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highvern · 11 days

Text

Between the Titles

Pairing: Min Yoongi x fem!reader

Genre: fluff, smut (mature/18+)

warnings: egregious caffeine consumption, yoongi smokes cigarettes, reader is about the same height as yoongi (its me hello im almost the same height as him), gay taehyung, volunteer jungkook, silver fox yoongi (he just has some gray hair bc hot) smut warnings: making out, grinding, fingering, oral (f. receiving), semi-public sexual acts, bathroom sex, protected sex, praise kink

Length: ~9.5k

Note: no thoughts, just big brain yoongi in a sweater smoking cigarettes and drinking coffee. btw almost all the books in this are real but i haven't read them so if you have lmk if they're worth the read lmao. thank u to my dearest @gyuswhore and @idyllic-ghost for beta-ing this

Summary: Five days a week in the library means you're very familiar with the senior research librarian. It also means he has no qualms about making his own book recommendations either.

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This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked.

The sweet aroma of old books and strong coffee infiltrates your nose as the heavy doors into the library swing open, offering reprieve from the storm raging on outside. It’s far too early for anyone to be here beyond staff and a few other morning birds. You glide right to the circulation desk as if fatigue doesn’t pulse through your veins, barely quelled by the second cup of coffee you sip from.

As always, the same familiar head of dark hair with sparse silver streaks waits at the circulation desk. He’s the only person working this early despite being the senior research librarian but you never hear any complaints louder than muttered annoyance under his breath when he thinks no one is around to hear. Bent over his laptop, Yoongi doesn’t even bother to look up as he slides a heavy stack of books to the edge of the counter.

Eleven total, ten heavy volumes on ancient fertility cults across the globe, and one book you know he’s mixed in for his own amusement.

It’s become something of a game between you two. At first you thought he was mixing your materials with someone else’s, but every time you brought the additional copy back to his desk, Yoongi insisted he had no idea what you were talking about and questioned your reading choices. Each time the titles got more ridiculous: Castration: The Advantages and the Disadvantages, How to Enjoy Your Weeds, Amish Vampires in Space, the list goes on and on. But after he slipped Why Fish Don’t Exist into your stack a few weeks ago, you decided to start responding.

You left the stack at his desk like usual, ears perked for his reaction to Fishes I Have Known. An amused snort rang out just as you opened the doors to leave for the afternoon. The sound was so unlike the stoic man you’d become accustomed to over months working on your thesis; not that you heard him talk much to begin with.

Since then you’ve made a point to match every book he leaves for you. Yesterday, Yoongi chose I Could Pee on This: and Other Poems by Cats. At the end of the day, you spent thirty minutes searching shelf after shelf for an appropriate response, every book failing to meet your expectations. It wasn’t fair he knew the expansive collection like the back of his hand but nevertheless you found something up to par.

Yoongi rolled his eyes when you passed your books over the counter, a copy of Staying Dry: A Practical Guide to Bladder Control, like a shining star on top. A brief pink of his tongue flashed across his lips, a feeble attempt to muffle an amused smile. It was the most obvious reaction since the first time you responded.

Smiling like the cat who ate the canary, you left on clouds last night.

But this morning you have notes to write.

Snagging the collection, you make your way deeper into the building. Your unassigned-assigned desk tucked away on the fifth floor, far enough away from any noise so you can fully immerse in work without the threat of distraction. An uninterrupted view of the courtyard below is an added bonus.

The wooden table top is covered in a neat collection of pens and sticky notes in minutes; your laptop and the foot tall collection of references you devour over the next eight hours taking up the other half.

A few titles you request over and over sit on top, too valuable to be checked out for long term use so you settle for keeping them in constant rotation since no one else bothers to read the dusty yellowing tombs. For now, you focus on the new pieces you hope hold the information you need.

Earth rites: fertility practices in pre-industrial Britain, Archaeology and Fertility Cults in the Ancient Mediterranean, Metamorphosis of Baubo: myths of woman's sexual energy—

I’m in Love with Mothman…

Well there it is.

You thumb across the glossy cartoon cover, failing to bite back a smile. Yoongi has a penchant for tossing in the most outlandish romance books he can find. Maybe because he knows you spend just as much if not more time than he does between the stacks. The suggestion box at the desk was full of cards stained with your penmanship asking for longer hours; several of which you’ve seen Yoongi rip in half as he pointedly met your gaze.

Tossing it aside, you pull forward one of the more musty books and start reading.

When you finally manage to resurface from laborious tales on several cults of Aphrodite, the rain is long gone. Even the darkest corners of the old building seem to glow gold in the evening sunset filtering through the glass doors. They're the only thing standing between you and freedom in the form curling up on your couch with a glass of wine and a new episode of your favorite reality dating show. But first, Yoongi needs his books back.

His desk chair is abandoned and the return cart is gone as well which means he could be anywhere in the building. Disappointment leaches into your spine at the fact you won’t be able to witness his reaction to the twelfth book in your pile; the one you spent an extra fifteen minutes looking for in the corner of the third floor.

A thick piece of library paper lists the materials you’ll need for the next day lays atop the neon green cover of Pest Management Solutions: How to Manage Your Moth Problem. They decorate the corner of the desk until Yoongi returns to find them. Hopefully he appreciates your humor.

Yoongi isn’t at his desk the next morning when you come in either. Instead, a doe eyed man with a lip piercing occupies the chair, clearly playing some game on his laptop.

Approaching the counter, you begin to ask, “Where’s Yoon–”

“Staff meeting,” he interjects like he’s already answered the question a million times despite the library opening only five minutes ago. The white of his teeth threaten to blind you. “But I can help you!”

His name tag isn’t the same engraved golden metal Yoongi’s is, it’s a plastic sleeve with a paper insert with barely legible handwriting you decipher as “Jungkook” and below “Volunteer.” You’ve seen him before from a distance. Usually trudging through the shelves with the book return cart in tow, occasionally taking a quick read inside before putting them in their rightful place.

“I need to pick up some books. I gave Yoongi the list yesterday.”

“Sure.” Jungkook jumps up, approaching the shelf lined with piles for other patrons. “What’s your last name?”

He combs through the list after you answer, finding your stack easily enough.

“Alright so Yoongi left a note that the encyclopedias you wanted are on the usual desk you have upstairs. But other than that I’ve got: Historical Studies of Changing Fertility, Sacred Mushroom and The Cross, Archaeology and Fertility Cults in The Ancient Mediterranean…” Jungkook lists off the titles, checking to make sure they're all in order. “And, um, this one isn’t on the list.”

It must be Yoongi’s choice for the day.

“What is it?”

Jungkook looks like he’s trying to hide his own amusement as he slides it over for you to read.

If I Were a Bird, You'd be The First Person I'd Shit On.

“Huh,” you blush. “Wonder how that got in there.”

“He must have left it by mistake. I can put it ba–”

“No, I’ll take it.” You toss it on top of the other, less embarrassing books in your stack and gather it into your arms before Jungkook can get in another word. “Thanks for your help!”

Scurrying towards the hallway housing the elevators, you attempt to juggle the pile of books, your stuffed bag, and coffee without taking a spill. It’s one thing to have your silent battle with Yoongi, but having someone else witness it makes you feel downright silly. And for the first one witnessed by others to be such an absurd and downright passive aggressive selection sends embarrassment through your veins.

As promised, three encyclopedias sit neatly on your desk; the volumes so thick they protrude from the table top like a small mountain. No wonder he left them there instead of making you carry them up in individual trips. But Yoongi’s goodwill clearly ended there. A sticky note on top of the stack pens his discontent at your selection.

I had to spend 3 hours in the basement to find these. If you need them again, don’t.

Even though he hadn’t signed it, you know it’s from him. The tight script fits his personality; thin lines of annoyance bleeding through the ink, not just his words. A waft of musty old paper and dust breezes through your nose as you open the first copy. They must have been housed in a forgotten storage area. At least his bird book makes more sense now.

You don’t dig into the heap until after the sun is halfway through the sky but when you do it only proves to unravel your wits. Reading on, the wrinkle in your eyebrows deepens further. Page after page of conflicting knowledge passes by, each sentence more confusing than the last; minutes negating months of research. The thick pages hardly provide a soft landing for your head as you allow it to thump forward in exasperation.

The scrap of chair legs alerts to a new presence watching your meltdown in real time.

“Something wrong?” Yoongi asks.

With a heavy sigh, you respond.“I want to die.”

“Get in line.”

Shifting in your seat, you peer in his direction. A different day but the same wardrobe: dark button up, glasses, same unapproachable facade. But what Yoongi is doing sitting next to you is new.

Yoongi makes himself comfortable, picking at his nails as he waits patiently for an explanation.

“Everything in my thesis is either wrong or the world authority on fertility in Europe is full of it.”

“Bummer.”

“Your sincerity is overwhelming.” You snap.

Yoongi rolls his eyes. Boredom seeps across his face but he doesn’t move to leave, just sinks deeper into the chair. “You’ve read almost half the collection since you started coming here, why are some old dusty books such a big deal?”

“Because all of those books cite these books which means those books are wrong and all my work is in the toilet.”

“Those books are from the seventies, the information is probably out of date.”

Slamming the copy serving as a pillow shut, you take a second glance at the title: Encyclopedia of Women and World Religion, Volume 7.

“Yoongi,” you sing.

Yoongi’s gaze flashes to yours, a trickle of confusion flashing across his eyes.“What?”

You stack up the books and push them across the desk with some effort. Just to savor the satisfaction of besting Yoongi, you indulge a long sip of now cold coffee before speaking again. No one else is around to witness your victory but that won’t dampen the high.

“Looks like you’ll be back in the basement because you brought me the wrong editions.”

He opens his mouth to argue, snatching one of the books to investigate but you beat him to the punch.

“I asked for the twenty-fifth edition, not the seventh.” You smirk. “I think you're losing your touch.”

He watches you over the rim of the cover. A fleeting glance in your direction but it makes your heart squeeze with need.

“Well, I guess you’re right,” Yoongi sighs, standing. “Do you still need them for anything or can I go ahead and take them?”

With your approval, he heaves the heavy tombs on to his cart. The strain of his forearms, bare from rolled up sleeves, catches your attention. Veins raised under creamy skin, lean muscles leading down to hands you’ve noticed since the first day you started visiting the library.

If you keep staring, you’re likely to start drooling. So you dive back into one of the useful books littering your desk and pretend to read until he’s disappearing down the hall.

On your way out, leaving much earlier than a typical day due to Yoongi’s mistake, you drop the remaining books off at the circulation desk. Along with a copy of Avian Hunting Techniques. He’s absent again but it doesn't matter.

You continue out the doors and down the sidewalk only to spot him leaning against the brick exterior further down the street. Even from a distance you can make out the natural scowl he’s constantly sporting. Except this time his lips pout around a cigarette.

Of course he smokes.

The quasi-mysterious librarian who flirts with you through book titles, smokes cigarettes and looks hot doing it.

“You know those things will kill you, right?”

“That’s what the box says but they aren’t holding up their end of the deal,” Yoongi responds, flicking the ash before looking at his watch. “Wow, out before six. I’ll alert the press.”

“Well, if someone gave me the right books then maybe I’d stay longer. But I’m not about to wait around while you get the ones I need.”

Yoongi takes another drag of his cigarette before responding, “Are you trying to say I forced you to take a break?”

The realization dawns on you. Yoongi is the senior research librarian. He’s never given you the wrong books, even when you request the rare copies needed to be loaned from a different part of the country. The few times you’ve offered understanding if he couldn’t get them were met with a challenge in his gaze and smug satisfaction when handing them over a week later.

“You brought me the wrong copies on purpose!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He’s lying. You know it. Yoongi definitely knows you know by the way he smirks. But he’s already crushing the filter under his shoe and moving back towards the library by the time your brain catches up to your mouth. “Have a good night, Y/N.”

With a scoff of indignation, you stalk towards your car.

The next morning, you march straight through the class doors to where Yoongi sits, fueled by snowballed annoyance from the previous day. Waking up on the wrong side of the bed is an understatement. If there are any gods, Yoongi should pick one and pray.

Your free afternoon of yesterday was spent dealing with the chaos your apartment has become over the past few weeks. Unfolded laundry, stacks of random papers, out of place books, and errant dust bunnies all became new victims to energy usually reserved for a full day of research. Taehyung practically shit himself when he woke up before dinner and found you scrubbing the bathroom sink.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, hand to his chest like a flustered old woman.

Bleach curled in your nostrils. “I live here.”

“Not between the hours of eight and seven.”

But after the mess was dealt with, aggravation set in. How dare Yoongi purposefully meddle in your work. Well meaning or not you were an adult and could decide when enough was enough. The purposeful mishap hadn’t set you back far, one afternoon but a drop in the bucket in comparison to the months you’ve already spent chasing new leads. But the principle of the matter is that it’s none of his business what you do and when you do it.

Yoongi slides a slimmer stack over when you stop in front of him.

“Encyclopedias are on your desk,” he announces through a sip of coffee. He continues to type away, feigning disinterest as you sort through your stack with measured annoyance.

“Are they the right copies this time?”

“Double checked them myself.”

You open your mouth to verbalize your doubts but Yoongi’s pick of the day catches your eye.

Surviving Your Stupid Stupid Decision to Go to Grad School.

Scoffing, you flip the book around and shoot daggers into his face with your eyes. “Do you think you’re funny?”

The corner of his mouth twitches then becomes a full blown smile. Leaning over the desk, he drops his voice, “I think I’m hilarious.”

Remembering you are, in fact, in a library, you manage to muffle a frustrated groan. You dump the supplementary reading back on the counter for Yoongi to deal with and head upstairs.

Unlike the usual days where you put off finding a response to Yoongi’s extra copy until the waning hours of the afternoon, you drop your bags and head straight for the shelves. The fifth floor houses a collection of textbooks and other reference material. It’s why it's always deserted unless some poor fool stumbles on it by accident; the perfect place to work uninterrupted for hours.

You head down stairs, circling the fourth and then third floor like a shark in a feeding frenzy. A few covers spark interest but nothing captures what bubbles in your veins: annoyance, anger, confusion. A brief flutter of interest as to why Yoongi decided to mess with you but those feelings are more dangerous than the acidic ones.

Row after proves unfruitful in your quest for passive aggressive revenge. None have the same bite as his book, or seem to curb the homicidal thoughts raging in your head.

Until a little white book peeps back at you from the end of the aisle.

Yoongi jumps when you slam Bitter Is the New Black: Confessions of a Condescending, Egomaniacal, Self-Centered Smartass in front of him. A feat in and of itself to sneak up on him given the loan desk has a perfect view of the entire first floor but whatever he’d been clicking away at on the computer was distraction enough.

“What's this?”

“Thought you might like some new reading.” You flash your teeth.

His chin jerks towards the glossy cover. “I already gave this two stars on Goodreads.”

Of course he has.

Face prickling in embarrassment, you turn back the way you came without a word.

Hours later, when half the day has ticked by and the ache for more caffeine burns your eyes, Yoongi stops by your desk. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t try and gain the attention you pointedly withhold. He sets a paper coffee cup on the corner of the tabletop and leaves.

You snatch up the cup after he rounds the corner out of sight. The lack of sugar leaves much to be desired but free coffee is free coffee, especially to a PhD student with limited means.

It isn’t much of an apology but guilt blooms down your spine anyway. He meant well. You aren’t known for giving yourself breaks; unable to quit while you’re ahead. A voluntary day off is less likely than winning the lottery. You’re a busy body and the constant work keeps you from dissolving into chaos.

You don’t see Yoongi again until every book at your desk is exhausted, begging for a break from your manhandling. Double and triple checking notes and citations are the poor excuse you implement to delay the inevitable. At some point you’ll have to go downstairs to face the music.

He’s waiting like always, scanning the mountain of returns littering the counter from a long day. Each step closer withers something in your stomach.

The copies in your hand shift onto the wooden surface, joining the stack for him to work through. Yoongi flashes a polite grimace when you catch his eye before immediately diving back into his work. Hopefully he understands why you chose Thank You for Smoking. And why you covered the second half of the title with a sticky note.

Jungkook’s smiling face greets you bright and early. His name tag has been upgraded from flimsy paper to a plastic one and a printed label with his name.

Handing over your library card, he quickly scans it and grabs the books meant for today’s dissection.

“Yoongi wanted me to tell you that if you want more coffee while you’re working, you can go to the staff lounge on the second floor.”

“Oh.”

Jungkook continues sifting through your requests, making sure each is correct. “Between you and me, the coffee down the street is better. But don’t tell him I said that.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s a coffee snob and thinks his shit—sorry—stuff is the best.”

“Okay,” you say, grabbing your pile. “Thanks.”

You set up your station like always, sorting through each book and devising a mental to do list. The desk resembles a feast but instead of food it’s encyclopedias, printed articles, and dusty manuscripts Yoongi wrangled from who knows where. On the outer board of your work station rests the feature of the day: How to Beg for Cigarettes.

A few hours pass between the pages. Your previous research is confirmed by the significantly less dusty encyclopedias this time, corroborating the basis of your thesis. A new work you haven’t seen is cited in the back, piquing your interest for more evidence.

Instead of bothering one of the staff, you use the library website and find it in their catalog. It’s somewhere on the second floor where Yoongi offers free coffee. Two birds, one stone; a new book and a new cup of coffee.

The layout resembles all the other floors. A collection of study tables in the center crowded by bookshelves on all sides. One person, an undergrad by the look of pure dread on their features, occupies a table but that's it. Glancing at the note with the call number, you start towards the stacks on the left.

You find the correct area, eyes scanning up and down the different shelves to no avail. Hundreds of books, different sizes in an array of colors, flash by but none are the one you need. You’re about to call it quits when you spot it on the top shelf, just out of reach.

Call it a moment of stupidity, a brief blight of recklessness, but the book sits only a few inches beyond your fingers. You look around to make sure no one is around to witness the brilliantly flawed idea crest in your brain. With the coast clear, you hoist yourself up the shelf.

A deadpan voice nearly makes you fall.

“Looking for something?”

Yoongi stands a few feet away, head cocked to the side. Of course he’d find you in such a ridiculous position. Even through the blur of your peripheral vision, the harsh lines of his usual uniform clashes against the back drop of books. Dark jeans fitted over his thighs, dark button down rolled up his arms, and a pair of glasses that make him look hot. But you’re in no position to dwell when the risk of falling on your ass is so high.

“Nope, just getting in some exercise” you grunt, moving your foot to the shallow hold of the next shelf.

Yoongi moseys up behind you before continuing. “And climbing a decades old bookshelf is how you stretch your legs?”

“You smoke cigarettes, I climb old furniture. We all have our vices.”

Your foot slips from its perch, making you squeak before catching your balance.

“Alright spider-monkey, that's enough.” His hands slide across your hip, fingers curved around the softest part of your waist as he helps you down.

Distracted by the weight of him still on your hip, the heat of his chest a scorching across your back, you don’t even think to disparage him for the cheap Twilight reference. The few inches Yoongi has on you allows him to reach overhead to snag the copy you need with ease. But as you watch his hands close around the spine everything beyond fades to black; like the universe pinholes where you two stand.

“This one?” You feel the vibration of his words up and down your spine, warm breath tracing across the shell of your ear.

Body on autopilot, you turn to face Yoongi. His mouth moves, eyes scanning the book cover but every word deafens in a muddy haze. He doesn’t seem to realize his hand is still on your waist, or how he crowds you into the shelves; chest to chest, stomachs barely an inch apart.

“Huh?” you ask, tearing your eyes away from his mouth.

“I said, if you asked for this book earlier I could have gotten it for you.”

“Oh.”

“You okay?” he asks, stepping further into you. “You look a little flushed.”

The bastard smiles. A God’s honest smile like his thigh isn’t between your own, or he isn’t waiting for a reply while his fingers dig in beneath your ribs.

Just when you open your mouth to say something, Yoongi silences you with a firm squeeze of his hand. His head lowers until his breath ghosts along your chin.

Then you’re kissing; lips sliding together easily like he anticipated it. The world shatters all around from just a few passes of his mouth across your own, the weight of his body flattening you against the bookshelf.

The first hint of his tongue against the seam of your lips makes you gasp and Yoongi takes the opportunity to taste you. You melt under his attention. Head tipping back, shoulders bowing to take more, your senses flood with the remnants of coffee and something else; something so quintessential Yoongi your head spins. It lights a new flame in your veins, one burning with pure want.

A handful of his shirt pulls him closer. Yoongi follows easily but gets more than asked for when one of your hands tangles in the back of his hair, tugging until he’s tilting his chin the way you want. It’s a bad habit other dates have subtly complained about but a noise bubbles in his throat at the dig of your nails; responding with his own palm squeezing roughly across your ass until your hips meet his.

The crash of the book near your feet is like a bucket of ice water.

“Oh my god,” you gasp. Jumping back proves futile as the shelf digs further into your spine. “I–”

Puffy lips and lowered eyes stare back at you, clear evidence that you haven’t hallucinated what just happened. Yoongi dips down to kiss you again but you slither out of his grip.

Forgetting the book on the tiled floor, you mumble an apology and flee back upstairs, beelining to the vacant restroom.

To your own mortification, your features mirror Yoongi’s; lips swollen, eyes glazed. Your sweater twisted around your torso clearly betraying your rendezvous in the stacks. Beads of sweat cling to your forehead and neck.

A few splashes of cold water help clear the fog in your brain but as it dissipates embarrassment sets in. Making out with a handsome man is one thing. Making out with the librarian assisting in the most important work of your life is an entirely different ordeal; one that can only spell trouble.

Pacing back and forth, the cool paper towel on the back of your neck helps calm your racing heart enough to leave the safety of the ladies room.

Try as you might to drown under piles of books, it’s useless. You pretend to read the same passages over and over but none of the words register. The kiss replays over and over and over again. You kissed Yoongi. Yoongi kissed you back. He tried to kiss you again when you pulled away.

The end of the day inevitably comes which means you have to face him whether you want to or not. But you won’t allow a single lapse of judgment to affect your work; a moment of weakness propelled by months of abstinence that just so happened to coincide with a surly librarian’s entrance into your life. You just needed to get it out of your system. If it hadn’t been Yoongi it would have been someone else.

At least that’s what you tell yourself.

A glance at your watch informs you that today is the second day you’ll leave the library early. Rather than give into the stubborn instinct to stay, you decide putting as much distance between yourself and Yoongi is far better for your mental health. With squared shoulders and a raised chin, you head downstairs.

Yoongi’s waiting behind the counter. He isn’t typing on his computer or scanning books. He watches every step you take, arms crossed in front as he leans forward like he’s eager for a confrontation.

“Yoongi,” you say.

“Y/N.”

You use every fiber of will to maintain eye contact as you pass your stack over the counter. “I’ll need these same ones tomorrow.”

“Okay.” He nods. “And the kiss?”

“What kiss?” you croak.

Yoongi’s eyes blaze like you’re a new puzzle to be solved, like he wants to take you apart and find exactly what makes you tick. You feel naked. “The one where you—”

“Must have been someone else. Sorry. Have a good night!” You rush for the door before he can say another word.

Another morning is another day in the library, but this time your roommate begs to tag along.

“Look, I’m not getting anything done on my thesis so maybe you’ll rub off on me,” Taehyung says.

Rolling your eyes, you step through the door he holds open. “I think you’ve had plenty of people rub off on you.”

Gasping with fake indignation, he catches up easily. “Are you calling me a slut?”

“Yes.”

“Good, I wanted to make sure we were on the same page. Is that him?”

Yoongi and Jungkook are talking behind the counter. Jungkook’s hands wave wildly as he recounts whatever information to his boss while Yoongi listens with fake interest. Or that's what someone else might think. The subtle signs he cares are hidden in the details; the miniscule lift of shoulders, a cock of his head, and when Jungkook pouts in a way too ridiculous for a man his size, Yoongi hides a smile in the shake of his head.

“Yes.”

“And I’m the slut?” Taehyung scowls as you pinch his shoulder. “What? He’s a nerd’s walking wet dream.”

“And he can hear you, so shut up.”

“Morning!” Jungkook calls on his way past with a cart full of books.

He grins like he knows exactly what happened on the second floor yesterday but that can’t be true. Yoongi doesn’t seem like the type to kiss and tell. Only the type to kiss and tease you relentlessly for it when no one else is around to hear.

Taehyung’s attention immediately locks on him. You love your roommate, always have and, unfortunately, always will; but he is a slut and Jungkook is definitely his type. However, he’s on your turf and knows better than to fuck where you have to eat for the next few months.

“Y/N, Y/N’s friend,” Yoongi says when you approach his desk.

“Taehyung.”

“Right,” Yoongi drawls, blinking lazily before sliding your books over and turning around to sort something on the opposite counter.

Taehyung, ever the gentleman, grabs the pile for you and follows upstairs.

“Well he seems like a cup of sunshine,” Taehyung whispers.

“Just because he isn’t fawning over you doesn’t mean he’s an asshole.”

“I’m very fawn-able, ask anyone,” your roommate argues as you approach the fifth floor. “Wait, what's this… How to Defeat Your Own Clone and Other Tips for Surviving the Biotech Revolution. This is the type of shit he’s giving you? You’re easier than I am.”

“Give me that.” You snatch the paperback out of his grip. “Stop being nosy.”

Taehyung lets you work in peace after that, disappearing to gather more of his own materials. Even in undergrad he’d never been one to sit still for long. But he still managed to get a spot doing an engineering thesis despite the constant changes in his attention.

After several hours of mind numbing typing you need a break, and another cup of coffee on someone else’s dime sounds perfect.

“I’m getting coffee.”

“Bring me some,” Taehyung says without looking up from his screen.

The staff lounge is nothing fancy. A couple small tables with plastic chairs tucked around, a cork board covered with fliers, and a white board stuck to the fridge scrawled upon with black dry erase marker. The coffee pot sits full in the machine, still hot to the touch.

You pour two cups. Taehyung’s gets loaded with creamer cups until it’s closer to white than black while yours is sweetened to sickening perfection. When you try to take a sip, the liquid immediately burns your tongue. Too hot coffee is better than cold coffee but an ice cube would help make it more palatable.

Moving back to the fridge, you go to open the freeze but stop when the white board catches your attention again.

Most notes are chores or friendly reminders about time cards but almost half the board is dedicated to a back and forth.

‘Unofficial Employee of the Month: Jungkook’

A note in Yoongi’s tight script: ‘You don’t work here.’

‘That’s why it's unofficial!’ in what must be Jungkook’s messy handwriting.

‘You’re my official employee of the month. - Namjoon’

At the bottom is a crude drawing of stick figures, two tall smiling ones holding hands under a rainbow labeled ‘JK’ and ‘Joon’ and a comically shorter one with evil eyebrows surrounded by storm clouds and ‘yoongi :(’ overhead.

“Snooping for secrets?”

“Jesus Christ,” you jump, turning to face Yoongi. “Has anyone ever told you it’s rude to sneak up on people?”

“You’re in the staff lounge, there’s gonna be staff here.” Yoongi crosses to the coffee pot on the counter and pours himself a cup. He doesn’t add cream or sugar or anything else to lessen the bitterness. Cliche. “So, was bringing your boyfriend here your subtle way of letting me down?”

“You think Taehyung is my boyfriend?” You whirl around in shock. Yoongi raises a brow, prompting you to continue. “Jungkook is more his type than I am.”

Yoongi releases a pleased hum, eyes shining. “So no boyfriend then?”

“Nope.”

You’re shaking but don’t look away from his hungry gaze. Yoongi takes a step closer, and another and one more until you're pinned to the countertop and his mouth is on yours.

This time, you're more aware of everything. The smell of his cologne, the tickle of his bangs along your forehead, all the tiny details that were muffled before. Yoongi’s lips are firm against your own, a little chapped but it only makes you hotter with each pass.

His mouth is everywhere; your chin, your jaw, peppering down your throat until he pushes aside the hem of your shirt and sets to work on the jut of your collarbone like he’ll never get a chance again.

“Yoongi,” you hum on the first rake of teeth.

He takes it as an invitation to dig in harder, sucking the skin until your spine threatens to break and you say his name again. Desperate for some kind of anchor, you knot your fingers back in his hair and pull.

A throaty noise responds and the need to hear more rears its head. Yoongi who always watches with measured fascination undone by some light petting. The power is addictive.

Legs spread, he presses in flat. The heat of his cock, rigid beneath the fabric of his jeans, teases across the seam of your own. You're technically still in public but the consequences concern you less than the knowledge that you’ll go mad if you don’t feel him. His arms circle your back, pulling you firmer against him, right to the edge of the linoleum counter.

Wedging a hand between your bodies, you manage to get his zipper undone while your tongue traces along his jaw. Yoongi angles his hips to help, curling into your palm when you cup him over the fabric of his boxers. Every press has him swelling harder.

His hands reach under your shirt. Skin on skin, the rough calluses of his fingers trace your ribs, thumbs following the cup of your bra in a tease. It’s a simple touch but your own hands falter when he brushes a nipple. You melt into each other.

“Hey, Yoongi, do you know where—HOLY SHIT!”

Jungkook stops at the door, eyes wide, mouth wider.

“Get out!” Yoongi barks. He’s trying his best to keep your body covered from the younger man’s view but even if Jungkook isn’t getting a full frontal he isn’t dumb enough not to realize what’s going on.

Yoongi shudders a few breaths. Head hung low, he tucks himself back into his pants without moving away. You’re already slipping down from your perch when he looks back up.

“I’m just gonna…go,” you mumble, scurrying out the door.

Jungkook waits outside, eyes still bugging out of his head but at least has the decency to pretend he didn’t catch you in the act.

Tugging your shirt down, you avoid his gaze. How far would you have let Yoongi go if Jungkook hadn’t interrupted?

“Coffee?” Taehyung asks as you approach the table.

You know what you look like without a mirror. The same as yesterday with glassy eyes and bruised lips, clothes wrinkled. Thankfully, Taehyung is more interested in his modeling software than where you’ve been.

“They were out.”

With a sigh like he is personally victimized by the lack of caffeine, Taehyung collapses on the table and plays dead. But he perks up at the sound of footsteps approaching behind you.

“You left this in the break room,” Yoongi says, dropping a cup of coffee by your side before disappearing.

You turn to follow his retreating for until he’s hidden back between the shelves. The back of his hair is still messy despite his attempt to fix it, same with the wrinkles in his shirt from your hands.

“I thought they were out?” Taehyung eyes you suspiciously when you look back at him.

Cradling the still hot cup in your hands, you avoid his gaze. “Shut up.”

“So you do have to sleep with someone to get a cup of coffee.”

“I’m not sleeping with him,” you spit in a harsh whisper.

“Why not?”

“Because…”

Because what exactly? There isn’t a good reason other than the fact Jungkook was the king of cockblocks. You would have let Yoongi do just about anything he wanted and he seemed to be in agreement. But you’d rather die than admit that out loud.

“You are so smart and so incredibly stupid.” Taehyung rolls his eyes, rising to pack his things. “I need to pee.”

You point him in the direction of the bathrooms and get back to work.

When Taehyung returns minutes later he starts shoving his things in his bag. “I’m leaving.”

“Why?”

“This is like the epicenter of hot smart men and I refuse to suffer any longer.”

“You got Jungkook’s number,” you deadpan.

Taehyung can’t hide his own shit eating grin. “Yoongi gave it to me.”

“If you’re leaving, so am I.”

“Why?” your roommate whines.

“Because I got you a hot date and that means you owe me dinner.”

“Technically it was Yoongi but I’ll concede.” Taehyung heaves his bag up. “Come now my dearest, we can still get happy hour if we hurry.”

You reach in your own bag and toss him your keys. “Go wait in the car. I’ve gotta go grab another book real quick.”

“Whatever,” Taehyung says, mumbling something like ‘nerds’ under his breath as he heads downstairs.

You find Yoongi while on your way to his desk, already toting around the cart piled high with returns from the day. Several of the covers are Taehyung’s picks and somehow the knowledge they’ve spoken almost knocks you off kilter. Taehyung is a good wingman and that’s what worries you most.

“Hi,” he says, kneeling to put a book on a low shelf.

It shouldn’t have the effect it does but something about the way Yoongi looks up at you, on his knees, head tipped back, has your mind running wild with the image of him in the same position with both of you wearing far less clothing. Maybe if you weren’t interrupted in the staff lounge you’d have seen it in real life.

“Hi. Mind if I add these to the pile?”

“Go ahead.”

The Stocking was Hung sits on top. You don’t wait around to see his reaction.

The temperature had steadily been increasing over the past weeks but this morning is the worst of all. That inescapable warmth fully seeded overnight and promised the comforting days of sweaters and pants are long gone.

Heat makes you lazy and fitful. In the early hours, long before you actually need to be awake, you stare up at the ceiling of your room. Not even a frigid shower helped the stickiness of your skin or laying still in your bed in nothing but one of Taehyung’s shirts and ratty shorts. It followed you everywhere until you left for the same brick building you spend more time at than at home.

Without thought, you throw on the first seasonally appropriate outfit in your closet; a thin dress that covers enough for the public but promises to keep you cool.

Yoongi seems to be taking the change in weather as well as you are. His usual attire is absent, nothing but a white shirt clinging to his torso. The pale skin of his forearms briefly catches your attention but you focus anywhere else to stop from rounding the desk and finishing what started upstairs.

You steel yourself and approach the desk, determined to act normal.

Familiar dark eyes flash up to greet you but Yoongi’s mouth doesn’t form any words. He just stares at you. You can feel the weight of his gaze on your shoulders, your neck, and then he pointedly keeps them trained on your eyes. Like he's willing to pretend yesterday didn’t happen.

He doesn’t speak when he passes over the same pile of books as yesterday but you can feel him burn a hole in your back. Even after you climb up the stairs and out of sight, the prickling sensation you’re being watched follows.

You don’t get anything done. The words on the page might as well be another language as your mind races.

Yoongi didn’t give you an extra book today.

An endless list of potential explanations race through your mind. Maybe you’d been too forward with your choice. Maybe he’s gotten it out of his system, a quick tryst in the employee lounge enough to satiate his curiosity. Maybe because it’s the second time you’ve brushed him off. Even if it wasn’t your fault Jungkook stumbled in before anything worthwhile could happen.

But he isn’t speaking to you and he isn’t giving you the random book you’ve come to look forward to every morning.

Channeling the restless energy of overthinking, you take a lap around the floor. You pause to flip through random books as you zigzag through the stacks. Anything to take your mind off the unshakable tension sticking in the air like syrup.

Your laptop is in sleep mode by the time you reluctantly come back. Everything is as you left except a book you’ve never seen before sits on top of the open one you’d been reading.

There’s a Boy in the Girls’ Bathroom.

A sticky note sticks up from the inside of the cover. A bolt of excitement shoots down your spine. When you flip it open a familiar handwriting stares back: ‘on the seventh floor’.

You hadn’t been gone too long but the fear of making him wait has you rushing up the stairs. Each step brings you closer to where he waits until you’re opening the bathroom door.

“Yoongi?”

A hand wraps around your upper arm, yanking you in. Another hand silences a surprised shout before you realize it’s Yoongi and not a murderer pinning you to the interior of the door you just came through.

“Jesus, you scared me.”

“Sorry,” he breathes. “It’s just not a good look for me to be up here.”

“Oh, really?” You smile. “And why is that?”

“This is my job.”

“Didn’t seem to stop you before.”

“Who says it’s stopping me now?”

He thumbs the strap of your dress, hooking under the thin material and dragging it down your arm. The heat and weight of Yoongi against you, touching you so simply, makes you vibrate. Yoongi moves into your neck, panting with a grind against your thigh. “I swear I don’t usually do this.”

You want to argue that you have two accounts that he does do this often, at least with you. But for someone who says they don’t, Yoongi is surprisingly natural. The tease prickling the end of your tongue fizzles out under his teeth across the curve of your shoulder, goosebumps blossoming along your back.

A whimper unbecoming of an adult woman breaks the lullaby of summer air conditioner singing through the vents. You’re sweating under the cling of your dress, skin hot to the touch thanks to Yoongi’s attention; long fingers curved around your waist, thumbs skimming just under your breast.

“Could have fooled me.”

“This is a very nice dress.” His mouth bites down your neck, taking advantage of the new strips of skin the neckline unveils.

“That’s all it takes?” you pant from the wet of his tongue. “A pretty dress?”

“If you think,” he whispers into your ear. “I’m doing this because of your dress then you really haven’t been paying attention.”

The dark locks of his hair are too alluring to resist, tempting one of your own hands to scratch against the tip of his spine when Yoongi rolls against you again. A firm tug brings him to your mouth, lips molding to one another in a searing kiss. You can taste the coffee from the lounge and the faintest hint of cigarette smoke, like he thought to hide it before asking you to follow him.

“How long? How long have you wanted this?”

Yoongi hooks one of your thighs higher, savoring the heat of your core against the crotch of his pants with a slow thrust. “Since you came in and busted my balls over not having that archived manuscript when the website said we did.”

You remember that day. Patience thin from Taehyung’s loud overnight guest, you stormed into the library looking to take it out on a photocopy of the manuscript only for the only copy to be AWOL. Yoongi became the surrogate for your rage, his eyes burning into your skull as questioned how he could let it happen.

The next day was when he started adding books to your stack.

“That was months ago.”

“I’m a patient guy.”

You want him naked; ache to catalog what he’s hidden underneath bulky sweaters and loose button ups over the past few months. But that idea has to wait for somewhere less risky. You settle for dipping your hand under his shirt, tracing your fingers over the elastic of his boxers peeking from the waistband of his pants.

Attempting to hide the effect he has, you loop your fingers in his belt loops and pull him even closer so your face is hidden in the crook of his neck. “There’s a Boy in the Girls’ Bathroom? A little on the nose, don’t you think?”

“Like The Stocking was Hung is any better?” Yoongi sighs as your mouth ghosts over the rising vein webbing the side of his throat.

“Hey!” you object, rising to face him. “I thought you’d appreciate it after that mothman book.”

“I appreciate you complimenting my dick plenty.”

Yoongi doesn’t let you go, hands palming at the swell of your ass the entire way from the door to the counter. He’s got one hand curved along your jaw, thumb hooked around your chin and his teeth bruising your lower lip. The edge of granite digs in your spine but not for long as he lifts you and settles on his knees to dive under your skirt.

He kisses up your calf, tongue snaking across the knob of your knee then the plush of your thigh. Just when you feel a puff of breath against the damp crotch of your panties, Yoongi falls to repeat the same path against your other leg.

You don’t suffer for long. Pooling the excess fabric around your waist, Yoongi blinks up from between your thighs. The pink of his tongue follows the edge of your panties, wetting the fabric more until it clings obscenely.

He pushes his glasses up to rest on the top of his head, keeping the mess of gray and black hair out of his eyes before diving back down.

His tongue lathers over your covered slit with a groan. “Taste better than I imagined.”

“You thought about this?”

“Couldn’t stop thinking about it. On my desk, yours, against that fucking bookshelf.” Yoongi punctures each word with more wet kisses against your core. “In my car, my bed. Everywhere.”

A cool breath has your thighs squeezing around his head thanks to the erotic combination of his spit and your own fluids drenching your panties. “Is this all you think about?”

“I had to come up here and jerk off yesterday because I couldn’t stop thinking about your hands.”

Your panties are pulled to the side before you can indulge in the new visual blooming on the edge of consciousness. “Yoongi.”

Eyes closed, his mouth circles your clit, tongue gently stroking you to life. Every pass against the sensitive bundle of nerves has your thighs squeezing around his head.

The first prod of fingers makes Yoongi’s hold on the crook of your knee tighten. He stretches you back open, eyes following the way you suck him inside; coating his spindly digits with more arousal each time.

“A-ah,” you shake. “Please.”

Yoongi chances a glance up at your face, the needy sheen in your eyes, the way your mouth gapes, and decides to take mercy.

He latches back onto your clit. Yoongi groans as you tug his hair, knocking his glasses to the ground. The pace he works your remains lethargic, savoring the kick of your hips until you grind against his mouth.

Throaty groans vibrate against your cunt, tightening the muscles along the inside of your thighs. Neither of you are doing a good job muffling yourselves but if it’s between getting caught and having him stop then you’ll deal with the consequences when they come.

“Oh, Yoongi.” Your chest pulls tight; spurred on by the sounds of Yoongi bullying your insides, his mouth smacking against your folds. “I’m— oh, oh, oh!”

The rough crook of his fingers sends you flying. Only the pressure of his shoulders keep you from slipping off the counter as you explode against his mouth. Euphoria rushes your veins, licks of pleasure overwhelming. Every muscle quivers as Yoongi works you through until you use his hair to pull him away.

He’s quick on his feet. You’re still recovering as Yoongi pushes your bra down and draws one of your nipples into his mouth, licking and sucking until you pull his hair again. Eyes cinched tight, face wet, you force his pants open then his underwear until Yoongi is almost as exposed as you are; pretty in your palm, sticky and hot to the touch.

But it’s not enough to feel him in your hand, you need to feel him inside. To fill you up where you sit hollow and aching without his fingers to provide a sliver of relief. “Fuck me.”

Yoongi doesn’t tease, has no quip about how needy you are. He keeps his mouth on your chest and uses his hands to grab something out of his pocket. It happens so fast you don’t even realize the condom is on until he nudges between your legs.

Your nails dig into his back, breathing through the initial stretch is the only way you stay quiet. Yoongi hides himself back in your neck, strained noises clawing out of his throat.

Yoongi isn’t gentle. Not caution or waiting. Months of push and pull destroy any desire for him to treat you as something fragile. He rushes into desperately, forcing your palm flat against the mirror behind you for some semblance of stability.

“God,” he grunts. “You’re incredible.”

You whimper a quiet acknowledgement, too fucked out to blush under his praise; pulling Yoongi closer until he’s scooping his hands underneath your ass, thrusting into you over and over. His mouth finds yours. Greedy. Hungry.

It’s Yoongi who struggles to stay quiet. Even through the kiss he moans loud enough you feel it in your throat. You listen to them all, twisting the hand knotted in his hair to hear the whine you’ve quickly become obsessed with.

“Should have done this sooner,” your back arches and Yoongi’s mouth slips back down.

“I tried. But you kept ignoring me.”

“I wasn’t—fuck—ignoring you.” Yoongi is everywhere. His taste on your mouth, cologne burned in your nose. The feel of him all over your body. “Shit.”

He fucks you harder to prove a point, hand slipping down to rub your clit. Your second orgasm glows on the edges. If Yoongi keeps playing with you, stretching you in half on his cock and biting a mark into your breast, you know you’ll come.

You focus on breathing. Letting it come to you instead of chasing it, overthinking it to the point it evades you. It’s easier than usual. Yoongi doesn't leave room for anything else beyond feeling good.

“Oh my god,” you whisper as the cord tightens.

Everything turns white hot, pleasure tearing through your muscles and ripping them to shreds. You convulse in Yoongi’s hold, only pinned down by his hips fucking you brutally. Nerves shot, Yoongi babbles praise in your ear but it's indecipherable from the headrush.

Yoongi follows you over the edge a few strokes later, twitching inside you until he stills. His hips give a few arrhythmic bucks as he fills the condom with his load.

There's something nastier about clothed sex. The way sweat makes your clothes cling tighter, the rush of needing each other so badly you can’t be bothered to do more than pull things to the side.

You feel dirty but in a good way. Yoongi kisses across the apples of your cheeks, your chin, your forehead, even your brows, but never returns to your lips. Each leaves you more frustrated than the last, muscles twitching beneath and head turning at the last second to try and meet his mouth.

Tricking you with a brief connection, he laughs when you chase his lips as he dodgers back. But a pout and whine bring him back into your orbit.

He cleans you up with paper towels, wiping away the mess between your thighs with something akin to disappointment. But he doesn’t complain as he fixes your clothes and then his own. Muscles like jelly, you fall into his side when he helps you down from the counter.

With a kiss to your temple, “Let's get out of here.”

“Morning, Yoongi.” You smile as you walk up to his desk.

A set of dark eyes rise to greet you, taking the cup of coffee you so graciously offer before smiling as well. “Good morning.”

Jungkook gawks like he’s never seen you two speak before. Round eyes bounce between you and Yoongi as if it’s a tennis match instead of a normal conversation. Probably because Yoongi was less than subtle when he pulled you out of the building yesterday, telling him to call Namjoon if anything came up.

Or maybe because you’re wearing one of Yoongi’s shirts.

You discovered much about the mysterious librarian overnight. He’d taken you back to his apartment; a perfect extension of himself decorated with dark furniture and more books than anyone could possibly read. Yoongi owned a collection of vinyl records that rivaled his book collection, he was a great cook, and he was studying to take the entrance exam for law school.

After you were wined and dined, Yoongi dedicated hours between your legs. On his couch, against the massive bookcase in his living room, between the sheets of his bed.

He also had a kink for eating you out while you explained your thesis in precise detail.

You’d only been allowed to leave when Yoongi was getting ready for work, not that you'd put up much argument.

You make a scene of sorting through the stack he slides over. It’s not that you don’t trust Yoongi. But now that you’ve had a taste, you’re addicted to his presence. But he unfortunately can’t follow you upstairs so you savor the time now.

“One of my books is missing,” you say.

“Oh, right.”

Yoongi passes over an unfamiliar copy.

Maybe He Just Likes You

And the blue sticky note attached, with his handwriting. ‘Dinner when you're done?’

Taglist: @tomodachiii @cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @ddaengpotate @arycutie @gaebestie @primoppang @gyuguys @mine-gyu @doremifasire @missminhoe @toplinehyunjin @crvs4vldtn @prettygyuuu @sliceofwoozi @dokyeomkyeom @yoonguurt

#kvanity #ksmutsociety #yoongi x reader #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #yoongi fanfic #min yoongi smut #min yoongi fluff #min yoongi angst #min yoongi #yoongi smut #yoongi fic #yoongi fluff #bts smut #bts fluff #🫡 highvern

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s0fter-sin · 20 days

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i need ghoap frantically making out against a door finally taking the leap on their feelings. need ghost grinding against soap, expecting to find him just as hard as him, only to feel nothing

and in all his wisdom and experience, he concludes soap was tortured and never told him

he’s trying to think of a delicate way to say he understands, that he’s been through it and it doesn’t change anything about how he feels (and who the fuck touched him so he can hunt them down and rend them limb from limb)

meanwhile trans!soap’s just trying to find the best angle to grind his cunt on ghost’s thigh

just it never even entering ghost’s head bc he’s never known a trans person but he has met plenty of people who’ve been tortured - himself included - so of course that’s his logical leap

soap takes off his shirt and he sees his top surgery scars and ghost asks if he wants him to kill the one who did it and soap just hums like, “actually, man did pretty good, they healed real well,” and ghost’s just teary-eyes with awe at how well he’s coping, “looking on the bright side, that’s my johnny.”

imagine he thinks johnny was fully castrated but sees he’s determined to still have a sex life with him so he buys packers and straps to help him bc hell yeah healing and soap’s just like, “holy shit i’ve never had such a thoughtful partner before, such a sweet man, lt.”

#he a little confused but he got the spirit #its so good bc it can be super angsty of ghost really dreading whats been done to his sergeant and trying to make it right #or just go full crack treated seriously and have fun with it #i love just completely oblivious ghost #in any military context hes the smartest guy in the room #he always knows the play and has more experience than anyone #but stick him in the normal world? man is Lost #ghost just thinks hes had some kind of reconstruction surgery after being tortured and accepts thats what johnny looks like #bc hes never seen a pussy before #it takes years for soap to actually come out to him bc he just never thought to #hes seen him naked theyve literally slept together what else is there for him to say #then he shows him like a family album or something and ghosts just like ‘why arent you in any of these i only see girls’#and he just goes ‘hang on a second’#soap gets one of his sporadic periods one night and panics a little thinking it would weird ghost out or remind him that hes not cis #but ghost just thinks its a normal part of such a thorough reconstruction that hed bleed sometimes #and doesnt question it when soap grabs a pad out of his drawer bc ‘thats such a good way of handling the discharge my johnnys so smart’#just really supportive ghost for the wrong reasons #coming out of my cage and ive been doing just fine.txt #we’re a team. ghost team #soapghost #ghostsoap #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #john soap mactavish #soap cod

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therainscene · 1 year

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It’s blink-and-you’ll-miss-it, but the Alan Turing poster really tells us so much about Will that I consider it to be a significant piece of foreshadowing for S5.

First, let’s dissuade ourselves of the notion that Will chose Turing for his hero project for nerd reasons -- Will’s preferred flavour of nerdery is escapist fantasy, not computer science. He doesn’t know what an IP address is and the first thing he thinks of when he hears modem noises is a movie he likes.

No, he chose Turing because he admires him for being a gay man who accomplished so much in his short life.

On one hand, that’s pretty heart-warming -- the fact he’s willing to identify with other gay men and look up to them as role models shows us he’s making good progress in accepting his identity. On the other hand, it’s heart-breaking, because Turing’s story is not a happy one -- he was caught having a sexual relationship with a man and forced to choose between jail or chemical castration. He chose castration.

I remind you: Will identifies with this guy.

Will is growing up under the twin specters of AIDS and homophobia and likely assumes he’s destined to die young too. He’s been abused and bullied so much, I imagine he’s heard and internalized it all: that he deserves to die, that he’s disgusting, that he’ll never be fulfilled in life.

So when puberty begins crawling its way inside him and implants those shameful desires that make gay men so worthy of abuse... he chooses castration.

For all the sad pining he does in S4, we never really see Will express desire for Mike -- he never checks him out or shows signs of nervousness when they touch. He behaves with perfect platonic decorum at all times...

...unless we consider That One Scene With The Hose.

Sexual interpretations of this scene are controversial, and I can understand why; we’re so used to seeing Will as this innocent, immature little boy that it's shocking to catch him fantasizing so lustfully, even though these sorts of thoughts are pretty normal for a 15 year-old. But I think that’s the point. We’re supposed to feel uncomfortable about this, because Will feels uncomfortable about it too.

He’s done well in accepting his identity, but he’s an absolute repressed mess when it comes to accepting his sexuality.

So, that’s what the Turing poster tells us about Will. Here’s where the foreshadowing comes in: Will is not the only queer-coded character to have been metaphorically castrated.

Henry’s experience bears striking similarities to Turing’s: he too was caught engaging in a natural but forbidden behaviour and forced by his government to undergo a medical procedure to suppress that behaviour.

His villain speech to El in 4x07, which is ostensibly about his powers, also reads very strongly as a scathing criticism of heteronormativity, and it’s covered in rainbow motifs.

The metaphor here is obvious: Henry’s powers are a manifestation of his homosexuality.

Which implies that Will’s homosexuality can also manifest as powers. They’re repressed because he’s repressed.

It’s not a coincidence that the sexual tension was through the fucking roof in the infamous sauna scene. Every time Will’s supernatural ability to sense the Mind Flayer triggers in S3, Mike is also nearby.

What’s interesting about Mike is that his queer acceptance issues mirror Will’s: Mike has a healthy relationship with his sexuality (he casually checks guys out and plasters his bedroom walls with posters of buff dudes) but he just can’t bring himself to accept what this implies about his identity.

Always with the symmetry, these two. They complement each other perfectly; one’s hang-up is the other’s strength. They have a lot to teach each other about being queer.

And as repressed as they are, I think they want to learn from each other -- Will lets himself get flustered when Mike flirts with him in his bedroom, and Mike hangs on to every word of wisdom Will shares with him in their heart-to-hearts.

Internalized homophobia is a powerful force, but their bond is so strong that it empowers them to fight back.

Henry’s powers symbolize his anger at being mistreated and his desire to take that anger out on the world... but Will’s powers symbolize self-acceptance and love.

So he isn’t just going to defeat Vecna with his powers, and he isn’t just going to get the boy: these two things are one and the same.

#stranger things #will has powers #byler #will byers #mike wheeler #henry creel #my analysis

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solar-wing · 6 months

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⚣ Domestic Living With Jason 🩳

⚣🩳 A/N → I'm physically incapable of writing anything under 500 words. But, this was inspired by my love of compression shirts (especially the Under Armor ones and how I would do exactly this if my boyfriend tried to walk out wearing one). May start a series off this, we'll see. Warnings: Domestic Vibes. Married Energy. Suggestive Langauge. Swearing. Petty Jason.

⚣🩳 Summary → Domestic life is something. Domestic life with Jason Todd is another thing. One moment, you're ready to fight this man. Next moment, you're ready to fight this man. *wink wink* Wait, hold up. Jason, what the hell are you wearing?!

⚣🩳 Words → 1.5K

REBLOGS & replies are greatly appreciated, please! 💛

⚣ ENJOY 🩳

“Jason, hurry up! I need to get back so I can finish this essay.” Y/N yelled from the living room of his and his boyfriend’s shared apartment.

If you asked him a year ago what he figured living with his boyfriend would be like, he’d more than likely answer with a lot of freaking sex. Of course, other things came with it, but that was the first thing that always came to mind.

It also came with a lot of stay-at-home dates. Jason was unsurprisingly a natural homebody and loved to spend his evenings when he could with his lovely boyfriend cuddled against his body while watching a movie or playing a game and munching down on some takeout.

Truthfully, it was nice seeing how Jason was in a domestic situation. It served as a reminder to Y/N that under all those scars, grumpiness, and tough exterior was just a boy who wanted to be loved.

On the other end, living with Jason made Y/N take a long, hard look in the mirror and reflect on all the bad habits he had when living at home with his parents and starting college. For example, time management…

Before he started dating Jason, Y/N was the kind of person who waited till twenty minutes before he had to leave to start getting dressed. Whenever someone would text him and ask for his location, he’d respond telling them he was leaving the house now.

Then, when he was actually leaving the house and they’d text him again, he’d respond saying he was on the freeway. Truly, the best example of what not to do when he wanted to be on time somewhere.

After he started dating Jason though, and especially when they moved in together, Y/N sent a long apology to his parents who had tried for years to teach him better time management. The crazy thing about that was when they asked him why he was apologizing and he explained that Jason’s time management made him look like an angel, they didn’t believe him!

In their eyes, Jason was a saint who could do no wrong. Which was ironic considering Y/N’s dad promised to castrate any man who dared even look his son’s way. And his mom, well, not sure that’s really appropriate to mention.

Yet, when it came to Mr. Jason Peter Todd, he might as well have been hand-delivered from God himself. Maybe it was because his boyfriend could and would be late to anything else in the world (Lord knows Bruce went through hell and back just to get him to be on time for family dinner), but if it was anything involving Mr. and Mrs. Y/L/N, he was twenty minutes early with a gift he picked up from the local Target.

It also could be that Jason was the world’s biggest kiss-ass (when he needed to be) and used that to wrap Y/N’s parents around his finger. Either or…

But now, since they were only going to the gym, Jason was of course taking his sweet time to get ready, which, every passing second was another snap of one of Y/N’s nerves. Truthfully, he would’ve just grabbed his keys and left without him, but the last time he did that, Jason went and bought a steering-wheel clutch to put on his car and hid the keys from him for two weeks.

Another thing Y/N’s parents would never believe about their son’s beloved boyfriend; the fucker was petty as hell.

“I’m coming, babe! Be out in a sec,” Jason yelled from behind their bedroom door.

“You said that five minutes ago!”

“Sorry, I don’t recall. Maybe you imagined it.”

This gaslighting motherfu–

Y/N had to take a deep breath to calm his growing impulsive need to bust down that door and slap the fuck out of his boyfriend’s neck. It didn’t help…

“You can’t hit your boyfriend. You can’t hit your boyfriend. You can’t hit your boyfriend,” Y/N mumbled to himself while tapping his foot against the floor repeatedly to distract himself from the ticking seconds passing by in his mind.

Two minutes later, the door opened and revealed his tall and bulky man looking ever so fresh and handsome. Though Y/N was still irritated beyond belief, the sight of his boyfriend’s handsome face who grew a smile and twinkle in his eyes when he looked at him always managed to dissipate his temper.

Not by much though. Jason’s neck still looked like a very bright and large target just waiting for a good sting from the palm of his hands.

Maybe Tim was right, they were a match made in heaven just off violent tendencies alone.

“That was not a sec,” Y/N reprimanded in a grumble.

Jason’s smile turned into a self-satisfied grin while he walked past his boyfriend to their coat closet, grabbing his abnormally large gym shoes. Seriously, what size is this man’s foot?

“Hey, it’s not my fault you waited till the last day to finish your homework.” He replied while tying his shoe.

“Um, actually it is. Every time I tried to sit down and work on it, you’d either start complaining about how I wasn’t paying any attention to you or you’d get randomly horny and start touching me in ways that shall not be named and I’d end up with your dick inside me.”

Y/N immediately regretted his words when he saw how Jason looked up from finishing his last shoe, a lustful blown look on his face as he eyed his body up and down. Thankfully, he didn’t seem like he was about to act on his impulses as he kept tying his shoe without looking before standing back up.

Why was that hot?

“Sounds like you need to practice self-control, sir.”

Oh, no he didn’t.

“Sir, I was already tempted to smack the back of your neck before. I beg you to not increase that urge.”

“Do it. I dare you,” Jason challenged, standing right in front of him with his towering frame. The tone in his voice and the look on his face were signaling something that Y/N was very tempted to answer, but he had to keep rationality in the forefront of his mind.

“You not worth it,” He responded, side-stepping him while going to grab his jacket.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

“Sir, don’t get fu–”

It was at that moment Y/N took a full look at his boyfriend, specifically what he was wearing. And while the sight was something he wouldn’t mind staring at, he definitely didn’t want other people staring at him.

“Excuse me, but what in the hell are you wearing?” Y/N asked, still looking him up and down.

Jason looked confused for a moment, also looking at his outfit, not seeing what the problem was.

“Um, a shirt and sweats? Is this a trick question or,”

“Why is it so tight? Who are you trying to show off for?”

This man was wearing a black compression shirt and gray joggers like it was just a regular Sunday. The Lord is watching, how dare he?!

Jason’s smirk immediately came back when he realized what he was really about, “Oh, what? I can’t wear tight clothes now to the gym?”

“Not unless you want me to fight bitches. Because, just in case you forgot, I do fight bitches.”

“Language, or I’m telling mom. And I like it when you fight over me,” He said while grabbing at Y/N’s waist.

He immediately popped the vigilante’s hands off him, “Don’t involve my mother in and hands off mister.”

“Our mother, thank you,” Jason corrected.

“It’s giving incestuous, and last time I checked, there is no ring on this finger and my last name is not Todd.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

Y/N was sat.

“I-, that was really hot and we’re gonna move on from that,” Y/N responded, and Jason once again had a cocky smirk on his face. Lord knows this man was more than likely dead serious. He’d drop everything and drive to a ring shop right now.

“Anyway, you need to go change sir. I don’t need them dirty, mud-bathing rats staring at what is for my eyes only.” Y/N responded, pointing back to their bedroom waiting for Jason to move.

“Oh, so I need to go change, but when you were wearing those tiny shorts, showing off what’s supposed to be for my eyes only, I got told to mind the business that pays me,” Jason asked with a laugh.

“Are you on my payroll?” Y/N questioned.

“No.”

“My point still stands.”

“You think you’re funny,”

“I think I’m hilarious, actually. In fact, I’m so funny, I’m going to get the extra small shorts I just got in the mail since you want to play with me.” Y/N turned around and sprinted for their bedroom.

“Oh, I’ll play all day,” Jason mumbled under his breath before throwing their gym bags down to the ground and kicking off his shoes before following his boyfriend into the room.

They did not make it to the gym, but they definitely got their workout in.

☀️ | Jason Todd/Red Hood | ☀️

☀️ | Masterlists | ☀️

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txttletale · 1 month

Note

is there any more reliable fact behind what people some trans people say about like cults of cybele

yes! the galli, their practice of self-castration, and their feminine dress and presentation are very well attested by many sources: among them catullus, ovid, varro, livy, and polybius, off the top of my head.

of course, we have no actual accounts from the galli themselves: we can only speculate as to what their subjectivity wrt gender might have been, let alone to the myriad different relationships any individual gallus might have had. however, we can at least know that their presentation was feminine by choice: there is archeological attestation for honorific monuments and art depicting galli in feminine dress, often commissioned by galli themselves, and for them being buried in it. so unlike elagabalus, who in his commissioned statues and coins is always depicted purely masculinely we do have some definitinve information about how the galli at least purposefully presented themselves to the world.

attitudes to them shift throughout Roman history and from source to source, from mild curiosity, to contempt, to violent hatred--we don't, unfortunately, have a lot of writing about the galli in and of themselves--many of their mentions are cautionary tales, a 'what not to do' guide for aristocratic roman men seeking to avoid effeminacy or gender deviance. different authors describe them in different ways: varro calls them 'half-men' (semiviri), while catullus' attis says 'ego mulier' (i, a woman) but also 'ego epherbus, ego puer' (i, a young man and a boy) in her lament over the loss of access to the world of manhood her devotion has resulted in.

but yeah, there is absolutely a gigantic body of evidence for the existence of the itinerant priesthood of cybele being a known and constant part of Roman life, for their having flouted gender roles, practiced self-castration, and adopted feminine presentation, clothing, and appearances of their own accord. take from this what you will! i certainly think that in the project of attempting to locate transfemininity throughout history, it is certainly a more fruitful and worthy ground than the lurid tales of elagabalus and his Big Dick Surveillance Squad.

some recommended reading if you're curious:

“Fabulous Clap-Trap”: Roman Masculinity, the Cult of Magna Mater, and Literary Constructions of the galli at Rome from the Late Republic to Late Antiquity, Jacob Latham

Transgendered Archeology: the Galli and the Catterick Transvestite, Renato Pinto & Gretel Luciano

Looking for eunuchs: the galli and Attis in Roman art, Shelley Hales (in Eunuchs in Antiquity and Beyond, ed. Shaun Tougher)

#ask #Anonymous

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anothertimdrakestan · 1 year

Note

Hi Elle!! Hope all is well 💕💕

Can I request a headcanon or fic of where Dick and y/n have been in a serious relationship for a few years and OC has become a “mom figure” to all the other batboys. So when the batboys misunderstand Dick and OC getting into a big fight somewhere, they both come home (either to their place or to the manor) to find that the batboys have moved/thrown out all of Dick’s things because they love OC that much??

Thank youuu ☺️

Ahhh this is such a cute little idea!! Thank you so so much for the request it’s lovely to see an old friend <333

Found Family - Dick Grayson x Reader

Steph gave you a sympathetic smile as she poured the rest of the wine bottle into your now empty glass. “What’s wrong hun? Because if it’s boy troubles I will personally castrate Richard if he hurt you.” Which only made you sigh as you nodded. Her eyes widened, you and Dick never ever fought, and this foreign emotional territory was a shock to you too- hence the wine.

“Dick asked me to move in with him, but I’m not ready to leave my place! I love Gotham, and I’m not sure Bludhaven is where I’m meant to be. But I also know I could never leave him. I just told him I needed more time to think and I think he took it really personally. It’s not that I’m not ready to live with him, I’m just not ready to leave my life here even if it is just a town over.” You said, happy to put into words the emotions swirling in your chest.

“What?! You are NOT leaving Gotham anytime soon. What on earth would I do without you here?” Steph exclaimed, putting down her glass to pick up her phone, fingers typing frantically.

Less than a minute later, Tim was jogging into the Manor kitchen, “Dick’s tryna take Y/N from us? Over my dead body.” And before you could tell him otherwise, the young hero burst out the room, clearly on a type of war path.

“No! I love Dick and you guys, Bludhaven is great! I just need-”

“Taking down Richard has always been on my bucket list.” Damian’s snarky voice echoed through the manor as he stalked out the same door as Tim. You scrambled up and after him, but Steph side stepped in front of you, “don’t you dare try to fix this, we’ve got it!” Which only made you more nervous for the future of your relationship.

Before you knew it, another bottle was opened, and the colors of the Manor living room were awfully fuzzy. You were pretty sure you’d seen Jason, Tim, and Damian zipping in and out of the manor, each repeatedly promising an increasingly violent demise for your boyfriend, who’s radio silence was only making you more anxious. Steph, while physically with you, was terrifyingly glued to her phone, sending text after text- even taking the occasional call, but she was speaking quiet enough that your tipsy-mind couldn’t process the words flying out of her mouth.

You truly weren’t sure how much time had passed when Dick burst through the manor shouting “Stephanie Brown where the hell did you hide her!” And before you could shriek with excitement, Dick appeared in front of you, his eyes frantic until he saw you were okay.

“Dickie!” You cooed, outstretching your arms so he would scoop you up into a hug. And he did. He was breathing heavy, burying his head in the crook of your neck as he took a deep inhale. You were just giddy to see your handsome man, squeezing him tighter, wrapping your legs around his waist, happy to be carried as you weren’t sure you could stand in your current state.

“What on earth did they do to you sweetheart,” Dick mumbled, walking back towards the kitchen so you could place you on a counter, you leaned back to look up at his eyes. He swiped a hand over your cheek, you assumed you were still warm from the alcohol.

“She’s. Fine. Can’t say the same about you you selfish monster,” Steph slurred her speech, pointing an accusatory finger at Dick who gave you both a confused look.

Almost like a sitcom, the three other boys burst into the room, as if on cue.

“Step away from the woman Grayson!” Jason shouted as Damian lobbed the nearest manor antique he could get his hands on at Dick, who of course caught it effortlessly, setting it down next to you on the counter.

“What the hell is going on?” Dick raised his voice, but Tim was already in between the two of you, pushing Dick backwards as Damian hopped up onto the counter next to you, silently handing you a glass of water which you graciously took, enjoying the plot unfolding before you.

“No questions at this time Richard, as Y/N’s personal advisor I’m here to state the case.” Tim began, Jason and Damian nodding in agreement. Steph had her phone out, clearly filming the entire argument.

Tim continued, “it has come to our attention that you intend to take Y/N from us.”

“I asked her to move in with me?” Dick looked exasperated but intrigued by the way his brothers had turned on him in your name.

“And in doing so, you’d be removing her from Gotham, and therefore the four of us!” Tim concluded, and at the statement, Jason, Steph, and Damian mumbled angry agreements.

Dick scoffed, “I’m sorry, I thought she was my girlfriend, and you guys love coming to Bludhaven! With Y/N there it’s more reason for everyone to spend more time over there.”

Damian piped up immediately, “we hate Bludhaven Richard, Y/N is the only thing that makes it manageable.”

Jason snorted, “ever realized we only go over for dinner when Y/N is visiting you? Or that Steph only wants Sunday bagels in Bludhaven cuz Y/N spends the weekends there? Did you seriously think we just went over for you?” You cringed as the harsh tone, but Dick didn’t look offended, rather, proud?

Dick opened his mouth to retort, then closed it. Tim spoke up again, “Don’t worry Richard, I’ve already mended the problem at hand.”

Now Dick spoke up, “what the hell did you brats do now”.

“To the Zeta Tube!” Jason called, scooping you and Damian up in one arm and sprinting towards the teleporter, with Dick screeching for him to put you down following close behind. For once, Damian wasn’t squirming out of Jason’s grasp, rather he had quietly grabbed your hand, saying “I hope you love your new home” to you right before the Zeta Tube activated.

When you came through, Jason set you and Damian down happily, and you were situated in a fully furnished apartment. Furnished with your and Dick’s combined furniture. You froze for a moment, feeling like you were in a different dimension until you notice the window in the apartment. You recognized the block corner instantly.

“We refurbished an old safe house! It’s south west Gotham, so close enough to Bludhaven that Dick can’t whine too much, but only a couple minutes drive, or instant Zeta Tube to the manor!” Tim exclaimed excitedly.

Damian piped up, “we stripped Dick’s apartment to the ground to furnish it! Not like either of you will be needing it anyway!”

Dick had been silent, drinking in the new view. But he came up beside you to stare out the window, “I think they just made a compromise for us, but I do want you to love it. What I should’ve said earlier, is that I don’t need to be in Bludhaven, I need to be with you. You’re my home Y/N.” He pressed a kiss to your temple and you leaned back into his chest.

You spoke up, “I love it, and I love you, and I especially love you guys,” you turned around to face your family. Steph was grinning, Jason was nodding knowingly, Tim was off slightly adjusting furniture placements, and Damian was- wiping away a tear. Not worth pointing out, because he’d deny it anyway, but your heart was bursting knowing the little guy wanted you near just as badly as you wanted to be close to him.

“Tim! Get over here, it’s group hug time!” Dick called, throwing an arm around Jason and Steph while you scooped up Damian, who for the second time that day, wasn’t fighting back. Tim crashed into the hug and your swore you could feel your heart beating out of your chest with pride in your found family.

Tim’s phone vibrated and he shouted “Dick! You’re rich! The Bludhaven apartment just sold!” And Dick shrieked, “You put my apartment up for sale in a day!!” To which Damian shrugged, “not like there was anything in there after we were through.” Jason nodded in agreement saying: “yeah, you don’t even wanna know what plan B was if you said no to this place!” But Steph shushed him before he could divulge any more, most likely violent, secrets. You couldn’t help but grin knowing your family had your back no matter what, even if Dick was slightly concerned over his brother’s undying loyalty to you, it made staying in Gotham that much more worth it to you both.

“As your realtor I will be taking 15% of the profit! Gonna go meet the new tenants!” Tim called, beelining to the Zeta Tube before Dick could even try to tell him no. You gave Damian’s hair a ruffle, which he immediately tried to fix, as Jason and Steph nodded, knowing they could be over whenever, but you and Dick probably wanted a moment to get used to the new place.

And suddenly, it was quiet. The bustle of the Gotham streets was faint, and you walked through the apartment which was truly designed perfectly, imagining the dinner parties, late night adventures, and peaceful mornings you’d get to have in your new place.

“As much as I hate to admit it, they did good.” Dick broke the silence. You nodded in agreement, unable to wipe the heartfelt smile off your face, you gave him a peck and said, “They sure did, it feels good to be home.”

I hope you enjoyed!! Thank you again for the request!

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the-soliloquies-of-sadists · 8 months

Text

#375

“Hey shithead, get over here. I got some news…. You look like shit. Come here. Kneel. Reach in and take out my dick. I’ve got to take a piss. Drink up and listen. A buyer put in an offer, and it was accepted. You’ve been sold. I wasn’t expecting for a chunky slave to sell after only one day of showing, but that big truck driver made a full offer. He’ll be back later on tonight. He made some demands….

“He wants you cleaned up on the outside and loaded up with loads from many men on the inside. I’ll bring the hose around in a bit. Sir Hank will be down in a bit to bring you some soap. He’s also going to make that cage permanent, by riveting it on. Your dick will be useless going forward.

“Do you remember how many men unloaded in your cunt so far this morning?... Four? Good. Hank and I will each provide one. With you off the market, it’ll be difficult to get men in here just for a fuck.

“I called a buddy. You’re not his type, but he’ll bring his slave and fuck him instead. When he’s ready to nut he’ll just shove it into you. Or maybe he’ll use a condom with his own slave and then squeeze the load into you.

“Oh wait a minute…. Let me see…. There’s one… two…. There are a couple of used condoms in the trash can here.

“Bend over and lean against the wall. Present your cunt. I have no idea how long these loads have been here, whose load is in them, or even if they were used on you or the slave that was in here last. You are getting their spooge contents now…. Damn, you have one hell of a gape, which should make the squeezing in of the loads easy.

“That truck driver has one of the biggest dicks I have ever seen. He’s great to work with. Prompt payments. And most of all he seems to want the fat slaves, or the weird ones. He’s an intermediary for several buyers out west. You’ll probably end up on this pig farm where you will be force fed until you bulk up, and then installed in a pig pen with other real pigs. Castration is most likely. Not just the balls but your shaft too.

“There, both loads are in you…. Oh, I missed this condom here…. I didn’t realize that our clients used so many rubbers. I guess it makes sense.

“The other possible buyer that trucker uses is in Oregon. He’s one of those militia types, but one who likes fat fags chained up in his basement. Don’t know that much about him other than he’s a sadistic bastard.

“There! Three anonymous loads in your cunt. Get ready, this will probably be my last time for me to breed you.

“Jesus! He stretched you out. All these loads are making this one loose sloppy hole…. This isn’t going to work. Clamp down then spin around.

“Get me off with your toilet mouth…. You look grossed out. That’s the cum stew from your cunt. Clean me off before you get me off.

“That’s it. Don’t fucking gag. This is your life now. Good boy. You are an ass eating, piss drinking, cum dump slave. Whoever you wind up with, they are going to do way worse nasty stuff to you. This is what you do. This is what you are.

“I’m going to miss your tongue. That’s what made you sellable. Does it ever feel good on my dick! Work it! Fuck! I’m going to cum in no time. Keep licking my balls when I go in deep. When I tell you, spin around so I can dump in your cunt.

“I wish all slaves could have a tongue like yours. When you eat my shitter, it really makes my hole quiver. I don’t know what you do back there, but man does it feel good. You always gave me your eagerness to please, and you do so no matter how shitty you were being treated. That’s so hard to find in slaves.

“I’m getting close. I’m getting close. Now! Give me that cunt!

“Urg! Uh! Uh! Ahhh! Jesus! Fuck! Damn slave. I gave you a large load to add to the stew you have brewing….

“Clamp down then clean me off…. There you go. Fuck that was hot. There’s some sludge in my pubes; get that…. I have to piss again.

“Ahhh! When I’m done stand up….

“…Slave, I am going to miss you. You know, if we were in a different situation, I would put you on a diet and a rigorous exercise regimen. I would have you as my boy.

“Don’t tell anybody what I’m about to do. Don’t pull away; I want to kiss you….

“…Like that. Now you treat your new owners the way you have treated me. If you are lucky, they won’t torture you too much. I wish you the best.”

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pupcuck · 1 month

Text

ASKING FOR IT !

ft. og4 leon s. kennedy x fem!reader

tags. p in v, smut, cheating (not on reader), ooc leon sorry, he’s mean, negging, misogyny, reference to past rape/non-con, unresolved trauma, suicidal thoughts duhhh, he calls reader ugly a lot, leon subs for his gf but doms reader, non-con to consensual sex, manipulation, some .. uh waterboarding? he dunks your head in water, opioid addiction but it’s minor LMFAOO

note. haii… um feedback whether it’s good or bad appreciated really forced myself to write this so im like ack. hating everything i write but! ignore typos :3 it’s not as fleshed out as i wanted .. soooo it reads pretty jolty but yah 😭 and the smut is like not. IDK I’m ugh not into it just couldn’t bring myself to extend stuff that I really wanted to develop n he’s ooc. BUT!! again ignore typos or I’ll cry n feedback/constructive criticism appreciated <3

Leon has a girlfriend. He can never hold down a girl, his ability to scare women away is preternatural, so it’s a big deal. And she’s fucking hot. Not like model hot, but pornstar hot. She’s got tits so firm they might as well be bulletproof. Bottle blonde with eyes that swallow up her whole face. Her stomach doesn’t crease when she sits. It’s the type of beauty that takes its form in slashes of red lace and nylon. Not many women are out of his league, but she is.

They have hot sex like attractive people tend to do, and it goes something along the lines of this.

He goes:

Is that dick good, baby? You like it? Right there, baby?

And she goes:

Fuck, yes, baby! Harder, deeper— Oh, right there!

And then she doesn’t cum.

So there’s that, but he’s working on it.

Leon doesn’t take well to tips on how to fuck. Reading advice columns in the Men’s Health magazine leaves a funny taste in his mouth. It might be the blood from the castrated image of his masculinity. Who knows.

He struggles with that sort of thing. A nice face does nothing for a man who doesn’t actually like anything about himself. Leon’s still that wimpy self-hating loser he was all those years ago. In all fairness to God, there are a few added tweaks here and there. Some bug fixes. Now he’s drunk and shallow too! Misanthropic when he’s at his very best.

As a kid, mom told Leon to be a nice boy so he was a nice boy. Not because he was ever a particularly nice boy, but for her sake. So instead of acting out he would go and crush ants beneath his thumb in the front yard because there is this mean part of Leon that splinters inside of him like cooked bones.

Life to Leon is being fucked into apologising for being alive so it’s no wonder he’s still harbouring the insecurities of a boy he isn't.

When he was eighteen it was by ugly old men who abhorred him for being the embodiment of whatever it was they were hiding from their wives. His legs looked nice thrown over a pair of big shoulders. They were so thin back then, model-type shit. All of those men mildly resembled his dad, but that’s something he wouldn’t quite like to crack down on yet. Leon’s being open enough as it is.

When he was twenty-one it was his headache of a first girlfriend. It was the bullet wound in his shoulder. When he was twenty-two it was being passed around boot camp like a dirty needle. When he was twenty-seven it was Luis who was nothing and everything in between. It was a picture book princess like Ashley. The scar on his shoulder. Stigmata. Glory Be. Whatever.

(And Jack, it was always Jack. Pale all over like a healed scar.)

What Leon is trying to get across, he’s not quite sure. Maybe that he's nice in theory and the reality is he’s a self-confessed charlatan of niceness. Or that he can’t fuck. He can’t fuck because he is deeply traumatised. Yeah. Maybe that’s what he’s trying to say. It’s an excuse, sure, doesn’t make it the truth though. Leon can’t fuck ‘cause he’s useless at most things that don’t include guns. He can’t fuck ‘cause he was unattractive as a teenager and that solidified the way he feels about himself now.

Leon’s got one thing going for him - he fingers her pussy till his fingers prune. Eats her out till he gets lockjaw.

“Oh, you’re so good at that,” she says, kissing his slicked-up lips.

Then her eyes flit to his hard dick and she gives him that strange half-smile. One that seems to say: Not with that. His dick. Obviously.

His shit is big enough, it’s long enough— It’s enough. And it’s pretty. Could put a bow on to make it real cute. Could manufacture a dildo inspired by it. So Leon cannot for the life of him wrap his head around her problem. It’s not his dicks fault her pussy is fucking broken. Her broken pussy doesn’t get to make his dick sad. Doesn’t get to lay devastating blows on his gone-with-the-wind ego.

Another thing is, her sister is an ugly bitch. That upsets Leon and his dick in tow. You’re a student, taking a break for some reason Leon has not bothered to fathom. He couldn’t care less. Go do it someplace else. In this house, you’re nothing more than a cockblock. Leon could forgive you for being a cockblock if you weren’t ugly. Or vice versa.

It would be okay if Leon wasn’t stuck at home with you for hours at a time. Work fucked up his back, so he’s staying here in his girlfriend’s apartment eating her food, running her taps, fucking her badly and shitting on her sister.

You’re sat on the other end of the table with a soggy bowl of cereal while he nurses a juice box like a real man. What do ugly little things like you think about anyway?

When Leon was ugly he thought about forcing his dick into the cute girl next door between his more regular thoughts of what to eat for dinner and whether he stocked up on toilet paper or not.

When he was ugly, his day was made simply by a pretty girl looking in his general direction. So Leon makes sure to look in yours. Y’know, to fuel your perverted wet dreams. Your rape fantasies. What freaks think about when they’re near hot guys. Well, it’s strange actually. You tend to totally ignore him. When the two of you make brief eye contact, you don’t flounder or duck or bow your head like you’re shy— You just move on with your life. That bothers him. Leon’s hot now. He’s not the type of man you just brush over like that. He’s the type you gawk at in broad daylight, he’s the sort of guy you see in soft porn magazines.

“Good morning,” his girlfriend greets, “have a good sleep, sweetie?” She bumps your hip when you stand up to hug her.

She’s wearing stockings today. Oh, he loves stockings. He loves pencil skirts. He loves— He loves office wear. He wants to be put over her lap and spanked raw perhaps.

“Yeah, it’d be nice if your boyfriend stopped moaning like a girl though.” It’s said into her ear, but Leon hears it.

“I’m going now, honey,” his girlfriend tells him.

Like a good boy, Leon stands to bid her goodbye. Her blouse is sheer, shows off her black bra and he eyes it with distaste.

“What’s wrong, Leon?”

He doesn’t speak. Just glares at her perfect set of tits like a baby weaned off milk.

“I can’t take them off,” she snorts.

Leon wishes she could. Hang ‘em up in the closet and pop them back on when it’s time to play. Tits are for the bedroom. Otherwise, they’re too much of a distraction. Instead, he settles on slipping his hand up her skirt to check if she’s wearing panties. (There’s no panty line showing through her pencil skirt and that’s always a bad sign.) She shoos him away.

So Leon leans in for a kiss, and she says, “Nuh-uh, honey, you’ll ruin my makeup.” Then she gives in ‘cause Leon can be kinda cute when he tries hard enough. “Just one, okay?”

“Yeah.” Leon nods. Her kisses are analgesic. Which is unfortunate considering he has an opioid addiction. Almost an addiction.

“One,” she counts, Leon kisses her again, “two, three, four.”

She’s teasing him now.

“Okay, well, keep an eye on her, Leon.”

“I’m not twelve,” you say, exiting the kitchen to spare yourself the sight of him groping your older sister.

Yeah, and Leon’s not a bang nanny.

He wipes the red from his lips, takes his juice box from the table where you’re no longer and decides jerking off in the shower will make him feel better. Leon does. He finishes. Watches his seed wash down the drain and wonders if that was wasteful. A short intermission is taken, then he jerks off in front of her full-body mirror. His biceps flex and his abs tighten, and he looks fucking good.

Why isn’t she cumming? What’s wrong with her? Is she getting too old? Is menopause hitting already? She’s only thirty-something. It can’t be that, and she asked Leon to pick up tampons last week— Unless they were for you.

Nobody in this house tells Leon anything. Another shower is what he needs. No, he needs a smoke. Leon doesn’t smoke. He does the next best thing, rests idly against the railings of her balcony, observing the ballet of D.C. life. Man, he could throw himself over right now. Splat against the asphalt and that would be it. It’d all be over. Hauling his weight over would be no problem. Catastrophizing to pass the time. Men used to do this for a living in Ancient Greece. What happened to philosophising? Leon could be a philosopher, all they did was spout nonsense and he is good at that. Not at fucking, however.

Beer. Yeah. Beer. That’s what he needs. Leon ransacks the fridge to no avail. Health-conscious living is the reason for misery, he believes. See, very insightful, modern-day Socrates right here. Lean proteins, vegan substitutes, low-fat yoghurt— It’s so girly it makes him sick.

“She’s still on a health kick,” you say from behind him, “I thought it was a New Years thing, but she’s still, like, super into it.”

Why are you talking to him? Leon blinks at you owlishly. “Right,” he says.

You give him a funny look, turning back to the counter to use the coffee machine. Don’t you want him? You’re not shy. Why aren’t you shy? Shouldn’t you be shy? Ugly Leon was mute around girls whether they were short, fat, ugly or pretty. Shit, he is clucking for a beer.

“There's Chardonnay under the sink.” Well, that’s unhelpful.

“Yeah, I don’t- I don’t drink that.” He would like to finish his sentence off with ‘girly shit’ but you seem like the type to find that offensive.

“Figured.” The coffee machine whirs. A lobotomised silence ensues. “Good talk.”

You’re so ugly you’re asking for it. Perfect subject for the ‘I can’t make my girlfriend cum, is her pussy broken?’ experiment. Ugly girls don’t count as a fuck, right? Not when they’re sent to the very back of your mind after said fuck. He wonders how many girls counted the uglier him as an official lay.

You’re on your tummy reading a book. The Beautiful and Damned. Leon had no idea they wrote a book about him. The door creaking exposes his creeping against his will.

“Do you need something?” you ask without batting an eye.

The swell of your ass is nice. “Uh, yeah, I do.”

Rolling over and sitting up to face him, you tilt your head to the side. “Go on.”

“I want to have sex with you.” Woah. Okay. That’s a genie he can’t put back in the bottle. Fuck, why does he do this stupid shit? Leon should just kill himself. All roads lead to suicide. Every sign points towards suicide and he is still holding on for dear life.

Think about Sherry. Sherry won’t care, kids hit sixteen and don’t give a fuck about much, he reasons with the voice in his head. How about Claire? Oh, she’ll think good fucking riddance. Redfield? No way. You are truly out of options, Kennedy.

“I’m sorry?”

Oh, god no, Leon’s the one that should be sorry. “You heard me.” The apology comes out incredibly wrong. “I’m helping you out.”

“Helping me out with what? I’m sorry, Leon, I didn’t… I didn’t think I— I don’t know what made you think I wanted this from you, but I don’t like you—“

You don’t like him? Why not? He’d like a list of reasons with a page-long explanation. What’s not to like? The hair. It’s the hair. Blond is too girly. That’s what it is.

“—I mean, you’re with my sister, did you really think I would say yes? I’m sorry, I’m just a little confused, where is this coming from? Gosh, I really… I don’t know what to say.”

“I’m helping you out,” Leon repeats, using his hands to gesture at your face, at your body. “No one else is gonna do it.” This apology has gone way out of bounds. A simple sorry would have sufficed.

“What..?” Something doleful crosses your face, then it twists unpleasantly. “You think I want to have sex with you… ‘cause I’m not cute? Like, you think I’m…”

Ugly, yes. He does. Only a little. Can you turn over? He wants to make you cum. “You’re a virgin, yeah?”

“Oh my god, there’s, like, something wrong with you!” You stand to your full height in a pitiful attempt to appear frightening. That face is enough to scare a man away already. “Get out— And I am so telling her when she gets back home, I told her I didn’t like you, I told her and now you just-“

Leon grabs you by the jaw, squeezes you so tight it clicks. “Okay, sweetheart, here’s how this is going to go,” he starts, taking both your wrists in a single hand, “we’re going to start over, and you’re going to be a good little girl and apologise to me like you really mean it.”

“Apologise for what?” It comes out muffled through your forced pout so he chooses to ignore you.

“I don’t know what you fuckin’ said.” Leon should just end it here, he should let go of you and check into the nearest asylum. He’s hot. Leon is box blond. He’s tall enough to dwarf most girls. His face is nice. His body is nicer. So he doesn’t know what his problem is. Once pinned down, you shrink away from him, expression so sour your skin looks ready to melt off your skull.

And then he fucks you till you stop screaming. He leaves you in a withered heap, heads back to his room to take a well-deserved nap, hides his face in the pillows. They smell like her. He should think about killing himself some more. That gun looks awfully shiny. Nth time could be the charm.

She gets home in the evening, drops her bag on the floor to alert him of her entrance.

“I missed you.” Leon noses at her neck.

“You were sleeping.” She ruffles his hair like he’s a child.

“I still missed you.”

“Even when you’re sleeping?”

In the least creepy way possible, he wants to wear her skin as a suit, and she thinks his body doesn’t yearn for her at every sleeping second?

“The most when I’m sleeping, have bad dreams without you,” Leon mumbles groggily.

“How cute,” she muses, “good day?”

“Great day.” Leon nods. “Real productive.”

“Oh yeah? What’d you get up to?” A singular red nail strokes along his spine.

“Thought about you,” he answers, leaving out the part where he spent half of his time jerking off. Oh, and the part where he fucked her sister into submission. He raped you. He did. Leon doesn’t like that word. Far too harsh.

“Now, don’t push it, mister.” When she smiles there’s a lack of wrinkles— Not even smile lines, it’s artificial almost.

Leon’s good at pushing buttons. He should get paid for it. “It’s true, if you said jump I’d ask how high.”

“You’re so funny, Leon.” She kisses his head and laughs all prim and proper.

“Serious, babe, I’m super partial to jumping,” he says to hear her laugh again. He’s more partial to suicide. It’s great. A one-way ticket off of God’s green inferno. Who would he even be without suicide ideation?

“Alright, but I’d like you all in one piece.” She kisses his cheek. “No jumping, okay, honey?” She kisses his neck and his collarbones and his Adam’s apple and he’s unable to breathe.

“Okay,” Leon says. He gets it now. She’s mommying him. Maybe this is what Leon needs. To play house. A daddy to fuck his throat and a mommy to sit on his dick and tell him that he’s a good boy and he’s needed and he won’t have to think if he has a mommy and daddy to do that for him.

Can he backtrack on the rape thing? Trust Leon to take a good thing and ruin it in the worst way possible. If he kissed you he could’ve wormed his way out of it. Told her it was the medication he’s on, that he had a mental breakdown, a midlife crisis.

At dinner, your silence slips under the radar like cumstains on motel bedsheets. You pick at your food, and when Leon’s knee brushes yours under the table, you excuse yourself. Sometimes he thinks that he is a bad person, this can be backed up by many things. Violating you might outweigh saving the world.

In bed, he thinks about changing, about calling his therapist in the morning, he might take a leap off that balcony, cleaning up his act sounds terribly hard. Leon does this all with his head tucked into the hollow of his girlfriend’s neck. The thinking has killed his boner and now he can’t get it up. So he pretends to fall asleep. It’s an unconvincing performance ‘cause the moment she swipes a hand over his ass he lets out a disgruntled noise. Leon clenches so quickly his stomach caves in.

“You don’t like that, honey?”

He shakes his head, overgrown bangs falling in his eyes. Leon has a nice ass. It’s no wonder she wants to touch it, leg presses have done him wonders, but still, it’s off-limits. She can’t sweet talk her way into this anytime soon.

“Why, Leon?” She’s cupping his ass like he’s a girl. Leon’s not a girl. “You’d look so cute.”

“No,” he whines, and it sounds kind of sexy. He gets it. He can see the appeal.

“I think you just need some encouragement, baby.” She’s taking him apart like a gun. Folding him like laundry. Milks his prostate so well he sleeps like a baby. Not even a shadow of an orgasm to be seen from her side.

She leaves early the next morning and he’s left alone to ruminate. What he finds out today is that you’re pretty diligent at sucking dick when forced.

Leon thinks he would like to break you in a way that only he can fix.

He pushes your head down on his dick till your lips are stretched so far they split at the corners, you gag wetly each time the fat tip knocks the back of your throat, heavy balls slapping against your chin.

“Aww, look at you,” Leon coos, “little girl taking big things.”

Fat tears well in your eyes, a faint tremor betrays your effort to hold them back, a single blink and they roll down your cheeks like dewdrops. It might be the dick lodged in your throat, pulsing under your tongue— Yeah, no, it’s his dick in your mouth. That’s why you're upset. No other reason for it. Leon finds you a little ungrateful. A lot of women would pay for this, to drain his balls. Hell, your sister loves to do it.

“One at a time, sweetheart,” he says as he guides you to his balls, “can’t have you choking, can we?” You look up at him blankly. Leon thought he was funny and that’s all that matters. “Go on, spit on ‘em, get me nice and wet.” The drool pooling beneath your tongue drizzles his balls in clear strings, his drippy tip bumps the bridge of your nose, rests comfy on your brow ridge.

You’re struggling real bad. He’ll take it as a compliment. The thing is, you refuse to just lick them, pulling off each ball with a wet pop! and a dry cough. Leon starts to zone out so he shoves you off and quite pathetically, you fall flat on your back.

“You didn’t shave,” Leon notes in distaste, he was going to do you a favour too.

“No— Not for you.” You squirm like a fish on the docks when he hovers over you.

“Not for me, right.”

“Anyone but you.”

“You're not gonna do it for anyone, sweetheart, know why?” Leon clicks his tongue when you dodge his kiss, twisting your neck to keep a distance.

“Why?”

“No one else wants you,” he states, “you’re lucky that I want you.”

“Well, that’s not true.” You’re stubborn amongst all your other undesirable traits.

Leon scoffs. “What, so you ever had a boyfriend?” He runs his index finger along your slit. Bone dry. Serious? He assumes you’re still sore from yesterday.

“That’s none of your fucking business.”

“Don’t get mad at me, honey, I’m just helping you out.” Leon spits on your pussy, then on his thick cock for good measure, jerks his shaft and presses a thumb to his tip to guide it into you. Your lips fold inwards around him as he breaches your tiny hole. There’s too much resistance for it to be a smooth sailing journey, and you’re new to cock, cunt pushing him out as your body tenses. “I’m being nice to you, so you should say thank you.”

“Oh, god,” you mutter, brows knit in what might be pain or pleasure.

“Yeah, that’s what you’re calling me now?” The look you give him is priceless, small hands settling on his chest as you push at him weakly. “No, baby, you don’t get to do that.” Leon bottoms out, he rolls his hips forward to grind the head of his dick into your cervix, the fleshly opening moulds to his tip and you cry out. He can never tell if you’re enjoying it.

Leon sticks his fingers in your mouth to coat them in spit, you retch and he rubs figure eights on your clit, only then does your cunt loosen up its hold on him. It’s a quick process, the quicker he rubs you raw, the wetter you get, biting down on your tongue to keep quiet, but low groans slip past your cracked lips.

“Oh, there we go, baby, that’s it,” Leon coos, his cock slicked up by your wet pussy, sliding in and out with ease. His hips snap forward, forcing himself deeper into your messy little pussy, so wet you’re dripping down his balls, wetness stuck to your inner thighs.

“Fuck— I can’t, I can’t do it, ‘s too big,” you whimper, a hand slipping between your bodies to lay on your stomach. What you don’t understand is that he is big, yeah, but your pussy just needs to be broken in. Like a new pair of shoes.

“You’re doing it, baby,” Leon says, ‘cause you are doing it. You’re taking it. Body going rigid with each brutal thrust into your sopping wet hole. Whether you can take it or not isn’t for you to decide anyway. “I’m going to stuff your little pussy full,” he tells you.

“No,” you choke out, scratching at his chest, nails too blunt to do any sort of damage. Thank fuck. His girlfriend would go nuts.

It’s a satisfying victory, he covers your mouth to concentrate all his energy into this creampie, fills you to the brim, seed thick enough to stick to your insides. The original aim of his ‘experiment’ is forgotten, Leon doesn’t care if you cum or cry or pass out on his dick.

“I’m tellin’ her when she comes home.” Your threat is weak. He feared the consequences of yesterday, but you said nothing.

“You’re not telling her, you like me too much,” Leon decides, “I know you do, baby.”

“I don’t like you at all.” Your bottom lip trembles, fists balled up by your sides. The contempt only turns him on.

“No, but I think you know I’m right, don’t you?” No one else wants you, and you know that. Leon knows you know that. He’s the only one that is ever going to fuck you.

“Right about what? You’re a fucking psycho— I could get you locked up, I should get you locked up.”

“You should, so what're you waiting for?” If you did report him, Leon would just kill himself, going to prison sounds like a bore. “I think, sweetheart, that secretly, you really like it when I rape you.”

And your silence proves him right.

That report never comes. Duh. You love his dick. You like being roughed up. You know you’re deserving of it. Jesus Christ, Leon needs to call his shrink. Honestly, being around you is hard. It’s like his guilty conscience has developed a human body, shambling around the apartment in the shape of a malformed ghost girl, reminding him of the shit he’s said and done to you. You’re spinning in his necrosed brain like one of those music box ballerinas.

“Leon, be a doll and do me up,” his girlfriend is facing away from him, the smooth skin of her back and shoulders bared to him.

Leon only hears the ‘do me’ part, kissing the nape of her neck, reaching round to grab at her fat tits. “I love you…”

“I love you too, baby, but what do you think you’re doing?”

Leon makes a motion with his fingers, she sees it in the mirror.

“What is that, sign language?”

“No, I want to finger you.”

“Oh, well, that’s lovely, baby, but it’s not the time for that. I asked you to zip me up, Leon.” He zips her up while wondering how she can be so unaffected by him being so stupid.

“Hey, are you ready to go?” You knock on the door, you keep hiding your face from him today. His girlfriend said it’s ‘cause you have makeup on. Apparently that changes things. It’s sort of cute. Like, are you shy? You should be shy.

“Oh, no one likes cliffhangers, honey,” she says, forcing you to swap out some open-toe sandals for a pair of her heels. “Okay, Leon, I’ve left your dinner in the fridge, yes?”

Yes, mommy. “Yeah, babe.”

“And there’s snacks in the cupboard now, oh, and don’t use the tap water, it tastes strange so I stocked up— Leon, will you stop doing that with your jaw?”

Sorry, mommy. “Sorry, babe.”

“He’s totally fucking gurning,” you inform her in a way that screams playground snitch. He’ll choke you out for that.

“Gurning, what’s that?” His girlfriend asks cluelessly. This bitch is in her early thirties, Leon has no idea why she acts fifty. Whatever, it’s hot, he gets a girl with all the traits of an older lady without the sagging.

“Like, y’know, ‘cause he’s on meds.” What a little shit. Is this you getting back at him? Some petty fucking act of revenge? Getting his medication taken away from him by his health freak girlfriend?

“Medication? I didn’t know about this, Leon.” She looks at him like he’s killed her mother. Or raped her sister. If only she knew.

“Yeah, for my back, my back hurts, babe— Th-That’s why I’m on leave. My back hurts.” What a compelling act. Totally not a dude that’s two minutes away from injecting black tar heroin.

“Who prescribed them, a doctor or a vet?” You cock your head to the side. Fine. You fucking got him.

“Same thing.” Leon shrugs.

She makes him empty the bedside desk of pills. “Leon, good boys don’t do this. We don’t take drugs in this household, let me take them off your hands.”

“They’re- Babe, they’re not drugs, they’re for my back— I hurt my back.” Granted, his back stopped aching a few days back, he’s just taking advantage of the break. Also, he’s not a child.

“Your back, honey, I know it hurts.” She waves him off. “We can fix it, huh? I can book you in for acupuncture or cupping— Oh, what about a chiropractor?”

“Fine,” Leon says, voice cracking, watching in devastation as she takes his pills in a black garbage bag.

“Bye, Leon, see you later, honey.” She blows him a kiss and he catches it. He has to catch it.

“Yeah, bye, Leon!” You wave at him, looking happier than you have in days.

The door opens an hour later and Leon takes his hand out of his pants. You stand in front of him with red eyes and messy makeup. Leon, being the gentleman he is, takes you into his arms and rubs your back to soothe you as he tells you, more than a little cruel, I fucking told you so.

At least now you know that some guys aren’t as nice as Leon. Some men will spit in your face without considering how tight your pussy is, they won’t even think about how good your tits look in that push-up bra. See? That’s what the real world is like.

The bath fills as he bends you over the sofa. You’re prettier from behind, dress hiked up, soaked panties around your ankles. His hand smooths down the front of your stomach to cup your puffy cunt, prodding at your swollen clit. You shaved. Funny. Thought you were going to get a dick that wasn’t his.

Leon kneels, he spreads your ass cheeks to lick into your pussy from behind, tongue lapping up the beads of arousal that dribble down the seam of your cunt like sticky honey. He laps at your hole and you arch your back to push into him, his tongue fucking your pussy so well, sloppy sounds fill his ears.

“Been wanting to do this,” Leon says into your cunt, tongue making its way back up the centrefold of your fat pussy, he blows spit bubbles on your clit and then he nips at it until you cry out, startled by the jolt of pain. His dick kicks in his sweats. You taste good to make up for that face of yours.

You cream in his mouth so sweetly, toes curling against the wooden floor. Leon wipes his mouth on his forearm, then he wraps it around your neck, pulling your body flush to his. In his chest, his heart flutters when you press a delicate kiss to his bicep. He feels it and you can’t unfeel that.

“I’m sorry, Leon,” you get out through shaky moans as he sandwiches his shaft between your chubby pussy lips, bumping the tip into your clit as his hips move back and forth. “I’m sorry… Didn’t know-“

“It’s okay, baby.” He kisses behind your ear. “It’s alright ‘cause you know now, huh?”

“Yeah,” you agree tearfully, tilting your head so it rests on his broad chest, he gives your pout some wet kisses.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, hm, baby?” Leon nudges you with his nose.

Your idea of cleaning up might be far from what Leon’s is. He doesn’t think you were expecting something so extreme. But it’s for thinking you’re worth something— For thinking that anyone else would do as little as touch you. It’s to wash off that pitiful attempt at makeup.

He bends you in half over the tub. Your tits hang low enough to be squashed against the edge painfully as Leon dunks your head into lukewarm water. Holy shit. Tomorrow will be the day he overdoses. Why is he doing this?

A strangled noise passes your lips as he lets up, and you re-emerge, Leon wipes a hand over your face to rid you of the streaky mascara and sticky gloss.

“There we go, sweetheart, nice and clean.” He presses the tip into your leaking cunt, it catches on your hole, and you flail, water spilling over the edge, surface tension broken as it ripples.

Honest to god, Leon hasn’t fucked a pussy tighter than yours, and when he holds you beneath the surface? Man, you might deglove his dick. He works his cock into you, and when he’s balls deep in your sloppy cunt, Leon allows you to lift your head to which you pant and gasp and cough. All the shit a drowning person does when they’re tossed a lifesaver.

Your body sags, hanging limp with only Leon to hold you up as he roughly fucks in and out of your poor hole, heavy balls slapping against your skin.

“I love you, Leon,” you tell him, rubbing at your stinging nose with your fist, pussy tightening when he pinches your throbbing clit.

“Aw, do you, baby? You love me?” Leon laughs, the mean smile on his face hidden in your shoulder, “That’s so cute.” He rocks back and forth, shallow thrusts that are more for him than they are for you, rabbiting his dick into your squelching pussy until his balls pulse and his shaft twitches inside of you. “Real— Real fuckin’ cute,” he grits out as he buries himself to the hilt, shooting his load in your willing little pussy.

“I think so,” you whimper, thighs trembling as the knot in your stomach snaps and you coat his cock in your slick. Hey, his dick isn't a problem then.

Leon thinks about calling his shrink. The bad shit he does won’t fix itself like he wants. “Clean up,” he tells you, looking at the wet ground. The soaked rug. Your face.

“What… Leon, where are you going?” You use your palms to mop the excess water from your face. “Seriously, Leon? I just… I told you that…”

He has things to do - Leon’s going to call his shrink and very promptly throw himself over the balcony when she doesn’t answer his call.

#leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy angst #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon s kennedy x you #leon s kennedy angst #leon s kennedy smut #resident evil x you #resident evil angst #resident evil x reader #resident evil smut

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shojizbae · 13 days

Text

My Rave Babies

Spencer Reid x Reader

rave baby part two

For three weeks, your coworkers had been barraged nonstop about your scandalous habits. "So, listen to any good EDM?" or " Going to any parties?" had been ringing in my ears all week. The team had managed to sneak in puns during a case.

"Well, that sheriff was just raving, man." Derek leaned against the counter and brought a paper cup to his mouth

"Enough," I groan and toss my head back

"C'mon, you can't just tell us you used to go to raves and then not take us," Emily explains

"We are in the dead of the midwest. Will a serial rapist be on the loose, and you're thinking about going to a rave?" I fill up a paper cup with coffee

"Well, do you know of any back home?" JJ offers, sliding effortlessly into the conversation.

"JJ, you have kids," I whine

"Will can watch them for the night." She refutes

"I can't. I'm going back to the murder case before this town is traumatized further." It's a less effective duck-out, but it draws attention away. Hotch gives me a bit of a look as I rejoin a discussion with an exhausted look.

"I hope you didn't stay up all night partying." He teases

"No, I got a full night's rest. I'm ready to take this guy in." Deny. Deny. Deny.

The case came to a close two days later, with the man castrating himself and then slitting his throat. Unfortunately, the connection that all of the victims had was that they frequented the same club. An EDM / Rocker club with very Rave-like vibes. The jokes flew on the plane ride home.

"Alright, alright, fine. I'm going to call my old friend. She'll let me know what's going on in town."

"Really?" Morgan jumps at the statement

"Yeah, don't make me regret this."

It was four days later that a festival would be in town for the weekend. I informed the team that tickets needed to be bought. I also let them know they should be on high alert for roofies and perverts. Skimpy clothes and loud music were catalysts for freaks.

"So you're really knocking the dust off?" Morgan holds an FBI mug up to his lips. He's got an all too-full-of-himself grin on his smug little face.

"Yeah, you're coming too?"

"Yeah, so is Emily."

"And me!" JJ holds each of my shoulders, "I'm so excited, Will hasn't stopped ogling the outfit in my closet. He said he needed to borrow some floss and held it up on the hanger."

"Is anyone else coming?"

"Yeah, Penelope and Spencer," Emily says

"Reid?" I nearly snort my coffee out

"That's my name." He traipses into the kitchen and dumps half the can of sugar into his mug.

"I figured a rave would be a little out of your comfort zone. You're really coming?"

"I-i-It is. But I'm trying some exposure therapy."

"I thought that has been disproven." Emily counters

"Clinically, yes. But some of the results of those who have conquered fear through exposure therapy are too nice to pass up. You know, in recent studies-"

"Yeah, we get it you're going." Derek cuts him off

"So, have you picked out an outfit?"

"It's no Halloween, but I figured I should just wear what I always do."

"What?"

The night came faster than I had expected. One night, I was filling out a report on a serial arsonist; the next, I was tying myself into a bikini and zipping up giant platform boots. I put on a silky kimono to disguise the scandalous outfit. We all taxied to the nearby party meeting to get our tickets and a wristband checked. Emily and JJ looked phenomenal. Penelope was show-stopping, though. A galaxy-printed dress, giant boots, and fishnets, bejeweled with bracelets and a bucket hat.

Derek was primarily shirtless, though he found a neon fishnet shirt and tactical boots over some burning man cargo shorts. Finally, Reid was the last of the group. Surrounded by a thousand people in their skivvies, he stuck out like a sore thumb in gray slacks, a purple pinstripe button-down, and a sweater vest. The most crazy part of his outfit was his mismatched DC and Marvel socks.

"Wow, you look-"

"You look," I motion up and down at him. "You know, for the youngest on the team, you look like you're babysitting." He laughs, but it seems like he's shriveling on himself.

"Don't worry, you look great," I reassure and slide my hand up and down his bicep reassuringly. Even if I'm typically a touchy person that gesture might seem too forward for coworkers so I retract my arm awkwardly.

"Dang, (Y/n), where were you hiding that body?" Emily came and patted me on the ass and then slung her arm over my shoulder.

"Ok, tipsy, why don't we get you some water?" I unfurl her from me

"That sounds great," Reid clears his throat. "My throat is feeling a little dry." Emily wraps herself around me, and JJ slings an arm over Reid's shoulder. Morgan follows behind us, and we find some bottles of water that are way overpriced. Music begins to bump behind us, and I drag the group into the heart of the crowd. Morgan rears off when he finds some girls eyeballing him. Penelope follows Derek to a group of fun.

JJ and Emily stay close by but jump and sway with the thrumming music. Reid looks out of place like a black sheep.

"DOC!" I shout over the loud music

"Yeah!"

"You look stiff!" I jump around and scream at him.

"I'm not much of a dancer. Maybe I should just go home."

"What?" I stop jumping. C'mon, you've just got to feel the music." I take a step closer. Thanks to the giant shoes I wear, I'm much closer to his face than I usually am. I loop my fingers into the belt loops on his hips and take another step closer. "C'mon, man, you've just got to feel the rhythm." with my hands, I make him sway his hips to the beat. With a bit of encouragement, he starts to do so by himself.

"Ok, just jump around. Let yourself feel free." I twist and jump to the ear-splitting music. He raises his arms apprehensively, and I fling mine on top of him to show him it's fine. With my permission, he raises them and starts to flail freely.

"Alright, pretty boy, get into it." Derek teases

"Don't listen to him. You look great." I jump and swing my arms like a toddler. Lost in the moment, I spin around to show off my back and shake my hips. I lose my control and dance like a maniac. I back up onto Reid and sway with him. As I feel eyes on us, Reid jumps away from me.

"Are you two having fun?" JJ drawls

"Have you been drinking?" I shout

"A lot!" She responds

"I'm having so much fun. Why did you stop this?" Emily screams

"The hangover you'll have tomorrow? Yeah, have fun taking a jet ride with your ears trying to compress into your skull. And one time I caught a nasty STI from hooking up with someone in a port-a-potty."

"What ew," Emily fake retches.

"Don't worry, I took antibiotics." The music came thrumming through the speakers as a new DJ started their set. Immediately, I recognized her and started leaping like a manic shrimp. "Oh my god, I love this song!" I twisted around and grabbed each of Reid's wrists.

"C'mon, dance with me!" my mind disappeared in the bass. Nothing else mattered but the feeling of my feet pounding into the dirt and the occasional collision of Spencer's limbs. Slowly, the thrumming of the tempo migrated to my ankles.

"Alright, it has been a long time since I've danced like this. I need a break."

"Yeah, I don't think these are the best dance shoes either." there's sweat on his brow, but he holds up one of his feet to show off the brown loafers.

"Let's find the rest of the group," I whisper scream in his ear. In the proximity, I feel my torso press to his. I nearly roll my ankle and he catches me by my hip. He stands me back up and steadies my hips.

"Ok, let's get you to a cab," We find Derek quickly. He only has one girl who won't let go of his bicep tonight. Emily, JJ, and Penelope cling back to us, and we leave the grounds all slightly limping. We all file into a taxi and people filter out of the car slowly.

"I think I'm going to get out here and just take the metro home." JJ and I are the only two left in the vehicle as Penelope gets out of the car.

"What no, just stay in the car. I'll drive you home."

"No, that's far too much."

"I could drive you home." JJ offers as we turn down the corner of her street."

"No, you live further than her."

"Reid, I'll drive you home," I demand.

"Alright, you two have a good night." JJ slinks out of the cab, and we watch Will open the door, and she leaps into his arms.

'the kids are sleeping.' I read from his lips

"They're going to have a fun night." I snort. Reid shrinks on himself again. "C'mon, you've had to have some sort of fun like this."

"No,"

"No?" The cab takes us to my neighborhood, and we get out. Reid insists on paying the driver. I let him in and opened the front door. He takes the same space on my couch and groans from the pain. I bring two cans of lemon seltzer water and slump down with my legs across his lap on the couch. I crack the cans and hand one to him.

"Oh, thank you," he takes it, and I take a big slurp of mine. I extend a foot up and put my ankle near his face

"Could you unzip me?"

Uh, uh, sure." He holds my ankle and tugs the zipper down the inside of my calf. Once it's down, I use my other foot to push it off with my other foot. I hold up the second foot and he obeys, tugging off himself.

"Thank you, I roll, crack my ankles, and sigh in relief. "Whew, those were killing me." I start to roll down my thigh-high fishnets.

"Uh, would you like to go to the bedroom to get changed?"

"No, I'm fine like this." I pull the second sock off. I readjust the slipper kimono and tug one of my blankets up my shoulders. I twist around to lie on Reid's chest, straddling his leg.

"Uh, what are you,"

"I'm tired, Spencer." I dig into his chest with my own and loop my arms around his neck. I readjust myself even more around him. His tie stabbed me in my temple, and I tugged it off his chest.

"Uh (Y/n), what are you-"

"Calm down," I say, undoing his top buttons for the skin-to-skin contact my body craves. Your chest is warm." I cuddle into it and kiss his collar.

"I had a good night, Spencer," I sink further into his frame and pull the blanket on harder. I feel a hand thread its way into my hair but dreamland takes me away.

"I had a good night too."

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #raver girl

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chiriwritesstuff · 4 months

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The Girl in IT - 4. Gooey

A Boss! Joel Miller x IT Specialist F! Reader AU

The LIST │ Series Masterlist

Chapter Rating: E (18+, MDNI - Minors Do Not Interact!)

Chapter Preview: "Why did you do that?" you blurt out, turning to face him. Joel, seemingly unfazed, keeps his eyes on the road. "Do what?" "I don't need you defending my honor against Tess. She already dislikes me, and now it's all awkward-" "She doesn't hate you-" "...but clearly I have a target on my back now that I'm involved with my boss!" You keep your eyes downcast, attempting to stifle a sob. "You didn't need to cause a scene." Joel turns his head at that, his expression softening as he observes your distress, seemingly at a loss for words. "Sugar-" "It's easy for you, you know? To throw the fact that you're the boss around and have this 'I can do what I want' attitude with whoever you please. But I could still lose my job! I need this job, Joel. I-" "No, Sugar. Shit, I-" He opens his mouth, then closes it, appearing unsure of how to respond to your sudden outburst. Joel looks genuinely troubled, his frown mirroring yours. "I'm disposable, Joel," you continue, refusing to meet his gaze. "You wouldn't understand where I'm coming from."

Chapter Warnings & Tags: No outbreak AU, Boss x Employee Relationship, Sugar Daddy Lite, Daddy Kink, Smut, SO MUCH SMUT, Age Gap, Overstimulation, Squirting, Older Man/Younger woman, So much dirty talk, DD/lg (kinda? they're both into it), Virgin Reader, Loss of Virginity, PIV Sex (finally!!!!), Breeding Kink, No beta we die like men!

Word Count: 6.4K

Chapter Title Inspo/Vibe: 'Gooey' by Glass Animals

"What's up with you and Sugar?"

Sarah casually strolls over to Joel's desk, perching her hip on the edge as she hands him a cup of coffee. "Maria said she saw the two of you at the mall yesterday," peering over him as he nervously takes a sip of his coffee, "... during working hours. She said you guys seemed mighty close and all, I guess she wasn't sick like Tess said?"

Joel chokes mid-sip, coughing out the hot coffee as Sarah smirks at him.

"So it's true, then?"

"I guess I can't hide anything from you, baby girl," Joel replies in between coughs. "Should have known I can't get anything past you."

"Well, I made a wild guess you were into her, being that I heard you singing 'Pour Some Sugar On Me" in the shower the other day.

"It was being played on the radio, can't control what they decide to play, you know?" he stops, taking a deep breath. "... besides, everyone loves Def Leppard," he mumbles under his breath.

Sarah gives him a knowing glance as she makes herself comfortable on the chair in front of him. "Dad, the radio stations don't put music on repeat." She fiddles with the sleeves of her sweater absentmindedly, her face deep in thought. "It wouldn't be a bad thing, you know? You and Sugar. She seems like a very sweet girl. Kind of shy, but I like her."

Joel arches an eyebrow. "Do you now?"

She shrugs. "I mean, she is kind of young, but age is just a number, right? It's not like she's in her 20s. Besides, Ellie is obsessed with her. She's always at her office, picking her brain about her thoughts on 80s music. She's a good influence on her."

Joel nods. "Ellie- I worry about her sometimes. Lord knows that I try to do right by her, adopting her and all that. Sometimes I think she needs-"

"... a feminine touch?"

"Something like that." Joel smiles to himself, his eyes still locked on his iPad as he continues his redline revisions to be sent off to the draftsmen. "I think her being surrounded by Tommy and I makes her too-"

"Feral?" Sarah quips, chuckling. "Rough around the edges? Aggressive? It comes with the territory, I guess, with no mother figure around, you know?" she picks a hangnail. "Tommy said that she nearly castrated a client on the job site the other day for asking her out on a date."

"That jerk was asking for it." Joel retorts, his back stiffening. "You adjusted well enough without a mother."

Sarah sighs. "It doesn't mean it was easy, though. It would have been nice, you know? There's just things that I can't talk to a guy about, as much as you tried to be there for me."

"This thing with Sugar, It's new - but I know what I feel for her."

Sarah nods. "You don't need to give me all the details. I trust you, and if she's someone you want to pursue, I won't be mad about it, if that's what you're thinking. Like I said, she's a nice girl."

"She's... fuck, Sarah, she's amazing. She takes my breath away, every time she smiles at me. Fuck. I feel like a teenager, being around her. I don't know what it is, but I always want to be around her." Joel chuckles, smiling at Sarah. "I'm crazy about her."

"Well, you must be if you're out here buying Teslas like you would coffee."

Joel leans back in his chair, a smirk playing on his lips. "Oh? I wasn't aware that she bought a new car."

Sarah crosses her arms, a skeptical look in her eyes. "Dad, you do realize I handle HR, right? I know what everyone's making. I find it hard to believe she's casually splurging on a Tesla, especially a Model X." She shrugs, giving her father one last look as she heads towards the door. "I know it's tempting, wanting to spoil her. You worked for it, you know? To get where you're at now, but I have a feeling Sugar doesn't care about all of that, just like how Ellie and I don't care about that. Money comes and goes. It's what's inside that chest of yours that matters at the end of the day, ok?"

Joel smiles at Sarah once more as she walks out the door. "I love you too, baby girl."

Joel opens his messenger app, smiling at his earlier conversation with Sarah.

[Hey Sugar, you busy?] I'm about to head into a meeting with Tess, what's up? [Just wanted to see if you wanted to get some lunch?] I can't. Tess is pissed that I was out yesterday. I think this meeting is going to run past lunch. Rain check? [.....] Joel?

"Tess, what are you doing?" Joel demands, walking into Tess' office without knocking.

"Well hello to you, too Joel."

Joel stands at the door, his hands on his hips. "Sugar told me that she's going to be working through lunch with you-"

Tess scoffs, placing both arms on her desk. "Well, if the two of you didn't decide to fuck off work yesterday, maybe she wouldn't have to work past lunch."

"Sugar was sick. I had to do shit back at the house-"

"So you didn't go to the mall together yesterday?"

"It was her birthday, we just so happened to run into each other-"

Tess rolls her eyes at that. "I don't care what the fuck you guys do on your own time, but don't fuck around on my time!" she spits, pointing a finger at Joel. "Don't try to bullshit a bullshitter, Joel. Maria saw you guys. That girl of yours is lucky I didn't ask her for a doctor's note!

Joel pinches his forehead. "Tess-"

She shakes her head. "What are you doing, Joel? Have you lost your fucking mind? We have a business to run, YOUR business! Time doesn't stop just because you decided that you want to act like a fucking teenager, running around like you have no responsibilities! People depend on you to not fuck around!"

Meanwhile, you hear the shouting match between Joel and Tess from your office, your head in your hands as you listen to the both of them bicker about the stunt that you and Joel pulled yesterday. You sigh, knowing that you told Joel that you had a bad feeling about blowing off work.

"Never a dull moment at Miller Construction, huh?" Frank leans casually against your doorway, offering a knowing wink. "Nice ride, by the way. Makes me wonder if I picked the wrong man, huh?"

"Frank, cut it out. You were supposed to be at the showroom ten minutes ago," the gruff voice of the head civil engineer interjects, rolling his eyes as he strides through the hallway, delivering you a brief nod. "Sugar, Happy Belated Birthday. Hope you're feeling better."

"Thanks, Bill," you reply with a hint of meekness.

"Frank! Let's go," he shouts impatiently, already at the front door.

"Well, as much as I'd love to stick around for the theatrics of our esteemed leaders... keep me posted, okay? I want a play-by-play! Nice dress, by the way. Celine?"

"Uh-"

"Frank!"

"I'm COMING! Geez, you'd think after 15 years of marriage, it gets easier, right?" he shrugs. "Well, Sugar, it's been a pleasure." He winces as Tess' shrill voice echoes in the distance. "Go console Joel before he pops a vessel; I think someone might just call the police this time!"

You nod absentmindedly, offering him a small smile. "Sure thing," you reply, the weariness evident in your voice.

It was a lot easier when you worked at Geek Squad. Sure, you got paid almost close to nothing dealing with irate customers for eight hours, answering mundane questions -

Did you try to restart the computer?

Did you make sure that the monitor was plugged in?

Sure, I can wait for your granddaughter to come home to help you…

It was soul-sucking, but it was easy. Easier, compared to dealing with someone like Tess. Tess took no shit - no excuses, no bullshit. She didn’t care if you had a dentist appointment and couldn’t schedule it on the weekend. She didn’t care if you needed a mental health day. Your time was her time, and you found that out the hard way real quick… and now she knew. Knew that you blew off work and knowing Tess, she probably knew that Joel finger fucked you into oblivion in the Neiman Marcus dressing room. You can't help but have respect for her, a woman walking amongst the men in an unforgiving industry. If there was anyone who had balls of steel, it would be Tess.

"Joel, why can't you just wait to fuck her after work like a responsible adult?!" She shouts, the tell-tell sound of something being thrown against the wall echoing through the hall. You flinch, sinking into your seat further as you groan in embarrassment.

"Hey!" you hear the other Miller brother yell from the other end of the hallway, his hurried steps passing through as he makes his way toward the absolute meltdown happening between Joel and Tess. "What the hell is going on? The entire fucking building can hear the both of you! What the fuck?!"

"Tess is being a bully, telling people they have to work through their lunch-"

"Your brother here is throwing a fucking hissy fit accusing me of bullying his little girlfriend - I told you hiring her was a bad fucking idea!"

"YOU LEAVE HER OUT OF THIS!" Joel shouts, the sound of his fist hitting the hollow of the door. "You keep her out of your fucking mouth, Tess!"

"Joel," you hear Tommy, his voice lowered in a shoddy attempt to placate his brother. "Let's just calm the fuck down, okay? you guys are scaring the engineers-"

"OH FUCK THE ENGINEERS, TOMMY," Tess screams, "You tell your brother to stop playing favorites and fucking around with THE HELP!"

"Tess," Tommy stammers, "I know you're upset, but you're being out of line right now, let's just take a moment to calm-"

"Oh fuck off, Tommy! you're here always defending your brother when he's just fine screwing around, fucking us over! why don't you grow a pair-"

"Tess," Joels cuts her off, his voice laced with his building anger. "I know you think that you run the show, but it is still my company, that I run. You don't go and bully everyone just because you think you can. You may call the shots, but you still report to me. Denying an employee lunch is an HR violation! Should I call Sarah in here too? Slap the fucking employee handbook on your desk and clear the air? Your meeting with Sugar can wait until after lunch, do I make myself clear??"

You don't realize you're holding your breath until-

"DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR?"

You hear Tess curse, and you can imagine her face, clear as day, glaring at Joel, the both of them not wanting to back down.

"Crystal."

You hear the slamming of a door, followed by the heavy-footed steps of Joel as he makes his way back to his office.

You sit in a daze, looking off into space, trying to process what just happened. You're only broken off from your thoughts by the unmistakable sound of your messenger, its distinctive ping! jolting you back to the present.

[So, lunch?]

"So, what cravings does my Sugar have today?" Joel murmurs, gently taking your hand as he navigates out of the parking lot.

"Why did you do that?" you blurt out, turning to face him.

Joel, seemingly unfazed, keeps his eyes on the road. "Do what?"

"I don't need you defending my honor against Tess. She already dislikes me, and now it's all awkward-"

"She doesn't hate you-"

"...but clearly I have a target on my back now that I'm involved with my boss!" You keep your eyes downcast, attempting to stifle a sob. "You didn't need to cause a scene."

Joel turns his head at that, his expression softening as he observes your distress, seemingly at a loss for words. "Sugar-"

"It's easy for you, you know? To throw the fact that you're the boss around and have this 'I can do what I want' attitude with whoever you please. But I could still lose my job! I need this job, Joel. I-"

"No, Sugar. Shit, I-" He opens his mouth, then closes it, appearing unsure of how to respond to your sudden outburst. Joel looks genuinely troubled, his frown mirroring yours.

"I'm disposable, Joel," you continue, refusing to meet his gaze. "You wouldn't understand where I'm coming from."

"I wouldn't let her do that, baby."

"Just because you like me doesn't mean I'm immune, Joel."

“You do excellent work, Sugar. If there’s anyone to blame for what happened yesterday, it’s me, alright? Tess’ issue is with me, not you." He heads into town, pulling over to a metered parking spot in front of a few storefronts. He cuts the ignition, staring into the distance as he takes a few deep breaths. "You're wrong, baby," he says finally, turning towards you. He gives you a small smile, "I don't like you."

You feel your expression shift into something resembling pain as Joel hurriedly reaches for your hand, gently taking it into his.

"I love you, Sugar," he breathes, "I've been in love with you, all this time."

"Joel, you don't need to say this just to make me feel better."

Joel shakes his head, unbuckling his seatbelt to lean towards you, placing a chaste kiss on your forehead. "Are you saying I'm a liar?"

A tear rolls down your cheek. "No one has ever-"

"Then let me try to show you just how much I do, baby."

"What if I'm bad at it? Bad at loving you?"

Joel looks deep into your eyes, his gaze tender and unwavering. "There's no such thing as being bad at loving, Sugar. Love is about understanding, patience, and growing together. We'll figure it out, one step at a time."

He wipes away the tear from your cheek with his thumb and offers you a reassuring smile. "I'm not expecting perfection, just you, baby girl. That's all I've ever wanted."

"What if I'm not ready to say it back just yet?"

"I'll take whatever you're willing to give me", he smiles. "Just let me love you, okay?"

Later that day, you finally muster up the courage to make the short journey down the hall for your meeting with Tess. You would be lying if you said you weren't five seconds away from shitting your pants, that's just the effect Tess has on everyone in the office.

"Tess?" you knock on her door, clearing your throat and hoping she doesn't catch the slight tremor in your voice. You attempt to compose yourself, standing a bit taller as you wait for her reply with bated breath.

"Come in!"

You hesitantly shuffle in, feeling like a moron standing before her in your new dress, feeling like she can see right through you. "Look, about earlier-"

Tess glances at you as if you've suddenly sprouted another head. "Why don't you just have a seat, and we can get this over with."

You stand in your spot timidly, shifting on your feet. "Okay," you say, settling into the seat across from her and placing your MacBook on her desk. "Where did you want to start?"

"Let's go over the employee reports."

"Okay, well," you begin, nervously pushing your hair behind your ear as you load up your reports, keeping your eyes locked onto your screen as you feel the weight of Tess' gaze on you. It's unnerving, you think to yourself. "There haven't been any new issues; everyone seems to be on task, and productivity has been steady, if not increasing-"

"Do you want a drink?" Tess interrupts suddenly, the sound of a drawer opening as she pulls out a bottle of whiskey. "It was your birthday yesterday, right? Why don't we take the edge off?"

"Uh," you glance at the time on your computer screen. 4:05. 55 minutes before the end of the day. You eye her warily. "We still have an hour before... we still have an hour before the end of the day," you cautiously mention, a hint of uncertainty in your voice.

Tess pours two glasses of whiskey, sliding one towards you. "A little celebration won't hurt. Besides, it's been a day."

You hesitate for a moment before accepting the glass, the cool surface feeling unfamiliar in your hand. "To what, exactly?"

Tess smirks, raising her glass. "To getting through the day, and to not making a big deal out of things that don't matter. To burying the hatchet. To your birthday," she adds. She leans towards you, her gaze heavy on yours. "Shall we?"

"Sure," you say, not one to shy away from a challenge. "What the hell."

It's not an hour later you find the both of you drunk off your asses.

"You know, I can see it," Tess says, eyeing you as she leans back in her desk chair. "Why Joel is so taken with you? You're quite a woman."

"Oh?"

"It takes one strong woman to be able to see the kind of illicit porn the Miller brothers watch and not bat an eye at it. Tell me, what has our leader been into lately?"

You try to stifle a giggle, attempting to hide a blush. "Well, he usually watches a lot of secretary stuff, but lately-"

"Let me take a wild guess," Tess says as she takes a swig out of the bottle, shot glasses long abandoned. "Sweet little housewife porn?"

"Not quite."

Her eyebrow raises curiously. "Worse than that?"

"Well, there's been an uptick of... breeding porn?" you blush furiously. "it's a lot."

Tess bursts into a fit of laughter, clutching her middle, all sense of professionalism out the window. "I think he's trying to tell you something!"

"What do you mean?" you ask, meeting her giggles. "What is breeding porn anyway?"

Tess stares at you. "Really Sugar? It means he wants to fuck a baby into you!"

You scratch the back of your head, clearly at a loss. "I-"

"The sex must be great," she quips. "I don't think that man has been intimate with anyone for the last ten years." She leans over toward you. "He has to make up for lost time," she whispers, giving you a wink.

"Yeah", you stammer, "It's great."

"Well, when you say it like that, maybe the old man lost his touch."

"Tess, can I level with you? I... I'm a virgin. I'm a 36-year-old virgin. Does that change how you see me?"

"Well, it depends. Is it by choice?"

You shrug, a hiccup escaping from your body. "I'm not entirely sure. Maybe it's a mix of both. Like I'm defective."

"Lay it on me," she looks around your surroundings, making sure that the door is closed. "This is a safe space... most of the time." She gives you a pointed look.

"I guess... I don't know how to put myself out there. My parents, well, my dad- he was strict. One of those "You're not allowed to date until you're 80" kind of dads." You take another sip of whiskey, scrunching your face as it burns down your throat. "I... tried to date in college, but it never went past a first date. There was a lot of ghosting. It gave me a complex, you know? Who wants to date a nobody who looks like me? and it's so fucking pathetic, you know? to be the unwanted one. All of my friends, well, they're married and have kids, and I'm just that token single friend they take pity on because I will always be unlucky in love."

"I think that's a load of bull," Tess scoffs, arms crossed.

"Do you know what I think? You dealt with too many boys and not enough men." She drinks from the bottle once more, reclining further into her seat as she places her ankles on the edge of the desk. "Do you wanna know what I see in front of me? I see a girl who worked her ass off getting her masters, who doesn't depend on mommy and daddy to fund her lifestyle - yes," she raises a finger, interrupting you from replying. "I know who your parents are. You're hyper-independent, and you don't like handouts. Boys don't want a woman who doesn't need them, they don't want a fucking challenge. Do you know who does love a challenge? Men. Men like Joel."

Tess leans in, a sly grin playing on her lips. "Joel, now there's a man who appreciates someone like you. Someone who doesn't need saving, who's got her own game going. Boys might be intimidated, but men, well, they see a partner, not a project."

She takes another swig, the bottle now almost empty. "You don't want to waste your time on those boys playing grown-up. Trust me, been there, done that. Men bring something different to the table. They value independence, they crave a challenge. It's a whole different ball game. Think about it, Sugar. Besides," she laughs to herself, shaking her head. "I've never seen Joel so whipped for pussy in the 20 years that I've known him. You got him eating in the palm of your hand... and the best thing about it? you didn't even have to try. What woman can say that she managed to bag a millionaire without having to put out? Now that's power."

"What's this?" Joel asks suddenly, his eyes narrowing at the two of you as he hovers over the doorway. If he knocked, the two of you were too drunk to notice. "Tess? Care to share why Sugar can barely sit straight?"

Tess throws her hands up in surrender, a faint chuckle out of her lips. "What does it look like? We're just having a little birthday drink. I'd offer you a drink," she picks up the empty whiskey bottle, "but it looks like we beat you to it."

"Joel!" you beam at him, spinning around in your seat, your face flushed from your conversation with Tess. "Just the man we were talking about!"

"Sugar, are you feeling ok?" he gives you a small smile, trying to hide his concern.

"I'm just peachy, thanks for asking!" you sway in your seat, grabbing onto the armrest to steady yourself. "Tess and I were just discussing how you haven't had-"

"Just going over productivity metrics" Tess cuts you off, clearing her throat as she tries to steady herself, wincing. "I offered her a drink to apologize for my behavior earlier. We got a little carried away-" She straightens herself, motioning towards you. "I think you should give her a ride home, make sure she doesn't end up in the next state over because she drunkenly typed in the wrong address in the Tesla."

"Home sounds good," you murmur under your breath, your eyes closed.

Joel lets out an exasperated sigh, moving towards your slouched figure. "Okay Sugar," he whispers, his hands gently placed on your shoulders to steady you. "Do you think you can walk?"

"Maybe?" you hiccup, your body feeling like lead is coursing through your veins as you attempt to meet his concerned eyes. "Are you going to take me home? I don't think I can drive, everything is so fuzzy..."

If you weren't drunk off of your ass, you might have sensed the sudden lift from your seat, Joel carrying you effortlessly with a stern look aimed at Tess. "I appreciate the effort to make amends, Tess, but maybe find a different approach other than getting the employees drunk." He adjusts you so your head rests on his shoulder, preventing any potential dizziness.

She shrugs, a smirk forming at Joel as he quietly tries to settle you. "What can I say? Whiskey cures all."

"Goodnight, Tess," Joel grumbles, adjusting his hold as he carries you towards the parking lot.

Joel carefully situates you in the passenger seat of his truck, securing your seatbelt and making sure your head rests comfortably, sighing as he takes in your inebriated state. He places a chaste kiss on your forehead, offering you a reassuring smile. "I'm going to get your stuff back in the office, just close your eyes, okay?" he whispers, giving you one last glance before closing the door.

"I don't want to head home tonight. Can I crash at your place, Joel?" you murmur, eyelids too heavy to keep open. You swear you hear Joel reply something in return, but the alcohol in your system is finally starting to settle deep within your bones, lulling you into a deep sleep.

You don't remember much after that.

When you finally stir, it's dark. Instead of the familiar hum of Joel's truck, warmth envelops you, an arm securely around your middle. Joel snores softly.

"Joel?" you call out in the dark, your eyes trying to adjust to the lack of light. "Where am I?"

"Hush, baby, go back to sleep. It's still early," he mumbles, tightening the arm around you. You feel him gently press a kiss on your head. "Sleep, my little love, we'll talk in the morning, okay?"

"Okay," you reply, the smoothness of his voice lulling you back to sleep.

"I love you, Joel." you think you say in your sleep. You don't care at this point, there's no sense of hiding it.

You swear you feel the ghost of his smile in response.

The next time you wake, the sunlight is pouring into the depths of Joel's bedroom, casting a hazy light, the air in the room still cold against your bare skin. Your eyes open wider at the realization that you're no longer in your work clothes. You blush at the thought of Joel undressing you, his hungry gaze on your bare body as he redresses you in something comfortable, embarrassed at the fact that you were too drunk to remember. You reluctantly open your eyes, blinking away the haze from a night of heavy drinking, trying to stifle a groan, not wanting to wake Joel.

You managed to lay halfway on top of him this time, your face buried in the crook of his neck. One of his hands is splayed against the expanse of your back, his leg slotted in between your thighs. You swear if you hitched your leg higher you would feel the firmness of his cock, already at half mast beneath the fabric of his boxers. You gaze at it in silent wonder, the realization that he's quite large - larger than the ones you see when you allow yourself to watch porn yourself.

You find yourself grinding against his thigh, the sensation feeling like molten lava coursing through your veins. You don’t realize what you’re doing until the hand on your back starts to move, motioning your body to move back and forth as you continue to rub your clit against the hardness of his leg. "Fuck baby, are you close? You're shaking." he says roughly, pulling you into a kiss.

"Joel, I saw what kind of porn you've been watching lately."

Joel stiffens at that, his hand still. "I'm beginning to think I can't hide shit from anyone," he laughs. "I guess I'm that transparent."

"Are you embarrassed?" you chuckle. "You can tell me, you know. Tess told me it's obvious that you want to fuck a baby-"

Joel groans. "Let's not talk about Tess right now. Besides- I know that you're a virgin, Sugar. I want your first time to be special, do it the right way. Let me help you ease into it-"

"Wasn't that what yesterday was about?" you blush, burying your face into his neck. "What if I'm ready now?"

"... are you sure, Sugar?" he asks hesitantly, his fingers gently caressing your cheek. "Don't want to pressure you into something you're not ready for."

"I don't want anyone else but you, Joel."

"You don't know how much I ache for you," he murmurs against your skin, placing wet open-mouthed kisses on your sternum, his hands slowly creeping up your shirt, his fingers grabbing onto the hem. "Can I, baby?" he asks, meeting your gaze as he kisses your skin. You give him a silent nod, lifting yourself slightly as he gently pulls his shirt off of your body, his eyes roaming on the slopes of your breasts. "Such perfect fucking tits, baby. Are they just for me?" he asks, the tip of his tongue flicking your nipple, his hand grasping the other.

"Yes Joel, just for you," you breathe. His hands drift lower towards your aching cunt. "Put a baby into me, Joel. I want it."

"Fuck," he shouts, his hands grabbing your ass, shifting your body to be at the center of his king-sized bed. "You shouldn't say those things to me, I might just do it," he replies, settling himself in between your thighs. He cants his erection against your cunt, capturing your lips for a bruising kiss. "Can you feel just how much I ache for you?" His hand finds your core once more, his thumb pressing on your clit.

Oh.

Your hands find his, pushing it onto your clit harder, the added pressure making you arch your back, your chest pressing onto his. His mouth finds your breasts once more, his tongue eagerly lapping and sucking at your pebbled nipples. "Such beautiful tits, Sugar. It'll get more beautiful when they get bigger and full of milk for my baby."

He continues to worship your tits for a while, the pleasure that he's pulling from you making you dizzy with want, your pussy clenching onto nothing as he continues to grind against you. "Fuck Joel!" you cry out, your body chasing your orgasm, your chest too sensitive from his ministrations.

"Tell me what you want, baby. What do you need?"

"I need your cock, daddy. I feel so fucking empty-"

Joel gives your breasts one final suck, the pop echoing throughout the vastness of his room. "I have to make you come first, baby. You're not ready for my cock yet." He slides a finger between your folds, his thumb adding more pressure onto your clit. Joel shifts his body down, pressing kisses down your torso as he makes his way to the waistband of your panties, his fingers hooking into the elastic, pulling them down. He hooks his arms under your thighs, pulling you to the edge of his bed, spreading you wider as you present yourself to him.

"Baby," he groans like he's in pain. He parts your slicked folds with his finger, coating it with your wetness. You jump as he flicks your clit, pinching it for good measure. "I'm beginning to think you're aching for me too, Sugar." You moan deeply, your body thrashing between the sheets, your body begging for more.

"Don't fucking tease me, Joel," you pant. "I need you-"

He slaps your pussy harshly. "You'll take what I give you, little girl. Do I need to teach you how to be patient? We skipped dinner last night, you gonna deny Daddy of his meal?"

"No, Daddy. Please-"

"Are you gonna be a good little girl and let Daddy take care of you? Let me taste your sweet pussy?" he adds a second finger against your folds, teasing your entrance as you gasp and throw your head back.

"Yes," you plead. "Yes, yes, yes, take what you want-"

You can hardly breathe as Joel tugs your legs over his shoulders, angling your hips. You swear you feel your heart beating through your ears, your entire body feeling like it's on fire. Joel gives you one last smirk as he lowers his face to your cunt.

You swear you implode the moment his mouth comes in contact with your clit.

His tongue is lapping at your slick, the tip flicking your aching nub, languidly kissing your slit, taking his time. He's devouring you like he's been starved for years, getting hungrier and more desperate as you swear you can feel the bed shake, his dick grinding down on the mattress. He harshly grabs the globes of your ass cheeks, slipping his tongue at your entrance, your entire body flailing on the bed from overstimulation.

He reaches for your hand and places it on his head, your fingers threading through his curls. "Hold on to me, Sugar. Don't be gentle," he says against your pussy, groaning as you pull so hard you swear you might just pull it out of his scalp. You begin to rock your hips against his face, the tip of his nose grazing against your clit, the both of you finding a rhythm as you chase your impending orgasm. You're close. So close.

"Come for me, baby. Fucking soak my face-" Joel begs, taking your clit in his teeth. Tears begin to form at the corner of your eyes, your body trembling and shaking and thrashing as he continues to consume you.

"Joel!" you cry, "It's too much, I can't-" You swear your vision blacks out as you suddenly feel a gush of slick being released out of you, soaking Joel's face and the sheets beneath you. You try to meet his gaze, his pupils blown black, his eyes wide.

"That's a good fucking girl!" he shouts, lapping you up completely, drinking from your pussy. He suddenly rises to his feet, his hands still gripping your thighs, lifting your ass higher as he lines his cock to your entrance.

"Are you sure you want this?" he asks, probing the tip at your entrance. "Once I start I won't be able to stop. Is this something you want? I need to hear you say it."

"I want it, Joel. I want you."

"Do you want me to wear a condom?"

You look at him, shaking your head. "I thought you said you wanted to fuck a baby into me. I'm not on anything and you would be my first-"

Joel wraps your thighs around his waist, leaning towards you as he kisses you, long and deep. "I love you, Sugar... and I know you love me," He inches his tip into your entrance slowly, giving you shallow thrusts. "I'll give you everything-" he groans as he slowly fills you to the hilt, stopping his thrusts as he allows you to adjust to his length.

It's a lot. Too long and too thick and you're gripping onto him, gripping onto him like a vice. You gasp at the intrusion, the pinch so sharp you close your eyes in pain, clutching at Joel, digging your nails harshly against his skin.

"I need you to relax, Sugar," Joel says, his voice strained. "What do you need? I don't want to hurt you."

You shake your head. "Just... talk to me. Distract me." You take a deep breath. "When did you know? Know that you loved me?"

The corner of his mouth twitches, a small smile on his face as he starts to slowly push in and out of you. "Do you remember the day that you first yelled at me? The day when I was working when it was storming out-"

"The day we had a tornado watch?" you pant, taking another deep breath as he continues to thrust into you, slow and deep. "You were an absolute moron, risking your life for some bullshit deadline my dad held over your head-" you gasp, your hips canting towards as you meet him thrust for thrust. "No amount of money is worth risking your life-"

"I couldn't bear seeing you cry, begging me to come down the roof," he groans, grabbing onto your hip as he thrusts deeper into you. "No one besides my family has shown me such care for my well-being, not even Sarah's mom, forcing me to work hell or high water... fuck. You feel so fucking good baby, I don't think I can last-" he starts to thrust into you in earnest, the sound of skin hitting skin echoing throughout the room.

It's obscene.

"You practically jumped onto me the moment I came down, gripping onto me like a life raft, fuck... feeling you in my arms, the tears running down your face-" he's pounding into you now, both of his hands gripping onto your hips harshly as he fucks you into the mattress. "I was fucking gone for you, baby," he pants. "I knew I loved you then. Knew I had to make you mine, no matter what it took... Fuck." Joel closes his eyes, throwing his head back as he fucks into you deeper, so deep you can't think straight, your second orgasm building. His chest is heaving as he opens his eyes once more, his face full of love and adoration.

You never thought you would feel what belonging felt like, what home would feel like.

Seeing him look at you in wonder, like you hung the stars in the sky at night yourself...

You don't realize you're both crying, the tears from Joel's eyes running down his face as he sets a brutal pace, angling your hips higher as he plows into you.

"I want to give you a family, baby. I want you to stay, forever."

"Then don't let me go, Joel. Don't leave me-" you gasp, your face wrought with tears. "I love you, Joel. So much."

"I won't," he breathes, leaning over you as he kisses you furiously, his hips snapping into you. "You're so close, baby, I can feel you gripping me so tight, I'm going to fill you up so good, give you a fucking baby, keep you in this house I built for you, never letting you leave..." he babbles incoherently. "Come with me, baby. Come with me, please-"

Your body tenses up like a coil, the string keeping your sanity together snapping as you shriek, Joel roaring as you both come, his spend pulsing into deep into you, thick and hot and molten.

Joel slumps onto you, completely spent. He keeps his cock in you until he softens and slips out, his finger quickly gathering the spend seeping out of you and pushing it in, keeping it safe. He laughs as he falls onto the mattress next to you, pressing small chaste kisses on your face, taking you into his arms.

"Did you mean it?" he asks softly, his fingers cradling your face. "Did you mean it when you said you loved me?"

You take his hand in yours, threading your fingers through his, offering him a small smile.

"I love you, Joel. So much."

Taglist: @sarcasm-theotherwhitemeat, @gwendibleywrites, @joeldjarin, @brittmb115, @thewiigers,

@auteurdelabre, @quicax3, @casa-boiardi, @amyispxnk, @untamedheart81,

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