She blinked, shocked from his sudden actions.

"L-Levi....?" she stuttered.

"Y/n.....~” he purred in her ear while sliding his hands up her shirt, making her shiver at his cold slender hands on her heated skin. "Let me love you," he whispered before colliding her lips with his own, making her body stiffen. She soon felt intoxicated by his touch and kissed him back, craving for more as she entangled her fingers into his soft black hair as she moaned.

Levi kissed her deeply as his hands made their way to her breasts, feeling the soft flesh against his skin. Arching her back at the feeling, she pulled away from his lips for air but gasping the minute he latches his own to her sensitive neck. She moaned his name when he bit her neck then pulled back with a smirk. Y/n looked down to see that Levi had, somehow, stripped her bare naked without her noticing. Trailing kisses down her body, she moaned and ran her fingers through his hair again as she closed her legs when he got between them. He rubbed her thighs soothingly before kissing them to help her relax. Once he thought she was ready, Levi opened her legs and placed his head between them. His tongue slid along her folds before flicking at her clit. Her hips jolted upwards while her fingers tugged at his hair, giving loud lewd moans.

Levi smirked and started to go faster, making her squirm and squeal in complete ecstasy as he tasted every inch of her. He then sucked her bundle of nerves into his mouth as his tongue did wonders. Y/n panted as she arched her back off the bed while her head flew back into the pillows, desperately wanting to move away but his hands held her down in place as he ravished her more. His teeth gently grazed her clit, making her lose control of the volume of her moans as they got even louder before she finally released with a squeak. But Levi kept going, making her beg as he continued to drain her of every drop before pulling off with a small pop. A trembling Y/n laid there panting heavily as Levi licked her clean, sitting up to look down at the beautiful sight under him. Levi chuckled and laid beside her with his arm draped over her waist.

Y/n calmed down from her overstimulated high before she made the bold move to pin him to the bed instead. Levi looked up at her in slight shock from the sudden move before his breath started to hitch when she started to rub the bulge in his pants. She hummed and stripped him bare of any clothes before suddenly going down to suck his cock. Levi's hips bucked at the sudden pleasure of her hot mouth on him, panting as he felt her tongue do circles around the tip.

"(Y-Y/n)~" Levi moaned as he gripped the sheets. "Ngh...! I-I'm gonna....! Ah!" he gave a loud moan as he came in her mouth. Y/n swallowed it all, a little disappointed that he came that quick, and sat up before marking him in hickeys and love bites, loving the sounds that were coming from his mouth. After she was satisfied with her work, she straddled his hips before pushing herself onto him, making her gasp and him moan. When she felt comfortable, she bounced on him as her hands rested on his chest. Loud slapping noises of skin colliding and loud moans filled the room. Y/n decided to bounce faster and go all the way down, earning her a loud moan from Levi as he gripped her hips to help her keep steady.

Pretty soon they both hit their high and came together. Y/n collapsed onto Levi's chest, panting heavily as he held her close to him. Having to pull out, he laid both their bodies on the bed and pulled her to his chest after covering them both with the blanket and going to sleep.

~back to the present~

Y/n walked out of the bathroom only to see a naked Levi standing there, in front of his boss and co-worker as he tried to suppress his blush. Smirking, the said female walked over and wrapped her arms around his waist from behind and satisfied hum.

"Don't worry, Mr. Smith~. Levi was a good boy last night with all the moans I made him do~."

At that, Hanji ran out with Erwin on her tail, trying to suppress their nose bleeds while Levi was a blushing mess at the moment from her comment. Y/n laughed at his reaction and kissed him briefly before giving him a warm smile and going to make breakfast. Levi sighed as he went back to his room to get dressed.

'Maybe getting drunk wasn't so bad after all......'

128 notes · View notes

get-shiggy-with-it · 3 years

Text

Just My Type Pt. 2

Pairing: Tomura Shigaraki x Reader

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: dom/sub undertones, dom reader, subby shig, light mommy kink, anal fingering, blow jobs, smut ahead so ya know be prepared, shigs is kinda an incel but we love him anyway, 18+ MINORS DNI

Summary: Shigaraki is a full course meal that showed up on your doorstep and you are more than a little inclined to devour him whole.

Part 1

AO3 Mirror

You liked to think you understood Tomura Shigaraki.

Probably a bit better than he understood himself if you were being honest.

It wasn’t that you were particularly adept at reading people, but you paid attention and he was generally a lot more obvious that he realized. You started to get the feeling your client-turned-sometimes-boss had a bit of a thing for you not too long after you started working for him.

Mainly because he stared.

All the time.

You weren’t certain if he was completely conscious of it, and at first you sort of assumed it was just a weird, somewhat unnerving habit. It took you all of a week to figure out, though, that his one visible eye did not seem to focus on anything other than you.

Initially, you had been wary of him. This was a slightly more dangerous clientele than you were used to, but the rest of the League warmed up to you quickly enough. The true realization came with the little, silent fits of jealousy—nails raking down his neck and scowls so harsh they were nearly audible—whenever anyone else, usually Dabi, showed the same interest.

And being the type of person you were, it was hard to resist pushing those newly revealed buttons just once.

Well.

More than a once.

But!

All that pressing and goading had finally culminated to this.

Needless to say, you felt more than a little thrill when Tomura had finally taken the bait and let you drag him all the way back to shore like a fish on a hook.

And now here he was, beached and floundering, as chilled air like ocean waves rocked against your ankles.

So yes, you understood Tomura Shigaraki.

He wanted you, as much as loathed to admit it.

And you wanted him too, but not so much that you were willing to go down without a bit of a fight.

“Are you just gonna stand there?” you asked.

You could see the shiver your voice sent through him, like lungfuls of sweet spring air after a lifetime underground.

“What?” he mumbled, one hand holding the clasp on his pants closed and the other reaching up to tear at his neck.

Always so predictable.

You hummed at the gesture and leaned back to pull the door open a bit more. “Come on, you’re letting all my heat out.”

His eyes narrowed significantly, not so subtly flicking down to your chest before meeting your eyes—suspicion clear as the tent in his pants, but a good amount of cautiously pleasant surprise as well.

You dipped your head down, trying to get a better look under the mop of his hair and dark hood to see the dusty rose blush creeping up his neck. His scarred and cracking skin grew pinker with every passing second. The smile on your face was impossible to hide.

“I caught you in the window of one of the shops like six blocks in,” you said by way of explanation and waved him forward once again. “You can stand out there and freeze if you want, but something tells me you might be a little more comfortable if you came in.”

This was a calculated game, but no one ever got anywhere without taking a few risks.

Your stress on the last two words and the way your tongue peaked out from behind your teeth was thankfully not lost on him.

“Fine,” Tomura swallowed once as if this really was the last thing he wanted to be doing, and you watched his throat bob as he finally shuffled over the threshold.

You liked the way he looked here, harsh but not out of place in the domestic setting. Surrounded by the scent of crisp air and clean laundry, you breathed deeply to catch the faint hint of cheap hand soap and dust and that strange, sweet smell that always tickled your nose when he got close. Tomura took a long breath of his own when you pressed closer, the top of your leg brushing just enough at the front of his jeans to feel his dick twitch.

Yeah, he probably thought you hadn’t noticed him lifting your coat to his face when you left for the bathroom. That you hadn’t overheard Kurogiri chewing him out for all the different bottles of detergent littering the backroom like he wasn’t scouring convenience stores to find the exact one you used. Didn’t know you knew where all those ‘lost’ gloves or elastic ties or even your socks once when you’d taken them off to dry after a storm had ended up.

It was hard to tell with him whether those strange behaviors meant he liked you or really wanted you dead. But you’d dared to assume the former and god it felt good to be right.

“You like to watch, don’t you?” you asked, letting the words cascade from your lips.

“Maybe. You like to be watched, don’t you?” he rasped, clearly trying to maintain some semblance of control but your chest was brushing against him and you could hear his mouth going dry.

You raised your brow and leaned just a fraction closer, ready to let the last of the chips fall.

“Maybe,” you mused, your lips just barely grazing his. “I don’t mind if it’s you.”

And finally, finally you saw the little glimmer you’d been waiting for.

Tomura Shigaraki was beginning to understand.

You could see it in his eyes, the dawning realization. Reluctant still and forever mistrustful, but coming around. All those nights he spent observing you when he thought you weren’t looking—shrouded in smoke and keeping a safe distance—you’d never been aiming to get away. You’d never been hiding or ready to run.

You were always trying to get closer to him.

The way you left so soon when he sequestered himself away in his room or how you let Dabi’s hand creep just far enough up your thigh before making your escape—all of it, was just to catch his eye.

Just playing your cards—working with the hand you were dealt.

Tomura might have been watching you, but you had always been watching right back. Really, it was a wonder how he ever missed the way your gaze was trained on him nearly every second from the time you set foot in the bar to the ever unfortunate moment you slipped back out into the cold, lonely street.

How many nights had you been waiting for this?

Laying awake, thinking of the way his scarlet gaze warmed your skin like the cinnamon in Kurogiri’s nightly cocktails. You’d seen what those hands could do, watched them turn glasses and tables to ash, but that only raised the stakes. And wasn’t it so much more fun that way?

“Well,” you leaned in, tilting your head so that your mouths were centimeters away from touching, “do you want to see more?”

You were watching the levee break. Cracks forming up that skeptical and distant outer shell and letting desire leak out from every line and scar. The air was silent and heavy in the way it often is before a storm. You wondered if you’d be struck down by errant lighting before you got a chance to suck his tongue like you’d been dreaming of.

His fist closed around your wrist, pinky poised threateningly over the skin. You let him hold you, not struggling in the slightest under his grip. Tomura could have you like that if he wanted. Could believe this was forceful, that he wasn’t giving himself away. You would gladly let him, but you had something else in mind.

Something you were almost certain he’d enjoy more.

All the deliciousness of the torture you planned to drown him in was completely dependent on him offering you the reigns. If he wouldn’t, well, you’d take what you could get. Encouragingly, he didn’t move further than his grip on your arm.

Instead, he stared blankly and tugged you closer grunting under his breath, though never fully closing the distance. It took a second before your brain processed the slight pout of his bottom lip, the catch in his breath the way he subconsciously ground against your thigh.

Oh.

You’d said it before and you’d say it again: god, it felt good to be right.

Coming to your door was his first move tonight, and now it was your turn to up the stakes.

Grinning, you closed the small gap between your bodies and let your mouths slip against each other, filling in the cracks of his lips with your tongue. Tomura groaned when the weight of it slipped across his teeth just once before you pulled away from him altogether.

There was barely an inch between you, but that would always be too much now.

“You never answered me, Tomura.” Saying his name made you shiver. You wondered what it would feel like when you screamed it too. “Do you want to see more?”

“Yes,” he nodded and surged forward, knocking your teeth together and nipping sharply at your lower lip. “More, now.”

Your grips switched, his fingers going limp around your wrist while you took hold of his and led him towards the door at the end of your hall. The soft bedroom light leaked out and illuminated the halo of baby hairs at the crown of his head. You longed to run your hands through it. By the time you got him safely inside—sat cornered on the edge of your mattress—you realized there was nothing stopping you from doing just that.

So you did.

Tugged his hood down and ran your fingers across his scalp, grabbing a handful and pulling firmly. The noise it earned you had goosebumps erupting down your arms.

With his pretty face revealed, you took a moment to drink him in. The small lamp lit him from the left, leaving one side in shadow and those red eyes were so dark you could have drunk them down like expensive wine. Slowly, you lowered your lips to his scarred forehead and pressed them softly against the rough skin.

“What would the others say, hm?” you hummed, stroking his cheek as you leaned back to look into his eyes again. “If they knew their boss was tailing around the new hire just to get a glimpse of some ass.”

Tomura stayed resolutely silent, grumbling under his breath as he lunged forward to slip his tongue back into your mouth. Your hand in his hair tightened though and his thighs tensed below you.

“Seems a bit desperate, huh?”

He growled again but moved a hand to the open front of his pants, palming slowly against the growing bulge there. The swathe of light grey fabric covering his cock was already sporting a sizable stain that you were dying to taste.

Feeling merciful, you dragged your tongue along his sharp jaw and nipped at his earlobe, “Do you really want me that bad?”

You weren’t sure what exactly was the nail in the coffin. It might have been the words themselves, or the soft, honest tone with which you whispered them, or even just the way your chest brushed against him, but that was the moment his resolve finally shattered.

“It’s your fault,” he whimpered, hips bucking up into his own hand, “you’re the one that did this, so fix it.”

You could only guess he was referring to the absolute rager he was sporting and the drool threatening to spill from his ragged lips.

“Oh, you want me to make it all better?” you were having a hard time keeping it together yourself with Tomura talking like that.

He nodded furiously and you took the opening to lick back into his mouth, tracing his teeth and biting softly on his rough bottom lip. When you pulled back, a silvery string of saliva glinted between your mouths, only breaking when you moved to roll your desk chair over and plop down on the cushions.

Tomura’s eyes immediately drifted between your legs as you peeled off your thin shorts and spread them, propped on either arm, fingers digging absently into the meat of your thighs.

“You didn’t get to see much before did you?” he didn’t answer but you hadn’t expected him to. “How about we start where we left off, but I want to see that pretty cock this time while you stroke it for me.”

“Oh fuck ,” he gasped and tugged his jeans down so they pooled at his ankles.

You smiled as he cursed. One hand still gripped his length, but you could see how thick it was from between his fingers. Long and hard and leaking so much onto his stomach where it rested. The other fisted in his hoodie, pulling it up to give you a glimpse at the lovely musculature of his torso.

So many delicious surprises, all in one night.

Your gaze drifted between his face and the hand slowly pumping his length. Every now and again, he’d stop to run his thumb over the tip or squeeze harshly at the base. Your hand moved too, sliding your underwear to the side and giving him a full view of just how soaked he made you.

“Is that how you usually touch yourself?” you asked quietly, slipping two fingers down your slit and coating them in slick.

“Yeah,” his voice was already so wrecked that you shivered at the single word.

Your fingers found your clit, drawing languid circles over the bundle of nerves and groaning in relief. “Tell me what you think about.”

“You,” he responded simply, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

To his credit, it probably was but you wanted to hear him say it.

“What about me?”

Your slow rhythm sped up to match Tomura’s hand now steadily jerking his dick, wet slaps and various groans emanating from both of you.

“Your...mouth,” he mumbled, vision locked on the movement of your wrist as your fingers began to dip inside only to travel back to your clit and repeat the motion. “How it would feel on me, how wet and warm and tight your throat would be.”

You let out a long moan of encouragement and nodded for him to continue, grinding down on your own wrist as he spoke.

“I think about how you parade around like a whore every time you come over— shit —and how you’d look bent over the bar top,” he spat as he ran his palm over the head of his cock.

Normally you’d have clapped back at the insult but you were distracted by the way the muscles in his stomach were twitching violently with every stroke of his hand.

“That’s not all is it?” you asked between breaths.

Your skin was buzzing, warmth rising to your cheeks as sweat broke out on your forehead despite the chill of the room. Tomura keyed you up in a way no one else ever had.

“No,” his eyes were redder than usual, glazed over and pricked in the corner with frustrated tears. He wanted to cum so badly, you could see it in the set of his feet on the floor, forcing his hips up but not getting quite what he craved.

“Come on, Tomura,” you brought your other hand down to rub quickly at your clit, “tell me what you need.”

“Touch me,” he hissed, head thrown back, exposing the graceful column of his scarred throat. “I want to feel you.”

He was panting, head thrown back and mouth open with just his eyes cast down at you. You wanted a painting of this scene—Tomura, ruined and starving for you. Wanted it framed and hung in your foyer so it was the first thing you saw coming home.

How could you deny such a pretty boy?

“Alright, I suppose you’ve earned it,” you sighed in mock annoyance and stood, honestly surprised he’d restrained himself from jumping you this long. Discarding your shirt elicited a series of wines as you stood completely bare for him.

You thought for a moment about what you should do first, before settling on your knees between his legs and batting his slowly stroking hand away. Tomura stared, wide eyed and slack jawed down as you took his cock in your hands and admired him for a moment.

He felt good in your palm, heavy with impressive girth and length. Leagues better than you had hoped for. Pretty veins ran up the sides and the gentle ridge of his tip was silky smooth as you leaned forward to run your tongue up the slit.

The sound that left him was bone shattering—deep and low in a way that reverberated in your bones.

You vowed to make him cry.

Looking up through your lashes, you let your lips fall open to take Tomura into the warmth of your mouth.

And if you thought his first moan was delicious.

What fell from him next was a goddamn feast.

Four fingers were fisted into your sheets, the balls of his feet tensing so his hips bucked up and forced his length deeper down your throat. You hummed around his length, drinking down the salty taste of him, and bringing your hands up to rub sweet circles into the skin of his thighs. Listening hungrily, you devoured all the little whimpers and moans and curses that spilled from Tomura.

Objectively, you ought to have been offended by all this. That he was so desperate for you, blamed you for somehow leading him on (which you had to an extent but only because he refused to set foot into your traps). You should have felt a bit disgusted by the behavior he’d displayed, but instead you were invigorated. Spurred on by the knowledge that the man before you wanted you so deeply and obsessively, that just the sight of you drove him off the edge.

Flicking your tongue over the sensitive tip, you doubled down your efforts. Hollowing your cheeks, you sucked hard and took his pulsing dick deeper, swallowing around it.

“Oh god, yesyesyes—” Tomura cried out, hips twitching.

It was on that particular backstroke you noticed the way he was grinding back into the sheets, rocking his ass just so and you really couldn’t help yourself from indulging a bit in the curiosity.

Shifting a hand, you collected some of the spit and precum that had leaked from your mouth and coated the base of his dick, slicking your fingers. Slowly, you moved to give his balls a firm squeeze that had him whining before letting two fingers dip lower, between his cheeks to nudge the cute pink skin around his hole.

“Fuck—” he gasped, staring down at you and letting himself fall immediately to the mattress, giving you full access to his pretty ass. “Hm, there please…”

He trailed off, brain rotted with pleasure and unconcerned now with how desperate or needy he seemed. You thought it was a good look for him, and you gladly obliged his pleas.

Just the slow circles you were tracing around the sensitive flesh seemed to drive him closer to the edge. You would have been shocked by how long he was lasting considering the unlikely possibility he’d had many partners in the past, but you were sure he’d had plenty of ‘practice’ on his own to get his stamina up to this level.

Surprisingly, you were able to actually slip a finger past the tight ring of muscle down to the first knuckle. He was so tight your mind was flooded immediately with how good he’d look bent over—ass in the air and impaled on your strap. He made this delectable choked sound when you turned your wrist and slid a fraction of an inch deeper. But as you curled inside him and gave one particularly deft swallow around his aching cock, something even more unexpected tumbled past Tomura’s lust-loose lips.

“Oh fuck, mommy —”

As soon as the words left his mouth it snapped shut so hard you heard his teeth clacking.

Well.

You certainly hadn’t anticipated that, but thankfully, transporting required you to think on your feet often.

Tomura was beet red now, looking almost as surprised as you felt by what had slipped from him in the haze of lust and sweat that filled the room. You withdrew from him completely, pulling off his cock and planting both your hands on his slim waist.

“What did you just call me?” you asked, tone dark, praying to hear it again.

And of course you did, because Tomura was such a good boy .

“M-mommy,” the tremor in his voice may have been due to residual shame or the fact that you’d nearly sucked his soul right out of his dick, “mommy, please.”

And that, that lit something in you. All bets were off, any plans of a long, drawn out night of playing with your pretty boss until he begged for you was slipping quickly down the drain as you clambered off your knees and onto the bed.

“Does my little boy need something?” you mused, slipping into the role easily and planting your knees on either side of his thin body while you brushed your nose against his cheek.

He hadn’t touched you since you’d gotten him in your bed and while you thought it may have had something to do with the potentially deadly side effects, you really couldn’t have that. Reaching down, you guided his hand gently to your mouth and pressed a gentle kiss against the calloused knuckles.

“Do you want mommy’s pussy?”

That last question might have been boarding a bit on the evil end of teasing, but Tomura responded in equally bratty fashion by burying his face into your chest and reaching down to guide the tip of his dick into your dripping entrance. For once that night, you were the one gasping at the sudden stretch and quite frankly the fucking balls your boss displayed in surprise spearing you on his cock.

Not that you minded, but damn.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” you groaned as you dropped your hips to sink the rest of the way down his length. It took a bit, even as slick as you were, before he was bottoming out and letting out little poorly hidden sobs against you.

Tomura’s feet still hung off the bed and couldn’t provide him the leverage to thrust up into you as he so clearly wanted to, but you could work well with this. Pulling back you got him to sit up, head still buried in the crook of your neck and braced your hands to start bouncing in his lap.

His hands flew to your hips, any trepidation apparently lost in favor of marking you with crescent shaped bruises. You let your hands trail up his chest, thumbing over his flushed nipples before threading into the hair at the base of his head. Tilting his head back, you came up and dropped back down hard on his length, letting him strike that lovely spot inside you and making his face twist in pleasure.

“Oh, good boy, “ you moaned, long and low. “Such a good boy for me, Tomura.”

He whimpered loudly and you bounced faster, praise tumbling easily as the pressure in your gut began to build, “You look so perfect like this, pretty cock feels so good inside.”

On a whim, you gripped his hair tightly and pressed his face into your chest, leading his lips to the stiff peak of your nipple. He latched on immediately, moans muffled against you and lovely eyes rolling back in his head.

You took it back— this was the picture you wanted immortalized from tonight. Tomura’s mouth was full of you, slick tongue curling over the bud and suckling softly only interrupted by the occasional graze of his teeth, his dick buried in you and pulsing as you rode him to your own high.

A high that was coming sooner rather than later.

You let your free hand slip from his shoulder to rub frantically at your clit, feeling yourself clenching tighter and tighter on his cock, strokes shifting into a more desperate grinding. The white hot pleasure grew stronger—spurred on by the image of Tomura’s pretty hair plastered with sweat to his forehead and his coarse lips grazing your skin—cresting and sending you hurtling over the edge, cumming hard on Tomura’s thick cock.

“Oh, baby boy, yes, make mommy cum,” you shook and clenched around him, pussy in a vice grip around his length.

He didn’t hold out long after that, biting down roughly on your chest he groaned and you felt the hot ropes of his release painting your walls.

It was a bit of a blur after that. You recall lifting his mouth from you, revealing a deep bruise and the indents of teeth just around your nipple—a reminder that would stick with you of this quite eventful night. Residual clothing was abandoned and you’d agreed to forgo a shower in favor of pressing every available inch of skin against his under a light sheet.

Tomura’s breathing had evened out a while ago, heart beat relaxing to an even tattoo from it’s initial pounding. His head was tucked securely under your chin, arms flung across your middle and legs tangled in a knot.

You’d thought he was asleep until you felt his lips moving against your shoulder and heard the soft, whispered words, “Are you going to ask me to go?”

It had been so long since you’d had a ‘normal’ conversation with him that it took you awhile to recognize his casual tone from the wrecked and begging voice you’d been hearing from him all night. Something about that knowledge made your chest ache.

“I’m not going to make you stay,” you responded simply.

Which was all you could really think of to say, noncommittal but open.

“But do you want me to?”

His tone was harsh, but not in a purposeful way. The quiet rasp was a permanent feature of his voice you’d discovered and made it him sound far more severe than he usually meant to be. The question both surprised you and didn’t. You’d asked Tomura to give up control to you before, let you take the lead and see him vulnerable. Now he was asking for it back. Asking for a level playing field.

“I would like it if you did, yes.”

He nodded and you felt the brush of his lashes as he closed his eyes again, settling into you more than the mattress itself. You followed suit, at least for a bit, and rested your eyes to enjoy the feeling of finally not sleeping alone. Half dozing, you breathed in the scent of well earned pleasure and sweat and laundry detergent.

Neither of you asked any more questions—you didn’t need to.

Because you understood Tomura Shigaraki and he understood you.

#shigaraki tomura x reader #tomura shigaraki x reader #smut #mommy kink #tomura shigaraki imagines #bnha imagines #bnha fic #tomura/reader #shigaraki/reader #bee.writes

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cixthotshit · 3 years

Text

A Cup of Rose Americano

Pairing: Bae Jinyoung x Original Female Character|Reader

Genre: Smut, Fluff, Poor Girl/Rich Boy, Coffee Shop/Gangster AU (IDEK how I got here, just go with it)

Summary: There's more than meets the eye with every person, including Bae Jinyoung, the world's finest barista at Personal Barista Cafe

Word count: 4.7k

Rating/Warnings: Mature / Explicit Sexual Content: Porn With Some Plot, Kissing, Mirror Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Creampie

Author’s Note: I wanted to write a fluffy Coffee Shop AU but NGL something else has been preoccupying my mind and the world building to this fic kind of went off the rails and transformed into a completely different story. Enjoy this smut, readers! I really want to explore this world a lot more but IDK if I can commit to anything beyond this RN. So please, please enjoy this! Sorry in advance for mistakes! I don't always catch everything when I proofread.

I always appreciate some feedback on my writings!

"Really, it'll be a...new coffee experience," Hyeon assured Sandy. She handed Sandy a green card. It felt like an expensive platinum credit card, the card made of metal, feeling heavy and cold in her hand. "All you have to do is fill out a survey after you get your free coffee. Once you make it inside, hand the card over to your barista."

"Aren't you supposed to find actual volunteers?" Sandy asked, looking at the shiny card. The only thing on the card was the name of the new test cafe, PB Cafe.

“Trust me,” Hyeon said with a grin. “You’ve never had coffee like this. This is free, too. You’re going to say no to free coffee? And I swear, this is really me saying it, their coffee is really good.”

“Fine, thanks for the free coffee.”

“Enjoy!” Hyeon turned her back to Sandy, most likely scanning for potential test subjects for her new marketing event. Being her best friend, Sandy was always her first test subject. She didn’t know if Hyeon’s bosses approved of her taking advantage of all the free stuff she was receiving.

Sandy walked over to a shop that was setup at the southwest corner of a 3 story building. The walls were white and the windows were covered by white curtains. “PB Cafe” was written in black on the front door, though there were no door handles. Standing in front of the door, Sandy noticed a black square pad beside the right side of the door. She pressed the green card to the black pad and jumped slightly as the glass door slid open. A short piano tune played, sounding old but familiar, reminding her of old Hollywood movies from the mid-20th Century.

Tentatively, she stepped in. Walking past the white curtains, she found herself inside a small room. At the back end of the room was a small bar with one wooden chair in front of it. It only took her 4 steps to reach the chair, so she pulled it out and sat down. The wall behind the bar slid down to the floor and a broad shouldered man walked out from what looked like a bright white light before the wall slid back up behind him.

Too shocked to react, Sandy set the green card down onto the smooth marble countertop. Her eyes couldn’t leave the face of her barista. He was very handsome and his small grin softened his masculine exterior. Wordlessly, he took the green card and placed it in the front left pocket of his black apron.

“Welcome to Personal Barista Cafe,” he said in a soft, sultry voice. “My name is Bae Jinyoung, your Personal Barista today. How shall I address you?”

“Uh, just call me Sandy, I don’t like formalities much.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Sandy. If you don’t like formalities feel free to call me BaeJin or BaeBae.” She gave a soft chuckle and threw her hand over her mouth, feeling her cheeks warm up. Such a sultry man telling her to call him something as cute as BaeBae tickled her. “Is this your first drink with PB Cafe?”

“Yes,” she replied. “I don’t know anything about this cafe, except that you have good coffee.”

“A Personal Barista will make you a personalized drink,” he explained, pulling out a menu form. “Whatever you order, I will make it in front of you. If you want to know how I prepare your drink, please let me know and I will explain as I go. If you want small talk instead, I enjoy a small conversation as I prepare you a drink. If you want silence, for any reason, please don’t feel pressured to speak if you don’t want to.”

“Can I get an Americano?” she asked, after glancing at the long list of coffee drinks. The menu was simple and elegant, the writings were in cursive but the paper was black and the ink white. She liked the seemingly simple attention to detail. “How long have you been a barista, BaeJin?”

“Almost a year,” he replied. He poured fresh ground coffee into a metal contraption with a long neck. She pressed her lips together as her eyes were fixed on his skilled, large hands. He was using a device to compact the coffee grounds.

“Do you enjoy being a barista?”

“I do. It allows me to be creative. My regular job is stressful.”

He put the coffee grounds into the machine and pressed a few buttons. She watched him place a small white espresso mug under the spout of the machine. He grabbed a large white mug of coffee, and looked at her with a soft grin.

“This is your side hustle?” she asked. PB Cafe seemed like it paid well.

“Most people have more than one job these days,” he replied.

“That’s true,” she replied. “I have a day job and a night job.”

“What are your jobs?”

“I’m interning at a law firm, helping a paralegal out. I’m hoping to get my private investigator’s license soon.”

“You want to be a private investigator?” he asked.

“I want to be a lawyer,” she answered, “but having a private investigator’s license helps me pick up skills. Research is the true gift of being a good lawyer.”

“Research. You must be very smart and hard working.”

“You are sweet,” she said, resting an elbow onto the counter, leaning forward. “I wish my smarts and hard work were enough to give me success. I’m lacking in luck lately.” His eyes drifted away from the espresso machine and looked into her eyes. She felt her cheeks turn hot, realizing she had overshared. It’d been a sad thought, too. “I feel very lucky right now.”

“Sandy, I don’t mean to make assumptions about people but if I were to guess you are someone with expensive tastes,” he said. He pulled out two small brown glass bottles from a drawer. “But, you settle for less.”

“I..” she breathed out.

She should have been insulted, but her barista BaeJin was right. Sandy had always been envious of people who could afford designer things or had the means to go on extravagant vacations, but all of that had always been a dream. The closest she got was free shit from Hyeon. A drink from PB Cafe was likely three times that of a drink from Starbucks, and Sandy could only afford Starbucks for special occasions.

“Why are you saying this?”

“I want to make you a drink in which you will appreciate,” he replied, pulling out a single stemmed pink rose from under the counter, and handed it to her. She felt her cheeks flush with heat as she accepted it. “Refined, seemingly ostentatious, but simple and hopefully, delicious.”

He poured hot water from a glass kettle into the mug. She felt her cheeks turn hot again as he reached over and plucked a single petal from the rose she held. He tilted a single drop of liquid from one of the brown bottles onto the petal.

“Rose water,” he said to her as he locked eyes with her for a second. He placed the rose petal into the mug, letting it float in the hot water. He poured the espresso into the mug of water, and took a spoon to scoop out the wilted petal, tossing it away before handing the drink to her.

She gave it a sip, and shut her eyes, a smile on her lips. Using a flower as aromatic as a rose was difficult to pull off in cuisine. Oftentimes the rose aroma was too overpowering, reminding one’s nose of perfume instead of food. Baejin’s Rose Americano, though, was the perfect balance of a good cup of coffee elevated with some elegance, refined by the subtlest hint of a rose’s sweet scent. The warm breath she exhaled after a hot sip of Americano filled her senses with flowery comfort.

“This is the most...beautiful cup of coffee I’ve ever tasted,” she replied, setting the mug down when she was half finished. “It tastes...beautiful.”

He gave a small chuckle, his eyes crinkling as he smiled. She bit her bottom lip, trying not to smile any wider than she already was. He was incredibly cute, grinning in reaction to her compliment. How could a man exude the amount of sensuality like BaeJin yet be so cute that she wanted to squish him like a marshmallow?

“You like it?” he asked.

“I do,” she replied. “I didn’t know a cup of Americano could be improved. Thank you for this cup of coffee. You’re a gifted barista.”

“Thank you. I would love to make you another drink.”

“I’ll try to come back one day,” she said earnestly.

She sipped her drink and glanced at her phone. Thanking her talented, handsome (and cute) barista BaeJin one last time, Sandy finished her drink and sprinted out of the odd, surreal cafe. She had to get ready for work. Smelling the pink rose in her hand, Sandy smiled to herself. Who knew her barista would be the first man to give her a rose?

“Diamond! Malibu was accidentally double booked,” Danielle called out into the dressing room. “Can you give a lap dance in the Blue Champagne Room before going home?”

“Wait,” Sandy said, holding the gold hoop earring she’d just taken off her left earlobe, “I’m not going to chase Malibu for the flat fee. The last time I covered for her, not only did her John not tip me but I had to chase her for 4 days before she gave me the cash.”

“I have a hard time chasing her down, too,” Danielle said with a heavy sigh, handing her purple vape pen to Sandy to hold. She dug into her pink and purple Bedazzled fanny pack, and fished out a few bills. She handed a bag of clothing to Sandy. “Let me know if this John is handsy or out of line. He’s a new customer. You have five minutes, babe. Fix your makeup.”

Handing the vape pen back to her boss, Sandy put the cash into her purse before shutting and locking the drawer to her vanity. She put her earring back on and retouched her eye makeup and lipstick. Her locks of hair looked good as she combed her fingers through her hair, looking into the mirror before getting up to change.

Sandy hadn’t exactly planned on becoming a stripper, but during her freshman year in college, she took a class on feminist studies, specifically on sex work. What started out as a learning experience in respecting sex work, and educating herself on the legal struggles of sex workers’ rights, Sandy soon found herself stripping as a means of extra income. She herself was in need of money, and recognized her beauty was valued enough that she could make capital from it.

Having walked out on her dysfunctional family as soon as she turned 18, Sandy had been hustling on her own for years. She was still working towards a career in law, but in the meantime, she was balancing between her day job as an unpaid intern at a shitty law firm and her night job as a stripper at a club called Blue Paradise. Giving lap dances were only nice when she received good tips, but they didn’t happen often enough. All she wanted was a good tip.

Pulling out the outfit Danielle handed to her, she took off her clothes and put on her new outfit. She wore a neon pink G-string bikini bottom with her matching lace bra under a black pencil skirt and a white costume button up office dress shirt. She put on a loose blue tie around her neck, and put on a pair of thick black framed glasses, matching it with her black leather knee high boots. Apparently, this new customer had a librarian kink.

Walking down the hall, toward the other side of the back of the club, she entered the room with the blue door at the end of the hall. The Champagne Rooms, where customers received their private lap dances, were color coded. The Blue Room was where the clients with specific kinks went.

Opening the door, Sandy pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose, and looked up to see her John seated on the black couch. The dim lighting of the room cast a shadow over his body, making it hard for her to make out his face. She blinked, and closed her mouth, realizing that her customer was her barista from PB Cafe, BaeJin. It had been days since she had her cup of Rose Americano.

He was wearing a loosely worn grey sweater with black denim jeans. She didn’t think it was possible but he looked more handsome than she last remembered. Perhaps, with her body so close to his, knowing that he was there for devious reasons, her face flushed and her nipples hardened as heat rushed through her body from head to toe.

“BaeJin!” she said, forgetting her sexy librarian character.

“Don’t move,” he said, looking alarmed. She stood completely still, one hand on the door handle. “You’re a stripper, Sandy?”

“You...you remember me?” He nodded. “Stripping is helping me pay for my law degree.” She licked her lips and tilted her head, pushing her chest forward slightly. “I can give you what you want.”

“I can’t do this,” he replied, crossing his left leg over his right. His eyes left her, and diverted to the ground. Her ego was bruised. Not only did she need the money, but her vanity made her feel upset that he didn’t want a lap dance from her. “I should go.”

“I have to try to keep you here,” she said shyly, pressing her back against the door. “If I don’t, that means I’m not good at my job.”

“How long should we be in here for you to be considered good at your job?” he asked, his eyes returning to meet her gaze.

“You don’t want a lap dance? Am I not cute? My tits too small?”

He gave a chuckle, and looked away when his eyes moved to her chest as she talked.

“You’re very cute,” he replied, “but that’s the problem. As a barista, I don’t date customers. Since you didn’t actually pay for your drink, I thought it’d be OK to ask you out if I ever saw you again. But if I pay for this lap dance, I wouldn’t want to ask you out. It’s not fair for me to proposition you while you’re working.”

“You’ve been thinking hard about me?” Her cheeks felt hot and goosebumps formed on her arms. “Would you accept my invitation if I asked you out after this? I’m actually supposed to be off work by now, but this is my last job tonight. If I don’t give you a lap dance, we didn’t cross any lines, right?”

He nodded, and she gave a nervous chuckle.

“You said that being a barista was your side hustle,” she said, noticing the expensive watch and ring on his left hand. Sex workers had to know street codes to keep themselves safe, and watches and rings were how gang members communicated their loyalties and rankings. “What’s your main job? You said it’s stressful.”

His right hand wrapped around his platinum watch, the case of the watch encrusted with diamonds. The C9 Gang was a wealthy gang with origins in Tokyo, Japan, platinum was their calling card. BaeJin’s gold band emerald ring sat on his middle finger, indicating he was a made man of high rank. Sandy was impressed; BaeJin had acclimated to a high status in a gang at a young age.

“How long have you been working here, Sandy?” he asked in response.

“Diamond,” she answered, her grip remaining firm on the door. “My stage name is Diamond.”

“Sandy...Diamond,” he said with a grin. He stood, and she took a deep inhale of breath as he took a step forward and pressed his body against hers, his left arm wrapping around her waist as his hand gripped onto her wrist. Her hold on the door handle loosened. “You are the diamond in the rough in Blue Paradise. You still want to invite me out on a date?”

She took a gulp of breath, staring deeply into his dark brown eyes. He licked his lips and her eyes drifted to his mouth. Giving the most gentle nod of her head, she said, “Yes.”

“I drive a blue Ferrari F60 America,” he said as the tip of his nose touched hers.

“I don’t know anything about cars,” she replied, shutting her eyes. His breath was warm, making it hard for her to breathe. He chuckled and she felt his head rest onto her shoulder.

She opened her eyes when she felt a hand touch her chin.

“I drive a blue car,” he said, his eyes drifting down her face to her lips. His thumb ran across her bottom lip gently, sending heat deep into her groin. Her stomach ached at the touch. “It’ll be the most expensive looking car you’ll see when you walk outside.” He looked directly into her eyes again. “I’m a dangerous man, Sandy...Diamond. I have to ask you one more time, do you want to keep talking to me?”

She chewed on the inside of her left cheek nervously, and furrowed her eyebrows. Given how close she was to getting the paid job as a paralegal at Johnston’s &Partners, Sandy was one step closer to her dreams of becoming a lawyer. Would it be ethical to date a gangster?

“Will you take me home or will we be going to your place?” she answered. Life was too short not to take risks.

Upon his request, she left work wearing her costume. BaeJin’s description of having the most expensive looking car was accurate. The navy blue car shone brighter than any other car, and the curves of the body created an elegant design to the car. He’d opened the passenger door for her. She realized her skirt barely covered her ass as the cold leather from the seat hit the back of her thighs.

He drove them up a curvy hill to get to his expensive mansion, placed behind a small forest. It sat atop of a mountainous hill, overlooking the bright lights of the city far below. BaeJin was a man of very high rank by the looks of his home. It was large and designed with multiple floor to ceiling windows. Sandy took a soft gulp of air as her mouth felt dry.

“Your home is beautiful,” she said when he led her into his home, the hallway lined with expensively framed paintings. The jade vase that held 3 white lilies beside the coat hanger looked like it was worth more than everything she owned, including the small amount of cash she had in her bank account.

BaeJin’s home aesthetic was minimalist, though each room had a piece of furniture that popped out, like the jade vase in the front entrance. In his bedroom, he had a rose gold encrusted full length mirror sitting at the foot of his bed. It was shameless, but did not surprise her. Their eyes locked as BaeJin sat down at the foot of the bed. Their fingers intertwined when she reached her left hand out to his outstretched right hand.

“I spent a week trying not to think about you,” he said, pulling her easily onto his lap. His free hand wrapped around her waist. “The closest thing to you was trying to get a stripper to dress up like a sexy librarian.”

“Aren’t you lucky?” she said, squeezing his hand. “You went to Blue Paradise wanting a fantasy. Instead, you left with your fantasy.”

His hand released hers and she felt his hand between her legs, sliding up against her slit. Shutting her eyes she gave a soft moan, surprised at his swift movement.

“You deserve the best in life,” he said into her ear before grazing his teeth gently against her neck. “Don’t ever settle for less.”

He kissed her, his lips warm and firm. His tongue parted her lips and she gave a soft hum. She pushed his tongue out of her mouth, appreciating the taste of floral green tea from him. Her fingers tangled into his hair, pulling him closer to her. He tasted better than the beautiful cup of Rose Americano.

With a clouded head, she helped him pull his sweater off as he aggressively pulled her top off of her, the cheap buttons popping loudly as they flew into the air. Her skirt failed to exist when he ripped the zipper and tore the fabric apart with his bare hands.

“Are you going to rip me apart?” she asked breathlessly when his fingers found their way under her bra, fondling her erect nipple. She gave a soft moan and he grinned as he pinched her sensitive bud.

“I’ll be as hard or soft as you want,” he assured her. The pad of his thumb grazed against her nipple. Her back shivered as a sharp heat rode up her back.

“I like a bit of both,” she said, her cheeks hot. It felt like a dream to have BaeJin telling her he would do as she wanted. “You ruined my skirt.”

“The cheap costume skirt?” he asked, his hand returning to rubbing her slit. “You don’t have to settle, remember?” She shut her eyes, her hand grabbing his arm as two of his fingers pressed against her clit. “I like you best without clothes anyway.” The heat intensified as his fingers moved down lower, moistening her panties with the slick heat coming out of her pussy. Her back shook again as his fingers moved up against her slit, and then back down. “Your voice is lovely.”

She moaned as she rested her head against his chest, his fingers continually creating more heat between her legs. One finger slipped under her panties, pulling the fabric away from her wet cunt. The back of his knuckle pressed against the engorged bud of her clit, and she mewled as he rubbed up and down against her.

“BaeBae,” she could only speak with a shaky breath, “BaeBae, I’m going to come.”

Her hips thrust haphazardly against his knuckle as a small flash of heat washed over her, goosebumps forming up the back of her neck. Her orgasm disappeared as soon as it came and she breathed through her mouth. Her pussy felt wet as her slick heat dripped out of her.

“I was just playing with you,” he said with an amused smile, his eyes locked onto the mess between her legs, including his wet fingers. He spread her juices onto her folds, and moved the pads of his index and middle fingers to draw small circles onto her clit. She mewled, shutting her eyes, as her hips rutted against the motions of his fingers. “But with you this wet, I can fuck you right now.”

“BaeBae,” she breathed out, opening her eyes.

Her eyebrows were furrowed as she looked at him. Wordlessly, she stood as their hands began removing each other’s clothes off. His expensive jewelry remained on as he pulled her back to his front, making her stand between his legs. His hand went between her legs and he massaged the inside of her thigh. She hummed a soft moan, enjoying the way his hand relaxed her muscles.

Both of his hands wrapped around her waist, and his lips kissed her neck. He requested she trust him, and one hand reached down to her right knee and had her stretch her leg out to rest over his. As his other hand went to her left knee, she understood what he was doing. He wanted a full view of her pussy so she sat on his lap with her legs hooked over his.

“Ready to put this to use?” he asked, his hands kneading her hips. His reflection from the mirror was staring at her. She saw the cheeks of her flushed face turn a bright red, and she tilted her head down to look away from the mirror. The blood coursing through her chest up to her head clouded her vision. “Look at us.”

His right hand cupped her face, and she felt his wrist press up against the front of her neck. The pulse from his wrist beat rapidly against the pulse on her neck, and she struggled to breathe as her eyes locked onto his from the reflection in the mirror. Hot blood rushed to her groin and her hips jerked forward, out of her control. His left arm wrapped around her waist had her firmly in his hold, so all she could do was wiggle in his lap. Feeling the muscles of his thighs flex under her made her buttocks tighten, her body anticipating his cock.

“If you let me take you raw,” he said softly against her ear, his eyes locked with hers through the reflection of the mirror, “that’ll make you mine.”

His hold on her face was gone as his hand grabbed his cock. He rubbed his hard cock against her slit. She bit her bottom lip as his heat caused more juices to pool out of her cunt. It made her nerves shake, itching her skin in unbearable heat. He blinked, and his eyebrows furrowed as she opened her mouth to breathe loudly.

“I’m yours,” she said clearly. He groaned as he pushed the tip of his cock into her entrance. “Give me everything, BaeJin.” Pleasure blinded her vision as she saw nothing but white and gold flecks of stars. She gave a loud gulp when she felt his hand grip onto her chin again, his wrist pressing against her throat. Her grip on his arms tightened as she held onto him for leverage. His cock pushed in deeper, and the walls of her pussy trembled as heat filled her body in overwhelming waves. “I’m yours.”

His lips were on her neck and when her vision cleared all her eyes could focus was on the way his cock was fucking her pussy. He started with shallow pushes, the rhythm steady as she bounced on his lap. She came and she gave a gentle mewl, blurting out his name as her walls squeezed his cock. A gentle chuckle escaped her lips as she saw him shut his eyes tight.

“You’re so easy to please,” he said as he pushed in deep. She gave a loud groan as he pulled out roughly before pushing in fast, going in balls deep. He started a steady, deep rhythm and she cried as she was filled with undiluted pleasure.

“You fuck so good,” she moaned, her hand reaching back to grab his hair. He sucked on her neck, leaving a red mark before he kissed her shoulder. “BaeJin, fuck me. I’m gonna - I’m - I’m gonna come.”

His grip around her waist tightened as he pushed faster into her, and they bent forward together as he came into her in deep pushes. Her fingers dug into his skin as she shut her eyes, taking in the sensation of his hot seed filling up her insides.

“Come,” he panted out heavily as she felt him withdraw from her. She whimpered as she felt his middle finger push into her come-filled cunt. His thumb rubbed up against her clit, making her nerves dance in hot waves. She cried out a soft orgasm as she came again. She breathed heavily as she rested against his body.

“We barely know each other,” she said after a while. She didn’t know how long they sat together, staring at their reflection before she finally spoke.

“We have the rest of our lives to get to know each other,” he said, running a hand up and down her thigh, sending heat up and down her back. “You are mine now.”

He pulled her off his lap, and they laid in bed together. A shiver went down her back as he kissed her shoulder. They were facing each other, her left leg locked between his muscular thighs.

Giving a laugh, she watched him grab her wrist. He kissed the inside of her wrist before kissing the inside of her elbow. She shut her eyes as she felt his lips on her shoulder. Every kiss sent a vibrating heat under her skin. His mouth sucked on her neck and she grabbed onto the back of his hair as his teeth grazed against her skin. The muscles in her stomach tightened. The world ceased to exist as BaeJin’s embrace consumed her.

#cix smut #cix #baejin imagines #bae jinyoung #bae jinyoung x reader #baejin x reader #cix baejin smut #baebae #cix baejin #bae jinyoung x fem oc #baejin x fem oc #coffee shop au #gangster au #fluff #smut #bae jinyoung smut #no beta read #cixthotshit

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one-more-offbeat-anthem · 3 years

Text

I. “Sorry,” the guy says, his voice deep and sun-warmed. Dean steps back, extending his hands as if to say no problem, and then he recognizes the guy--it’s Castiel, the dude from the campus coffeeshop with the weird name that made a bunch of people look up, Dean included.

“You’re Castiel,” Dean says. “I’m Dean.”

“I’ve never been introduced to myself before,” Castiel replies, but he’s grinning, and he sticks out his hand for Dean to shake. Dean helps Castiel pick up the papers he dropped when Dean ran into him, and they walk to their next class together, because it turns out Religion 101 and Intro to Philosophy are in the same building. Castiel tosses Dean a peace sign as he turns towards his classroom, and Dean waves back.

II. A week later, Dean's outside his history professor’s office to get feedback on a paper when Castiel walks up, his head buried in a book. He looks up when Dean coughs, and then a smile grows on his face.

“How are you, Dean?” Castiel asks, as if there hasn’t been a gap in their conversation at all.

“I’ve been better. Dr. Turner is about to ream me over this essay. I may have...left it until the last minute.” Dean paused. “How are you?”

“Trying to finish reading this book before my next class. I may have...also left it until the last minute.” Castiel’s smile grows broader.

Just then, Dr. Turner opens his office door, and Dean smiles at Castiel ruefully.

“Hey, Dean,” Castiel says, just as Dean follows Dr. Turner into the office and is about to close the door, “I never got a last name.”

“Winchester. You?”

“Novak.”

III. “Who the hell would drive this monstrosity?” Benny, Dean’s coworker at the auto shop he works at after class, asks. They’re both staring at a massive gold Lincoln Continental from the seventies that has a popped tire and is, according to their boss, making “funny noises.”

“That would be me,” a familiar voice says, and Dean turns to see the shock of dark hair and vibrant blue gaze that indicates Castiel Novak.

“Oh, hey, Cas--Castiel,” Dean says.

“Cas is fine. But yes, I drive this...’monstrosity.’” Cas uses finger quotes and everything.

“You and Dean should get along, then,” Benny quips, “He acts like his car was God’s gift to mankind.”

“Hey!” Dean protests. “Baby demands respect.”

Cas quirks an eyebrow. “You call your car Baby?”

“So what?” Dean frowns at Cas, although it’s difficult, what with the twinkle he can see in the other guy’s eye.

“So can you fix my car?”

“We can,” Benny says. “For sure.”

After Cas leaves, Benny elbows Dean and winks at him. Dean decides to pretend not to know Benny for the rest of their shift.

IV. They see each other all the time after that, almost like the universe is pushing them together. When Cas sees Dean’s car, his dad’s old 1967 Chevy Impala, he tells Dean it’s a “ridiculous” car, and Dean only doesn’t write him off completely because he’s starting to like Cas.

They run into each other in the student union or the library and do homework. If they’re both at the coffeeshop where Dean first heard Cas’ name, they sit together. Cas shows Dean pictures of his cats and Dean tells Cas stories about what his little brother, Sam, who’s still in high school, has been up to. He learns that Cas’ whole family lives over five hundred miles away, that Cas chose this university to get away from them. Cas learns in turn that Dean is only thirty minutes from his hometown on purpose, in case his mom or brother need him.

Cas is a member of their university’s beekeeping club and he’s double majoring in philosophy and English. Dean doesn’t know what he wants to major in yet, maybe social work, so he’s getting all his pre-reqs out of the way. Cas says that it’s okay to not know what he wants to do, and Dean believes him.

This goes on for a couple of months, and at some point hardly a day goes by where they don’t see each other, and it’s kind of the best thing that’s ever happened to Dean.

V. Dean doesn’t often go to parties, but his friend Charlie who he met in DnD club found out about some frat having one this weekend and apparently they had to go, which is how he’s found himself standing awkwardly in the hallway of a random fraternity, nursing a potentially hazardous red Solo cup of jungle juice.

“Well hey there, stranger.”

Dean turns to see Cas holding a beer. “Hey,” Dean replies, feeling his face warm. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t attracted to Cas, but Cas is his friend, and besides, Cas is cool. Interesting. He writes poetry and wears vintage button-down shirts and paints his own Converse. Dean feels like he himself is what would happen if you made the midwest a person: flannel, leather, ripped jeans, work boots, none of it to be aesthetic. This is just what he looks like.

He runs a hand through his hair nervously, takes a sip of his drink.

“Come here often?” Cas asks after a moment. The hallway is dark, the music audible even though they aren’t in the main room.

“Ha.” Dean swirls his jungle juice. “Charlie--I’ve told you about her, I think--she dragged me here. Pretty sure she’s making out with her girlfriend on a couch as we speak.”

“She threw you to the wolves?”

“A little.” Dean smiles ruefully. “I’m usually reading mystery novels on the weekends and she told me I was boring.” “That’s funny.” Cas smiles with just his eyes. “I would say you’re anything but boring.”

Dean shrugs. He’s glad for the dim lighting because he just knows his face is getting redder the longer this conversation goes on. He fidgets with the cuff of his flannel with the hand not holding his drink and stares off into space.

“Hey Dean?” Cas says suddenly.

“Hm?”

“Do you like me?” Cas tilts his head slightly, like he always does.

“What?” Dean sets his cup on the windowsill next to him. “Do I--what?”

“Just wondering. It’s alright if you don’t.”

Dean furrows his brow. “Do you...like me?” God, this feels like he’s in eighth grade again, crushing on the guy that would always let him borrow a pen in science class.

Cas considers for a moment. “Definitely.”

Dean’s eyes widen. “Oh.”

Cas somehow tilts his head further. “Well?”

“Uh, yes. I, uh--” Dean fumbles, but he can’t take his eyes off Cas, who knocks back the rest of his beer and sets the bottle on the floor before stepping into Dean’s personal space.

“Can I kiss you?” Cas is smiling.

“Please.”

At first, it’s gentle--just a tentative press of lips, Dean can feel the upward curve of Cas’ lips. Then it turns into something a little heavier as Dean’s brain gets back online and he remembers that he has hands, and that’s Cas’ tongue, tentatively exploring, and then not-so-tentatively exploring, and Dean’s pretty sure he might explode.

Eventually they part--Cas has backed Dean against the nearest wall, and Dean has his hands on Cas’ hips, pulling them together, and then Cas leans his forehead against Dean’s.

“Hey Dean?”

“Mmm-hmm?” “Do you think I could get your phone number?”

#ahh please no one hate that I kinda made dean shy here but shy dorky college au dean is my 1 weakness #destiel #mutual tags pls tell me if I'm annoying anhhhh bye #cillabee #usersheya #userstarry #casthyelle #offbeatwrites

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voiceless-terror · 3 years

Text

More than Enough

For @tma-mspec-week Day Three: Polycule

Characters: Jonathan Sims/Sasha James/Tim Stoker/Martin Blackwood

Rating: Teen

Summary:

“But what if-” Once again, Jon struggles to find the right words. He knows their situation is unorthodox to most people, and the thought of Martin looking at him differently is too much to bear. “What if he doesn’t understand?”

“Then explain it to him,” Sasha relays patiently, her hand never leaving his. Things are always so clear to her, Jon envies that. “You’re my partners, you’re dating Tim, sometimes me and Tim have-”

Or: How One Became Four.

It starts with Sasha and Jon.

She’s fresh off six months in Artefact Storage, shell-shocked and stand-offish. Jon starts a few months later and they learn the ropes together. She warms up, divulges little tidbits of her time in the other department that Jon devours. He’s young, hungry for answers and Sasha’s already jaded by her few years in academia. This is just a transitional job, she assures him. It pays better than most research gigs and allows her to keep up a certain lifestyle.

“I’m looking at other places, putting out feelers,” she confides in him one day over coffee. It’s become their daily ritual, a mid-morning break where they can commiserate on the staid academics that ask too much of them and the fanciful statements that end up on their desk. “Whatever you do, don’t get stuck here.” She leans back in her chair, gives a cynical little smile. “Or maybe you should. It’ll be different for you, you’re a man.” He starts a protest but she cuts him off. “It’s an old boys club and you know it. Besides, I know all about your extra meetings with Bouchard. He’s never done that with anyone else. Who knows - in a few years you might be my boss!”

He scoffs at that. Jon feels like he’s treading water. He’s a great researcher, sure, but he hasn’t exactly made himself popular among the others. He’s quick to bite, dismissive, blunt. It’s why he and Sasha get along so well, tucked away in their own little world. Of course she would notice the attention from Elias; Jon’s flattered by it, even if he stammers his way through every interaction. Elias seems to find this amusing, but Jon wants to impress him.

Though not at the cost of his friendship with Sasha. “I always mention your work to him. I’m rubbish with technology, but you-” She rolls her eyes.

“Don’t, he’ll see right through that. Manipulation’s not your strong suit.” Jon stares down at his rapidly cooling drink, an embarrassed flush spreading across his features. But her hand reaches out to grasp his and a fond smile lights her features. “Thank you, though. It’s sweet of you.”

Jon likes Sasha. Their personalities occasionally clash, but never for too long. Jon’s quick to forgive and Sasha’s too fond to hold a grudge, though she’s loath to admit it. So when her roommate suddenly moves out and she’s left in a bind, it’s only natural for Jon to take her place. He’s been rent-poor, living paycheck to paycheck in a shitty studio that’s still an hour’s commute. Sasha’s closer and her flat’s substantially nicer; she offers and he accepts, easy as that. It’s a practical move, and Jon has to admit his lonely little flat is starting to feel suffocating.

They fit together easily, like pieces of puzzle slotting in place. Sasha’s brutally efficient in her personal matters; bills and maintenance that Jon finds overwhelming and confounding she takes care of with ease. He’s heard her on the phone in that light, practiced tone of hers as she casually threatens the landlord for necessary repairs. Jon finds himself relaxing bit by bit, feeling comfortable in his own skin as she snarks at the dinner table over a dish he’s made. He used to cook for Georgie like this. Now he cooks for Sasha.

“You’re good at this,” she comments one night over chana masala. “Loads better than the frozen meals I’m used to.”

“It’s nice, having someone to cook for. Harder to do it for one.” He feels a bit uncomfortable with the admission, though he knows he shouldn’t - this is what it’s like, when you love someone.

He’s never said that to her, of course. He gets attached too easily but never knows quite how to show it. And it’s not his usual sort of love, he doesn’t want to date her. She’s more than a friend, and Jon’s never had many of those; he has no metric to measure this against. He thinks he could stay in this flat with her forever, so long as he could see her smile every morning and yawn every night.

On a Saturday morning she stumbles out of bed and makes her way over to the kitchen. “Morning,” she grumbles, as she reaches for the coffee pot and kisses his forehead. Jon doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t need to.

On a Wednesday night Jon drinks too much.

“Sasha,” he slurs, her arm the only thing keeping him from falling off his stool. “I want you t’ know…”

She smiles indulgently, takes a sip of her drink. “Yes, dear?”

“I-I love you.” She pauses and Jon’s heart drops. “N-Not like that, but like friends. Good friends. Very good friends. But m-maybe not.” She’s still smiling, that’s got to be a good sign, right? “I-I just love you, okay?”

And then she laughs, puts an arm around his shoulder and pulls him close. “I love you too. Stay with me forever, okay?”

He takes her hand between his and promises, with all the solemnity a drunken man can muster, that he’ll stay with her forever and then some. The next morning, while they’re both nursing massive hangovers, Jon broaches the subject again.

“Did you mean it?” he asks tentatively, trying to keep the worry out of his voice. “What you said last night. Do- do you want me to stay forever?” She turns to look at him, bleary eyes suddenly alert.

“Yes.” There’s no tease in her words as she leans into his side, a warm weight on his shoulder. “I don’t think I’ve ever meant anything more.”

Jon stays.

______

Two years later, Tim joins the Institute.

He’s handsome; charming, but subdued. He’s been assigned a desk near theirs, invading the quiet little corner that had become their world. Tim greets them both with a smile and a perfunctory handshake before settling down at his desk and powering up his laptop. He doesn’t speak to them again.

Jon watches as he goes back and forth between circulation and his desk, building an impressive stack of books- The Pantomime Life of Joseph Grimaldi, The Congress of Clowns and Other Russian Circus Acts. Sasha told him he worked in publishing, Jon knows she got that information through her usual nefarious means. Perhaps he’s writing a book, Jon says. Sasha thinks otherwise.

“He’s one of those,” she says over sandwiches and tea. She invited Tim, but had been turned down with an apologetic smile.

“Hmm?”

“Like you.” She sets her drink down, eyes him with her steady gaze. “He’s got a reason.”

Mr. Spider doesn’t like it.

Jon shivers at the reminder. Sasha never brought it up after he initially confided in her one vulnerable night last year; she just held him through the shaking and the tears. He’s only told the story twice; once at eight, again at twenty five. It never got easier.

“No one believed me,” he whispered, tucking his face into her shoulder as his body itched from phantom legs skittering across skin. She squeezed him back.

“I do.”

They’re friendly enough to Tim, giving him his distance while still trying to be helpful. Jon points him in the direction of texts and scholars who might be useful, Sasha teaches him a few of her more invasive tricks that Jon refused to learn. Slowly, bit by bit, he opens up. Never shares his story, no- but he smiles, jokes around with them, accompanies them on their lunch breaks and eventually entices them to after work drinks.

He’s handsome when he smiles, Jon thinks to himself as Tim regales them with stories of dates gone wrong. Sasha catches his eye and winks. He wonders if she’ll tire of Jon now that Tim’s around. He’s everything Jon’s not; good-looking, confident, secure in his intelligence. Sasha laughs so freely around him. He could ground her where Jon cannot- they can be a chaotic force, the two of them. It’s why they keep to themselves.

But at the end of the night it’s Jon’s hand she takes, swinging it gently with hers. “Stay with me forever?”

He smiles. “Forever.”

They invite him over to their flat one night in spring, when the trees are blossoming and Jon’s allergies are acting up. He’s sniffling miserably on the couch, Tim sprawled next to him as Sasha pours some wine. Despite his misery, Jon’s content.

Tim nudges him with his foot. “So what’s your deal?” he asks in a wheedling tone, though his smirk betrays an almost imperceptible anxiety. It’s strange. “You and Sash. Dating, roomies…?”

It’s Sasha who answers, handing Jon a glass of wine and standing before Tim, tall and proud. “Jon’s my partner.” It’s matter of fact, and Jon can’t help the warmth that floods him. “We’re not dating. I’m not interested in that.” She hands him his glass with a smirk. “But if you want to romance Jon, feel free.”

Jon sputters as she laughs- he’s transparent, as usual. They’d talked about it briefly- Sasha’s fine with him dating other people, but Jon’s never felt the need to. Sasha’s enough. She still is, but he can’t deny the way his heart swoops whenever Tim aims that smile in his direction. Sasha likes him too, in her own way.

Tim’s still gaping at them and Jon can’t help but join in on the laughter, as embarrassed as he feels. “Is the great Timothy Stoker nervous?” Sasha says in between giggles. “Guess we know how to shut him up now.”

“L-Look, can you blame me?” Tim says, a smile growing on his face. “You two can be very intimidating, not to mention gorgeous-”

Jon kicks at his leg. “Don’t joke.”

“No, we are.” Sasha interrupts, daring him to disagree. She turns that deadly smile back on Tim, delighting in his falter. “So what’ll it be, Stoker?”

There’s silence, Jon can feel his heart racing. They’ve got this all wrong, Tim doesn’t want him, Tim’s going to leave, Tim doesn’t understand-

“Can I take you out to dinner tomorrow night?”

Jon blinks. “Uh, yes?”

“He likes Thai!” Sasha calls as she walks over to her bedroom, leaving the two of them on the couch, laughing nervously.

“So you’re bi, then?” Tim asks, scooting closer to Jon and throwing a blanket over their legs and an arm around his shoulder. It’s warm in all the right ways and Jon leans closer, the awkwardness dissipating at the touch of his hand.

“I prefer pan,” he replies. It’s the first term that felt right to him. Georgie used to make some stupid joke about a ‘gender buffet’ and him ‘having one of everything.’ It still makes him smile. “And- and you should know I’m also ace. So there’s some things I won’t be able to do for you.” He looks for disappointment in Tim’s eyes and finds none. “I hope that’s alright.”

“Of course.” Tim smiles like he means the words and Jon feels light, almost dizzy. “Are kisses alright?”

He nods shyly, and Tim takes this as his cue to pepper him in obnoxiously loud smooches- one in his hair, another on his nose. Jon manages to bat him away after Tim almost gets him in the eye.

So Tim and Jon are dating. Tim takes him out to dinner, the movies, one memorable night of karaoke. Sasha joins in when she wants; they go to museums and lectures. One night she laces her fingers through Tim’s, smiling at his wide eyes.

“What?” she says innocently, doing the same with Jon. “I’ve got two hands.”

On Wednesday nights Tim goes to the gym. Jon sits at the table, passes Sasha a bowl of reheated spaghetti before settling down in his chair. He fidgets, not touching his fork.

“What is it?” Sasha asks, setting her own fork down. “You’ve got that look on your face.”

“I-” he stutters, sighing as the words won’t come. Just tell her like you practiced. “I’m not trying to, well- hmm. I don’t want to insinuate anything-”

“You would never.”

“But, I’ve noticed- I’m not- Tim is very handsome.”

Sasha smiles indulgently. “Mhm. Go on.”

“And I’ve noticed. I don’t- if you wanted to-” Goddamnit. Pull yourself together. “I wouldn’t mind it, if you were to - that is, if you’d like to engage in-” He closes his eyes, purses his lips in frustration. “Please stop me.”

“Why Jon,” she replies, her voice coy and teasing. “Are you giving me your blessing?”

Jon sighs, his face warming as he opens one eye- she’s grinning, just as he expected. “...Yes?”

Six months later, Tim moves in.

_______

“Jon wants to bring a boy home!”

Jon smacks him in the arm and scowls. “Tim, don’t-”

“What, it’s true!” He leans back in his chair, a self-satisfied smirk on his face. Jon wants to knock the smile off his face and maybe onto the floor, if he can get a good kick in. “I don’t blame you and in fact, I encourage it. Martin’s a catch-”

“Martin?” Sasha perks up. “Finally!”

“Not you too-”

“Jon, he’s a very sweet boy-”

“-good-looking, too!”

“And if you want to bring him over, please do.” She reaches across the table to give his hand an encouraging, if condescending, squeeze. “I’ve seen the way you look at each other.”

“I don’t think I’ll need to go into that much detail just yet,” Jon cuts her off, ignoring Tim’s snicker. “It’s just...what if he thinks it's weird?”

“Weird can be good. And if he doesn’t agree, well - he’s not worth your time.”

If only it were that simple.

It’s been about three months since he first ran into Martin in the break room. He’d seen him around plenty of times, but despite his hulking form, the man can make himself very, very small. It wasn’t until he quite literally ran into him, causing him to drop his newly organized files, that Jon got a good look at his face.

It was a nice face. Soft, kind, with big blue eyes and curly red hair that fell across his forehead. He wanted to touch it, tuck it behind Martin’s ear and he almost did, despite the man’s rambling apologies and meek demeanor. He stood there, frozen, even as Martin handed back the file with a bashful smile.

“Sorry, I’m pretty clumsy. Are you alright?”

Jon was fine. He should probably say that.

“Y-Yes. I’m Jon.” Wow. Smooth.

“I know.” Martin put a hand behind his neck, nervously chuckling. “You’re quite known around these parts.” His eyes widened and his face turned red. A nice red. “N-Not in a bad way, of course! You’re- you’re just very smart and- and direct- and oh Lord, that’s not a compliment, is it-”

“Thank you for my file,” Jon replied robotically, his eyes trained somewhere over Martin’s shoulder and not on his very, very blue eyes. “I have to take my leave now.” Why are you talking like this?

Their next few encounters were similarly stunted and awkward. Martin made tea at ten every morning, coincidentally when Jon got his yogurt from the fridge. He started making Jon a cup as well; he wasn’t sure if Martin was particularly excellent at making tea, or if it just mattered that he was the one making it. Jon tried not to dwell on the sentimentality of it all.

He shouldn’t want another partner. He’s got Sasha, who he loves, and Tim, who he also loves, albeit in a different way. They should be enough for him. They are enough. But Martin makes him tea and asks him how his day is going and smiles at him and people don’t do that. He tells himself he just wants a friend, but he finds his mind wandering- Martin’s hand in his while they walk down the street, Jon nestled into his side on a movie night and Tim’s there too, because Martin is very comfy and handsome and warm. Sasha’s in her armchair reading a book because tonight they’re watching a romantic comedy and she hates those. Jon hates them too but Martin likes them, of course Martin likes them-

No. He’s getting distracted. And he’s standing in front of Martin like an idiot, saying nothing. This is going terribly. Why did he ever think this would not go terribly-

“Jon? Are you alright? You look like you’re about to have a stroke.”

“I’m not having a stroke,” Jon responds on auto-pilot. “I’m trying to think of a clever way to ask you out but you are very distracting.”

Shit. Martin stares at him, mouth open in shock. He’s got nice teeth. Very straight.

“Um- I-I thought you were with Tim?” Martin squeaks out. Oh God, I’ve scared him. Do I keep going? “Or- or Sasha, oh! I’m not accusing you of -”

“No, you’re correct,” Jon grinds out, willing himself to be calm. He doesn’t want Martin to think his frustration is aimed at him. “Sasha’s my partner and I’m dating Tim, and sometimes Sasha and Tim-” No! Abort! “-sorry. We’re together. But, um, I-I also like you, and I think Tim likes you but he hasn’t said- I’m sorry, this is going all wrong.” He looks down at the floor, clenching his jaw. “I understand if you say no.”

“I’m not saying no,” Martin’s voice is lower now and Jon feels a hope rise in his chest. He’s not? “So it’s, it’s like an open thing? You’re accepting applications?” Jon would laugh at the joke if he weren’t so paralyzed with fear.

“Not really? It’s, we aren’t dating around or anything, but I suppose it is open, in a way.” He pauses, takes a deep breath. “Open for you.”

Martin’s smiling like he can’t believe his luck, and it confuses Jon because who wouldn’t want him? Kind, handsome Martin who makes him tea and doesn’t laugh at his stupid jokes but rolls his eyes affectionately and tells his own in turn. Jon doesn’t think he’ll ever understand his humor but it makes him smile and that’s important. And now Martin’s taking his hand and he- oh fuck Martin’s taking his hand Martin’s got his hand and it’s warm, just like he knew it would be-

“I-I think I’d like that.” A squeeze. Jon dies but only a little. “Wow, this is sort of crazy for me, y’know? You’re all so, so intimidating and good-looking-”

“Yes, we are,” Jon agrees, squeezing his hand back. “But we’d like to buy you dinner, if you’re amenable.” Martin laughs and says yes, he’s very, very amenable. It feels right holding Martin’s hand. It feels right to see him with Tim and Sasha, smiling and joking. It feels right to lean into him at the end of the day, to nudge his side in the night and apologize in the morning.

Martin’s lease expires in seven months. They start looking for a new apartment after three.

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29032062

#tma #the magnus archives #tma mspec week #jonmartimsasha #archive polycule before there's an archive #jonsasha #jontim #jonmartin #timsasha #jonathan sims #tim stoker #sasha james #martin blackwood #jon is pan #tim is bi #sasha is aro

423 notes · View notes

reidology · 3 years

Text

Dying in a bathtub - Hotchreid

Summary: Hotch gets nightmares and hides in the tub, so Spencer makes it comfy for him <3

Word count: 4.4k

Content warning: discussion and description of nightmares, smut, brief description of physical abuse, light angst, quite fluffy, happy ending <3

AO3

__________________________________________

The first time it happened Spencer woke up shivering, the cold of a missing body beside him seeped through the sheets chilled his bones. He braved a lazy glance to his bedside, squinting to see the alarm clock blinking big and aggressive red numbers. 05:25. Aaron must have gone out for a morning run, something Spencer never understood. In fact, his reasoning of ‘why run, when sleep?’ whenever Aaron attempted to get him to join always earned him an affectionate eye roll and kiss on the cheek, so why would he ever give that up? No promise of endless coffee can get Spencer Reid to wake up before 7am, much less for exercise.

Reluctantly the sleepy man made his way to the bathroom, knowing he might as well shower and get ready for work now, there’s no way he could get back to sleep without his human furnace of a boyfriend covering him completely. Only, through his grogginess he failed to notice the boyfriend-shaped body softly snoring in the tub.

So he padded over to the semi-closed shower curtain and blearily reached in to turn the water on for it to heat up while he got ready.

Almost as soon as the water turned on, a high-pitched shriek assaulted the young agent’s eardrums. Spencer did what, in his opinion, any caught-off-guard fully trained FBI agent would do— he squealed in shock and fell back on his ass. A moment later the shower curtain pulled back, revealing a very irritated -and very wet- Aaron Hotchner.

“Babe what the fuck,” the older man whined, wringing out his shirt and turning the freezing water off, “I was sleeping!”

“Oh this is my fault?!”

“Yes! Couldn’t you see me?!”

“I just woke up!”

“Me too!” Aaron pointed to his wet shirt as if to say you have no excuse for this.

Spencer let out a frustrated sigh and pushed himself up from the floor. Somehow he upset his boyfriend, he guesses apologies are on the table. He carefully stepped into the bathtub to face his dripping boyfriend and wrapped his arms around the soaking man’s neck, “I’m sorry,” he pouted quite prettily, “But honey, why were you sleeping in the tub?”

“I didn’t sleep in the tub. I went to sleep in our bed, then you woke me up in the tub.” Aaron grumbled.

Spencer thought Aaron looked positively insane. His eyes focused on the older man’s pupils as his hands checked for a fever.

“Do you have a concussion?” He couldn’t help but fret about the man who is usually so well put together. He was obviously in distress though what kind of distress completely eluded the dry man. Aaron waved Spencer’s worried hands away from his face, “No. Spence, I’m telling you, I didn’t sleep in the bathtub.”

“Then how did you get here?”

Aaron shrugged and swatted Spencer’s nosy hands away that were trying to inspect the grumpy man for any injuries, “Who knows? Let’s get some breakfast.” He calmly stepped out of the tub and headed out, leaving Spencer confused (for once).

“... But it’s 5 am.”

_____

Two nights later, it happened again. But this time Spencer awoke to the sound of sobbing. His heart just about broke in two at the sight of Aaron curled in on himself in the porcelain tub, shaking and covered in sweat.

The Unit Chief used to have terrors most nights. After Foyet, all of life’s problems seemed to unravel in his dreams. The sounds and images were so vivid that upon waking up he believed he had done what he’d dreamed. That he’d hurt his family or that Foyet had come back to finish the job.

During hard cases, Aaron would forgo sleep completely, knowing his mind would only haunt him with terror beyond his conscious capabilities. It left him exhausted and agitated for the rest of the investigation. The team and LEOs got frustrated but none had the guts to confront him, except for one young agent who took special notice of his boss.

So Spencer stepped in, and after weeks of getting closer and learning more about each other than they had in the past five years of working together, Aaron digressed and accepted the help that was offered. The following three months ensued so smoothly, the therapy was helping and Aaron couldn’t believe he was sleeping full nights again. He knew it was all thanks to Spencer, who had taken up a very special place in his heart. Aaron knew that Spencer would always be there when he woke up, like an anchor. Something real to hold on to and keep him in place.

It had been a while since Aaron had such a bad episode, luckily Spencer knew just what to do and jumped right into action. Without missing a beat, the younger man climbed into the tub and sat by Aaron’s head, taking hold of one of his white-knuckled fists and gently coaxing it open by rubbing his thumbs from the palm to the back of the hand. Constant pressure, soothing, real. With one hand he threaded his fingers through the brunette’s damp hair, stroking softly at his scalp, willing his nightmare mind to latch onto the familiar touch.

“It’s okay, you’re safe.” He murmured sweetly like a mantra.

Eventually Aaron’s panicked sobs dissolved into pained whimpers, his body lost some of its tension, allowing for Spencer to gently lift his boyfriend’s head into his lap and off the hard floor of the tub. The whimpers died down to light trembles and Spencer shushed him comfortingly, continuing to sooth him with gentle strokes to his head. Slowly Aaron’s eyes opened and Spencer felt the moment panic set in. The taller man’s breathing quickened and tension returned to his body, frozen in fear. God, Spencer should have turned the lights on.

“It’s just me, darling. You’re home, Aaron. This is home. You’re safe.”

Aaron trembled more, his eyes glazed over as if reliving the nightmare, “Shhh you’re safe.”

Spencer placed a feathery kiss on his boyfriend’s forehead that seemed to anchor him immediately. Tentatively, Aaron looked up at his rescuer, relieved to be in his lover's arms and away from the nightmare universe that had felt so real. He burrowed further into Spencer’s lap, wrapped his shaking arms around his boyfriend’s steady hips. He tried to focus on Spencer’s heartbeat in an attempt to regulate his own. Spencer was warm, Spencer was safe. Always safe.

“Foyet?” Spencer asked cautiously, breath fanning over the older’s forehead. Aaron stilled at the name then nodded. The younger man knows that Aaron needs to talk about it immediately, even if it’s terrifying. It allows him to discern dreams from reality, so that the events and sensations of the night terror don’t ingrain themselves into the man’s memories of reality .

“... and Scratch,” Aaron gulped, “They had Jack. I couldn’t... I didn’t know what was real. Couldn’t tell if it was really Jack. He made me hurt him. Oh god, Spence… I hurt him.” Sobs wracked the pained man’s body once again, unable to forget the horror of the dream. Spencer rocked them back and forth.

“Shh… Jack is fine, he’s at Jess’s. You would never hurt him, Aaron.”

Aaron was spent, he couldn’t muster up the energy to talk. He fell asleep once more in his partner’s comforting hold.

_____

The next morning they woke up with aching muscles from being in the bathtub for so long. Spencer couldn’t help but be worried about his boyfriend. There was definitely something going on, and though he respected Aaron’s privacy immensely, he was afraid of the older man getting into a dangerous situation. Was he sleepwalking to the bathroom? What if he tripped and hit his head on the edge of the tub? But most importantly, why were Aaron’s nightmares leading him to the bathtub?

Spencer nuzzled Aaron’s neck in an effort to wake him up a bit more. “Darling, we need to talk about this.” The worry in Spencer’s voice was audible and prompted Aaron to sit up and sigh deeply. He didn’t think this part of his life would ever come back up to the surface, he’d avoided thinking about it for decades and he didn’t know what triggered the habit to resurface. But now it’s affected Spencer, and he knew he couldn’t keep the love of his life in the dark, but some things were so hard to talk about.

Aaron found himself panicking again, flashes of Foyet and his father clouding his mind once more. Images of Sean taking cover in Aaron’s arms while their father pounds on the bathroom door-

“I know. I-” He was cut off with the sweetest kiss.

“You can take your time sweetheart. No rush.”

Even at this stage in their relationship, Aaron wasn’t used to being treated so well. The kindness that naturally radiated off his boyfriend was enough to make his insides melt, the understanding words never ceased to choke him up. But he knew Spencer would be there to put him back together once he gave him all his pieces. He buried his face in the younger’s neck, breathing in the scent of his shampoo, relaxing into his hold. Spencer wrapped his arms around Aaron’s lean form, offering a safe space. Aaron had never been this vulnerable with anyone before his relationship with Spencer.

After a moment of just holding each other, Aaron’s breathing mellowed out and his voice cracked as he explained everything.

“After Sean was born, my dad started drinking. He’d always been somewhat aggressive, scary even. He- he’d get angry and take it out on my mom… and if she wasn’t there... But when he started drinking it got a thousand times worse. I vowed to myself to protect Sean at all costs, I promised him I would never let our dad get to him. So I took the brunt of it when he was sober. But when he was drunk… he would chase us, try to get to Sean specifically. He was just a little kid 5 or 6, I was 15. He would scour the house to find Sean so I took him and locked us in the only room in the house with a lock… the bathroom. I’d carry Sean in my arms and make a run for it. I blocked off the door with a cabinet and we sat in the tub until he passed out.. My dad couldn’t get in but he would pound on the door so loudly, his voice was so angry-”

Aaron inhaled hard, the grip on the back of Spencer’s shirt tightened and his breathing shallowed. Spencer continued rubbing soothing circles on his back, allowing Aaron to take his time.

“The bathtub was the only safe space for Sean and I. We spent whole nights in there, waiting for my dad to pass out. Sometimes we’d tell stories, play games, but other times we cried and I covered his ears with my hands, not wanting him to hear the horrible things our dad was saying. This went on until I went to college, I tried to take Sean with me but my mother wouldn’t allow it. My dad died a year later, when Sean was 9.

“I- because of that, if any of us had nightmares we’d go into the bathroom and sleep in the tub, because no one could get to us in there.”

Aaron swallowed thickly and timidly looked up to the honey-haired man. Had he sounded pathetic?

But Spencer cupped his cheek once again and kissed him lovingly.

“Thank you for telling me. You’re the strongest person I know, Aaron. I'm sorry you had to go through all of that.”

Aaron’s heart skipped a beat, warmth spreading through his chest. He swallowed down all his uncertainties and let Spencer in, he was proud of himself. Both of them yawned in succession, still exhausted from last night and uncomfortable from sleeping in the bathtub.

With a cheeky grin the younger man announced, “Let’s go to bed, I’ll get us the day off.” Aaron was so grateful.

While he called in sick, Spencer had an idea, and he knew just who to call.

_____

“Boy Wonder! How wonderful to hear from you on this frabjous day! We miss you and the Bossman dearly. We are definitely… working. Work is happening, and we’re doing it, and it’s getting done. You can trust me on that. Definitely no piñatas in the break room, where would we even find one on such short notice? Emily doesn’t even know where to get balloons! Anyway, what magical service may I bestow upon thee today, my little lord?”

Spencer bit back a chuckle, “Hi Penelope. Listen I need some advice on… interior decorating-”

Immediately, he got cut off by a squeal, “I’m on my way!”

“No! Garcia- after work-”

The line goes flat.

“Dammit. I should’ve just texted JJ.”

_____

Despite her best efforts, the rest of the team did not let Penelope leave the BAU for a ‘design emergency’. Fortunately for Spencer, that gave him some time to plan what he wanted to do while cooking lunch for his sleeping beauty.

After a full meal of soup and grilled cheese, Hotch retreated to the living room hoping to watch some History Channel with Spencer. They love watching the conspiracy shows together and debunking the awful propositions. Though Hotch learned quite surprisingly that Spencer is very open to the idea of aliens on Earth. However, he has a suspicion that that’s mostly wishful thinking on the part of Spencer's inner child. Nevertheless, it’s adorable and Hotch was excited for it, and waiting patiently for Spencer to finish cleaning himself up.

Before he could question what was taking so long, their doorbell rang a sweet lullabye sound (they had to change it from the awful buzzing that it was- it was too overwhelming for Spencer). Not expecting any company, Hotch was puzzled as to who could be at their door.

“Who is it?” He spoke through the intercom.

“Bossman! Sorry to hear about your incurable case of Work Sickness! If you could let me up, I brought you some warm soup!-”

Spencer bounded through the foyer from the bedroom, practically hopping over furniture and knocking down a flower arrangement, “I got it! I got it!” he heaved frantically.

“Babe, what’s Garcia doing in front of our building on a weekday?”

“Nothing Aar don’t worry about it, Penelope and I are just going out for lunch, see you later!”

Spencer grabbed his satchel and was out the door.

“But- Spencer you just had lunch!” The curly haired man was already running down the steps, “Bye!”

It was Hotch’s turn to be left alone and confused.

_____

In Penelope’s car, Spencer explained his idea to Penelope, without going saying too much about Hotch’s nightmares. In true Penelope fashion, the bubbly bits-and-bobs connoisseur knew the perfect place to get what Spencer needed. Penelope dragged Spencer around the independently-owned home goods boutique like a lost puppy for about two hours. She ended up with more bags for herself and Sergio than what Spencer needed.

A few texts and one missed call from Hotch wondering what the hell was taking Spencer so long prompted them to leave. Spencer thanked Penelope in front of their apartment and air kissed her goodbye, promising to show up at girl’s night next week..

Spencer walks into the foyer as quietly as possible and hides the bags behind the living room’s entertainment center.

“Spencer?”

“Yeah! I’m home!”

Aaron walked out of their bedroom with a soft smile. His round glasses were on, meaning he’s been reading… or looking at case files.

“Are you going through the case?” Spencer scolded.

The bespectacled man didn’t waver. “There’s something the victim’s parents said that doesn’t add up, they said that every Thursday Mandy went to soccer practice after school and swim practice in the next town over in the evenings. She takes the bus so if the unsub was stalking her he’d either have to take the same bus and risk getting caught or have a car- which goes against our age profile- so that would mean there’s someone driving him. Spencer, there are TWO unsu-” He was cut off by being pulled into a kiss. He hummed into it and wrapped his arms around Spencer’s slender waist, pulling them closer together. When they pulled apart Spencer whispered “Two unsubs. The team knows, they’re working on it. You-” he tapped his finger on the older’s chin for emphasis, “need to relax today.”

The resulting pretty pout was swiftly kissed away. None of that now.

“But I don’t know how to relax. I’m Aaron Hotchner, stoic as a statue, stern glare extraordinaire, Mr. Emotionless…”

Spencer rolled his eyes and trailed his hands down Aaron’s hard chest, “I know how to make you relax…” The other man grinned “Oh is that right?” Spencer smirked and led his boyfriend to the couch.

_____

That night when Aaron was gone to bed, Spencer quietly retrieved the bags from behind the TV and set his plan in motion.

_____

He’s trembling. And he can’t recognize his own thoughts, he can’t think straight, all he can see is his son- and Haley with terror written all over their faces.

He barely registers the sound of Jack’s wailing because, as if from right behind his ear, he hears a voice that he interprets as his own thought ‘shoot him’.

‘What?’

‘Pull the trigger’

He looks back up to his sobbing, terrified son, and without hesitation- click- BOOM-

Aaron bolted up from the bed, gasping for breath. His eyes darted around the dark. Jack? Where is he- Jack ohmygod-

His vision landed on Spencer’s sleeping form, breathing shallowly and folded into himself like a pretzel, sleeping soundly like an angel. Spencer. Real. Safe. He took a deep breath to regulate his heart. In for 4, hold, out for 6, repeat. This was exhausting.

Groggily, Aaron slipped out from under the covers and headed to the bathroom to get a drink of water and maybe splash his face a little. He thought of getting into the bathtub for the comfort he desperately needed right now, but he’d be embarrassed if Spencer found him in there again. Who does that? But nothing could have prepared Aaron for the sight before him when he opened the door.

Lights. Yellow, green, purple electric lights on strings, illuminating the room in a beautiful calming glow. They were suspended from the curtain rod of the bathtub, taped to the walls. Gorgeously scented candles perched on the sink, some on the ground, a few tea lights lining the edge of the tub. It smelled glorious and comforting and Aaron couldn’t tell what it was. Pine? Sandalwood? Campfire?

The most breath-taking part was the inside of the bathtub. Patterned sheets hung from the walls and draped over to form a delicate roof. Fluffy pillows perfectly laid out to coat every inch of the porcelain interior, and soft blankets piled on top for added comfort. Lights lined the inside of the sheet tent as well, it looked fantastical. Like something out of a book.

Aaron was floored, to say the least. Was this what Spencer had been doing today? He was flooded by a new emotion, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Spencer had done all of this for him? To make him feel safe?

He was still standing just barely in the room, taking everything in and getting emotional when he heard soft footsteps behind him and felt Spencer’s long arms slink around his waist. A chin hooked over his shoulder and a kiss was pressed to his neck.

“Are you alright? Did you have a nightmare?”

Aaron nodded, “You did all this… for me?” A tinge of awe decorated his voice.

“Yeah,” his boyfriend whispered back, “So you don’t hurt yourself when you sleep in here.”

Aaron felt stupid for ever thinking his wonderful, thoughtful boyfriend would ever feel embarrassed by him. Of course Spencer took everything he admitted seriously, of course Spencer cared about what he’s been through, Spencer cares… that's what he’s been feeling. Taken care of. Important. For once in his life, he feels like he’s allowed to let himself be loved.

The stunned man seemed to be frozen in place, not knowing how to respond. His mind was overwhelmed with love for his boyfriend. Spencer pulled away and grabbed the older’s hands, Aaron let himself be led to the makeshift fort.

They climbed in together, careful not to knock over any of the burning candles. Spencer settled on one end of the tub and pulled Aaron into him before he could even think of not cuddling with him. He made space with his legs for his boyfriend to settle between, chest pressed to back, arms wrapped around his love. Safe, warm, and comfortable in a sea of cushions like twin yolks in a shell.

Laying here, in his lover's arms, surrounded by low tranquil lights, and the gentle rise and fall of Spencer’s chest, Aaron felt as serene as he’d ever been. Spencer slid warm hands under Aaron’s shirt, bringing one up to rest cozily on his heart. Aaron turned his head and nuzzled further into Spencer’s neck, feeling the familiar tingle of the man’s touch and murmured a low hum of approval.

Spencer’s other hand, that wasn’t on Aaron’s heart, was used to tip the taller man’s chin up to look at him.

“I know what it’s like to be afraid of your own mind,” he cooed, “sometimes it’s impossible to take yourself out of that world. But in our home, Aaron, I want you to feel safe and protected at all times. I want you to be vulnerable and unashamed. You’re free to be everything you are in here, and I hope that you feel you can be everything you are with me, too.”

Aaron lost himself in his partner’s deep gaze, glorious hazel eyes boring into him. Completely enamored by the words spoken to him, all he could do was nod and lick his lips, trying to regulate his heart rate for a completely different reason now. Spencer had never been so… authoritative before and his sincere but stern tone sent thrilling sparks down his spine. A blush rose up his neck.

Spencer tracked the slow movement of Aaron’s tongue sliding over his bottom lip, and didn’t fight the impulse to drag his thumb over it. “You’re always safe with me.” He barely whispered before angling his head down to catch those lips in a languid kiss. Aaron sighed into it, waiting a little while before pushing himself up to fix their awkward angle. He positioned them so that Spencer was laid down flat on his back, allowing Aaron to lay between his legs once more, chest to chest. They tangled themselves in each other, lips colliding again like a match to a box, igniting a fire in the both of them.

Both were still tired from waking up in the middle of the night, but the desire coursing through their bodies was a more pressing matter. Spencer lifted his hands to frame his lover’s neck and wrapped his legs loosely around his waist, inviting Aaron to grind down onto him, both already half hard from the anticipation. Spencer groaned into Aaron’s mouth. A sound that went right to Aaron’s dick.

They explored each other’s bodies with a youthful novelty, eager to feel more skin. Never once pulling their lips apart. Aaron slipped his hands under Spencer’s shirt and shoved it up under his arms, digging his fingers into those delicious hips. Finally he broke away from the kiss to pepper the younger’s face with sweet ones. Aaron’s heart grew three sizes at Spencer’s soft giggles and let out a low laugh of his own. How ridiculous were they, making out like teenagers in a bathtub fort? Neither much cared to answer that question though, because the impatient genius bucked his hips up to meet his boyfriend’s, who was still in his boxers, let’s get those off.

Spencer eagerly reached for Aaron’s underwear and palmed at his bulge just until he heard that impatient sound from him. He pulled the man’s cock out now fully hard and dripping with precum. A groan escaped the both of them at the sight and sensation. They wasted no time in getting Spencer out of his nerdy physics flannel pajama pants, and grinded their dicks together. Lighting sparked right through the both of them, Aaron balanced himself on one arm near Spencer’s head and took both of their lengths into his right hand.

The rub of their slick cocks together was spectacular as Aaron kept a slow and steady pace, making sure to draw out all the best sounds he knew Spencer could make by nipping at his neck, where he knew the younger man was ticklish. Spencer whined at the excruciating pace, turning into a desperate whimpering mess. Making Spencer wait was so fun.

Spencer’s hands find grip in Aaron’s short hair, keeping him close, feeling the pull of Aaron's big hand on his dick and grinding up to meet him. It’s intoxicating bliss, being taken over the edge by the man he loves.

Their worlds minimized to just the slide of their cocks and the lips on their skin. The whimpering man felt the familiar build up in his abdomen, moaning freely now as he chased his orgasm, guiding Aaron’s hand with his own to feel his touch everywhere.

“Yeah baby,” Aaron encouraged, his own orgasm coming on quickly, “Cum for me baby.”

Spencer sputtered his release over both of their hands and stomachs, momentarily suspended in the intense bliss of his orgasm. He laid there spent, feeling like putty in Aaron’s hands, and pulled him down for a passionate kiss. He took his lover’s cock in hand and pumped him quickly, thumbing the head of his dick on each upstroke. Aaron came with a groan and a shudder, his arms gave out. They laid there catching their breaths for a while, ignoring the drying stickiness between them and tracing slow patterns on each other’s skin. They were so lucky to have each other.

“How are we going to shower now?” Aaron looked up and pouted.

“There’s a perfectly good sink just 5 feet away.” They laughed, Aaron pulled a blanket over them.

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

Taglist: @foxtrot91 @physics-magic @ssa-sarahsunshine @hearteyedhotch

#hotchreid #spencer reid #aaron hotchner #spencer reid x aaron hotchner #spencer reid fic #aaron hotchner fic #criminal minds fic #my fic #bathtub au

112 notes · View notes

yslkook · 3 years

Text

BORDERSZ (4)

mind of mine masterlist

summary: jungkook accompanies you on your journey to purchase a brand new car. jimin charms your pants off (or attempts to) and sora has a proposal for you that you don't quite say no to. pairing: “badboy” jk x “shy/reserved” oc warnings: cursing, alc, excessive use of pet names, kinda toxic friendship

It takes about two weeks for Jungkook to understand exactly what kind of car you were looking for- essentially a sturdy vehicle that would get you from point A to point B without fail. Something reliable, would last for years and years, something efficient. Not necessarily anything fancy or luxurious.

But Jungkook had finally got you to shyly confess that you wouldn’t mind having heated seats in your car. After all, it had been something you’d dreamed of ever since you had received your driver’s license-

“Nothing else? Just heated seats?” Jungkook implores curiously as he pours over your meticulous binder for the fifth time. Honestly, you didn’t really need his help. You already knew what you were doing. His presence at the dealership will probably ensure that you’re not getting scammed, if anything. He loves his friends (two of them being his roommates), but he knows the truth about how they make their sales.

Mei and Mina call them sleazy car salesmen for a reason after all.

“It’s not ‘just’ heated seats!” You protest, “We never had the money for cars with heated seats when I was growing up. So that’s what I want.”

“How about leather heated seats?” Jungkook suggests, “Leather seats have better ventilation-”

“Oh, I know,” You say matter-of-factly.

“Of course you do. Smart ass.”

It feels incredibly domestic, walking into Namjoon’s car dealership together with Jungkook. Shoulder to shoulder, hopping off of his motorcycle together. He had taken it upon himself to purchase a second helmet, despite your insistence that you would pay for one.

But he had told you not to get a big head, that the helmet wasn’t for you specifically. That he needed a second helmet anyway, and you joining him on the motorcycle more and more as of recently was just the impetus for him to purchase one.

So you say nothing when it’s clear that he had bought the helmet with you in mind- it’s a sleek, glossy lilac color. A similar shade of lilac as your phone case, your favorite small backpack, and your work notebook.

You say nothing about it, only keeping your small smile to yourself.

Of course it’s Jimin who immediately jumps up to offer you assistance today. He gives Jungkook a Cheshire grin, mischief dancing in his eyes. Not that you would know otherwise.

He knows Jimin won’t let him live this down. At least Taehyung might have a little more tact than Jimin.

“So are you both looking for a vehicle together?” Jimin asks once you’re both seated in the comfortable leather seats in front of his desk, when in fact he knows damn well that you’re not.

“Huh? N-no, I’m looking for a car. Jungkook is helping me out,” You say, your face heating up at the implication. Isn’t Jimin one of his roommates?

Jungkook’s tongue pokes his cheek. You notice.

“I’m here to make sure that you or Taehyung don’t scam her,” Jungkook says, “Where’s Joon? He’s less...annoying than you.”

“Joon can’t even drive a fucking car. He has no business trying to sell them,” Jimin says swiftly.

“Er,” You interrupt softly, “Isn’t he your boss? He owns the entire dealership, doesn’t he?”

Jungkook stifles a laugh at your presumed innocence. You offer a slick smile to Jimin when he scoffs in amusement.

“Yes,” Jimin says, “So tell me. How can I make your dreams come true?”

If Jungkook wasn’t with you, you think you would’ve fallen victim to Jimin’s charms long ago. He’s nice, a little flirty and funny. But helpful. You can see how someone might end up paying more than they’d need to with Jimin being their car salesman.

You listen to every word Jimin says, taking notes in a specific section of your binder with your favorite black ballpoint pen. You need to have all the information at your fingertips before making a big decision, no matter what it is. Jungkook had teased you for it at first, but he’s become accustomed to your thought process.

Jimin has shown you at least five different types of models of cars ranging from sedans to SUVs. In theory, they all fit the bill. But you haven’t really felt the connection with any of them.

Jimin is nothing if not patient, though.

“I’m sorry,” You say, “I know I’m being meticulous. You must be annoyed.”

“It’s my job, sweetheart,” Jimin shrugs, “Besides, you can repay me with your phone number maybe, huh?”

“That doesn’t sound like an ethical business practice,” You say flatly while Jungkook glares at Jimin (who only smirks at him in return), “You already have it. From when I made the appointment.”

“Is that an invitation?”

“You wish,” You roll your eyes, “Does every one of your clients get this treatment or is it just me?”

“Nah, it’s just anyone who catches Jungkookie’s eye,” Jimin winks at you and Jungkook is about to strangle his roommate. Perhaps he should put an ad out for a new roommate, considering he might kill his current one in the next five minutes.

“O-oh,” You falter, cheeks blazing at this point, “Can we look at a few more? I’m gonna use the restroom really quickly. Maybe even grab a coffee.”

“Sure, sweetheart. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Will you fuckin’ stop it? I can’t believe you,” Jungkook hisses, “We’re literally at your workplace and you’re putting the moves on her-”

“Oh, will you relax,” Jimin says breezily, “I’m just seeing if she’ll take the bait.”

“There’s no reason for that shit,” Jungkook says, glaring at his friend, “Cut it out.”

“I like her,” Jimin says, as if he hadn’t spoken, “She’s cute.”

“Back off,” Jungkook says, “And while we’re at it, just for you being an ass. You’re gonna give her heated seats for free.”

Jungkook watches your eyes light up at the car that Jimin is currently telling you about. He can already tell from your wide eyes and soft, excited smile that this is the one. You’re already running the checklist through your head, physically looking at your notes as Jimin easily answers your questions.

“Can I take her for a test drive?” You ask Jimin and he somehow produces a set of keys for the exact model from his pocket.

“I knew this would be the one…” Jimin says as he takes you to the parking lot to grab the test car. Jungkook rolls his eyes in fondness and heads off to find his other roommate, Taehyung. And to say hello to his friend, Namjoon.

“It suits you,” Jimin says once you’d taken the car out for a drive and brought it back safely.

“You think so?” You ask, giving the keys back to him, “I bet you say that to everyone.”

“Only when I mean it, sweetheart,” Jimin winks at you.

“How lucky for me,” You mutter under your breath, “So...what are the next steps?”

“I bring out the contract, you sign it, and you take your new car home,” Jimin says confidently.

“Yeah,” You say dreamily and look outside to the car in longing. You’ve done the homework, done the research. Went through this logically and meticulously. Even if the car does start depreciating the minute you step out of the dealership… You want it. It checks all of the boxes, you know you’ll get your money’s worth from it.

But before you give Jimin the okay to draw up the contracts, you want to tell Jungkook. You spot him talking to Taehyung, his bunny smile on display (which makes you smile in turn) and excuse yourself from Jimin for a minute to go after Jungkook.

“Hi,” You say and introduce yourself to Taehyung, who offers you a wide, boxy smile, “I’m gonna get it. The car, I mean. I love her.”

“She passed the vibe check?” Jungkook asks.

“Yeah. She passed the vibe check.”

When you comb through the hefty contract with sharp eyes, Jungkook is somewhat amused to see the free of charge cost for the heated seats. Jimin only winks at him in response.

You can’t seem to find anywhere else where Jimin may be overcharging you, so you ask Jungkook to review it, too. And surprisingly, Jungkook finds nothing out of the ordinary. He knows how Jimin operates here, trying to gain any extra cent of commission that he can. Not that that’s a terrible thing.

“It’s yours, sweetheart,” Jimin says fifteen minutes later, once you sign your name on the dotted line.

“Really?” You let out an exhilarated laugh, adrenaline suddenly coursing through your veins, “Really, really?”

“Keys are yours, and someone will bring the car out front for you,” Jimin smiles, “Congratulations on your first car. I’m honored that you chose me to help you make this purchase.”

“Wouldn’t have had it any other way, Jimin,” You beam. After a moment of deliberation, “Oh, by the way- have fun on your date with Mina tonight. I heard all about it.”

Mischief dances in your eyes and Jimin’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline as he lets out a surprised laugh. Jungkook looks at you proudly- that’s what Jimin gets for being a menace.

Jungkook wraps an arm around your shoulders and walks you out of the dealership and you slowly wrap a tentative, shy arm around his waist. You both wait shoulder to shoulder for one of the dealership boys to bring your brand new car out front.

In the meantime, you try to pluck up the courage to ask Jungkook to have a drink with you after. To celebrate and to treat your friend for helping you out for the last few weeks. You bite your bottom lip in nervousness and Jungkook notices. He wants nothing more than to gently pull your bottom lip out of your own grip, but refrains from doing so.

But you realize, it’s Jungkook, this is your friend and the comforting, warm scent of laundry that envelopes you gives you a little courage.

“Do you want to grab a drink or something after this?” You ask softly, “I… wanted to treat you. For helping me the last few weeks with the car stuff.”

“C’mon, baby. You know I’ll never say no to a pretty girl buying me a drink,” Jungkook says, lips pulled apart into a sly smirk.

“Oh, that’s all I am to you? A pretty girl?” You roll your eyes and shove his shoulder playfully, despite the heat in your cheeks.

“Not at all,” Jungkook murmurs, tightening his hold around your shoulders and looking at you with sincerity dripping from his big, brown eyes, “You’re my pretty girl.”

If he didn’t have a strong arm around your shoulders, you’re certain you would’ve evaporated into the floor at his words.

The image of Jungkook smoking outside of the bar right under the glowing, purple neon lights is an image you haven’t seen very often. A strand of dark hair falls in front of his face as he lights his cigarette, his eyebrows knitted together in concentration.

Even from this distance, you can see the purse of his lips and the silver glint of rings on his fingers. It shouldn’t send a rush down your spine the way it does, but you won’t deny it. When it comes to Jungkook, you won’t deny your feelings. Or your attraction.

For some reason, a thought crosses your mind- you hadn’t told Sora that you had purchased a new car. Much less that Jungkook had helped you pick one out. But you push her from your mind easily, as if you’ve been doing the last few weeks. It’s been difficult for you to keep Jungkook out of your conversations with Sora- she always has a way of bringing him up more than not.

But it’s not just Jungkook she has a strong, stubborn opinion on. It’s everything these days- you had showed her cars that you were interested in and she had shot every one of them down, she always has something to say about your passion for work (or rather she never pays enough attention about it), and she even had something negative to say when you had timidly brought up that you were maybe thinking about another ear piercing.

You’re growing tired of it. You find yourself getting nervous around her, like you’re walking on eggshells around her. Even when she just texts you, your heart speeds up in anxiety. But at the same time, there is a voice in your head telling you not to upset her.

As if that’s somehow the worst thing that could ever happen. Objectively, you know Sora. You know she’s stubborn and loud in her opinions and always has to get her way. But at the core of it all, you want to believe that she has a good heart. Because if she doesn’t have a good heart… Then what were you doing this to yourself for? What were you surrounding yourself with all of this negativity for?

You can sense Jungkook’s dislike of her, even if he doesn’t outright say it. But you’re no idiot. Mina and Mei have been honest with you on their opinions of her. So has Yoongi and Hobi.

They all think she’s dragging you down and that you’ll spiral in her negativity if you don’t open your eyes. They’ve all had a few choice words for her, but you find yourself uneasy whenever the topic of Sora comes up.

The more you hear it, the more you wonder about your supposed best friend. But you push those sour thoughts away to focus on the man in your field of vision.

Your heart hammers in your chest as you approach him on unsteady feet.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Jungkook mutters with the cigarette in between his lips when you get closer to get a good look at him.

“I’m not looking at you like anything,” You reply, eyes subconsciously wandering to the cigarette. Your nose scrunches at the smell without you even realizing it.

“You look like my mom when she first saw me smoking,” Jungkook says bluntly.

“Your mom? You really wanna compare me to your mother?” You raise an eyebrow, “Don’t know what that says about you, Jungkook.” Jungkook lets out a surprised laugh at that.

“Shut up,” Jungkook rolls his eyes and peels himself off of the brick wall before putting his cigarette out and tossing it in the ashtray next to him, “I think you owe me a drink?”

Jungkook, you decide, is dangerous and warm all at once. The starry glint of his big, doe eyes throws you off more than once, leaving you either stammering over your words or choking on your drink when you try to reply to him.

The bar is quiet and nearly empty, only the sounds of faint music playing in the background to keep you both company. You’re both facing each other at the bar, knees touching ever so slightly.

Even that simple touch makes you feel warm all over.

Jungkook slides your drink towards you, a soft ‘thank you’ pushing itself out of your lips. You suppress a shiver when his ring clad fingers brush over yours, and he notices the way you tense up a little bit with his touch.

He appreciates the way the dim lights shine on your hair and illuminate the planes of your pretty face. He thinks it’s the perfect lighting for a photo of you- the dark colored jacket and your dark wash jeans blending into the colors of the bar around you. Something at the base of your neck glints as you turn to face him.

“Cheers, to your new car,” Jungkook murmurs, tipping his glass towards yours.

“Cheers to you for helping me,” You reply with a smile, clinking your drink with his.

“Pleasure’s all mine, baby,” Jungkook says, “You deserve it.”

“Deserve a vehicle that will have hardly any value in ten to fifteen years?”

“You deserve something for yourself,” Jungkook corrects, looking into your eyes as if he can see right through you. You’d told him how you had grown up with one car amongst a family of five, and how money was tight when you were younger. You were the eldest of three, and now that everyone was older, you had slowly started dipping your toes into the concept of having things for yourself.

You whisper a soft thank you and take a sip of your drink. “My parents were so excited about the car,” You say quietly, “Told them I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“Oh? You told your parents about me?”

“Had to tell them about the man who got me heated seats for free,” You reply with a knowing grin, “You think I didn’t catch that?”

“Heated seats were the least Jimin could’ve done,” Jungkook rolls his eyes.

You wave him off, “I like him. I could see why him and Mina are good together. She told me they’ve had this weird on and off thing for, like, a year now? Like c’mon. Get it together.”

“Yeah. Don’t know why they keep denying the inevitable,” He says, voice full of something barely concealed.

“The inevitable?”

“They both have their issues but… They would make it work if they sorted themselves out,” He says softly, a tenderness to his eyes that makes your belly flip. You don’t know if he’s talking about Jimin and Mina or about… something else.

Something else being you and him.

“Maybe one of them is scared,” You whisper.

“They can work through it together,” Jungkook replies instantly. The air in between you both is charged, plush with tension and electricity. You look at him unsurely, with wide eyes, and god, if Jungkook doesn’t want to sweep you off of your feet and pull you in for a kiss.

“Jungkook, I-” You murmur, voice soft and deafening, silky like honey in his ears. The moment is right there, ripe for you, ripe for him...

And then your phone starts ringing, and Jungkook has never heard a worse sound. Your chest drops for a second when you see that it’s Sora calling you, and Jungkook has never felt as frustrated as he does right in this moment. Each significant moment of frustration over the past few months has Sora linked to it. He wonders if she has a radar for interrupting at the worst possible moments.

You give him an apologetic glance before answering the phone. She only calls if it’s important or if she needs you so you won’t risk it.

“H-hello-”

“You’ll never guess what I just did,” Comes Sora’s excited voice through the receiver. It’s too sugary, too sweet. You wince.

“What’s that?” You mumble, shoulders drooping.

“Got you a date for this Friday, you remember Yunho right?” She exclaims. If your heart wasn’t on the floor already, it certainly was by now. “He wants to take you out- he’s the lawyer, remember?”

“Y-yeah, I remember,” You say weakly, “But-”

Jungkook’s eyes flash at your suddenly dejected frown. That’s what Sora does- she takes you and she turns your happiness into something sad. It’s like she can’t stand to see you happy about something that doesn’t align with her “vision”.

“You can thank me later, babe,” Sora says cheerily. This time, you visibly cringe as you try to protest. Try to tell her that you don’t want a date with this man, that you only want a date with the man in front of you. But you can’t get the words out, she won’t listen and she hangs up on you before you can get a word in edgewise.

“Sorry about that,” You mutter.

“Why? She’s your friend. Not mine,” Jungkook says brusquely and you bristle at his bluntness.

You’re distracted for the rest of the evening, mind on another wavelength. He knows you’re upset, but he doesn’t push. He gets you to smile and laugh a few times, only for your eyes to turn sad right after.

Jungkook only wishes that you’d be able to see what was right in front of you.

TAGS: @kookdbean

MoM tags: @tiemeuptogoldenchains @boymeetsparadise @jungkooksseuphoria @kaepjjangiya @drumsofheaven @ppeachyttae @tae-bebe @yiyi4657 @mygscafe

#jungkook x reader #jungkook fluff #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x you

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