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krabjoons · 3 years

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omg professor... what are you doing?!?!?! [pjm]

⮕ summary: park jimin is the hottest, most popular guy at school. the only catch? he also just so happens to be your teacher.

⮕ pairing: park jimin x reader, mentions of jaebum x reader

⮕ genre: smut, university!au, pwp

⮕ word count: 12.8k

⮕ rating: 18+, nsfw

⮕ warnings: hard dom!jimin x bratty-ish sub!y/n, professor!jimin x university student! y/n (he’s 27-28 ish and she’s 21-22), fuckboy!jaebum, pussy eating, fingering, thigh riding, vaginal sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), dirty talk (carries the whole fic tbh), degradation, edging, dumbification, impact play (pussy + ass spanking), manhandling, humiliation, exhibitionism, creampie, teasing, praise, orgasm denial, begging, overstimulation, crying, kissing/making out, jimin’s a meanie but y/n likes it (aka i go ham on the degradation and edging you have been warned), aftercare (like 500 words of it :P)

⮕ a/n: this took too long to come out and has literally been sitting in my drafts since august but here it is! writing this was definitely a rollercoaster because this was my first smut and honestly i felt like it was really bad at times but other times i was like wtf this is so hot,, ANYWAYS, i’m glad that i’m posting it and getting over that fear of imperfection. i hope that you guys enjoy this piece :). i would also like to add that please don’t hook up with your teachers… if you do, that’s on you i take no responsibility for that whatsoever lol. excuse the title i literally have no idea what to change it to but i like it the way it is tbh LMFAOOO OK I’LL STOP RAMBLING NOW BYEEE ILY ALL

University has never been when you’ve expected. When you first graduated high school and came here, you expected your late teenage years to be filled with just as much studying as high school combined with only a few parties here and there. You didn’t expect to make as many friends as you did and certainly did not expect to be known as the girl with the high grades and even higher alcohol tolerance. No longer are you the shy Y/N L/N that walked through the entrance gates on the first day of school; you’ve changed a lot.

It was a surprise to you. With academics taking precedence much of your life, the freedom university provided you with was welcomed - perhaps a little too much. You quickly learned that polar bear shots were great to keep you in a good mood at parties and that eating mangoes before smoking gave you a better high. And, you also learned about sex.

Admittedly, the first time you had a hookup, it was awkward and messy (at least for you… it was a guy, what else were you expecting?) but with more practice, you were able to get the hang of it. You’ve found your tastes and now willingly talk about who catches your eye to your best friends, something you never thought you’d do last year.

Speaking of who catches your eye, as of now it’s Park Jimin. A really hot guy, according to your friends, and according to you, an even better voice. When you first walked into your Applications of Economics class, you nearly spit out your Starbucks drink after you saw the astonishingly handsome man with silky black hair in a dress shirt and tie. Surprisingly formal for a university student, you thought, but you weren’t one to talk, considering your current outfit of business casual.

Only, he wasn’t a student. He was your teacher. You should’ve put the pieces together earlier but you didn’t. Let's just say a Coconut Lime Refresher is good for hangovers, and you needed one desperately (basically, you were drunk as hell the night before and were still in the process of recovering). It certainly didn’t take long before all of campus was talking about the new economics professor who was hotter than hell. Girls (and some guys) immediately tried transferring into his class, one of them being your best friend Lisa, just to get a glimpse of how attractive he was. You remember a couple of girls offering you literal cash to transfer out, but you didn’t.

A good call, thinking about it now. You’ve gotten closer with Mr. Park, although it’s nothing too special yet, the two of you are on good terms and have even hugged before (you still get giddy thinking about it). Y/N from 2 years ago would be screaming her head off at how bold you’ve gotten, but now, you can’t bring yourself to care. Park Jimin is a hot guy, and you’re pretty hot too (if you must admit), so it would only be logical if the two of you could hook up. Unsurprisingly, you’ve lost your shame, nothing but thoughts of your teacher filling your mind in your spare time.

So here you are, another day of university, as monotonous as ever. The only highlight of your day will be the morning, where you have a class with Mr. Park. You've started changing your style a bit recently, opting for more, let’s just leave it at provocative outfits. Walking into the room, you take your usual seat in the front, closest to Mr. Park’s desk.

The class progresses like it normally does, starting with a review of the work from the last class and a discussion about the new material. "I’m going to give you guys this last half hour of class to review the material individually if you want or you can leave early, I don’t mind. I know it's a Friday so there’s gonna be some parties around campus, if you want to prepare yourselves for that then go ahead." Your professor glances around the room, smirking at you when mentioning the parties. You flush and look away, biting your lower lip.

You make the decision to stay in the classroom while the majority of the other students file out of the room. "I'll be available for any questions," Jimin calls out, returning to his desk across from you.

Sticking to your reputation, you get a head start on the assignment and easily work through the homework. Surprisingly, you forget about Jimin for the time being, focused on finishing your assignment so that you have as little work as possible to do after classes. You don’t notice your teacher looking at you, admiring the way you put so much effort into the things you’re passionate about. Hearing a student call his name, he gets up to help him.

Surprisingly, Mr. Park has assigned a disturbingly low amount of homework, probably because of the upcoming weekend and maybe a pop quiz later next week (ugh). You’ve finished your work in a mere twenty minutes and are surprised to find that Jimin is not at his desk when you look up from your laptop. You turn around, looking for him, and see that he’s helping another student. Whipping out your phone, you text your best friend Lisa (who just so conveniently, also thirsts over Jimin the same way you do).

to lisa: hey i finished classwork for mr park and have like 10 minutes of free time now lol

Instantly, she responds as if she wasn’t in class. Then again, she has never been one to pay too much attention to her professors.

from lisa: ayo talk to him

from lisa: also save me from bio i literally cannot

Smiling slightly, you respond to her.

to lisa: i WOULD but he’s helping other students

from lisa: then be like "m- mister park, i- need help please" and use puppy eyes

to lisa: LMFAOO PLEASE he’d be like whats wrong with you since when did you struggle in this class

to lisa: but i mean, anything to hear him talk i guess

from lisa: god i'm so jealous you have him early so you can hear his morning voice it must be hot asf

to lisa: it is omg

from lisa: god what if he moans like that it'd be such a turn on

to lisa: dUDE STOP NO the way this is literally true like if he has a good sip of coffee or a pastry he likes hes gonna go all "mmmm I wish you could try this" pls its so fking hot

to lisa: like SIR I WANNA TRY YOU or you to try me no complaints

from lisa: wtf he finishes his breakfast before my class so i can't even hear it tf I hate it here

to lisa: u have him right after my block bro at leAST you have him

to lisa: what ab the people who don't even have him

from lisa: idk what i'd do honestly. imagine not having a literal sex god teaching you every day i pity those who dont

You’re about to type out a response when a smooth voice sounds out from behind you, "alright guys, you’re good to go. Have a good weekend!" You jump in your seat, not realizing that your teacher was helping the student right behind you for the past five minutes.

As the rest of the class begins to pack up, you pray that he hasn’t seen you talking about your sexual fantasies less than five feet away from him. Mr. Park doesn’t say anything, so you must be in the clear, right? You’re hoping and praying that he didn’t find out, but your heart rate is already rising and you’re getting a sick feeling in your stomach. Your gut must be trying to tell you something.

Well, your gut’s telling you that the universe must not be on your side because as soon as you stand up, he says, "Ms. L/N, can you stay a bit after class? I have a few things I want to discuss with you." Cheeks flushing hot, you squeak out a "yes, sir."

When everyone has left and it’s just the two of you left in the room, Jimin pulls up a seat next to his desk. "Sit," he commands, leaning on his desk. You scramble to your feet and walk over, mind buzzing with thoughts. Oh god, what if he tells the administration department? Then you’d definitely be punished and maybe even kicked out of the school. Maybe you could make up a story? Oh, it’s ANOTHER Park Jimin, haha. Definitely NOT my teacher. Even if you did, they could go the rest of the texts between you and Lisa and you’d be screwed. And not to be petty or anything, but being kicked out would mean that you wouldn’t be able to be in Jimin’s class anymore and wouldn’t be able to see him. Oh, and the bigger problem would be that you’d also be unable to get your degree.

You start internally panicking, heart rate picking up even when your teacher rolls up his sleeves and leans down in front of you. Stop thinking about dirty things FOR ONCE, Y/N, half of you screams, while the other half of you has already started fantasizing about things which shouldn’t be thought about, especially with one of the people in the fantasies less than a couple of feet in front of you. With his hands on his thighs, the ones you’ve thought about riding far too often, he smirks.

"So, I heard you wanna try me?"

You gulp, absolutely mortified that Jimin caught you. Yes, he was attractive, and you would do practically anything to fuck him, but you didn’t expect to be humiliated into admitting it. "Um, no sir! I mean, maybe, but not in the way you think!" you ramble. Shut up, Y/N, part of you screams. You’re only digging yourself into a deeper hole.

"Yeah, sure. Because I definitely didn’t see what you were talking about with your friend. Be honest, Y/N," he says, smirking down at you. "You think about me, don't you? I'm not new to this. I see the way girls like you look at me. I know the way they talk about me when they think I can't hear. I know the way you think. Who would've thought? Little Miss L/N, all prim and proper on the outside, would be so filthy deep down?"

"Sir, I- uh. I-" you stutter out, cheeks burning furiously hot.

"You what? You're not going to try to prove your innocence now, are you? Not when you've gotten this far, hm? Getting to do what you’ve wanted after all this time?" he asks, standing up from his desk, and walking over to you, kneeling in front of you so that you were forced to hold eye contact.

"You know, nobody else has been as daring as you, my dear," he hums softly. "Sending promiscuous texts about their teacher in the very class they're in. Rubbing their thighs together every time their teacher catches their eye." You shift in your seat, Jimin's words sparking the slightest of fires in your core. "Gazing ever so obviously at said teacher’s dick, too. Y/N, you amaze me. So, so brilliant. yet so, so naughty. You thought that nobody else would catch onto you? Unfortunately, you thought wrong."

"I'm s- sorry sir," you whisper out.

"You're just sorry that you got caught, Y/N. You'll keep doing this even after today," Jimin chuckles lowly. "Possibly even more after today," he adds on, taking note of how his words have affected you. Your pupils are dilated and your cheeks are starting to get flushed. "Such a dirty girl. I'm here trying to scold you, and here you are, getting turned on by my words. Is this why you ask so many questions, doll? To hear my voice?"

You bite your lip in a mixture of embarrassment and nervousness, nodding imperceptibly. The logical, studious side of you is thinking, oh my god, is this really happening? Am I going to fuck my teacher? I really shouldn’t be doing this. The relaxed, easygoing side of you (pretty much your horny side) is thinking, finally, it’s happening. I’m going to FINALLY be fucking Park Jimin.

"What else have you imagined about my voice, hm? How I'd whisper into your ear while pounding into you? Hear me moan as your tight cunt clenches around my dick? Tell you how good you're making me feel? Reminding you how much of a slut you are to fuck your teacher in the middle of his classroom, where anyone could walk in?" he continues, seeing you shift in your seat more. "Would you like that?" he asks.

"Y- yes Mr. Park. I- I would," you whisper. You have to consciously clench your thighs together to keep them from spreading at his words.

"Hm, I don't believe you. Try again another time, darling," he sighs, leaning back on his knees, getting ready to stand up. You don't want this, whatever it is, to be over that quickly so you make up your mind. Swallowing your pride and succumbing to the dull throb in your panties, you pout.

"But professor, I really do want you. I want you to make me feel good and I wanna make you feel good. Please," you whine out. "I wanna be thinking about you all the time because you fucked me so well in class. And when my friends talk about wanting to get in your pants, I want to be the only one who already has. Please, Mr. Park. I need you." you breathe out. At this point, the pressure in your core is rising steadily, and only intensifies when you see the way your teacher's eyes are glazed over in lust and eyebrows are furrowed. Your eyes travel down the expanse of his face to his lips, plump and pink. Oh, the number of times you've wished to kiss them, imagined them suckling on your clit. And now that Jimin knows, perhaps it's finally coming true.

"You'd like that, hm? God, you're so dirty," Jimin mutters, inching closer to you, cautiously placing a hand on your knee. Your legs instantly part to make room for him in between and he inches forward. "Does dirty talk really turn you on that much, Y/N? I can smell you through your panties," he remarks.

"Mr. Park, please do something," you whimper. And with that, Jimin pulls you over to his desk and sits you on the edge. You spread your legs and he stands in between them. He leans his head closer to you until he's next to your ear.

"Want me to get you off with my words? You seem to like that already and I haven't even tried, doll. Or perhaps," he pauses, bunching up your skirt so that it pools at your waist. "You want me to touch you?"

You nod eagerly, chest heaving in anticipation. "I want both Mr. Park. I want you," you purr salaciously. And with that, your teacher lets out a low growl and presses his lips onto yours harshly. It’s already bruising, but you just can’t get enough of the way he tastes of caramel and coffee and how ridiculously soft his lips are, so you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him in even closer. He seems a little put off by how eager you are, but once he hears you sigh in enjoyment, he melts into your eager grasp.

His hands start sliding down your waist so that they are resting on your upper thighs, and he rubs comforting circles into them, trailing them closer and closer to your panties. He breaks off from the kiss to look down and smirks back at you before joining his lips to yours with even more fervor and you praise yourself for deciding to wear your lace thong today. You feel his tongue slide against your lips, asking for permission to enter and your mouth immediately complies.

The feeling of his hot breath on your lips and thumbs rubbing against the juncture of your thighs has you feeling needy for more. Jimin swirls the tip of his tongue against yours, the filthy action turning you on even more. You moan into his mouth and thread your fingers through his hair, causing him to let out a low groan.

Finally, after what seems like an eternity, the two of you break apart. Chest heaving up and down, you take note of your teacher's face. His lips are redder and plumper than ever before. His cheeks have the faintest blush on them. His eyes, the ones that crinkle into a happy smile whenever you answer a question correctly in class, are now clouded over with deep lust.

"Get onto all fours. On the desk," Jimin commands, and you immediately comply. Now your ass is facing Jimin and you're very nearly completely exposed to him, save the thong you're wearing.

"God, you're such a slut," Jimin moans out at the sight. "Do you get dressed up like this just so you can get fucked in class? Such a short fucking skirt that I can see whatever you're wearing underneath whenever you bend over, hm? You wanted me to give in to you, doll?" When you nod weakly, he chuckles, "I don't think so."

Arching your back so your ass sticks out even more, you whine, "professor, please fuck me. I'm so fucking horny, please." Jimin cups your pussy from outside your panties and leans over you, "I don't think so, kitten. I'm the one calling the shots here." Your pussy flutters in response and Jimin slaps it lightly, chuckling. The brief stimulation has your cunt clenching around nothing.

He spreads your knees slightly and begins trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses up your thighs to the arch of your back. Feeling his breath so close to your core has you getting wetter by the minute in anticipation. He finally hovers over your back, placing a soft kiss on your shoulder, muttering, "I'm going to wreck you, Y/N", and you feel yourself clench in excitement.

"Then do it," you whisper, and Jimin hooks his fingers around the waistband of your thong and pulls it down, so slow that it's almost painful, exposing your heat to the cool air of the classroom and causing you to shiver in response.

You don't see it, but his eyes widen seeing the strings of your slick connecting your pussy to your panties. He takes a look at your core and his mouth starts watering. You're soaking and clenching around nothing, thighs shaking ever so slightly in anticipation.

He flattens his tongue and licks a flat stripe up your pussy, from your clit to your entrance. He pauses to suck some of your juices from it, but your cunt just keeps leaking them out. He runs his tongues through your folds over and over again until you let out a wanton moan.

Encouraged by your reaction, he hooks his arms around the side of your hips, nuzzling closer into your pussy. He laps at your cunt and purposely avoids your clit, only heightening the pressure in your core.

"Mr. Park," you whine out, pushing your hips back. "Please. More," you pant out. Suddenly, Jimin spanks your right ass cheek, rubbing his hand over the fleshy globe soothingly afterward. You let out a little yelp and turn around to catch his eyes.

"More what?" he spits out, smiling at you evilly. "My little slut's gotta tell me what she wants. How else would I give it to her?" your mind is foggy, pleasure causing you to lose track of everything other than the man behind you. "W- want you," you garble out, "t- to play with my clit too."

"What's the magic word, doll?" Jimin teases, breath fanning over your slit, causing your walls to clench erratically. "Please, Mr. Park," you whine, pushing your cunt closer to his face. He smirks at you, avoiding your advances.

"Good girl," he praises before finally positioning himself just barely in front of your clit. You feel him blow cool air onto your slit, but the temperature of it is magnified even more due to how wet you are. You whine out, expressing your displeasure, and Jimin finally indulges you by taking your throbbing button between his plush lips.

"F- fuck, sir, yes! Right there, please," you squeal, back arching even more. Jimin hums, the vibrations sending waves of pleasure through your body. You can feel yourself growing wetter, your entrance squeezing out more and more of your arousal down to where Jimin's lips are sucking. He momentarily pauses to flatten his tongue out, letting your juices drip onto them and slurping them up eagerly. The obscene noises behind you combined with the low thrum of student life just outside the classroom door mesh together to have you realize where exactly the two of you are doing this.

You glance at the clock, and your eyes widen. "Prof- oh my god, Pr- Professor Park," you moan out, trying to keep your focus. Jimin again hums, making you jolt in pleasure. "I- uh, there’s only ten minutes until the next block of classes start. I need t- to leave in around five." When Jimin releases from you with a pop, you can feel your slick running down your thighs and some dripping onto his desk. You feel a rush of excitement at the thought of everyone walking in during class to see the mess Jimin made of you on his desk and again squeeze around nothing.

"Well then," Jimin hums lazily, "guess you better cum within five minutes if you want to cum at all." He dives back into your heat, tongue skillfully running through your folds. He cycles between kitten licking and delivering harsh sucks to your clit and dipping his tongue into your entrance. You grind against his face in desperation to reach your release, and just when you finally feel it hurtling towards you at an alarming rate, suddenly, Jimin gets up.

He leans over you, trailing a hand up your slick-ridden thigh to cup your bare heat and mutters lowly in your ear, "time’s up." Your heart drops in frustration, and you whine out. Grinding into his palm, you beg for him to touch you once again, knowing nothing but how good he was making you feel just seconds ago. "Mr. P- Park, please. Make me cum," you cry out.

Jimin spanks your pussy, a wet echo sounding through the room. You jolt forward and your cunt leaks out even more of your arousal in response to the combination of pain and pleasure. "I said no," he hisses, "you couldn't cum in time, you don't deserve to cum."

"God, look at you, you're a mess. Bent over and spread out so desperately for me. You taste so sweet, doll. So responsive, too," Jimin murmurs, lazily rubbing your slit. He's, once again, avoiding your clit and driving you insane. Your sensitive nub is now swollen and throbbing with need, slick with your arousal.

"Has anyone touched you as well as I do, Y/N?" he asks. When you shake your head, he slaps your cunt again, another wet sound echoing through the room. "Words, baby girl," he goads, fingers dancing through your folds.

"N- no, sir. they can’t make me feel half as good as you did. I’ve al- I’ve always been thinking about having you touch m- my cunt and making me cum really hard. and I- shit I’m so needy sir, I wanna cum," you garble out, tears pricking the corner of your eyes. You feel Jimin’s hand leave your pussy, exposing your soaked heat to the cool air of the room. Slowly, he pulls your thong up your thighs and the light touches make you clench in desperation and whine out.

He marvels at the sight of you so fucked out in front of him. The way his top student was falling apart at the slightest touches he gave you. And the words you said. God, to have you say such filthy things in comparison to your gentle demeanor, all because of him, it really did something to him.

Jimin finishes clothing you and presses a kiss to the top of your ass and walks across the room to get some tissues to clean up the mess you made. Still perched on the desk, you watch him needily, thighs rubbing together to relieve some of the pressure from being denied your orgasm. "So I really don’t get to cum?" You ask meekly, holding back a sob. "I need to cum, Mr. Park."

He chuckles, "there’s a difference between need and want, doll. You want to cum, you don't need to cum. But what you do need," he returns to you, leaning down so that his face is right in front of yours, "is to get to your next class." Your face, once eagerly lit up in anticipation, has now fallen in disappointment.

Rolling your eyes, you huff out a "fine" and get off his desk, feeling your arousal make your thighs stick together. Your panties are uncomfortably damp and you’re so wet you can even smell yourself. "Can you make me cum later?" you question Jimin, sliding closer to him and playing with his tie, praying that he’ll be the one to make you release instead of having to do it yourself when you get home.

"If you play nice I might. If not, then… we’ll see," he hums, handing you a tissue to clean yourself up while heading to wipe down his desk. "I have a lunch meeting in the second half of the lunch block, so if you really need me, I’ll be here before then."

You grin and nod in excitement. "Cool! so I’ll-" you begin before the first students from the next class start filing in, making you jump. "The door wasn’t locked?" you whisper frantically to him. "We could have been caught, Jimin! Are you crazy?!"

He smirks at you, "didn’t you say you wanted it that way? Where anyone could walk in? I only did what you asked, doll." You’re left speechless as he continues. "Anyways, you should be in your next class pretty soon. I’ll write a note to your professor just in case you’re late. But get going, yeah? I’ll see you in time for our meeting." He hands you a slip of paper and straightens up, tossing the dirty tissues into the trash can in the corner of the room.

"Okay class, we’re going to get started soon. I presume you all did the reading, so just prepare for the discussion we’re going to be having about it when the bell rings," he calls out to the class. Turning to face you, he questions quietly with genuine concern, "you okay? Did I push you too much for our first time?"

Your mind swirls with thoughts. Our first time. The words fill you with giddy excitement. It’s just the two of you that know about this, the dirty things you were doing just minutes ago, very nearly getting caught. Knowing that this won’t be the only moment you guys are doing this, fills you with excitement.

"On the contrary, actually," you tease your teacher with a smile. "It was really nice honestly, but perhaps, you didn’t do enough." You bite your lip at the way Jimin's eyes darken and he looks away. "Get to class, Ms. L/N. The bell will ring any minute," he says lowly, jaw slightly clenched. Your core throbs at the sight and you head towards the door.

"Goodbye, Mr. Park. Thank you!" you call out, catching sight of Lisa, who raises her eyebrows at you teasingly and mouths text me. Blushing, you nod at her before leaving the room to go to your next class.

Being "one of the smartest students on campus" comes with its perks. Like right now, for example. You always (somehow) come to class overprepared, so when your next teacher gives you a day to work on your project (which you've already finished), you head to the back of the room to text Lisa in private.

from lisa: dude wtf was that you were literally talking to Mr. Park outside of ur class time with him

from lisa: omg wait don't tell me you fucked him

from lisa: did you

to lisa: NO I DID NOT OMG I wish tho lmao

to lisa: I was asking him for help on the paper he's assigning us and to proofread it and stuff before I submit it

from lisa: omg I forgot he assigned us that shit

to lisa: dude lmao its due in a week or so you have plenty of time

from lisa: ugh literally he's such a hottie why does he have to be so into teaching

to lisa: sis commitment to something is hot

from lisa: omg ur right wait a sec tho

from lisa: dude

from lisa: omg

from lisa: he definitely has a boner

Knowing that you were likely the cause of it, you shift in your seat cockily, smiling slyly to yourself while looking down.

to lisa: whAT

to lisa: wait how big is it

from lisa: ok I dont think he’s fully hard yet he's like semi hard but barely

from lisa: LMFAO Y/N don't worry I think he’s packing seems kinda thick too

Taking in a deep breath, you look up at the ceiling. You imagine him slowly sinking into you and making you whimper at his size. Him seeing your face and growling, "if you’re really a good girl, you should be able to take it." You cross your legs tightly and rock up and down in a lame attempt to diminish the rising pressure between your thighs and look back down at your phone.

to lisa: pls thats so hot

from lisa: IKR I want him to r a i l me

to lisa: or eat me out… have you sEEN those lips of his wtf

from lisa: on god do not get me started

to lisa: pls i bet he’d be the type to tease you

Oh Lisa, if only you knew the truth behind those words.

from lisa: YES hes lowkey cocky bc he knows like the entire fucking population simps for him

from lisa: he’s def gonna make you beg to cum

to lisa: pls thats hot do not get me riled up in class istg

from lisa: too late i've already started babe ;)

You continue texting Lisa throughout the entirety of your class. Finally, you look at the clock and seeing that there are only a few more minutes till the class ends, you wrap up your conversation with her.

to lisa: hey btw i’m gonna be coming to lunch late… save me a seat at our regular spot?

from lisa: when ur best friend is a teachers pet :(( fiNE I guess I will

to lisa: love u!! xx

from lisa: love you too nerd xoxo

The bell finally rings, signaling the start of the lunch break and you immediately stand up and walk out the door, bidding your teacher goodbye and thanks.

Running into the bathroom, you do a quick check of your appearance. You tug up your skirt a bit higher and tuck in your shirt so that your outfit accentuates your curves. You glance at your face and notice how abnormally large your pupils are in comparison to most days. Jimin has completely ruined you today, just like he said he would. I'm going to wreck you, Y/N. His words echo in your ears as you make your way out to his classroom. Trying to ignore how uncomfortably wet your panties are, you knock on the door to his room.

You hear a smooth voice answer with a, "come in," and take a deep breath before opening the door to see Jimin sitting behind his desk, leaning back in his chair with his arms behind his head. He scans you up and down, eyes taking in every inch of your figure. "Nice outfit alterations," he notes, patting his laps as a hint for you to sit on it. You quickly lock the door and make your way to him, placing one leg on each side of him so that you’re now straddling his thighs. "Is this all for me?" he asks and you tuck your head down, suddenly shy now that all his attention is on you again.

"Mhm, depends on whether you like it or not" you smile timidly, hands reaching out to play with his tie again. He laughs. "Princess, I’m conflicted. You do look very nice, all dolled up for me like this. It’d be a shame if I were to ruin your efforts. But on the other hand," he remarks, "you’ve very nearly crossed the line for indecent exposure. What if another teacher caught you like this? you would get in trouble, hm? And what if it were a student to see you like this? What would they think of you then?" He questions, causing your cheeks to burn at his words.

"They would think I- that I’m a whore. I- and that I dress up like this just so I can pass my classes," you whisper out, biting your lips in a combination of excitement and humiliation. You can feel yourself start to throb again and you start to rut against Jimin’s thighs. He shifts you over so that you are sitting on only one and slightly bounces his leg. The stimulation to your neglected cunt sends a shock running through your body and you squeeze your thighs around his.

"Look at you, so fucking desperate to cum. You think that you aren’t a little whore already, so needy for me this quickly, hm? Do you really think you deserve to cum?" He hums, admiring the way you’re worked up. He pushes up your skirt and slaps your thigh just underneath your ass. You shift away as a reaction, causing your clit to get the stimulation it finally deserved. The way your underwear rubs against your neglected bundle of nerves causes you to let out a groan and drop your head to Jimin's shoulder. He spanks you this time, making you yelp. "I asked you a question, doll."

"Mmhm, yeah," you whine out, "I deserve t- to cum, sir." At this point, your hips are moving on their own accord, shifting back and forth desperately against Jimin's thigh. He grabs your waist tightly, holding you still. "Look at me," he commands, bouncing his thigh. You mewl into his shoulder, the change in motion making you lose focus. He spanks you again, the sound echoing around the room. "Listen to directions, sweetheart. Or else you’ll get punished," he warns.

You lift your head to look at Jimin, faces just inches apart. His eyes scan over your face, lingering on your lips. Slowly, you lean towards him, closing the distance between you two. He gives into your eager kiss and you glide your hands up his firm chest to run your fingers through his hair. He starts bouncing you on his thigh and you groan into his mouth. Breaking apart panting, you place your forehead against Jimin’s, moving your hips back and forth harder to increase the pressure going to your clit.

"God, Y/N, you’re so wet," Jimin pants while looking down at the way your clothed pussy drags over his thigh. "I can feel you soaking through my slacks," he says, shifting you over. just like he said, there is now a wet spot on his thigh from where you just were. Thankfully, it’s barely noticeable, but if you focus enough, you can see it.

"What are you going to do about it, hm? I have classes to teach, meetings to attend. Do you want people to see the mess you made all over me?" He hisses, spanking you to elicit an answer. "N- no, sir. I’m s- sorry," you whisper out, eyes clenched, still rutting against him. You feel your orgasm bubbling up as every second passes.

"I don't think you're sorry, doll. Look at you making a mess all over me through your panties. You're absolutely soaked, so fucking desperate to cum," he tuts, clenching his thigh muscles purposely. You gasp and shove your head into the crook of Jimin's neck, letting out a low groan.

"Mr. Park, I'm so wet because of you. I- god, I wanna cum. please. I'm so close," you mewl into him, legs starting to tighten around his thigh.

You shut your eyes, feeling your impending orgasm build up. Right when you're about to let go, Jimin holds your hips in place tightly, preventing you from moving. Squeaking out, you make an attempt to shift your pussy over his thighs. It's no use because you can feel it start to drift away slowly and you look at him in need. Tears stinging the corners of your eyes, you plead, "S- sir I need you to touch me again. Please."

"Well, since you asked so nicely," Jimin smiles cockily, lifting you onto his desk and spreading your legs after stripping you of your panties. You lean back so that you face the ceiling. Your eyes roll back once you feel him take your clit into his mouth. You moan and arch your back off of the desk, thighs involuntarily clenching around his head.

"God, Mr. Park, yes! O- oh, fuck, please," you blabber out incoherently, your mind hazy and overwhelmed with pleasure. "More," you whimper out without thinking.

Jimin disconnects from your heat to look up at you, murmuring, "Greedy little slut wants it all, huh? Won't even ask nicely for it. Tell me what you want, Y/N. Beg for it, and I might just give it to you."

"God, I- I want it all, professor," you call out, wiggling your hips in search of stimulation that never comes. "Want you to stuff me with your f- fingers and lick my p- pussy and make me cum. Want you to fuck me r- raw with your fat cock from behind and sp- and spank me. Want you to ma- make me cry from cumming so hard just as much as you have from not letting me cum. A- and I want you to leave hi- hickies on my thighs so that if I bend over, p- people are gonna know how much of a cockslut I am, just for you."

"Yeah? Well, I can tell you this," Jimin says, fingers dancing up your thigh closer to your sick-ridden core. "You are a cockslut. So fucking dirty. Most people come to class to learn but it seems that you come here to get off." He inserts a finger into you and your walls immediately clamp down on it. He moves the digit in and out of you smoothly, your arousal allowing the smoothest of motions. "You like that, baby? Finally having something in that tight cunt of yours?" You nod at his question, adding on "want more, sir."

"Not enough? Greedy little bitch. look at you, so needy. What are you gonna do when I have my cock out, hm?" He shoves a second finger into you and starts curling them into your heat. You arch your back to the ceiling and he hovers over you. For a moment, there’s nothing but the squelch of his fingers in your wet pussy and your panting as he stares into your eyes. Jimin's eyebrows are furrowed and he’s biting his lip - he’s focusing on something.

That "something" becomes apparent when, all of a sudden, you nearly sit upright and let out a loud moan of pleasure, "Fuck, Mr. Park! right there." His fingers continue rubbing that special spot inside you repeatedly and your legs start shaking ever so slightly. You look back at him to see a smug smile on his face. "I found it," he chuckles as you writhe underneath him. He leans down to kiss you, lips melding together.

He keeps fingering you, bringing his thumb up to ghost over your clit ever so slightly to provide enough pleasure to bring you close to your orgasm but just not enough to make you cum. You whine against his lips and he breaks the kiss, asking "you want to cum, doll?" to which you weakly nod. "Then fuck yourself on my fingers. Show me how much of a little slut you are for me. How you’re a cocksleeve for me, so wet and needy as soon as I touch you, so ready for me to fuck you." He stills his digits inside of you and you buck your hips on them, rolling your pelvis repeatedly in an attempt to get to your orgasm. You reach down to provide some stimulation to your clit, but he smacks it away.

"Jim- professor, it’s not enough. I- I need more, please." Tears start welling up in your eyes at the thought of not cumming for the third time. Jimin kisses your temple, the gentle action reminding you that he’s not going to do something you can’t handle. "Please, Mr. Park. I wanna cum," you whine out, hips jerking back and forth in a pathetic attempt to chase after your high.

"Show me then, Y/N. how much you want it. A good girl can show me that she wants it bad enough and will make herself come on my fingers alone. She’s not greedy. She doesn’t need to touch herself too. She just needs my fingers to cum. I know you can be a good girl, Y/N," he goads. "Can you show me what the pretty little face of yours looks like when you cum? I bet you’ll look so beautiful, even more than you are right now, all fucked out for me."

"Hhngh, sir I- I’m trying," you pant out. "It’s just not enough. I promise I'm a good girl, I swear. Please let me cum. Oh god, I wanna cum." At this point, you’re nearly crying. You haven't ever been edged like this and are desperate for release.

Jimin sees this and purposefully retracts his hand from your cunt covered in your honeyed juices, glistening in the lights of his classroom. "Professor Park, please," you choke out weakly, chest constricting in disappointment. With a soft smile, he brings his fingers up to his mouth and cleans them off, savoring the flavor of you.

"Be a good girl for the rest of the day and then I’ll let you cum, baby," he hums. "You promise?" you plead, holding onto his arm desperately.

"I promise, Y/N," he kisses you gently and you taste the remnants of yourself on his tongue, the filthy action causing your clit to throb even more. Combined with the way your cunt is still clenched tight in preparation for an orgasm that won’t come soon, you can definitely say that you can't wait for the school day to come to an end.

"Go to lunch, doll. I have a meeting soon. Don’t think of me too much, hm? Gotta keep those straight A’s the way they are," Jimin teases, pulling down your skirt slowly, fingers just grazing your thighs. He grabs your panties. "Oh, and I think I'll keep these for now," he says cheekily, putting them in his pocket. "They didn’t seem to be doing their job when you were riding my thigh."

You watch him in shock, cheeks flushing red hot. "I- okay. uh, I’m going to lunch now, Jimin. Have a good lunch and meeting, I guess?" you say awkwardly, shuffling to the door with him, tugging your skirt down.

"Jimin? We’re on a first-name basis already, Y/N? Don’t let anybody hear you call me that in class, baby," he winks, holding the door open and you nod, preoccupied with the little "situation" your skirt just barely hides. You can feel yourself still leaking down your inner thighs, and pray that nobody’s going to notice when you walk into the dining hall.

"Ugh! Bitch, what took you so long?" Lisa exclaims when you sit down next to her with your lunch. You pout. "I wasn't even gone for that long."

"Ha! That long, my ass. You were gone for more than half of the break! I had to tell Jaebum and his cronies to fuck off on my own! I’m not as intimidating when you’re not around, though, so I don’t think it worked. They’ll probably come over again soon." Lisa rolls her eyes. You snort, "One of them probably likes you, that’s why they keep bothering you."

"They just like any female and will take what they can get," Lisa mutters, "but anyway! How was your meeting with Mr. Park? Did you solve his boner problem?" she wiggles her eyebrows.

You clear your throat. "No, Lisa I did not. I'm obviously above that," you say in a sarcastic tone. "I simply offered to," you tease. Lisa squeals and slaps your arm in response. "But for real though," she says. "Anyone that gets to hook up with mister Park Jimin automatically wins at life," and you hum in agreement.

You scan at the dining hall around you and catch the eye of Jaebum sitting with his friend group. He winks at you and you roll your eyes and stand up, "come on Lisa, let’s go. Those assholes are going to come over any second if we stay here any longer." You drag her to your guys’ next class.

The bell rings and the two of you burst out of the classroom. Thank god that’s over. Only one more class left, you think to yourself, gripping your books tighter to your chest in excitement.

"Jesus fuck, since when were you this eager to get to the last class of the day, Y/N? I thought you loved staying in school for as long as possible," Lisa huffs out. You steer her into the direction of your locker, right across from Jimin’s classroom.

"I'm picking up my books, you dummy. Be grateful I paid for this locker because otherwise, you wouldn’t be able to put your books here." You put in the code and exchange your books while Lisa checks herself in the magnetic mirror attached to the door. you have to be careful when bending over because otherwise you’ll flash the entire school, so you do a weird sit-squat thing. "Geeking out over lockers? You act as if you’re still in high school, Y/N," Lisa teases. "Only during the school day," you wink up at her.

Lisa spots someone through the reflection of the mirror and groans out. "Incoming," she warns, rolling her eyes and turning around. "Wha-" you begin when you get cut off by a smooth voice behind you.

"Damn, L/N. didn’t know you wore skirts this short on campus. Looks good on you," the guy winks. "But it would look even better on my bedroom floor." You hold back a gag and turn to Lisa, raising your eyebrows in exasperation.

"Wow, I see the originality," Lisa says in the most sickeningly sweet voice. "What do you want, Jaebum?" He chuckles and places an arm over your head, leaning over you. "Well, I’m having a party tonight, and it would be amazing if you two little ladies could attend. Be mine and Jackson’s plus one?" he says. You’re about to say no when he leans in closer to you, inches away from your face, "plus you can get the high-quality drinks for free, not the cheap booze we leave out for the randos who show up."

"You’re probably gonna drug them or something. No thanks, dickwad." you huff out after a second’s hesitation, pushing him away, ready to go to your next class. "Nah, baby. I may be a fuckboy but at least I've got morals. Whaddya say? You get me off, I get you off? Maybe make you cum so many times it starts hurting? You look like you haven’t been able to get an orgasm in a while, you’re so uptight, L/N," Jaebum smirks.

"You fuckin-" you start to hiss out but you’re shut off again. This time it’s by someone different. Jimin. "Mr. Lim, I don’t think it’s necessarily appropriate to discuss your sexual endeavors while in an academic setting. I’ll be letting you off with a warning for now." He turns to you, eyes flitting across your DIY skimpy outfit. You feel your cunt leak more of your honeyed juices under his piercing gaze and clamp your thighs together to keep them from dripping down your thighs. "And Ms. L/N, I expected better from you. You’re not typically one to do these things in a school environment. Get to class, the two of you," he says, turning back to his classroom.

"Oh," he adds, "and Y/N. fix your outfit. I would hate to see you get dress coded by a teacher who isn’t as lenient." You, Lisa, and Jaebum stare at his back in shock as he heads inside his classroom.

"Well, uh, that just happened," Lisa states, turning to you. "Ready to go?" you nod numbly, mind swirling with embarrassment and excitement as you tug down your skirt. The two of you walk to the last class of the day while Jaebum calls out, "my place after 11, L/N! I’ll be waiting!", making you wince. Great, now a bunch of people are gonna think you’re hooking up with him.

The last bell of the day finally rings, and you head to your locker after bidding Lisa goodbye. You put your books in your locker and head to the bathroom to fix your clothes. You decide to tease Jimin even more by adjusting your skirt so that it ends just at the bottom of your ass. It’s a terribly risky decision; if you walk too fast, you risk flashing everyone. You’ve tried to wipe the slick off the juncture of your thighs, but it keeps getting replaced with more of your arousal.

You speed walk down the halls and fling open the door to see that Jimin isn’t in his classroom - or so you think. Once you take a few steps into the room, you hear the door shut behind you and lock. Jimin looks at you up and down. "You didn’t fix your outfit, Ms. L/N. Looks like I’ll have to dress code you for indecent exposure then," he hums, heading to his desk to take out a slip of paper.

"Wait Jimin, what? I thought we were- um. You know, going to-" you splutter out, realizing he was actually serious. You can’t have this on your academic record! What would your parents think?

"Going to what? Fuck? Seems like you already have someone else for that, Y/N," he shakes his head, grabbing a pen. You reach forward quickly to stop him, hand, gripping his forearm in desperation.

"No Mr. Park, I- I never told Jaebum yes. I just-" you try to explain, but Jimin cuts you off. "You what?" he asks bitingly, taking you by surprise. "Did you think that you could just come back and hop on my dick after nearly making out with another guy? God, you really are a slut, aren’t you?"

You rub your thighs together, trying to relieve some of the steadily mounting pressure in your core at Jimin’s words. "Look at you, I told you to fix your outfit and you fucking pulled up your skirt. You pulled it up. You don’t listen to me, talk to your friends about how much you want me to rail you, and yet let other guys make plans to hook up with you. And you expect me to let you cum after all of that?" he continues, noticing the effect he has on you. "You really think I should let you cum, Y/N? I'll tell you what I think. I think I should leave you like this, dripping and needy for me. So ready to get fucked by me but not being able to."

Your eyes widen, "no, please professor, no!"

"Should I jack off in front of you and not let you touch me? Maybe then would you learn your lesson? Or maybe I should spank your ass till it’s blue you’re unable to sit. Would that work, hm? What if I just send you back to the dorms? You could ask Jaebum to touch you, even if he can’t make you half the mess I can," he continues, pushing you onto his desk. He grabs your jaw and tilts your head up, forcing you to look at him, humiliated, with tears in your eyes.

"Aw," he pouts sarcastically, "is the baby crying? Because I didn’t let her cum? Well, princess, you knew what you were getting yourself into. Little cocksluts like you don’t deserve to cum so easily."

"P- professor, please. You can punish me. Teach me a lesson. B- but just please let me cum." You whimper out, attempting to cross your legs together to assuage your aching clit, but Jimin stops you by holding your knee with his other hand.

He slowly trails his hands up your bare thigh, admiring the way your soft skin seems to get chills at his touch. He pushes you back onto the desk and you prop yourself up your elbows to look at him. "Are you a cockslut, Y/N?" he asks, unbuckling his belt and unzipping his trousers.

"Y- yes Mr. Park. I- I’m nothing but a hole for you to fuck," you whimper meekly as he pushes up your skirt. He pushes apart your thighs and tugs you to the edge of the desk. "Damn right you are. Nothing but a little whore that I can use to get off. I’m going to fuck you here in school like you’ve never been fucked before. And this dick you’ve been thinking about all this time, it’s going to finally be in you, and I better not hear any complaints," Jimin growls, pumping his length in his hand. "No sir," you whimper out.

"You on the pill?" he asks, to which you reply with a yes. He teases your slit with the pink head of his cock and your entrance flutters at the touch. "But on another note, tell me if you want to stop. I don’t want to push you too much."

You smile, "Jimin, you’re being too kind. I promise I'll tell you. But I did say before perhaps you weren’t doing enough. Mr. Park, I want you to ruin me," you bite your lips, mimicking his words from earlier in the day. He cocks his head in amusement.

"Don’t worry princess, that’s exactly what I’ll be doing." Without warning, he thrusts forward into your heart, barely giving you time to adjust to his size. The girth of his cock stretches open your cunt with painful pleasure. Once he’s sheathed inside you, you can feel him very near your cervix.

You let out a shaky breath but it’s cut off as he continues thrusting in and out of you, wet slaps echoing through the room. "M- Mr. Park-" you moan incoherently.

"Fucking take it, Y/N. You wanted me to ruin you? Well here I am doing it; be fucking grateful." he rolls his hips into yours, hands gripping your sides harshly.

"Th- thank you Mr. Park, s- so much," you nearly sob out, almost crying at the relief of being fucked. You’re so turned on that your walls are clenching around Jimin’s dick so hard that he grips your jaw harshly. Gritting his teeth, he spits, "loosen up, babe. You’re so fuckin’ tight." You whine and try to relax but the stimulation Jimin’s providing has your eyes rolling back instead.

He snakes a hand down to your stomach and under your skirt, circling your throbbing clit. Your pussy flutters at the stimulation and you bite your lip harshly. He changes his angle slightly, causing your thighs to start shaking. His precum and your honeyed juices drip out your sopping cunt, the sound of wet slaps echoing around the room.

"Mmmmh," you moan out softly, back arching slightly. You can feel Jimin hitting your g-spot with impeccable accuracy each time. Doubled with the way his thumb is rubbing circles on your sensitive clit, you feel yourself reaching your orgasm. You try to suppress the giveaway signs of your impending release, knowing that Jimin, in order to "teach you a lesson" of sorts, is likely to take it away from you, so you attempt to just breathe out, "Jimin, fuck, it feels so good."

"Yeah, you like that, baby?" he thrusts into you deeper and harder and you bite your upper lip to stop your moans from slipping out. "Come on Y/N, let me hear those pretty little moans. Let everyone else know how well I'm fucking you, how good I make you feel," Jimin urges.

As soon as he utters those words, you give in, letting high pitched whimpers spill from your lips. Your pussy lets out filthy squelching noises at each of his thrusts, your wetness dripping down your ass and onto the desk. You feel your walls tightening around his cock and try to fight it off, but Jimin can already tell of your impending orgasm. He pulls out of you, leaving your warm and soaked cunt open to the air.

"Fuck," you exclaim in frustration, bringing your hands up to cover your face so Jimin doesn’t see your face, tears starting to spill down your face. It’s frustrating you so much that he won’t let you cum. That he enjoys seeing you whimpering and teary-eyed for him. Your thighs haven’t stopped shaking and Jimin parts them after you close them. He pulls down your arms and smiles evilly.

"Well, what do we have here," he exclaims, "looks like the baby finally did start crying. Come on, Y/N, I thought you had it in you. But look at how you’re spread out on this desk for me, such a fucking mess. I bet you like it, huh? Dirtying up my desk with that cunt of yours."

"I need to cum, Mr. Park," you choke out, trying to gather your thoughts. "I need to cum now." your teacher’s eyes narrow and he grips your thighs harshly. "What did you say to me?" he asks, a tone laced with dangerous amusement.

"You heard me. I-," you hesitate for a moment, but decide you’ve already put yourself through enough teasing today. You muster up your courage before saying, "I want you to make me cum now."

There’s a moment’s silence before you add on shamelessly, "o- or if it’s too much to ask of you, I- I’ll just find someone else to help me do it. Maybe Jaebum? He promised a good time a- and said he would let me cum as many times as I want."

Jimin grabs you by the chin and pulls you up. "You’re such a fucking brat, Y/N." Shifting his hand so it’s gripping your throat, he mutters, "you don’t fucking learn, do you? I thought you were smart, hm? But has the need for sex made you lose your sense? Made you turn into a dumb little bitch, ready to bend over for anyone because you’re so horny? And here I was thinking you were better than that. That you had standards. Perhaps I was wrong, hm? Would you like to tell me?"

You try to look down, away from his piercing glare, but he turns your chin to look back at him. Humiliation courses through your veins as Jimin’s gaze wanders down your body scathingly. "Look at you," he coos sarcastically. "Y/N, baby, you’re such a fucking mess. Pathetic." Suddenly, he lifts you off the desk and bends you over it, cheek pressing the top and ass exposed over the edge to him. You whimper at the feeling of your shirt being stickied from your arousal left on the table from just a few minutes ago. You try moving away from it, but Jimin holds you in place.

"Are you afraid that everyone else is going to see the mess on your shirt, Y/N? Is that why you’re trying to move?" he hovers over you from behind. "Or perhaps," he continues, hot breath tickling over the shell of your ear, "you want to continue being a brat. Make me punish you until you’re begging for me to make it stop."

He spanks you, the sound echoing across the room before you register the sting of his action. You clench involuntarily and let out the slightest of whimpers. "Fucking hell, are you this turned on? Making noises even if I don’t touch your filthy little pussy?" he asks, smacking your behind again. You bite down on your lip to avoid giving him the answer he already knows.

"Count for me. Be good and maybe I’ll finally let you cum." he commands, spanking your right ass cheek again. "O- one!" you groan. He spanks your left side, the stinging sensation causing you to leak more arousal. "Louder, Y/N. Let me hear you," he hisses, hand in your hair, and pulls you up slightly. "T- two," you stammer. another slap echoes across the room. "Three! God Mr. Park, please." At this point, you’re not even sure what you’re begging for; your mind is numb with lust.

"T- twenty! Agh, fuck, please," you squirm under Jimins grasp. The throbbing of your clit has increased tenfold, and you can practically feel the shaking of your thighs through the desk.

Jimin slips his hand between your legs, feeling the soft flesh of your inner thighs slicked with your juices. "You’re fucking dripping, Y/N. Look at you. Did getting punished turn you on this much, doll?" He swipes up your slit, teasing your fluttering hole. You scrunch your eyes in displeasure and try to back up into him, only to be stopped by a harsh smack onto your already throbbing cunt. You yelp and flop back on the desk, cheek pressing the surface.

You feel him rubbing his dick against your folds and sigh in relief. Suddenly, Jimin slams into you from behind with no warning causing you to let out a harsh groan. "Ah, professor!" you exclaim, balling your fists in pleasure at finally being stimulated. His cock seems even bigger from this angle, and your entrance stings delectably at the way he splits you open.

"You feel how tight your pussy is, princess? How tight it is for me? Nobody else makes you feel this needy. Nobody," Jimin mutters in your ear after pulling you up. He pulls your head back by your hair, exposing your neck, which he plants wet kisses on. He reaches down in front of you, tracing an achingly slow path from your stomach to your slit with his fingers. You’re reaching your orgasm at an embarrassingly fast rate due to all of the edging you’re been through, so when Jimin finally brushes over your clit, it’s no surprise that your walls tighten even more instantaneously.

"Ji- ‘m gonna cum," you moan wantonly. "Yeah? Is my little slut finally going to cum?" He hisses out at the way you tighten around him. You nod desperately, gripping his arm rubbing figure eights over your sensitive bud.

"Oh god, Jimin, I feel it coming. Please please please let me cum. I'm being good for you, Mr. Park, please let me cum," you sob out incoherently as Jimin continues railing you from behind. You feel the ridges of his cock brushing your walls and shudder at his ministrations.

"Let go, princess, I got you. Cum for me. Tell me how good I’m making you feel," Jimin snarls, snapping his hips into yours, eager to get you to finally melt in his arms. You feel your orgasm crashing over you and you clamp down on his dick, legs shaking in relief. Jimin's grip on your hair tightens as he feels you pulsing around him, getting impossibly tight. Nevertheless, he continues thrusting into you.

You mewl, trying to shift away from Jimin's hold as his fingers return to your clit, rubbing figure eights into them, "J- too m- much," you whimper out, straining against his arms.

"Yeah?" his smooth voice asks, "but I thought you wanted to cum, princess? Didn't you? I need to cum, Mr. Park. I need to cum now." He mocks you. “Well, that's what I'm doing doll. I'm. Making. You. Cum," he emphasizes each word with a harsh thrust, jolting you forward.

You're being reduced to a mess, tears streaming down your face and slick dripping down your thighs. You can feel your gummy walls tightening more and more on their own accord, without even trying. Without even realizing it, you've changed from trying to move away from Jimin's fingers to grinding down on his dick.

Jimin, however, notices this. "God, you're such a slut, Y/N. Weren't you just asking me to stop?" He raises your left leg onto the desk, allowing him to have more access to your folds. He slaps your clit when you don’t give a response and you yelp, clenching down on his dick. He slaps you a couple more times, and your cunt drips even more, making your thighs sticky with your honeyed juices. You can feel yourself nearing your orgasm once again from his motions.

Suddenly, Jimin pushes you back on his desk and begins hammering into you from behind. "You're going to cum again, aren't you? Filthy little girl, didn't you just cum? Are you really that needy for some dick?" You try to hold back a whimper from his words but it slips from your lips. "You're really a whore, aren't you, baby?"

In response, Jimin spanks you, and you yelp. "Keep doing that," he hisses when you clench down on his dick. "You like being punished, don't you?" You nod meekly in response. He smacks your already reddened ass again and you hiss at the stinging sensation. Paired with the pleasure his cock is giving you, thrusting so deep into you, you can feel yourself practically getting high off the feeling.

Jimin feels you cumming before you realize it yourself. His hips nearly stutter at the way your walls have clenched around his dick. He opts to rut his hips into yours, no longer being able to thrust in and out due to how tight you are. He reaches under your body to rub tight circles on your throbbing clit and you start cumming again, clenching erratically around his dick. "You cumming, Y/N? Be a good girl and let go for me. Get this fat cock all wet," he commands. You ball up your fists and dig your nails into your palms, pleasure coursing through your veins. Riding the course of your high, you wish for nothing more but to be in the moment.

When you come down from your orgasm, Jimin finally pulls his hard dick out of you. You feel his precum and your cum drip down your thighs. Whining, you rub them together to get rid of the feeling but it only serves to make you stickier. Jimin parts your thighs and runs a hand up them to cup your pussy, pausing to feel your cunt still clenching from the aftershocks of your orgasm. He smacks your abused heat, jolting you forwards and causing you to grit your teeth in overstimulation.

He flips you over, spreading your legs open. He leans over you, rubbing the tip of his dick over your swollen and throbbing clit, making you shiver. "Prof- professor, I can’t-" you begin but are interrupted my Jimin quickly shoving into you. Gasping, you clench down onto his dick, eyes rolling back into your head.

"You can, Y/N, and you fucking will," he grunts harshly, snapping his hips into yours. You grasp at his arm after feeling him in you deeper than before. The head of his cock nearly kisses your cervix and his impossibly hard dick stretches your tight cunt open even more, making you wince at the pleasurable pain.

"I- oh god, I really can’t. It feels-" you choke out through your tears. "It feels too- oh!" your head rolls back as Jimin hooks your legs over his shoulders, creating a new angle of penetration. He rubs your clit ever so slightly, the abused bundle of nerves pulsing under his touch. "It feels too what?" he hisses, rolling his hips upward so that his tip just barely grazes your g-spot. Too good, you want to say, but pleasure is clouding your mind and you can’t get the words out.

"That’s it, baby," he hums, "taking my fat cock so well even though you’re so- shit, you’re so fucking tight. Are you gonna cum again, hm? Cream all over my dick and make another mess?" you’re being reduced to a blathering mess, Jimin’s name rolling off the tip of your tongue. "Yeah? Can’t even hold it back a little? Even though I let you cum so many times, you still want more? Greedy little bitch," he spits at you.

When you clench down at his words, he starts pistoning his hips into yours, the sound of his balls slapping against your ass echoing around the room. His cock seems to be splitting you open even more, and you can feel every pulse of his dick on your walls. "Fuck, Y/N. I’m going to cum," he groans.

"I- I’m close too, Mr. Park. It- fuck, it feels really good," you breathe out as Jimin leans down over you. He slows his hips down, opting to roll his hips smoothly and brushing over your g-spot with painful accuracy. Hovering over you, his stare bores into yours, eyes flitting down to your lips, reddened and swollen from you biting them. You whimper and tilt your chin up towards him and he leans his head down to yours.

He lets his lips ghost over yours, warm breath brushing over your lips as his hips grind into yours. "P- please," you beg, and Jimin finally relents and melds his lips to yours, bringing the two of you into a searing kiss, groaning as you near each of your highs. You break the kiss to gasp out, "I’m c- cumming again Mr. Park."

"Yeah?" he breathes surprisedly, "your little pussy’s that sensitive that you’re gonna- fuck, you’re cumming already? So quickly?" he leans down as your orgasm washes over you, this one hitting you slowly and harshly. You arch your back into Jimin’s chest, hands gripping at the collar of his shirt. His thumb continues to gently rub over your clit, causing you to roll your eyes back into your head at the overstimulation. You start shaking underneath him, squirming to get away from the overload of senses, but he holds you in place as you ride your high for what seems to be like an eternity.

"That's a good girl," he soothes as you continue to writhe underneath him. "Look at you, stuffed so full of my cock it’s making you cry. Does that feel good, darling?" you nod, sobbing. When your orgasm starts to fade away, spots of white dotting your vision, he still doesn’t stop thrusting into you.

You bite your lip, and seeing that he’s close, you whisper, "M- Mr. Park, I want you t- to cum too. I- in me." His hips stutter at your words. "Shit, yeah? You’d let me do that?"

You nod, "want you to fill me up w- with your cum and s- stuff me so full of it that it’s gonna be in me for days. And I wanna fe- fuck, I wanna feel you in me even when I’m alone, professor." At your words, Jimin lets out a slightly animalistic growl and leans in. "You’d like that, huh?" he asks. "Me fucking you so well till you can’t think straight? Putting my cum in you so that when you walk out of here, it’s dripping down your pretty little thighs, making you look like the filthy little slut you really are? You think you deserve that?"

"Please, sir, I really want it," you beg, "please." With that, Jimin attaches his lips onto yours again, grinding his hips into yours even deeper as he finally orgasms. He doesn’t stutter his hips as he continues his ministrations, even though he can feel your walls desperately squeezing around him, milking his cock of its seed. You feel the thick ropes of his warm cum painting your inner walls every second. Each time he pulls out slightly, a bit of it leaks out of your cunt, dripping down your ass onto his desk. He continues fucking his cum into you until he’s satisfied with the way you’re shivering under him.

For a moment, all is still, nothing but the sound of the two of your breathing filling the air as you stare into each other’s eyes. "Um-," you begin, and Jimin quickly looks away, brushing his thumb over his plump lips. So that just happened. I fucked my teacher. I fucked Park Jimin.

"Wait here," he mutters, making your heart drop in disappointment. You nod, offering him a weak smile. Seeing this, Jimin reassures you, "don’t worry, I’m not leaving you. I’ll be right back," and cautiously steps out of the room after clothing himself.

You take this moment to recollect what exactly happened. Okay, so you just fucked your teacher. It still hasn’t sunk in yet, and probably won’t till you leave to clean yourself and look at the marks he’s made on your thighs and ass. You can’t help the giddiness you feel, like a kid who got the best candy bar in the world. After all, you got to hook up with your crush - in fact, the entire campus’s crush. The door creaks open and Jimin returns with some paper towels and wipes.

"H- hey," he smiles nervously. For the first time, he’s the one that’s stuttering. "Let me clean you up. It’s the least I could do after putting you through so much today." He spreads your legs gently, cheeks flushed, and begins wiping off the slick and cum between your thighs.

"Jimin, you didn’t do anything bad, calm down. Well, I mean you fucked your student? But other than that you’re fine. I really liked it," you try to explain, stumbling over your words. He looks at you incredulously, but shakes his head, smiling. "I don't want to tell anyone about this," you continue, "and I highly doubt you will, so this can stay as our little secret."

"Well looks like someone got fucked a little too happy. How come you never smile this much when I’m teaching, hm?" Jimin jokes after he finishes cleaning you up, kissing your knee gently. He hands you your thong that he’s kept for half the day and tells you to put it on.

"You’re still going to the party, right? Jaebum’s?" he asks and you shrug. "You should go. Have a fun time there, drinking and all that stuff." He leans into you, whispering into your ear, "and if that rascal wants to get into your pants, he’s going to see your soaked panties covering up that precious little cunt of yours stuffed with all that cum of mine. Maybe then he’ll finally back off," he smirks.

You blush, "maybe, Mr. Park. You know, you’re pettier than I thought you’d be." Standing up, to face him, he pulls you in by the waist till your chests are touching. You wrap your arms around his neck and he leans in, whispering, "well, Y/N, I don’t think you knew too much about me in the first place." Closing the gap between the two of you, you give him a peck on the lips, which quickly turns into a more heated kiss, lips melding together and tongues colliding. When you break apart, a faint blush on the two of your cheeks, Jimin smiles fondly at you and you look away.

"Well," you hum contentedly, "if I don’t know much about you now, I’d at least like to get to know you better in the future."

"One day," he breathes out. "One day."

Your grin, disentangling yourself from his arms. "One day soon, I hope. I’ve got to go now, but I’ll see you next class. Goodbye prof- Jimin. Have a great weekend."

He smiles softly, walking you to the door. "You too, Y/N. If you do end up going to that party, have fun. Stay safe."

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jjheejz · 3 years

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About Internet Water Army in the case

This is an ongoing update about the case from start to development. List of all related posts can be found on this blog's pinned post (link provided at bottom of each post as well).

19 August 2021 update: Added the scale of his success for reference, before bonus below

18 August 2021 update: Added timeline of events, orange title in post, found out the official English term for Immoral Media = Internet Water Army)

Major updates since first draft: Added bonus, added disclaimer, certain info details

Originally posted on 16 August 2021

[The purpose of this post is to provide a perspective as to why the Media is raised/blamed regarding the issue. Especially for international fans, as all the encounters happened on Weibo. Also, those who were on weibo, do read through if you will. So although it's lengthy, do try to read all, at least if not the last two parts].

The Media referred by most, is not the common perception of the Entertainment Industry (celebrities, directors, shows, channels, staff etc), but the dark side of the Entertainment industry: Antis, toxic fans, toxic marketing accounts. They are called Internet Water Army💧.

Toxic Marketing Accounts is one of the things they do, these accounts on Weibo has millions of followers, each of their post likes are in the hundred thousands (buyable) to give credibility to passer-bys. Some use similar names to Official accounts, some use similar logos. Their posts are usually subjective or aims to steer view points of a certain celebrity/movie/show. Before the latest update of this post (18.08.21), I just group them all together and term them as Immoral Media*.

*Below is my original post using my original term because at point of first draft, I did not know the official term (so have changed/added the term from Immoral Media to Internet Water Army in content below but retain the content based off first draft).

If you have chased before celebrities, or just simply passed by an article about certain celebrities, recall how some title that caught your attentions were like. Clickbaits is one of the many things they do. If GZ is your first and you do not have Weibo, then this read(link) is good enough.

Just as the term Immoral Media (Internet Water Army), it’s immoral and unethical, but they exists because they are paid to do so. Who pays them? Entertainment Companies, and maybe other Organisations

Normal Media/Marketing vs Immoral Media/Toxic Marketing/Internet Water Army

When a show or movie comes out, the normal Marketing department will generate outreach and buzz so that people know a show is airing soon/know the show exists etc. Official announcements are not enough, because there isn’t much context (limited content to put up as well) so having some other Marketing accounts do the buzz in a planned period to gain awareness through posts, some articles about the casts, the plot summary, the production details etc is normal. This is Marketing, bigger companies will probably have stronger Marketing departments (aka influence) and can hire more Marketing accounts to generate buzz. Celebrities (aka casts) themselves, are also Marketing point.

Then we have the Internet Water Army/Immoral Media, these are what they mainly do:

Create Fanfiction-rumors: Creating rumors about celebrities to shift audience perception of them. [eg. XX was seen with XX leaving a hotel, XX was drunk on Event Y and did ZZZ to AA, XX is dating BB and has been in a relationship for N years etc]

Honing their brain degrading skills: Come up with titled clickbait headings/ trending topics with negative written contents. For articles, exceptionally out of heading content related to the celebrity. [Refer to Baidu, it’s a winner of these, feel free to Google Translate]

Regressing their common sense and understanding skills: Take everything a celebrity does completely out of context in a negative way and create a topic out of it [eg. XX said AA is a ---, “XX raised his finger, a sign of ---?”, XX pushed BB aggressively on Variety Show Y - A competition variety show, XX is in beef with CC because XX was caught giving CC the eye]

Using their fingers to stir shit and bathe each other in it: Escalate all smallest form of possible tension created by fans/themselves into a huge thing by acting as the fandom's fans/lurk in fandom chat groups, and voicing their disguised opinion to spread tension/exaggerate severity of the issue [eg. XX fans mocked AA - in groupchats: tbh I've never liked AA before, AA just gives off a vibe that I dont like and now this? It just disgusts me even more > Yea, i feel this way too. AA has problems / XX Lurkers expressing views on XX about NN, slowly to NNMHFXW - XX did NNMHGT - I cannot accept NNmHfHw, I'm leaving = multiply by 1000++]

Epitome of a self-deteriorate: Creating something out of nothing and react to that something negatively to gain massive attention/reaction [eg. “XX raised his hand on show Y” - dk what XX fans are thinking, are they literally blind? XX fans are tasteless just like XX hahaha / “XX did community service” - they are acting / “XX breathed” - From the start, i thought XX was NN, but I am so ZZZ that XX breathed. Goodbye fandom, i’m leaving. Those who still want to stay I urge you to rethink your life choices] - if I may add, Xiao Zhan’s fanfiction case as well.

Metaphor - Ability to use bare hands to collect paychecks from the urinal/toilet bowl where their boss/client peed in: Doing all of the above.

Apologies for any term offense, but not apologetic of the term context. This is what they do for a living. Any normal human being who do not like anything, will generally not be interested at anything about it in the first place, so to have some antis/toxic fans knowing certain things and inside jokes/references in their posts questions their goal.

On involved in Internet Water Army/Immoral Media 💧

Fans on weibo during these few months witnessed many of the above on GZ. From rumored girlfriend (spammed with articles) to mean and nasty comments on trending topics, to bouts of insults and fake emotional cryouts by certain fan accounts that GZ's office has to release a number of Lawyer’s letter to them.

Aside from WOH there were also a few other BL adaptation films that were actually released this year but they did not reach exponential success like WOH. BL adaptations are so highly followed by because this is the key to wealth. Literally. Successful BLs like The Untamed and Dao Mu Bi Ji saw the amount of wealth fans are willing to spend on the celebrity as compared to say BG or idols (younger fan groups). This is why when WOH shot up exponentially, Immoral Media start to sweat.

Major anticipated adaptations were supposed to air this year eg. Hao Yi Xing(HYX), Sha Po Lang(SPL) etc but was severely held back due to the stricter change in BL adaptations submitting their scripts for approval regulations (WOH manage to submit earlier before the change). Because of this, most final films were rejected and they have to keep re-editing, by then WOH was already months into reaping tonnes of major brand endorsements, shows/movie casting, variety show appearances etc, something that is seen as too successful in the Immoral Media’s eyes, because they have to create buzz for other celebrities, some are specific celebrity oriented and thus circulate rumors about having endorsement opportunities shifted from celebrity X to GZ (think fanfiction-rumors and shit stirrer) causes tension in celebrity fandoms. - A real event just in July:

The Untamed’s cp fandom is called BJYX which had always been in the Top 1 of Cps for 2 years dropped for awhile to Top 2, over taken by LLD. Both of them had a war and hated each fandom, one fandom is somehow not allowed to like the other fandom even casually after everything broke out because it started out with some BJYX toxics photoshopped GZ on of portraits .

Also another case of which he wore the same costume as WYB did in a previous photoshoot and it became a useless comparison of who wore better, who looks better, degrading the other. (Finger stirring shit).

Now apply all of the above things the Internet Water Army do and we have them earning money, while both fandom reacts and hate each other.

In LLD, our own fans started suspecting each other on who is a spy from BJYX and what not.

The first few months of Internet Water Army saw LLDs mostly mocking them because the average age is 30-40s, they know and see through all of their intentions so nothing was big. They were trumpeting and LLDs didn’t even care, what with all the doing tedious stats was not even important to them.

Over time, as the issues they create became more and more serious LLDs did start to care, reporting Toxic Marketing accounts/toxic fans became a daily task, go vote for GZ at certain polls etc, solo fans, and LLD fans also split apart. Solo fans think cp fans use GZ to furnish their fantasies, and cp fans thinks they are the ones furnishing their dreaming-girls fantasy with (aka my boyfriend).

There was also a period where LLD had a habit of continuously mentioning “we are in the 30-40s so we can see through everything about the media, we are all fans for the first time, we are good at spending money (because of purchase power compared to other fandoms)” it was prevalent for so long it felt odd, ‘chasing celebrities the first time’ in particular sounds more vulnerable as a weakness than a strength / sth to be proud of.

Gradually, more secretive/insider confirmed ‘sweets’ were flying around. Fans advised each other to not circulate, and the mindset of “if you know, you know, dont tell.” (This is a problematic mentality, of which fans will still be curious to know and search for it themselves, but this secretive hook is unhealthy. Over the long term, it becomes hard for existing fans to know a lot of things properly to judge for themselves, especially those who knew and publicly reacted, but blasting those who ask and telling those who know to keep quiet, this did not help some to understand why on certain things, even so for international fans, dont know and dont understand, causing misunderstandings. Yes, certain information should not be shared, so why should you react about it publicly in the first place? - Internet Water Army effect)

The last few months (for example the July fan war) created a tonne of seriousness and anger. A period even broke out with a tonne of ‘insider confirmed sweets’ (which is LLD’s daily dose of happiness), it was hard to tell what was real and what was fake. Trending topics became negative and everyone warned each other not to enter because it will give the trends ‘views’ and trend statistics, in reality entering there is to enter an exhibition by the self-deteriorates, collecting the fandom's traffic data (it's a sure lose for fans each time they enter the topic). Everyone even starts thinking that the trend’s popularity was caused by each other (it's true but it can be bought daily and not caused by fans). There was a raise in the number of fans who were getting emotional because they want to protect but Internet Water Army kept coming and got worse, because fans, tbh, not just GZ fans, every other celebrity’s fans are always fighting with an Army, getting played and plotted in that Army's calendar.

Even so, despite all of these, LLD is actually a fandom Internet Water Army may find the hardest to break because they understand GZ so much, they could tell what are fake news regarding GZ, because among everything above, there are still plenty of logical fans to stop many fans from drifting too far and debunking them. Why? 30-40s are grown up adults.

Why 13.8.21 and the Japan issue is plotted?

First of all, in the political climate of China, there are many political dates in a month that is NO-Entertainment news. Because it’s the honoring of certain important political events. It’s like Remembrance Day, thus the sensitivity is higher. On these days, there are usually no news and even the Internet Water Army zip their pants. This year also marks the 100th year of the Chinese Communist Party(link)

Secondly, he had no work schedule on 13 August 2021. A great full day to focus on any other news (because if he had schedules, everyone will turn their attention to his events, what trumpeting outside is just bird chirps).

Thirdly, when the news broke out, especially about the shrine, the reception was actually quite serious within the fandom so the scale of this might be big but to what extent in reality?

Lastly, 15.8.21 marks the 76th anniversary of the announcement of surrender of Japanese in World War 2(link). Also a day of NO-Entertainment news.

Timeline of events:

13.8.21 - [His rest day, Eve of Chinese Valentine's Day, Japan News broke out] His rest day, no schedules = increased attention about him online. Lowered guard among fans because they are getting ready for tomorrow's Chinese Valentine's sweets = Caught off guard = Huge break out of fans' reactions

14.8.21 - [Chinese Valentine's Day, Eve of the 75th Anniversary of the announcement of Japanese surrender] Keep a wishful and happy demenaor to not destroy the mood, suppressed thoughts about ZZH's Japan news

15.8.21 - [75th Anniversary of the announcement of Japanese surrender, Official announcement of ZZH's boycott and all China social media account ban] NO-Entertainment news day, Solemn day, not allowed to voice anything so the fandom can only wait for tomorrow to start voicing out/debunking but before they can wait out, the boycott and social media ban happened, every official accounts about him was gone overnight, fans had no time to react

17.8.21 - [All official fandom accounts related to ZZH and JunZhe were locked/removed]

Forced to be silent since the day his matter broke out, over the course of official news release with everything taken down in a day because of the Japan correspondence, his accounts banned overnight across the Chinese media and the overnight cancellation, fans could not speak anything about it. Overnight cancellation like this scale happened for the first time in China, leaving no time to react by the fandom, by the time they can, they are silenced.

When the period of events occured within a set of special dates, it’s not coincidence.

Conclusion

Because he was too successful and had many actually honorable past things, and a hard to influence fandom, Internet Water Army view him as a huge threat enough to want to destroy him, because it’s hard to defeat. With a chance they have, they will hold it till the end, bringing up this issue to the Government during this period also shows a sign of how scared they were of him and perhaps his fandom to plot something like this.

Updated on 19 August: Here's a screenshot of assumed calculation on the scale of GZ success for reference while chatting with a fellow fan, assuming GJ also has 27 brands, and there are 1000 brands. Rationale of numbers used: Only big brands can hire big celebrities.

Bonus

Mentioned in the first post, will mention again in case. After the news broke out within 2 days, there was a drop on his weibo followers from 18.9mil to 18.7mil. 200k+ drops, if the politics was such a big national issue, there should at least be a huge drop, even at least a million right? Because weibo is a China-Chinese majority right? Nope, we get a puny 200k drop.

What's funny? The self-deteroriates:

Translation: "Are his fans bought? Why didnt he drop fans? Those people got brainwashed to this point?" / "I've never entered his weibo and today i feel like having a look yet it showed I've followed him. All his fans were bought right? It disgusts me, i immediately unfollowed. This kind of process is worse than WYF..." / "i dropped fans because of him...no...I just reposted 2 posts and I've dropped 4 fans?"

Isn't the tone and regressing brain cells, all too familiar and same?

Added above, will remind again to read this link. It has an even more in-depth knowledge on who are paying them.

So what should we do? Link here

Related posts 🛏️:

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charlies-gillespie · 3 years

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and they were roommates | charlie gillespie

paring: fem!reader x charlie gillespie

summary: reader and charlie are roommates and they have fallen in love with each other

length: short-ish

rating: PG-13

warnings: fluffy content, a dumb little argument, and some nsfw content (no smut but some touching and teasing)

!! NOT MY GIF !!

MASTERLIST

author’s note: if you dont get the title of this imagine, we can’t be friends (jk)

another author’s note: psst i’m working on a two part series and part one may or may not be posted in about an hour

You wake up in the morning to hear Charlie blaring ‘Now or Never’ in the living room. You put on a large hoodie to cover up your tank top and tiny shorts before stalking out into the living room. You rub your eyes as you look at your roommate.

“Are you kidding me?” you ask, seeing that he’s actually playing ‘Now or Never’ on his electric guitar. “It is eight in the morning, Charlie.”

He looks at you and says, “I need to practice. Sorry.”

You walk over to the amp his guitar is plugged into and say, “Just practice without blowing out my eardrums, please. You don’t need an amp at eight in the morning.”

Charlie blinks at you and says, “I’m blessing your ears with my awesome guitar skills at eight in the morning. Appreciate it, Y/N.”

“I’d appreciate it more if you just turned it down a little bit,” you say, “Please?”

He smiles and says, “Only because you said please.”

“Thank you,” you say before walking up to your bedroom. You pull off the hoodie then crawl into bed and get comfortable.

After another hour, you wake up again and yawn. You sit up and see Charlie in your doorway. “Charlie?” you ask. “What are you doing here?” He’s wearing grey sweatpants with no shirt and you are caught a little off guard because he was wearing one of the Sunset Curve shirts he got.

He says, “I, uh, I was going to come wake you up but you looked peaceful so I didn’t want to wake you. I promise I wasn’t standing here and watching you sleep. Anyway, I was about to make some pancakes if you wanna come help.”

Pancakes grab your attention and you say, “I’m down for some pancakes. Let me put on my hoodie.”

Charlie says, “Yeah. Just meet me in the kitchen.” He turns to leave but he runs into the door frame. You laugh and he just walks off.

You put on the hoodie from before then leave your bedroom, closing the door behind you. You walk downstairs and see that Charlie has the pancake mix out on the counter. He’s putting water in a bowl and you walk up to him. You jam your fingers into his side playfully Charlie jumps and spills the water on himself. You gasp and step back.

He looks over at you and says, “That’s it.” Charlie throws the water in the bowl at you to get back at you.

“Charlie!” you whine. “You only got a little bit of water on you and you just soaked me. Now I have to take the hoodie off.”

Your roomie laughs and says, “So take it off, Y/N.”

As you reach down to pull off the hoodie, you say, “You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Gillespie.”

Charlie says, “I would.”

You pull off the hoodie and stare at Charlie. You blink at him and he quickly says, “Because you might get pancake mix on it. We wouldn’t want that, now would we?”

“Maybe you should take off the sweatpants since you got them wet too,” you say, playing at Charlie’s game.

He laughs and says, “You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Y/N?”

A smirk forms on your lips and you say, “Maybe I would.”

Without hesitation, Charlie pulls his sweatpants down. He’s just down to his boxers now. You’re only wearing a tank top and the tiny shorts you wore to bed last night and he’s only wearing boxers. The situation makes your mind wander to different situations that you’ve already thought of.

Charlie refills the bowl and puts it on the counter. You grab the pancake mix and pour that into the bowl filled with water. Charlie mixes as you get a pan ready. Both of you dance around the kitchen after you put on your Spotify playlist with your favorite songs. You use the spoon that Charlie used to sing into. He watches you with a smile on his face.

The two of you finish making the pancakes and you sit on the couch, watching episode 7 of Julie and the Phantoms. You watch the Perfect Harmony scene intently. Your eyes are on Charlie during the entire scene. You got to be there when he filmed that scene with Madison, and now you get to watch it whenever you want. Charlie looks good in the scene. His hair neatly done with the white button-up.

Your roommate notices how much attention your paying to the scene on the TV. Charlie teases, “You can never keep your eyes off me, can you?”

“You wish,” you scoff, getting off the couch. You walk into the kitchen to throw your plate away and wash the bowl and the pan that you used to make the pancakes.

As you hum Perfect Harmony to yourself, you feel someone come up behind you. You ignore it because you know it’s Charlie. He pulls your hair away from your neck and he says, “I can never keep my eyes off you, Y/N.”

Where is this coming from all of a sudden? You have no idea, but you don’t mind it. You’ve always to be this close to Charlie. Maybe not when you just ate pancakes and haven’t brushed your teeth yet, but you’ve wanted to be this close to Charlie for so long.

You feel Charlie’s fingers run down your side and he mumbles, “No matter how hard I try, I can’t keep my eyes off you.”

“What are you going to do about it?” you ask, turning off the water and turning around, facing Charlie. You stare up into his eyes as you’re pressed against the counter.

Charlie leans down a little bit and runs his fingers up over your stomach and your breasts. You shiver a bit as he touches you. “Charlie,” you whisper.

He cups your face in his hands. “God, will you just kiss me already?” you say kind of aggressively.

That’s what Charlie does. His lips crash to yours and hungrily move against yours. Charlie lifts you up so you’re sitting on the counter by the sink, your legs wrapped around his waist. All the tension that’s ever built between the two of you melts away as you kiss the man you’ve loved for a while now.

And little do you know that Charlie’s felt the same way about you since you showed up to set on day one.

You pull back from the kiss and look at Charlie. Both of you breathless from the kiss. You run your fingers through his hair and say, “Now’s a good a time as any to tell you that I’ve loved you for months.”

Charlie smiles and pecks your lips. “I’ve loved you since day one, Y/N.”

A breathy laugh escapes your lips and you ask, “What happens now?”

“How about I take you on a proper date?” Charlie asks.

You smile and nod. “I like the sound of that,” you tell him.

Then he brings his lips to yours again, but carrying you to the couch to continue the little makeout session between you two. Now that you have kissed him, you don’t know how you’ll ever stop.

#charlie gillespie imagine #charlie gillespie imagines #charlie gillespie x oc #charlie gillespie x reader #charlie gillespie x y/n #julie and the phantoms imagines #jatp imagines #jatp imagine #fluff imagine #fluff imagines #imagines #imagine #fluff #fluffy

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ilysmxiao · 3 years

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your title is gone now, childe. | childe x reader

ok this is rlly shitty bc ive nvr written for childe before. the reason why i did was bc there was a yt vid (which the link is here) and a lot of ppl were writing ab it,, so i decided to join in on it and my friend rlly liked it lol. so im posting this here . this is super shitty tho, cus i rushed it. childe is probably occ so b warned. anyways i might start writing genshin fics, so yea. pls pls pls check the warnings bc this is triggering,, gn prns used !! i wrote this listening to i bet on losing dogs on repeat lmao summary : the love of your life remains as your enemy, even as you both grow closer and share memories you would never share with another person. although you truly loved him, he had what you didn’t. in our lives, we do what we can to achieve what we want, even if it ruins what we already had. we must pay the price if we sought to get what we wish. warnings : character death, gore/blood, knife stuff, possible manipulation?? jus overall sad shit. please dont read this if ur triggered by those things !!

at first, it had felt like a game - a childish one, in which both had fought for the title they held so dear. a number was just so in many eyes, but in their own, it held much more meaning. to be a harbringer, you must prove your strength. to achieve such title, it wasn't considered dirty to cheat, as it all was just part of the game. as time went on, though, it all had lost it's meaning, though one continued to fight - whether that was to prove he earned his title, and did not want to lose the superiority that it granted him, or for other selfish reasonings that even his inner thoughts refused to accept. due to his own lack of true understanding of the powers others held to make himself seem all the greater, childe went into the war blindly; yet, at the same time, too aware, so much so that his concentration on his weak spots created a new one entirely that was left open. it was not paranoia that put him in this spot, but his own selfish reasons he had yet to entirely understand. a cough escaped the males lips, blood dripping down from the corner of his mouth. it was then, did he realize he underestimated his lovers strength, their willpower, and the lack of true love they held for them. even with a knife against their neck, they would not back down, and it was far too late to realize such. whether [y/n] truly loved him or not, whether they used him for the title that granted them so much power in liyue, he could not tell if what angered him was the lies he had been given or the very fact he so gradually fell straight into them. in the end, all that mattered was who won, but he was unsure if the battle he sought was one he truly wished for. although he was a merciless harbringer, one with no care for the likes of someone like [y/n], he still had a right to love. not only so, but at the end of the day, [y/n] promised him that if all else corroded around the two, they would always be there. childe refused to listen to the soft spoken echoes of the loving words [y/n] used to tell him. he refused to watch the sweet memories of the two playing with teucer, bringing back the toys [y/n] taught him how to make for the pure fact that the poor kid would not find out the truth - or when they would lay in bed together, speaking of the many stories they had experienced in their lifetimes that made them who they were now. but when all is said and done, what all of that was true? did any of it mean anything, if the ones people truly loved hurt them in a way that was unforgivable? when they took away the one thing that meant so much to them? when all is taken, what do they become; what happens then? "oh, oh, my little baby," his lovers lips cooed, their hand softly grazing the others chin. "what have you become?" a soldier that blindly ran into war, fighting against a force he could never put his finger on. the title of a harbringer was an important one, though, how important it was to another was never going to be the same as the other. childe lacked to realize such, stuck in a bubble of his own selfishness and his love for the other - he never cared to realize how much it might have meant to the other. he never sought to realize the power that being even related to one it gave them, or the trip that it would put them on. childes eyes gazed up at his lover, soon shooting away to the empty space beside them. upon looking into those blue eyes of his, one could see the color began to dull and the ambitions he once held began to fade. "i should have been more cautious of you, i would have never expected you to be the one to steal this from me." although he said it in a tone that could show the way he laughed at his own faults, [y/n] knew very well that he had officially been stripped of what power he had held. "you underestimate me, childe. did the acts of other teach you nothing? even the ones you love betray you, a war can not have two winners." a small, hoarse chuckle left his lips; a burning sensation growing in his abdomen. the blood continued to poor out of his side, in which, caught his attention - his eyes glanced at the wound at his side, then back at his lover. he knew his time was up, as the thoughts of his loved ones and the risks he had managed to pull through with scattered his mind - was it worth it, leaving his loved ones behind, his younger brother who had meant as much to him as he did to teucer, in the end? "i hope that..," [y/n] paused for a moment, a small sigh leaving their lips. "in the next life, we meet again, and that you are sure not to let your guard down." the gaze that casted upon childes body soon wavered, turning into almost a sad one, perhaps even a disappointed one - in that moment, when their gaze met each others, they both realized what this both costed them both. it was clear that [y/n] still loved him, and always have loved him, and that was the breaking point for the both of them. one refused to show it, the other was uncaring of what he had let the other see. what is left after life is what truly matters, and although you may not like how it ended, at least something stuck with you until the end. right? "i-i'd like to believe that, [y/n]," childe muttered shakily, his brows very slightly furrowing. "you truly can not trust those closest to you." although the males lover already knew what they had done, what it had costed them - the one person he had chosen to love, the last words to leave childes lips was what had made him fully understand what he had done and the pain was one he knew that he never truly would be able to get away from. "well, we will see, won't we?" there was a pause, silence soon flooding the air. childe knew his time was coming, he accepted it, and it nearly mortified him to know things had to end the way it was going to. "y-yeah, we will.," few words left childes lips, and another blade plunged into his stomach. another groan left his lips, his face coiling slightly in pain. if you were to look hard enough, you could almost see the tears that soon began to prick the males eyes. "i love you, ajax." soon, [y/n] wrapped their body against their dying lover, and childe attempted to do the same. "i-i.., love.. you, too." those were the final words that childe spoke, his body soon going limp in his lovers arms. the words he spoke still lingered, echoing in the bristling sounds of leaves swaying in the wind - nothing more, nothing less. to become a harbinger, there were no rules - you just had to prove you were worthy of such a title, no matter what it costed, no matter how you cheated the rest. life does not come with special privilege's, no one will let you surpass them willingly, you have to fool them into believing you cant, and only then will you be able to reach what you sought for.

#genshin #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #childe x reader #ajax x reader #childe #tartaglia #tartaglia x reader #childe angst #pls b warned reading this #ANGST #genshin angst yummy

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buckyskorpion · 4 years

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11 hours - part four

Pairing: Biker!Bucky x Reader

Summary: bucky is the mystery you can’t wait to solve. if you can get out of his bed long enough, that is. a biker au.

Warnings: gang-typical violence, sex scenes, alcohol mentions, probably more to come so stay tuned

A/N: super fun chapter, we got some more secret things revealed and some fluff and emosh AND some smut AAAANNNNDDD some drama so really, what more could ya want. thank you so much for reading! i hope you enjoy. i wont be taking tags for this so please dont ask.

title taken from 11 hours by wet | playlist

part one | part two | part three

When Bucky invites you to another party, you don’t pretend you’re not apprehensive about it. The last one didn’t go badly, per se, but it certainly led to some less-than-favourable events which you’d rather not repeat. Bucky pouts, though, gives you big blue puppy eyes and kisses down your neck and chest and across your stomach until his head’s between your legs and you’re saying yes yes yes without any awareness to what you’re agreeing to.

It’s not at Natasha’s house this time, and it’s nothing like that last party. Bucky takes you to a basement bar in Brooklyn, holding your hand as you descend the stairs behind him into moody lighting and deafening levels of classic rock. Something’s different about this night - you can tell in the stiff lines of Bucky’s shoulders under his leather jacket, the tight grip he keeps as he tugs you into his side, the way everyone seems to falter for a beat and stare as Bucky enters the room. There are a lot of scary looking people in here, you realise, and all their eyes are on you.

It’s a relief to see Natasha’s red head weaving through muscles and leather towards you, and that really says something.

To your surprise, she loops her arm in yours just like at the last party and tugs you from Bucky’s side. You hesitate, gripping Bucky’s hand tighter and looking up at him for some kind of nonverbal explanation. He releases your fingers, grazing his hand from yours in a slow slide, and just stares back at you. Sorry, he mouths, and then you lose his head in the crowd of equally tall, muscular men as Natasha drags you further into the bar.

“Let’s get some drinks,” she says, pushing aside two men twice her size to stand at the bar and tap her violet nails on the countertop. You are, as per usual around this woman, lost for words.

“Is Bucky-?” You don’t even know what you want to ask. You’re quickly realising this isn’t a party just to have fun with friends. This is something outside your world, something you don’t understand, and the way Natasha looks at you all shadowed and shuttered confirms it.

“He’ll be back,” is all she says, and nudges a vodka shot towards you. She doesn’t pay, you notice, just taps the glass on the counter and clinks it with yours before throwing it back. You do the same, hissing at the burn, and watch as she orders two more. It’s very Russian, you think, and file that away for later. You down your second shot without a flinch this time.

“Why am I here?” you ask Natasha, scanning the bar before you as if the answer will arise from the crowd.

“You want to be in Bucky’s life?” Natasha raises her eyebrows at you, gestures to the bar with a flick of her wrist and says, “This is a part of it.”

You hum in way of answer, letting that sit with the burning vodka-warmth in your chest starting to slowly drip down, down, down to your toes. This is what you chose - shady rooms with shady men and more questions than answers. A tormenting nightmare for someone as paranoid and curious as you, is probably what your dad would say if he was here but he’s not, so you ignore that little voice and try to find Bucky in the crowd.

Before you can, Sam comes barrelling over to the two of you with his arms held wide. Natasha shies away from him but he sweeps her into a hug anyway, her unimpressed scowl peaking over the top of a muscular arm and making you giggle despite yourself. Sam ruffles her hair and Natasha genuinely looks like she’s about to murder him - you cover your mouth with your hand, far too amused at the interaction for your own safety.

“Welcome!” Sam yells to you, also pulling you into a crushing hug. He moves away, leaving a hand clapped on your shoulder, and asks, “Having fun?”

“We just arrived,” you say, “But the shots are doing wonders for me.”

“Good, have more!” Sam says, and to your absolute horror, reaches over the bar and grabs the bottle of vodka to sloppily pour in your empty shot glass. He tops Natasha up too, and you must look as scandalised as you feel because she starts laughing and nudges Sam, who throws you a charming grin. “Relax! I own the place.”

“Oh,” you say, more than relieved. That didn’t come up on your search, you think, and try to squash that thought down as quickly as it comes. You’re not investigating them anymore, there’s no need to file information away on them like it’s an open case. Smiling, you say, “Well, in that case,” and down the shot Sam and just poured you. You’re on a one-way ticket to tipsy town and you don’t plan on hopping off anytime soon.

Sam leads you to a booth where Steve and one of the regulars from your time watching his tattoo shop sit. He’s got dirty blonde hair and a plaster on his forehead, waving his hands around as he tells a story which makes Steve belly-laugh. You slide in the end after Natasha, the seat opposite you open for whenever Bucky comes back. You wish he’d hurry up, ignoring their conversation in favour of searching the crowd for his dumb head. Out of your depth didn’t even begin to cover what you felt sitting here with Bucky’s friends in Sam’s bar with a bunch of bikers milling around, watching you all like hawks.

“New girl,” the guy you don’t know says, pointing the straw he’d been fiddling with at you. Natasha smacks him upside the head and he barely flinches, like it happens all the time. He says, “Verse me in darts.”

The entire table groans, and the guy throws his hands in the air and scowls at everyone as he cries, “What? None of you lot will play with me anymore.”

“That’s because you’re a master archer, you dickhead,” Sam says, throwing a balled up napkin at the guy’s head. He doesn’t bother dodging it, letting it hit him square on the nose as he turns to you and waggles his eyebrows.

“Whaddya say? No better bonding activity, I reckon,” he says. You dart looks around the table, catching Steve giving you a cut-throat motion and Natasha shaking her head with an eyeroll.

“I’ll start with your name first,” you say, “Then we can move onto darts.”

He introduces himself as Clint, reaching across the table and knocking over Steve’s glass in the process to shake your hand. Everyone devolves into complaints and arguments about Clint ‘taking advantage’ of new people and feeding his ego with ‘easy wins.’ Nonetheless, your small group vacates the booth and moves to the dart board near the pool tables at the back of the bar. The group already there stop playing mid-game and move off as you approach, which is weird and keeps happening so you think it might be something you’ll have to find the guts to ask Bucky about later. Right now, though, Clint is pushing darts into your hand with a smirk and lining up to go first, despite Steve’s exasperated yell of ladies first!

Clint lands a bullseye with his first dart and does a little victory dance on the spot. His friends groan, clearly having seen this too many times. Three bullseye’s later, he’s moving off the mark and opening it up to you with a low, theatrical bow. You curtsy and take his spot, earning a laugh out of Sam and Steve.

“Archery, huh?” you question as you line up your shot, tongue poking out slightly as you concentrate.

“Natasha calls me her very own Robin Hood,” Clint says, and you’re not facing him but you know Natasha throws something at him if his yelp of pain is anything to go by. Wheezing slightly, Clint adds, “Don’t feel bad when you lose.”

“Hmm,” you say, smirking at the dart board. But before you can throw, you catch movement out of the corner of your eye - close cropped hair and a familiar leather jacket weaving it’s way towards you. You turn to Bucky, leaning into him as he slides a hand up your back, over your shoulders to rest on the nape of your neck and tangle in your hair. You hate the way you melt into his side, because everyone’s watching and Natasha is smirking and you should be embarrassed, but. But but but. You missed him, just a bit, and you feel him relax with you in his arms like maybe he missed you a bit, too.

“How did Barton con you into darts, huh?” Bucky asks, looking down to you and the darts still clutched in your hand. You shrug as much as you can under his arm and grin, maybe a bit looser with the shots, but that’s nobody’s business. Bucky is laughing slightly at you but you can’t bring yourself to care when he uses his grip on your neck to spin you around, hands moving to rest on your hips and position you on the mark.

“Not fair! Interference!” Clint calls out, and you feel Bucky’s chest rumble with a laugh from where he’s pressed up behind you. Bucky is supposed to be helping but all you feel is distracted, hazy focus and burning heat starting from your toes and working up to pool in your stomach.

“Oh now you care about fairness,” Sam says, and the group behind you devolves into a loud argument with plenty of name calling.

You’re not paying attention to them, though, as you bring your arm up to aim and Bucky grips your elbow, fixing your form. His breath is hot against your ear as he ducks down, smiling into your skin, and you feel yourself shiver against him. Bucky says low in your ear, “Don’t close your eyes.”

“Thanks for the advice,” you say flatly, and finally shrug him off. He steps back with a laugh, dragging his hands from your hips slowly so you can still feel his fingers long after they’re gone. You take a steady breath and narrow your eyes at the board. You throw, and in a blink your dart is buried in it’s red centre. The argument behind you comes to an abrupt stop.

“Fluke!” Clint sputters in to the silence, pointing wildly at the board as you turn to him. You raise your eyebrows and he flails his arm, nearly smacking Steve in the face. “Barnes helped you!”

“Hardly,” Bucky snorts. You grin at Clint, all teeth, and Clint’s expression drops almost comically as you wink at him.

“Don’t feel bad when you lose,” you tell him, and then proceed to fling your two remaining darts into a neat little cluster on the bullseye in quick succession. Clint shuts up properly this time.

While Steve and Sam descend on Clint to heckle him to an early grave, Natasha grins over at you and says, “You are full of surprises.”

“Not really,” you shrug, “Just learnt to throw knives with my dad instead of throwing balls with my non-existent friends. Nothing interesting.”

“Respectfully disagree,” Bucky murmurs, and suddenly you’re drawn into that ocean-deep stare of his where the rest of the bar ceases to exist. Bucky steps closer and you meet him halfway, the shouts of his friends and the rock music blaring through the speakers and the clink of glasses fades to a dull buzz. Maybe you had one too many shots, because you find yourself swaying into Bucky as he tugs you by the belt loops, or maybe that’s just Bucky you’re drunk on. Now that you’d allowed yourself to fall you were falling fast, a weightless come-up, not a single thought about the crash waiting for you at the end.

Bucky doesn’t leave your side for the rest of the night, always tethered to you somehow, and its alarming how quickly you’ve grown used to having him next to you. Attuned to him, turning when he does and shifting to his every movement so you fit together, his hand in yours or your back to his chest or tucking yourself under his arm. Bucky is just so warm, is all, and under the bulk of his touch you can almost forget where you are, who you’re with.

That is, until a broad man in a leather jacket much like Bucky’s comes up to your booth and leans down to talk in Bucky’s ear. You’re pressed to his side, head tucked against his shoulder while you lazily follow Sam and Steve’s conversation with your eyes half-closed - the vodka is catching up and you’re getting sleepy as the night wears on. The smell of cigarettes and an unfamiliar voice brings you back to the bar, however, and you’re close enough to be able to hear Bucky and the man’s hushed exchange.

“S’done, boss,” the man says, “twenty-three-forty hours, no witnesses.”

“Y’sure?” Bucky murmurs, and the man must nod or something because you feel Bucky clap the man on the shoulder and he walks off, the cloud of cigarette smoke leaving with him. Bucky twists to look down at you on his shoulder only to find you already looking up at him. He is impassive as you stare at him for a few, silent beats before he asks, “Ready to go?”

It takes an hour to extract yourselves from Bucky’s friends and all the people he has to say goodbye to on his way out, and then you’re on Bucky’s bike with your head tucked against his back as he roars through the few blocks back to his apartment. Bucky busies himself flicking lights on and rummaging in his pantry for food while you collapse on the couch, flinging an arm over your eyes. After a few beats you feel him start to unlace your boots, easing them off your feet and throwing them towards the front door. You peak out from under your arm to grin at him, wiggling your toes in his face when your feet are free, and he shoves at them with one big hand and a smile.

Retaliation comes in the form of him throwing his huge, muscled body on top of yours and squashing you into the couch, knocking the breath out of you. He nuzzles his head into the side of your neck and lies there, snaking his arms under your body in a bear hug that leaves you breathless in more ways than one. The moment stretches on, both of you slightly dozing in the early morning hours, until the niggling in your brain gets too insistent and you can’t hold it in any longer.

“When were you gonna tell me tonight was an alibi?” you ask, hating the way Bucky’s body stiffens on top of you. He slowly raises his head, resting his stumbling chin against your collarbone and scanning your face with those puppy eyes you see in your dreams, now.

“You’re too smart for me,” he sighs, rolling off you slightly so you can shift onto your side and face him, two half-brackets on the couch. Bucky says, “You know what I do. You were- I said you could leave.”

“It’s not what you do,” you say, shaking your head of the concept of leaving. “It’s being kept in the dark. I just wanna know, I hate not knowing.”

“Too dangerous,” Bucky says, mirroring you as he shakes his head, “The more you know the worse it is.”

“Don’t care,” you say, raising an eyebrow in challenge when Bucky opens his mouth to argue. You press your palm to his cheek, scratching into the short hairs above his ear and dragging your nail over the silvery-scar there where hair won’t grow. Bucky’s eyes flutter shut, eyelashes delicate against the papery skin under his eyes, and you marvel at how soft the looks up close. Only tough from far away, you think. Only soft for you.

“You don’t know what you’re asking,” Bucky says, keeping his eyes closed.

“I figure out secrets for a living, Bucky,” you sigh, “I don’t wanna do that with you as well.”

He looks at you then, the world narrowing to his eyes burning your skin and his breath against your lips. He kisses you, rough stubble and soft lips. Your lips part with a sigh and he rolls on top of you again, hands rucking up under your top to grip your bare waist and hold you there, pressing kiss after kiss on your mouth like he can brand you with just his lips alone.

“You’ll stay?” he murmurs against your mouth, “The night?”

You know what he’s asking. Will you stay, will you listen to the terrible things he’s done and the things he will do and stay anyway, will you let him into your bed and your heart and trust someone you should be afraid of? You kiss him, digging your nails into the side of his neck to hold him there.

“Yeah,” you say, pressing your face against his cheek to kiss the rough skin, murmur words against the corner of his mouth tugging into a smile, “I’ll stay.”

***

The first time you wake up next to Bucky he’s still asleep, lying on his stomach with his cheek smashed into the pillow. One big arm is flung out over your stomach, trapping you to the bed as you blink awake but the heavy weight is comforting. You twist under him to lie on your side, tucking your arms against your bare chest, and watch him sleep like a genuine pyscho. You don’t care. His face is relaxed when he sleeps, peaceful - he looks so beautiful. You want to remember this forever.

Sunlight streams through a gap in the curtains, illuminating the tips of his short hair golden. Pouty lips part, soft in sleep, and there’s a tiny bit of drool pooling on the pillowcase you find yourself smiling at, even though it’s gross. He’s all tan muscles and tattoos lying naked next to you, and you take to tracing the ink on his skin with yours in an attempt to memorise them. His left arm is flung over you, the arm with the sleeve, and the closer you look the more you realise the tattoos cover not just skin, but scars. Old and faded but still there under swirling lines of storm clouds and skulls and the red star in the centre of his deltoid.

How had you missed this? Maybe you hadn’t been looking before, but you’re looking now. From surprisingly thin wrist to meaty shoulder where muscles are bunched and gnarled under a flowery piece which extends down his chest and across his back. His sleeve is a beautiful piece covering not-so-beautiful, painful looking burns and lines and marks you can’t tear your eyes from.

“Stop staring, y’creep,” Bucky mumbles into the pillow, startling you. He grins, eyes closed, and you reach out to whack his side. With the arm across your waist he drags you into him, rolling onto his back and dragging you across his chest without ever opening his eyes. He hugs you close, legs tangling, and doesn’t appear to want to wake up - rather he just holds you and attempts to doze off again, lips pressed against your forehead in a sleepy, lazy kiss.

That won’t do. You’re awake and now effectively trapped - Bucky doesn’t get to go back to sleep like this. With your new vantage point on his chest, you start kissing slow and heady across his skin. Under his collarbone, his shoulder, beside one of the wolves tattooed on his skin making up half his chest piece. Goosebumps form a trail where your lips have been and you grin, victorious. Bucky shivers as you drag your teeth from his peck to his nipple, giving it a quick flick of your tongue. That seals the deal.

Bucky grips the back of your head, fisting your hair and pulling your head up to look at him. Eyes cracked open and bleary with sleep, he glares at you but with no heat. Well, there’s heat. He licks his lips and you track the motion, hungry. Bucky’s lips stretch in a smirk as he watches you watch him. His other hand travels down your back to grip your ass and pull you up in a straddle across his hips.

He pulls you into a kiss and you go willingly with a hand braced on his chest, licking lazy into his mouth. He tastes like sleep and so do you but you really couldn’t care less. His mouth is hot and his skin is sun warmed, strong and smooth under your body, seeping into you so it feels like you’re holding the sun inside you. He pushes the warmth into you; tongue in your mouth, squeezing your neck, kneading your ass under one giant palm. Morning sex, you think, is possibly the best thing in this world.

Bucky hums against your mouth and shifts, sliding his hand back down your ass to rub his middle finger against your cunt. You gasp, and he bits your lip as you open to him. The contrast of pain and pleasure as he slips a finger inside you is brain-melting. All that heat is concentrated now in the pit of your belly and you roll back against Bucky’s hand, nipping at his jaw when he huffs a laugh at you.

You slide a hand up his neck and into his hair, scratching your nails against his scalp and leaving hot, open mouthed kissed down his jaw, neck, chest - wherever you can reach. When Bucky doesn’t move, just leaves you to grind against his finger, you get frustrated and start using your teeth. He’ll be littered with little bruises soon and he clenches his fist in your hair, tugging in warning, but you keep going. So Bucky groans, slides his hand around to your neck and squeezes until you come to a shuddering stop, panting against his chest. He pulls you up to look at him, smirking at the glassy look in your eyes, and pushes another finger into your cunt without warning.

That makes you moan, which makes Bucky grin because he’s a smug bastard and can never let you win. You can’t remember why you were frustrated anymore, though - you’ve got pinpricks of pleasure bursting all over your skin, from your nail beds to your scalp to the back of your teeth. Bucky tugs you by the neck until he can catch you in a sloppy kiss, tongue too deep and too much teeth but you live for it. He removes his fingers from inside you and you whine into his mouth, clenching your fingers in his hair and your cunt on nothing but it doesn’t stay that way for long. Bucky’s there, he’s pushing into you and you forget how to kiss for a second as all your executive function concentrates on the feeling of Bucky’s dick in you.

It’s slow, sticky with sweat from the too-bright sun on your back, sweet in the way Bucky releases your neck and lies fully back on the pillow just to stare up at you. You sit up in his lap and grind your hips slow, letting your hands rest light on his chest as the urgency dissipates into simple, syrupy-soft want. He runs his hands up and down your thighs and your sensitive skin erupts like starbursts, urging you to slide up and down on his cock just to feel the drag inside you that makes your eyes roll back. You lean forward on him, the angle gets deeper, you stop feeling your toes as the ecstasy snaps up your spine in hot waves.

“Look at me,” Bucky says, voice low and rough with the first words of the day. You hadn’t realised your eyes were closed and they flutter open, barely focusing on the pink pout of his mouth and hazy lust in his eyes. “Look at me, honey.”

“Bucky,” you say in response, any other words lost to you. He slides a hand from your thigh up your stomach, muscles clenching against his touch as you ride him, to cup one of your tits and squeeze. He rolls his thumb over your nipple and you moan, head lolling back on a limp neck and hair tickling your bare back. But you remember what he asked and you come back, eyes finding his and they seem to darken, then, as you keep yourself locked on him.

It’s spilling over. That heat that’s been building since you first woke up is trying to go supernova. Bucky moves to rest one big palm on your back and pushes, rising up to meet you as he squashes your bodies together, seam for sweat-slicked seam. You’re limp against him as he takes over and starts a faster, steadier rhythm. He pounds into you, the only sound in the quiet morning being the slap of your ass against his thighs and it should be kind of embarrassing but you’re way too far gone for that. You unspool with his arm wrapped around you, shuddering against his chest but he doesn’t let you go anywhere. Bucky comes soon after with a groan you swallow as you kiss him, and kiss him, and kiss him until your lips feel numb and your muscles stop shaking.

“Good morning,” you murmur, licking into his smile as he laughs at you.

“Good morning,” he replies, and smacks your ass for emphasis. You yelp and jerk forward at the impact, still sensitive and he’s still inside you. He moans at the friction and you feel heat start trickling against your thighs. It should be gross but somehow it’s insanely hot and you feel yourself clenching just imagining what his come dripping out of you would look like - that’s when you know you need some divine intervention, because you are too far off the deep end.

Bucky holds you tighter to keep you still, leaning back into the pillows to glare at you and say, “Gotta stop that, honey,” because apparently he’s also too sensitive. You start to smile, a little evil and a lot still-turned-on.

“What, this?” You roll your hips slow, all you can manage since you’re a bit worn out yourself, and Bucky legitimately growls. With a very un-sexy screech you find yourself flipped and on your back, Bucky’s cock slipping out of you and his body pressing you firmly into the mattress. He rests on his elbows either side of your head, dipping down to kiss you, and you hum at the feeling of him sliding a thigh between your legs.

“You’re a menace,” he grumbles, eyes flickering open to mock-glare at you. He’s so close that you feel kind of cross-eyed as you stare back.

“I think you like it, tough guy,” you tease. Bucky rolls his eyes but he doesn’t deny it, and you count that as a win.

Bucky finger-fucks you like that, trapped against his mattress and his stupid-soft lips leaving kisses over every inch of your skin. He has to carry you to the shower when you come again, announcing your legs are jelly and it’s his fault so he has to help you or he’s a bad person. He swings you over his shoulder and slaps your ass, calls you a brat, and you bite his shoulder in retaliation.

The shower is more of a water fight than anything else, after that.

“I like waking up to you,” you say once you’re dressed and coffee-d and fed, leaning against his doorway with a squeak of leather from your jacket. Bucky leans against the doorframe over you, dressed in fresh sweats and really threatening your resolve to go get some work done today. You feel soft, undone after this morning, looking up at him and telling him things your self-preservation instincts yell at you to keep to yourself.

“I could get used to it,” Bucky grins, and you punch him on the arm but there’s no force to it. He tugs you in for a hug goodbye, arm slung over your shoulders and ruffling your hair with his stupidly big hand until you squirm away from him. He laughs and you push him, propelling yourself backwards into the hall - mostly so you don’t grab onto his t-shirt and never leave.

“See you later?” You mean it to come out as an offhand statement but your nerves shake through. Bucky’s kilowatt smile breaks through all that fear of rejection and he nods.

“‘Course,” he says, tilting his head, “You’re stuck with me now.”

“Shit,” you say, shaking your head and his laugh follows you all the way down the stairs to the ground floor.

You hesitate at the bottom the stairs. To your left is the laundry room and your familiar route out of Bucky’s apartment building, through the window and the gym parking lot to the block over. Knowing who Bucky is now, what he does, means you have even more reason than ever before to turn that way and keep being a paranoid freak. But it’s mid-morning, now. Someone walks past you up the stairs, the lobby is lit with sunlight, there’s traffic noise and people’s voices and life inside this building. Mid-morning feels very different to three AM.

You’ve just woken up next to Bucky because he likes you, like that, and that makes you brave. You turn right and push out the front door, jogging down the steps to the street with a stupid smile on your face. You shove your hands in your pockets because despite the sunlight it’s still kind of chilly, and you turn to walk towards your apartment for a fresh change of clothes before heading to the office. Your brain still feels like it’s lying in bed next to Bucky, but you try and focus yourself back to the present.

Theres a guy leaning against the building next to Bucky’s, and he stubs his cigarette out as you walk past. When you pass by a parked car a few more buildings down you see in their side mirror that he’s started walking your direction. Stop being crazy, you tell yourself, one time using the front door like a normal person and you freak out, but you keep tabs on him as you walk. Bucky and his room and his touch start to fade from your mind as the stranger does not fade - not into the crowd, not down another street or into a building. He keeps walking, because he’s following you, and that might be paranoia speaking but you’d rather be safe than sorry.

You reach into your pocket for your phone but find yourself hesitating before calling Bucky. You’d only just gotten to the point where you feel comfortable to stay with him, to push past your walls and Bucky’s and dive head-first into whatever this is going to be between you. Telling Bucky someone is tailing you from his apartment would probably build those walls right back up, from both sides. The dark, twisted part of your brain supplies - what if it’s Bucky who’s sent this guy to follow you?

The phone rings one, twice, and picks up on the third. There’s a shuffle, a muttered curse, and you smile before your dad says, “Kroshka, sorry, I dropped the remote. How are you?”

“Great, papa,” you say, a bit louder than necessary, turning your head slightly to look across the street and so your voice travels behind you. Out of the corner of your eye you see your tail slow down, linger back further, when he realises you’re talking to someone who would notice if you suddenly dropped off the line. “What’re you up to?”

“Nothing, it’s early,” he says, sounding a bit suspicious, “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you say, “Just wondering if you wanted to get lunch today.”

“Of course,” he replies, and you turn the corner to keep on your normal route to home. As you do, you notice your tail has disappeared. You don’t relax, per-say, but you do feel some relief. You barely catch your dad saying, “Wanna get sushi?”

“Sounds great,” you say, “I’ll call you.”

By the time you make it back to your apartment, the glow from this morning has faded. You find yourself in the bathroom, staring at yourself in the mirror and trying to convince yourself this isn’t what you think it is. No one followed you, no one’s after you, and Bucky certainly isn’t having you tailed because that’s insane. But you’ve always been like this, chasing down threads that don’t need to be pulled and finding faces in shadows even when they’re not there.

You should tell Bucky. Your supposed tail is as much a threat to you as it is to him, since he knows where Bucky lives. But something is stopping you, and you don’t pick up your phone. You’re a private investigator, you tell yourself firmly. You can figure this out on your own.

Part 5

~~~

let me know what you think!! thank you all for reading xx oh and listen to the playlist i made pls its fire

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p---ink · 4 years

Text

Stark Contrasts Chapter Five

Author’s Note: This is the last installment, in my Tony Stark Fan-fiction. I loved writing this, but I am also happy to see it come to an end. Please, tell me what you think of this. I can only get better. It means the world to me when I get comments, so let me know how this makes you feel. Also, to my artists out there...I promise I don’t know jackshit about art, so please dont come for my throat. Everything is purely fictional. German speakers, I used google translate, please tell me if anything is off. I love you guys! Thanks for reading!

Summary: Y/N tries to adjust to her life away from Tony.

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Smut. In that order.

Song: I had the song I saw you in a dream by the Japanese House, in mind while writing this.

Word Count: 11.2k

Parts: one | two | three | four | five

Chapter Title: The Ends of the Universe

Disclaimer: Picture is not mine.

Berlin, Germany. Pepper Potts sent you to Berlin. Fucking. Germany. While Berlin was breathtakingly beautiful, and to your surprise very diverse, you knew nothing about it. Nothing about the way of life there. Nothing about the people. To say you were nervous would be an understatement. Scared, would still not do your emotions justice. You were in a place you had made no preparations for, as well as no thoughts of ever visiting. But you guessed that was the point.

Tony would never look for you here.

Six months. That’s how long you would be here. Pepper had taken care of everything. The rest of the semester and classes that you were enrolled in before you left, were now moved online. It was that or completing them the next semester. Usually, your university required students complete all prerequisite courses before they took on any internships within their respected fields. So how Ms. Potts got your Dean to agree to such an outlandish change of pace for one of her students, you would never know. What she achieved was unprecedented. That was when you learned quickly to never underestimate her.

Six months. That’s how long you would be away from Tony. Well actually, the idea, as Pepper calls it, is that you two will have moved on from each other by the end of it all. You weren’t even supposed to contact him when your time was up here. In fact, as long as you were in Germany, you were not to contact anyone you knew.

Pepper had assured your family and friends of your well-being ahead of time. No they could not know of your location, nor contact you, but they were ensured that you were safe. It took some heavy convincing on her part to get your family to agree, but ultimately they did. In their eyes, they were supporting what was best for you.

Nao, on the other hand, was not keen on just letting you leave the country. Though your friendship had less than a few days to develop, she became very protective over you. She felt that your leaving was downright bullshit as well as unfair. “Why should Edward fucking Stark, get his happy ending?” She spat. She was also not as willing to trust Pepper as you were. But because you had already made your decision to leave, you entrusted her with the secret of your hidden twitter account. No one, save yourself, knew about it. You agreed that you would regularly tweet from it, as your way of letting her know you were okay. That was the only reason, she didn’t blow the whistle to Tony right away.

Unlike Nao, you had faith in Pepper. You two weren’t the closest, but you had an unspoken respect and trust for one another. Pepper, despite every reason you gave her, did not behave in the way that any other woman in her shoes would have. You had broken her son’s heart by sleeping with his dad, her now ex-husband. Yet here she was, going through all of these hoops for you, just to make sure you didn’t ruin yourself. Of course you trusted her.

There was one thing she was not truthful to you about however. When she told you the internship was all-expense paid, what she really meant was that she was covering all of it. Your school fees, apartment, food, and any and all luxury items, Pepper would be dishing out the money to take care of it all. While you felt you had no control over everything else, you drew the line there. Though you sort of resented her for her speediness to remove you from States, you refused to let her pay for your mistakes. She had already done so much.

Your entire time living with Tony, he never let you pay for anything. This of course meant, you had money saved up from your previous employments. Enough to live comfortably until you could find a job. While Pepper was more understanding than her ex, she still insisted on covering your school fees as well as the first two months on your apartment so that you could focus on school before money became an issue. She even set you up with some extra spending money to get started. “To have a job, on top of an internship, as well as a full course-load, is too much for any student to bear.” She told you. “I will not set you up for failure, just to prove your smug ass Dean right.”

Once you were settled in, and she felt confident enough to depart, Pepper left you and Germany, wishing you the best of luck. She was in a hurry to get back home before Tony could catch a whiff of where you were, and where she had been.

So there you were. In Berlin. All alone, far from home, with no one but yourself to console. That was when the waterworks began. Between Nao’s place and the plane ride here, you didn’t have time to process your emotions. Your life, though not the most morally ideal, went to absolute shit in less than seventy-two hours. You didn’t care who was looking from the outside in calling you ungrateful. You got to experience the world, and your experiences with Tony alone should have satisfied you.

Still, you didn’t ask for any of this. He was all you wanted. You would give up all the luxury in the world, if it meant just being with him. But alas, you did not have that choice, so you decided to cry.

And cried you did. Your first three nights consisted of tears, and headaches. You barely even ate. It didn’t help that Tony’s face was plastered every where. He was famous, so what did you expect? “How the fuck am I supposed to get over him, when I can’t even escape him?” In fairness, you also didn’t make it easy on yourself. A t-shirt of his that you stole, covered your pillowcase. You were scared of the day it’s scent would leave. The new phone that Pepper purchased for you, had his wallpaper on the cover. Of course you later willed yourself to change it, but it took time. You even bought books that he begged you to read for months, just because they reminded you of him. Your entire time in Germany, you were a woman of your word to Nao. You tweeted about him constantly your first three nights, just to feel like your old self again. It was small things that made you feel closer. But small things turned into big ones. You were practically torturing yourself.

Where nights ended in crying, mornings began with half-hearted reassurements. “This is what’s good for me.” You would chant, to yourself in the mirror. “This is what’s good for Tony.” It was now the weekend, and come Monday you would be starting your internship. “The sooner I get this over with, the sooner I can go home.”

ººººº

Starting your art internship sounded dreadful to you now. Before, you were more than excited as you planned it with Tony. Your eyes were starry when you fawned over how rich the art and culture was in France. Of course you would be excited, given that Tony had taken you to France on numerous occasions, as well as taught you some of the language. You were even comfortable enough to navigate the streets of Paris alone. That was more than you could say about Germany.

When Monday came, and you left your apartment, you got lost almost immediately. Luckily to you, in Berlin more people spoke English than you thought. So your day was off to a bad start but you could still turn it around. That was your train of thought before it began to pour down raining. The cute, but simple little outfit that you had put together was now drenched. Not to mention your hair; tight coils retreated to your scalp, and makeup ran down your face. You had tried. You really did. You wanted the outside of your person, to deflect what you were feeling on the inside. Too bad the universe had other plans.

You were still determined to complete your first day. So you continued on to the location that a kind stranger gave you.

It sounded right, because soon you were standing in front of the soon-to-be art gallery that you would be interning at for the next 6 months. You were to shadow an art-curator, with the hopes of teaching it one day. Sure becoming an art professor wasn’t very fulfilling financially, but you loved art so you didn’t care.

You walked into the magnificent glass structure, with high ceilings and tall windows. Your strides made wet squelching sound, as you stepped from the outside concrete pavement onto the wooden linoleum.

Immediately, a man who seemed to be directing others about the room, turned his attention to you. He almost dropped the clear clipboard he was holding, upon seeing the soaking wet brown girl before him. All he could think of was the damage to the floors you had probably caused.

“Wie kann ich Dir helfen?” He asked you with a grimace painting his features.

If your confidence wasn’t shot before, it was now at a zero as you realized how stupid you must of looked. “I’m sorry I don’t speak German.” You apologized.

The man huffed as he switched languages. “I said, how can I help you?” Now you genuinely felt like an entitled American, in someone else’s country forcing them to accommodate you by speaking your native tongue.

“I’m Y/N, and I am here for the Schmidt Internship.” You said lowly. You watched him bring his attention back to the clipboard in hand, flipping harshly through the paper.

“You’re late. On your first day at that. How could you come in here like this?” His words were harsh, but he was right. You were late, and even if you weren’t your appearance would have sent off red flags in his head.

You had to blink back the water that was forming in your eyes. This was something that you had become an expert at. “I apologize, but I had trouble finding my way here.”

He scoffed “So not only are you coming up with excuses already, but you’re telling me you haven’t even prepared yourself. How are you supposed to retain the necessary knowledge for this job?”

“Again, I’m sorry, but I can assure you that this won’t happen again. ”

“You’re right. So go home.”

Your brows jumped to meet each other. “I’m sorry, what?”

“You clearly don’t have what it takes. My clients will eat you up and spit you out within seconds.” He looked you up and down before adding, “And if they don’t, I will. So go home.” He turned his back to you as if you were nothing, and began redirecting men on where to put certain paintings. Not sparing you a second glance.

Something told you that he was used to making people cry. You almost did, until you realized that you had been crying for the past week, and now you were just angry.

“You can place that Delegado by the window.” You heard him say to two men. You walked up to them to interrupt their conversation.

“Actually place it as far away from the light as possible.” You ordered the men who were holding the piece.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” The curator asked.

You could feel his scowl on your face so instead of spinning to address him, you furthered your explanation. “The choice of medium Delgado used is not compatible with the sun. It will certainly drain its vibrancy. But anyone who attended secondary school art would know that.” You sneered, side-eyeing him. Your insult did not fall on deaf ears. His scowl turned into an almost pained expression. You ignored it, and moved on.

You walked around the room, as the curator silently, but obviously followed you. “I assume you intend to place a light fixture over this.” You asked him, looking over your shoulder. “If not, this is the painting you should place next to the window. It will not thrive in the shadows. The artist intended for light to cast on certain areas to reveal hidden figures.” You took your phone out to flash its light against the frame to prove your theory, and almost immediately new elements appeared in the work.

You could almost hear the change in features on the curator’s face. Still you continued your dance around the room, explaining to him pieces of art that worked well with others, and ones that did not.

Going up to your next piece, you inspected it closely. “When did you purchase this” You asked him.

“A few days ago. Why?” He questioned, his tone was now different, almost inviting you to say more. He was now curious about your every word.

“Bankole, the artist this is inspired by has not sold a painting in years.” You informed him.

“I bought it from a secondhand distributor. So what’s your point?”

“You were scammed. The original piece only has seven hooded men. A reoccurring theme in Bankole’s art. This painting only has six.”

“Well maybe Bankole miscounted.” He suggested, chuckling. It was like he was amused, and it was vastly different from his earlier cold demeanor.

“It also has too many etchings along the border.” You continued. “And the signature is misspelled.”

He stayed silent for a minute. He was awestruck. His assistant who had been standing near him, looked up everything you said to fact check you. She whispered a “she passed, sir” in his ear, when she could validate your arguments. And that’s when you realized it was a test.

Upon realizing the whole thing was a set up, you relaxed your bewildered eyebrows, and looked down at your feet to smile a smile that screamed ‘I’ve been tricked’.

The curator, as if scared to take his eyes off of you leaned his head to the side to ask his assistant, “Could you please get Ms.?”

“L/N” You sheepishly smiled, bringing your eyes back up to meet his.

“Yes, could you please get Ms. L/N something to dry off with, Hanna?” He asked the girl, returning a smile back.

“Right away sir.” Hanna spoke, scampering away to search the building’s custodial closet.

He offered his hand to you, and broke the silence. “I’m Finn. Finn Schmidt.”

You took his hand, and shook it gently. “Wait Schmidt? Does that mean you’re—”

“Yes, my family owns this gallery.” He replied as a matter of fact.

You mouthed an inaudible ‘oh’, as you were now embarrassed about your secondary school comment. Thankfully Hanna was back now with a towel to distract you from your growing shame. Changing the subject you asked, “So is it a German thing to be rude and test your future interns?”

He laughed, eyes lingering on your neck as you dried your hair. “Well its a Schmidt thing to test future interns. As for the rude part, I’m sorry. I was just a bit upset about something from earlier.” He confessed. “I promise I would have called you back later to apologize.”

“It’s fine. I did show up late and track your floors with rainwater.” You glanced outside, noticing the sky was now as clear as day. Just my fucking luck, you thought. But at least the new found light gave you a chance to properly examine Finn. The events from earlier, blinded you from realizing how handsome he was.

He was much taller than you. At least more than half a foot. Chestnut brown locks, thrown up into a messy bun, graced the top of his head. He had honey brown eyes upon first glance, but when the sunlight hit them, they were a brilliant amber. He looked to be close in age to you, but still more experienced; so maybe late 20’s early 30’s you concluded. He was built. Not too muscular, but far from skinny. His beard was immaculate. In fact it looked as if he took better care of it, than he did his hair. Both made him look majestic. He had skin of olive, and it was dewy and radiant; you just knew his skin-care routine was more rigorous than yours. When he spoke, it was gruff. His accent was thick, but he spoke English like he lived in a native-english speaking country for years. He was definitely a man who prided himself in his looks as well as his knowledge.

“So tell me, is it an American thing to ogle at complete strangers.” He smirked at you. You immediately thanked God for blessing you with darker skin, for you felt your blood pool to the apples of your cheeks.

“I’m sorry.” You apologized, embarrassed and suddenly intrigued by the ground.

“Don’t be. It’s definitely a Schmidt thing.” He informed you, raking his eyes down your figure. Is he flirting with me? You asked yourself.

Now desperate for air, you took in a deep breath to overcome the fluster. “So, um. I’m sorry, just to make sure I’m not getting ahead of myself: your assistant said I passed?”

He cleared his throat, and began rapidly blinking away his daze before speaking. “Yes with flying colors.”

“Does this mean I still have the internship?”

“Yes. I’d be honored to have you. ”

You beamed a bright smile. “Great. Well I hope we enjoy working together.” You stretched your hand out again for him to shake.

“As do I.” He said, grasping your outstretched limb, before bringing your hand to his lips.

Oh boy.

ººººº

It turns out, you two did enjoy working together. Finn, despite your first impression of him, was a major sweetheart, at least to you that is. You didn’t know if that reigned true in other aspects of his life, or if it was just because he wanted to sleep with you. Either way, you welcomed his charming nature.

He became your best friend whilst you were in Germany. He was proud of his country, and very eager to show you why. You were dragged from museum to museum soaking in beautiful art. Landmark to landmark, reveling in famous architecture. Restaurant to restaurant, engorging yourselves with famous German cuisines and desserts. He was elated to finally have someone to boast to about his culture. And you were happy to have someone take your mind off of Tony. Temporarily.

As months passed, you still found your mind drifting off as you wondered about him. You dreamed about him at least every other night. But you would still tell yourself, He’s over me by now. He’s probably happy I’m gone. At least I didn’t ruin his life.

Finn could only do so much. You were close now, so you informed him of a man who had taken over your dreams. He didn’t know who your mystery man was, but he wanted to be him. He wanted to be the one who occupied your mind. He made it clear on numerous occasions too. Spouting to you German phrases that he taught you before hand, revealing his feelings.

‘Ich steh’ auf dich’. I’m into you. ‘Ich bete dich an’, I adore you. The words were beautiful flowing from his lips. But you always feigned ignorance, acting like you forgot what they meant. He could scream his feelings to the sky in your mother tongue, and you would still say something along the lines of “Quit joking around.” Or “You’re so silly.”

You would be a liar if you said you hadn’t thought about Finn in that way. He was sexy, and more than willing to replace Tony. And Pepper, if she were there, as well as your friends and your better sense, would have begged for you to fuck him…but alas, you just couldn’t do it.

You two were currently planning the grand opening of his family’s second art gallery. It was tomorrow night, and it took all of five months, most of your internship to get the museum ready for the public. It would be a formal event, where renowned guests were invited to partake in a cultured but light-hearted social gathering. It was going to be grand, which meant Finn was bugging out.

“Lydia, have Hanna approve the guest list for me. I need her to make sure, no strays show up.” He said to one of his staff members. He had a group of people following close beside him as he took long strides to his office.

“Again?” She asked.

“Yes! Again.” He shouted.

She rolled her eyes, before skittering off to find Hanna.

“Luka, have you checked with the caterers to make sure the hors d’oeuvres will arrive by 17:30?”

“Yes sir.” The boy squeaked.

“Check again.” Finn ordered.

“Right away sir.”

“Oliver—” Finn Started.

“The wine has already arrived, sir.” Oliver interjected, feeling quite sure of himself.

“So the Chambertin Grand Cru is here? Great!” Finn began smiling and relaxing a bit.

Confusion took the place of certainty on Oliver’s face. “Actually sir, I thought you told me to get Richebourg Grand Cru.”

“Fuck!” Finn yelled in his native tongue, about to tear a new hole in the smaller boy. That is before you stepped in. You were waiting for him by his door.

“Your guests are coming in for the art Finn. Not the wine, nor the food.”

His expression softened when he heard your voice. “Our guests.” He corrected, smiling at you. “I feel you worked harder than me, so they are our guests.”

“Fine. Our guests do not care about the damn wine.” You smiled.

He chuckled at your playful chide. “You know you keep me sane right? You’re my savior.”

“I thought Jesus was your savior.”

“Well you’re a close second.” He smirked, as he let you enter the room before him. You both sat down in close seats, and ran down a list of things he needed to confirm for tomorrow nights events.

As you two worked, he decided to start a separate conversation. “Have you decided on whether or not you’re coming yet.” His voice was hopeful.

You sighed, knowing you were about to shatter that hope. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that. I think I’ll pass.”

“Why?” He cried, abandoning his previous tasks.

“I have nothing to wear.” You informed him. “Besides I’m a bit beat. I should relax before my exams come up.”

“But, it’s just one night. And anything you put on will be amazing. It’s the girl in the dress that makes it beautiful.” As he said the last part, he placed a hand on your knee and caressed it.

You stood to your feet to avoid his lingering touches as well as ignore the look of disappointment on his face. “I can’t just show up in any thing. There are way too many important people coming. I would have to make a good impression, and I’m just not up for it.”

Finn abruptly raised now hovering over you and turning your body to face him. “What is this really about?”

“What do you mean?” You asked looking at him through an inquisitive lens.

“We both worked so hard on this. This gallery is practically your baby, don’t you want to see other people enjoy it?” The pads of his thumbs massaged your shoulders. The act was innocent, but to you it burned to have another man touch you in the way that only Tony should.

You shrugged your shoulders to make his arms fall and took a stroll around his desk, placing space between you. “Of course I want to see her success, Finn.”

“Then what’s stopping you?” He asked, slowly meeting you on the other side, unsure about his actions now.

You knew what was stopping you. Finn had to practically beg you to go out with him on regular days, and you would eventually do it to rid your mind of Tony; but this was different. Attending this event reminded you of the ones you, Tony, and Edward would participate in.

While you were Edward’s plus one on paper, it was really Tony who you would move through a room with. He would introduce you to some of his friends in high places. You two would have riveting conversations about the world and art. By the end of it all, you would ditch Edward (which wasn’t hard, because he was usually the one to ditch you guys) to sip expensive ass champagne until you passed out the next day in some hotel room you had no memory of entering. This event screamed reminders of your past life. And your past love.

“I don’t know.” You lied. But Finn knew you were lying. He also knew what, or rather who, was stopping you.

He sighed, and gazed at you before speaking again. “Is this about your ex?”

You were curious as to why he asked about Tony when the conversation had nothing to do with him. “Why do you ask me that?”

“Because it always seems to be.” He came to stand directly before you, now more sure of himself.

You could admit your tone of voice changed as you said your next line. “Well it’s not.”

“When are you gonna get over him?” Finn asked, ignoring your words as well as ignoring the defensive tone they were laced in.

“I am over him.” He made you feel small, so you straightened your posture to appear more intimidating, a sharp scowl now decorating your face.

“No you’re not. You’re still depressed about him.” He sounded a bit annoyed now.

“I wouldn’t say I’m depressed…” You cooed, trailing off a bit with your thoughts. Am I depressed? And if I am, do I really wear it for the world to see?

Worry etched itself into your expression, which made Finn say, “You’re too young for this. And you’re too beautiful. You shouldn’t be worried about a guy who isn’t even here.” Finn stated. You thought that what he was saying wasn’t fair, because he didn’t even know the full story. “I can help you get over him.”

He made you blink rapidly at his words. “Woah Finn,” Finn continued his case.

“Just let me take your mind off of him. I promise i’ll be worth it.” he was always forward, but never this forward.

“Finn stop.” He was now closer to you, cornering you between himself and his wall. His office felt much smaller now.

“I like you Y/N, and not just as a friend.” He was now just a breath away, so you threw your arms in between the two of you, only for him to lightly grip your wrists.

“Finn—” You were cut off by his lips, as they stole a soft kiss from yours. You immediately broke the connection by looking down, brushing the area he just touched with your fingertips. Finn looked at you expectantly, face flushing as he realized what he just did. He dropped his hands from their positions on your wrists and stepped back.

“Y/N, I-I’m so, sorr—”

“I’m late for my other job now. I’ll see you Monday.” You hurried out, as you circled around him to leave the room before he could say another word.

ººººº

Your entire shift at your neighborhood cafe, felt like a blur. You chose to work at a cafe for similar reasons to the ones at home: the rustle and bustle of the world made you feel calm, and like your problems were small. But now all you could think about was Finn.

He was right, you were still hung up on Tony. In your defense, five months didn’t seem like enough time for you to move on from a relationship that shifted your entire being. But they did say, to get over one man, you should get under another one. And Finn, was a man that you would have been attracted to under normal circumstances.

He was handsome. Articulate. Cultured. Kind. He was the type of man, who could move a room just by walking in it. But he wasn’t Tony. That fact alone was how you knew you were beat. If you could pass up an amazing man, for one you couldn’t even have, then you were crazy.

He smelled of ginger, and he tasted like cinnamon for those fleeting moments that he held you. You thought to yourself that you could do worse. You weren’t supposed to be with Tony anyway, so what was the harm in being with a man who was begging for you to use him?

The harm was, that you weren’t that kind of a girl. And you didn’t wanna hurt him.

I am making this harder than it needs to be. You thought to yourself, as you walked into your apartment building. Your decision to go to the gallery’s opening became a hell of a lot easier, when your doorman greeted you with a package. You hesitantly thanked him and took the elegant box, before walking up to your flat.

Setting it down on your counter to rid it of its satin pink bow, you freed the top cover and unraveled the tissue paper. Underneath all of the wrapping was a sparkly rose gold material. You pulled it out to reveal a ball gown, that looked as if it was made specifically with a princess in mind. The puffy skirt of the gown had a large slit in it and it was made of a sheer, almost see-through fabric. Glitter ran throughout the entire dress, but where it was most prominent was the bodice. The straps were off the shoulder, and they connected to a deep plunge a few inches below the neckline. It was beautiful.

Your first thought was to anger. The dress looked like it cost him a fortune. You felt obligated to thank him, but you were also mad that he spent money on you as a form of apology. You hated when people just gave you things. It instantly made you feel like a burden.

But then your second thought was one of guilt. Leaving him so quickly, must of made him feel terrible, and that fact helped you swallow your anger. He really liked you, and you could at least show up to the gallery to support him. After all, you were still friends.

You just silently prayed you wouldn’t regret going.

ººººº

Cool air nipped at your bear arms and chest as you made your way through the night. The wind caused cold tears to fall from your eyes, and your fingers felt like icicles. You knew it would be cold tonight as winter transitioned into spring, but you didn’t anticipate it this much. You didn’t have a proper shawl to sit across your shoulders that matched your dress, so you sucked it up and power-walked to the gallery. It definitely felt nice to step into the building’s warm and inviting embrace.You instantly felt your cheeks warm up as you stood in the middle of the entryway.

The event was in full swing by the time you arrived. You were instantly surrounded by laughter, and chatter, as rich people debated amongst themselves about the intent of certain pieces of art. Beautiful melodies filled the air, as classical music played softly in the background. The ambience was warm despite the cold night air peering through the high glass ceilings. You thought it was nice, how even though the building was so well lit, you could still make out the faint glow of stars above you.

Being an observant person who could easily meld into the background, you thought the sight before you was beautiful, and you immediately felt regret grow smaller in the pit of your stomach.

You searched the crowd, trying to seek out Finn and thank him for urging you to come, as well as for the dress. You found him at the top of a balcony, chatting up one of his guests. You swallowed your uneasiness as you made it up in your mind to confront his and your feelings. Maybe I could give him a try because he really is a nice guy. That was your train of thought as you made your way up to him. I could learn to love him. You thought. If it doesn’t work out, I still have home in just a month.

As you got closer, and closer to him, you thought of Tony, and immediately froze in your tracks. You felt guilty for even thinking about someone else before you were over him. You were disappointed in yourself, for your readiness to use one man, in order to get over another one.

You were about to turn around and forget about the entire event, before Finn caught your gaze. He stopped his chat with the man in front of him and excused himself to walk over to you.

You looked like a gapping fish out of water as he approached you. Finn was always so well put together. Seeing him in a tux, only made him appear more intimidating. He somehow made you, with your dress, naturally done makeup, and beautifully pinned up hair, feel small. Little did you know, he felt smaller.

“Y/N” He started, almost at a loss for words. “You look beautiful.”

To save face you forced yourself to speak, opting for the playful banter he had come to love. “Why are you acting so surprised?” You sheepishly smirked.

“Well I didn’t think you were coming.” He beamed. He was relieved to know you weren’t still mad at him.

“I couldn’t just waste this.” You said referring to your dress, grabbing a fistful in each hand to lift it and emphasize your point.

Finn bought his eyes over you, basking in your beauty. “You look darling in that. But I thought you said you didn’t have anything to wear.”

You furrowed your brows at his words, smile faltering. “I didn’t, until you—”

“Finn! Over here darling, I want you to meet someone.” His mother called to him in english, gesturing to a well-dressed attractive woman.

“Okay.” He replied to her before bringing his attention back to you. “Stay right here. Don’t move I mean it.” He floated off, abandoning you and your confusion.

Why was he acting so oblivious?

You felt moments pass as Finn worked himself around the room. You watched him as he drifted from person to person, seemingly forgetting about you. He was in his element, and you were happy to see him happy.

Leaving him to do his own thing, you walked down the stairs deciding to occupy yourself by people watching. That was when your emotions began to overwhelm you again. You leaned against a wall, newfound glass of wine in hand, trying to drown out the noise around you. Everything seemed to remind you of Tony Stark. The rich men in their suits. The stimulating discussions. Even the drink between your fingers, reminded you of him. Now too encapsulated with your thoughts once again, you turned to the wall behind you, immersing yourself into the art. The sad girl in the painting, derided you, as you met her eyes. She was pretty, and like you she felt alone. At least we can be lonely together you thought, scoffing at the idea.

“Why that frown, everyone in here knows you’re prettier than her.” Your heart sank, as you turned to the side meeting the face of the familiar voice.

“Tony?” You exhaled, blinking rapidly as if your eyes were playing tricks on you.

“In the flesh.” He smirked down at you. You threw yourself into his open arms, as he wrapped himself around you. You felt him kiss the top of your head, then your temple, as you inhaled his scent; it had been such a long time since you had even done that. Your drink spilled on the floor behind you, and the look of shock you received from a nearby stranger made you feel deranged. It didn’t matter, how crazy you looked, Tony was here and that was all you could care about.

Pulling back from his embrace, you felt your words form at the back of your throat unable to bring them out. “What are you doing here?” You managed to ask.

“You know I could ask you the same. Berlin? Was all that French I taught you, for nothing?” He joked, holding you in place.

You were becoming blurry-eyed. You terribly missed his wittiness. “How did you find me?” Though you were happy, you couldn’t help the tears that streamed down your face.

Tony wiped them away with the pads of his thumb, “First. Dance with me.” He reached a hand between the two of you, willing you to take it.

“This isn’t that kind of an event Tony.” You chuckled.

“Who cares? I need to hold you.” His words made you tear up again. You soon became a sobbing mess, and those around you shot him dirty looks for making you cry.

“Princess.” Tony cooed, sending apologetic nods to random people as he tried to comfort you. “You’re making a scene.”

You ignored him, and kept silently whimpering, gradually growing a bit louder, as your face contorted further into a frown. “You’ll ruin your makeup.”

Still crying you began dry-heaving as you chocked between sobs. “Alles ist gut.” Tony assured strangers, informing them that all was well.

“You know German?” You squeaked between sobs.

“When I found out you were in Germany, I learned a bit on the plane ride here.” He grabbed a napkin from a passing by waiter, as he told you this.

“So you learned German for me?” You sobbed louder, causing more people to look over.

“Y/N, baby please stop crying.” Tony pleaded. “Please stop."

You sniffled and began wiping your eyes, smearing your mascara in the process. He used his napkin to wipe away the excess mess on your face. “Now can we please try this again?” He asked holding his hand out. You took it, and he lead you to the center of the room.

Now the attention was as a result of the spectacle in front of them. First a girl practically pours her expensive wine on the ground. Then starts crying. And now she and her beaux are dancing in the middle of the gallery. How unhinged you must of looked in the eyes of a stranger.

Tony couldn’t be more in love with you. He held you close, one hand clasped with yours, the other resting on your lower back as he gazed into your eyes, mesmerized by your existence. You two swayed back and forth, ignoring the judgmental stares and whispers. Eventually others gained the courage to join in, inspired by the silly Americans of the room.

He broke the comfortable silence first. “I see you like the dress. You make it look beautiful.”

“You bought this for me?” You exclaimed smiling. It made sense now, how else would the measurements be so perfect?

“Of course I did. Who else would?” He asked with a single raised brow, his signature “you better tell me, or you’re in trouble” expression.

“Mmh, hmm, Mmh.” You mumbled shrugging your shoulders upwards. Of course that was a lie, but you would tell him later.

He decided to address your lie later as well. He changed the subject for now. “So why Berlin? Why not London, or Italy? Italy was you second choice, you loved Italy!”

You giggled at the amount of times he said Italy. He bathed in the sound. “Germany was the first place Pepper could arrange on such short notice. Besides, we thought you would never think of looking here.”

“I would search the ends of the universe for you.” He said, face and tone all of a sudden serious. You inspected him for a minute, heat rising to your cheeks, before you both cracked a smile.

“You’re so fucking cheesy.” You laughed.

“I thought you loved it when I act cheesy.” He expressed, mocking fake hurt.

You smiled and kissed his chin, ignoring his dramatics, opting to be enveloped by the silence. You were calmed as he rocked you in his arms, pulling you as close as he could. His large warm hand on your exposed lower back felt like home. You two fit together like puzzle pieces, and you were happier now than you were the first time you kissed. Now you weren’t in secret. You were out in the open, as you experienced a new first in your relationship.

You broke the silence this time, as you laid your head on his chest. “So how did you find me?”

“Tonysbitch99 Y/N? Come on, I’m a fucking genius, and I’m not exaggerating. Your last tweet led me here”

Your head shot up so you could question him. “Wait. So you went out on a fucking whim?”

He laughed at your outburst. "Well actually a blue-haired girl encouraged me to check your twitter account. I found your hidden one on your old phone. That led me to your apartment.”

“Nao.” You said in a low menacing tone. You had some words for her as soon as you got back home. But when you thought of home, your mind wandered back to the obstacles in your way. Being so happy to see him, you forgot about Edward. “Tony” You sighed. “You can’t be here. Edward will find out. And you could lose everything you worked for. Your dreams have to mean something to you.”

“They do. You’re one of them Y/N.” He always had a way with words, and just as you were about to protest he cut you off. “I won’t go into details about it, but everything is fine. You can even contact both Edward and Pepper if you don’t believe me.”

You believed him. The fact that he involved Pepper’s name encouraged you to. “Enough about me though. You seem to have been keeping yourself busy.” He whispered against the shell of your ear.

“What do you mean?” You asked, flustered by his action. He suddenly, but slowly dipped you so that you could focus on where his line of sight was. Your eyes met Finn, who was busying himself with guests, as well as stealing glances at the two of you. As you focused on him, Tony peppered kisses along the heart of your exposed bosom. The gesture forced you to shoot up out of embarrassment. You knew he was marking his territory, but you immediately scolded him.

“Who is he?” He asked you, ignoring your tiny hits and reprimands. Once you calmed down, you told him about Finn. “He hasn’t taken his eyes off of us, or should I say you, since my being here.”

You averted your gaze from Tony, and he immediately knew you were hiding something from him. He pestered you, until you told him about Finn’s crush, as well as the shared kiss. By the end of it all, he was sending death glares his way.

“You should introduce us.” Tony suggested, gravitating towards Finn, before you held him taught.

“Calm yourself.”

“What did you say his name was again? Finn?” He asked, but he already knew the answer to his own question. “Finn. Finn. Finn.” He repeats, as if the name felt like a bad aftertaste on his tongue. “You know what? I like it. No, I really do, it fits him, because he looks like a fucking fish.” He spat.

You grinned and asked, “You’re not jealous are you Tony?”

“And what would I have to be jealous of? Did you not hear me say fish?” He questioned.

“He’s a sweetheart. Come on, let me introduce you.” You were about to take his hand to meet Finn, but were surprised to see that he was already making his way over to the two of you.

“Y/N, who might this be?” Finn asked reaching out to shake his hand. He knew who Tony was, most people did, but this was Finn’s way of acting as if he himself was more important.

“Tony Stark” Tony interjected, acknowledging the outreached hand, but blatantly refusing to shake it.

Finn dropped his hand, before speaking again, smile now twitching. “Nice to meet you Mr. Stark. I’m Finn Schmidt.”

“Well that’s rather unfortunate.” Tony mumbled, loud enough for the both of you to hear.

“Tony!” You chided, slapping his arm.

“What?!” Tony cried. “You heard him say his last name was Shit, right?”

“He said Schmidt.” He knew that. Tony ignored the glare on your face that demanded he apologize.

The sound of laughter rang in your ears, as you both snapped your necks towards it. Finn must of thought he was funny. “Y/N, your grandfather is hilarious.” Finn said, now deadpanning at Tony.

Tony looked down at his hands, then at your brown ones, then back up to question the handsome boy. “Do I look like her fuc—”

“You’re right Finn. My boyfriend is pretty funny.” You say, examining his face with a small smile. Your comment shocked both him and Tony. He was happy that you could finally call him that.

“Now,” you continued. “I’m a bit tired from these past few weeks. I think I’m going to call it a night. Enjoy your evening Finn. I’ll see you Monday.” You smiled, as you tugged Tony away.

“Goodnight Fish Shit,” Tony smirked over his shoulder, as you dragged him towards the door.

“It’s Finn Schmidt, you idiot.” You corrected, sending an apologetic nod back to your friend.

“What did I say?”

ººººº

Pushing the door open to your apartment, you unstrapped your shoes to place them next to the door, urging Tony to do the same. You threw your keys in a dish, and turned to him to whisper your intentions to go and slip into something more comfortable. He stared at you with a small smile as his response, dark eyes searching yours, while his remained unreadable. The dim light from the kitchen, illuminated his face, making it look intimidatingly beautiful. Or was hauntingly the word?

You suddenly felt nervous, realizing that this was the first time in months since you had been alone together. Handing him back the coat he let you borrow for the walk here, you cleared your throat, and averted your gaze before excusing yourself from the room. Tony relished in the fact that he had reverted you back to your first stage of innocence.

Upon your exit, he took a slow stroll around the room. He was careful to take in all that he had missed. Curious of how much you had changed, and how much you stayed the same.

Accents of your favorite color were spread throughout the room. You had an open kitchen, and the living room was right across from it. They were both tidied to perfection. You had sleek wooden floors, that looked like they had never been stepped on. Furniture, that looked like it had never been sat on. A stove, that looked like it had never been turned on. Your place was nice, but he could tell you were rarely home.

The walk here, you told him of your job on top of your internship, and school.You didn’t complain about it. In fact, you appreciated the chaos, and constant busyness. But he hated that you worked like a dog just to make ends meet. There was now all this time he would have to make up for, by spoiling you.

He bent over to examine the books on your shelves. Some were new. Some that he had suggested. But what he searched for were the ones you would spend your summers rereading, as if the words would leave the page; desperate to memorize every letter.

He moved on, now curious about your smart TV. What new shows were you watching? Did you still love the ones he remembered to be your favorite, or did new ones take their place?

He picked up the candle on your coffee table. The scent of honeysuckle assaulted his senses. It was much different from your usual vanilla. He sat it down to continue his journey to your kitchen.

He raided your pantry, your cupboards, and your fridge to see if you had been taking care of yourself. The contents were scarce, and he had to remind himself to scold you later.

“Are you hungry?” You asked smiling, grasping the hallway’s entry frame. You were wearing an oversized ash gray shirt whose front was tucked into a pair of frilly pink shorts. Your previously pinned hair now fallen was framing your cheeks, as stray pieces were pushed behind your ears. You removed all of your ruined makeup, and the result left a sheen of dew on the surface of your skin. If he thought you looked surreal at the gallery, ethereal was the word he’d use now due to your natural glowing state.

“Yes” He replied. But he was getting full off of your appearance alone. There was no need for useless human sustenance. The way you looked was enough.

You came into full view, grabbing a glass from your cupboards to pour yourself some water. “Well I’m afraid you’re not gonna find anything here.” You took a sip, offering him some. “But it’s not too late. There are still restaurants open.”

He reached for the glass in your hand, but instead of taking it, he placed his hand over yours to make you feed him sips of water. He eyed you over the rim of the glass before setting it down to say, “I’m full now.”

You swallowed hard, walking to sit on a stool on the other side of the island. Tony fell backwards directly in front of you, letting the cabinets behind him catch him. He drank you in with his eyes, as you felt yourself shrinking under his scrutiny.

“What?” You questioned, shy from his gaze. He said nothing, and just watched you.

After a moment of playing the staring game, you tried to break the silence again. You looked down at the shirt you were wearing to spark a conversation. “I’m sorry I stole your shirt. I needed something to remind me of you. I hope you didn’t miss it too much.”

“The only thing that I missed, was you.” He said after minutes of deafening silence. Is he mad?

Looking down out of guilt you told him, “Well I’m here now. Tell me how you’ve been.”

He felt like your question was a loaded one. Not once did he think about himself while you were gone. He was constantly thinking of you. I’ve been lost. He wanted to say. I’ve been hopeless. I felt helpless not knowing where you were. Not knowing if you were okay. So many things were on the tip of his tongue, but instead he settled for “Let’s just say, I’ve missed you.”

“That’s not what I asked.” You were genuinely curious about how his life was without you. But Tony looked like he didn’t want to explore the subject further.

“That’s how I feel.” He declared, drifting slowly towards you.

You decided to continue talking in order to fill the awkwardness. “Well its obviously how I feel too, but I wanna know how you’ve been holding up.” You ignored his sudden closeness. “Could you at least tell me how every one is? You mentioned Nao had blue hair? It was pink when we met.” Tony stood silent by your side as you asked your questions. “How’s Samuel? And Pepper?”As you rambled on and on, he traveled behind your stool, placing his hands on the chairs bars. His scent began to envelope you, and thats when your rambles became incoherent. If you weren’t already nervous before, you definitely were now.

He picked up on it, like he usually does, and asked “Am I making you uncomfortable?” in a hushed tone. You felt his breath fan the back of your neck, goosebumps formed on the little parts that were exposed. Your thighs clenched together, as you were suddenly turned on by how he made you feel both small and secure at the same time.

He grabbed your chin, lifting your neck upwards and to the side, just before he placed a soft kiss on your lips, the first kiss since your reunion. It was so soft, you felt that he was afraid you might break; or as if you were only a part to a vivid dream. Deepening his touch, he let the fingers that were lifting your chin, trail down the line of your neck. Soft fingertips brushed against your skin, until they collectively found a loose position around your throat. He let his thumb explore your jaw, while his tongue explored your mouth. Soft lips quickly turned into rough ones, as they fought to release every frustration and emotion he felt for the past five months.

When he pulled away, he had the nerve to place a chaste kiss on your cheek, as if he hadn’t just tongue-fucked your face a moment ago. “Sorry.” He apologized, “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while now.” He then walked back to his position by the counter, as if nothing happened, turned to you and asked “So what was your question again?” Innocence and genuine curiosity etched his features, like the lust, from a moment ago, never existed.

Quickly overcoming your fit of fluster, you hesitantly stood to your feet. Tony never took his almond brown eyes off of you, as you seductively sauntered over to him. You had an idea. It was one you rarely thought of. One you never acted on; but if your time in Germany taught you something, it was to go for what you wanted.

Now standing directly in front of him, doe eyes boring into his, he shut them as you placed your hands against his chest, leaning in for a kiss. Much like his, it was soft. A feather like touch against his mouth. You barely pulled back to whisper, “follow me” against his lips. His eyes fluttered open just in time to see you retreating down the hall.

It was now his turn to become flustered, as he felt himself growing hot. He gave himself a moment to cool down, before taking his time walking down the hallway. As he poked his head in every room, just before he came to the last one, he found you sitting comfortably on your bed, stripped down to nothing but your bra and panties. Your elbows were propped up holding your weight, and your leg was crossed against your other as you patiently waited for him to enter the room. Your head was tilted as a seductive smile played on your features.

Tony returned the expression, and he was about to dive into you, until you raised your hand to halt his actions. “Take off your shirt.” You ordered.

“Excuse me?” He asked, eyebrows furrowing in amusement.

“You heard me.” You dared. Though your tone was soft, he knew you meant business. He searched your eyes for a moment, not finding his usual hint of submissiveness. So he decided to humor you. He leisurely unbuttoned his cuffs, glancing up at you every now and then. Then he took his time loosening his bowtie, dragging it off of his collar. He went painfully slow as he unbuttoned his bib, leering in your direction as he did so. Making you wait is what would usually break your spirit, and it was his favorite game. But you had learned patience while in Germany, so tonight was your night. You uncrossed your legs and raised to your feet, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt to roughly pull him into a kiss. This one was more feverish than the one shared in your kitchen, and it caught him by surprise since he was usually the one to take control.

You switched your standing positions with him so that you were now the one facing the bed. As you deepened your kiss, he got pushed further back, until his knees collided with the mattress. You stood between his legs surveying his cherry swollen lips, before you reconnected your mouthes.

You laced your fingers in his hair, breaking your kiss, to harshly tug his head upwards. The guttural groan that escaped his throat, left an ache between your legs, while liquid pooled to the center of your panties.

With the newly exposed skin of his neck, you stuck your tongue out to lick a slow stripe from his adam’s apple to his jaw, eliciting a string of curses from Tony. You then placed wet kisses down from there to his abs, kneeling to face his crotch.

The prominent bulge, made your eyes widen with anticipation, and mouth salivate from thirst. You fell to your knees, licking your lips, fingers now fumbling with the buckle of his belt. Tony grasped your chin, lifting it to meet your eyes. “Y/N, I don’t want you to think you have to do this.”

You smiled at him, assuring him that you wanted to, kissing his fingers before going back to your previous tasks. He tensed up when you placed your hand on his thigh, just as the other worked to release his cock. The veiny appendage sprung free, and its size still intimidated you as you struggled to fit it in your tiny hands. Still, you were determined to make him feel good.

You wrapped your hand around it, holding his drunken gaze, before stroking him up and down. You placed chaste kisses along the base, until you reached his crown. When you swirled your tongue around his head, Tony’s dick bucked in your hands, and his large palm shot up to tangle in your hair, urging you to suck. You swatted his hands away, and fixed him with a stare, silently telling him you’d stop if he didn’t let you have this. When confident that he learned his place, you wrapped your lips around his tip, lowering yourself further down his shaft, twisting the parts you couldn’t fit (which was still a lot.) He was a moaning mess, when his dick hit the back of your throat. You bobbed your head up and down his length, mewling when you made him groan. The vibrations from your moans, sent jolts of electricity up his spine, and he struggled to contain himself.

Gagging against him, you shot back gasping for air, only a string of spit connecting you. After six more motions like that, Tony shot three thick ropes of cum down your throat. The sound he let out as he came, made the area between your thighs slick.

He usually spewed words of encouragement when you gave him head. “Just like that” or “Suck daddy’s cock” filled your ears as you worked him through his orgasm. But to see him come completely undone, unable to form a sentence, let alone control the situation, had you feeling more than satisfied. His head was thrown back surveying the ceiling before he bought his attention back to you. His face was a soft shade of pink, and sweat covered his forehead; it worked like glue, as pieces of disheveled hair stuck to it. “Who taught you how to do that?” He asked between breaths.

“Finn.” You joked, but as soon as you said it, Tony grabbed your arm to yank you to your feet. He grabbed the nape of your neck to pull you closer to his face.

“I know you’re just kidding sweetheart, but I don’t find that funny.” He rasped in a low tone. The grip he had on your neck caused you to whimper, but you didn’t mind the sting. It only riled you up.

You stepped back from his embrace, to undo your bra, just for him to yank you back in once it was off. He began kissing between your sternum, dangerously close to the mounds of your breasts. You chuckled at the feeling of his facial hair tickling your skin, but then your giggles turned into moans as his beard created delicious burns across your surface. He reached his hands down to your waist ridding you of your panties. Once you stepped out of them, you pushed him backwards on the bed, to crawl over him placing both thighs on each side of his.

He bit his bottom lip at the sight of you, eyes burning with desire, and hands trailing from your thighs to your waist. You grabbed his dick, brushing it against your lips, before slowly guiding it to your entrance. As you sunk down on him, he sucked in air harshly, while you yourself let out a gasp of pain.

“You still fit like a glove, baby.” He moaned out, glowered at you through hooded eyes. His hands tightened their grips around your waist to help you ease yourself onto him.

A pained gasp erupted through your chest; the farther you sunk down on him, the further you stretched out. Pleasure began to burn in your loins when you met his end. You threw your head back and planted your palms against his chest, rocking and grinding on his cock at a painfully slow pace. Your clit grazed his base as you did so, encouraging you to pick up your speed. His hands that were previously on your waist, crept up your front to fondle your breasts. You grabbed his wrists to help lift yourself up and down his shaft.

The faster you bucked against him, the closer you came to meet your edge. He found his words of encouragement, when he heard your lusty pants of pleasure. “Such a pretty girl.” He praised. “Look at you go.” He whispered. He watched sweat form against your cupids bow, and your expression contort further into one of pleasure.

Your pace began to falter which is when he placed an arm around your back to sit the two of you up. Using the edge of the bed, he met your hips with his own, fucking into you at a new angle. His pace was faster, and more accurate than your own, which meant with each thrust he his your g-spot head on. His grunts and your pants echoed off of the walls as he sent you barreling towards your orgasm. You shut your eyes, letting the ecstasy hit, as you panted his name, over and over again.

Letting the pleasure wash over you, you came to a complete stop, your moans sending vibrations through Tony’s chest. He didn’t stop though, his thrusts were relentless, as he tried his hardest to bury into you. “Keep going.” He ordered you.

“I can’t daddy.” You whimpered, already fucked out, when you barely even started.

“Yes you can.” He simply said, forcing you to sit up straight. You straddled his lap, met his eyes, and placed your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself, trying to will yourself up and down, but your hips just wouldn’t let you. By this time, he stopped completely as well, to catch his breath.

You laid your head in the crook of his neck, defeated. “I’m sorry.” You exhaled into his skin.

He lifted your head to cup your chin. When his eyes met yours, he pecked your lips before saying, “It’s okay princess. You did so well…but now it’s daddy’s turn.”

With that, he picked you up and wrapped your legs around him to place you at the top of the bed. He got rid of the rest of his clothes before he crawled back into bed, sinking into you again. You both let out groans at the feeling of his fullness.

Tony threw nice and slow out the window, and immediately began drilling into you. Your moans turned into deafening screams as his hips bruised your pelvis. He pried your legs open, placing quick kisses along your neck as he did so, knowing it would drive you up the wall as well as comfort you. He bit and sucked harshly along your collar bone, sending your mind into a blissful haze. Your hands shot up to his back, clawing at the flesh. You left blood in your wake, as you raked your hands down the skin. He let out a growl at the feeling, thrusting harder into you as a result.

Your second orgasm arrived quicker than your first, but the feeling was more intense. He left you writhing, and shaking on him, as ripples of pleasure coursed through your body. Giving you a minute to collect yourself he flipped you over, before saying, “I’m not done with you yet, princess.”

A look of alarm spread on your features, when you looked behind you to see him lining himself up yet again. “Tony I don’t think I can cum again.” You whimpered.

“Awe, I thought you were a big girl.” He teased, smirking as revenge for earlier. While he loved the way you look on top, it obviously hurt his dominating spirit when you took his control. He leaned down, grabbing the side of your face to better access your ear. You felt his hot breath fan the side of your cheek as he whispered, “You’re gonna take all of me, until I fill you up with my cum.” Then he let you go, causing you to fall forward.

You were so turned on it didn’t make sense. You just had three orgasms rip through you, yet your pussy was begging for more.

He slammed into you for a final time, this position trumping them all. He gripped your hips, locking in on you, giving you no chance of escape. That didn’t mean you wouldn’t try. You climbed to the top of the bed, trying to put a bit of space between yourself and Tony’s strokes, but he just pulled you back in, fucking you harder than before.

Tears welled up in your eyes. The intensity was becoming entirely too much. Your nipples brushed your bedsheets the harder he fucked you into them. His balls slapped against your clit, every time he met your hips. And his grunts of pleasure from using you, sent you toppling over the edge for a third time. The stimulation sending you into a convulsing fit. You squirted against him, covering his member with your sticky wet cream. Luckily for you, he followed shortly after, coating your walls with his thick white seed.

When you collapsed, he rolled to the other side of you, both of you breathing heavier than before. When he caught his breath, you turned over to drape your naked body onto his.

“Was I too rough” He asked, suddenly feeling like he went overboard.

“Absolutely not.” You giggled. “Please do that to me all the time.”

He smiled in response burying his nose in your hair. The smell of coconut immediately comforting him. “I love you Y/N.” He cooed.

You lifted your head from his chest to kiss him sweetly. “I love you too, Tony.” That was the last thing you both said, before drifting off into a peaceful slumber.

Whether your relationship lasted a lifetime, or ended in a year, in this moment you were happy. Happy that you no longer had to hide from the world. Happy that he was finally in your arms again. Happy to want someone, who wanted you even more.

Happy to exist at the same time as him.

A/N: Please do not repost my work as your own. Comments, likes, and reblogs are encouraged. I love you all, and really hope you enjoyed this! Thank you for reading :)

#tony stark smut #tony stark x reader #tony stark au #black reader #tony stark angst

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sweetiejunie · 4 years

Text

Who’s There?

Summary: it was early in the morning yet someone was in the library with you

Genre: smut

Yeonjun x reader

Noted: to the anon that requested this. So this turned out to be more of shy boy!yeonjun rather than sub!yeonjun so ill probably attempt to write another sub concept for him :’)

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

It was a quiet day in the library. Well, it was 9am on a school day so what did you expect? Everone had already gone for their lessons.

In case you hadn’t figured it out, you were skipping your class.

You always despised your lecturer for that class. He was rude and insulting towards his student, you could list more things but i dont have all day to type all of it out.

All in all, that’s how you ended up in the deafening silent library on a monday morning, smell of old books surrounding you. Dressed in a cute floral wrap dress as you aiminglessly roamed the shelves, hands grazing across the books, waiting for a title to catch your interest.

You didn’t want to address it but, as you had been walking around you felt a pair of eyes on you, which felt strange since you figured no one else would be here.

“Who’s there?”

No answer. Thinking it was just your imagination, you chose to ignore it and continued on your quest.

After some time of wandering around, you wanted to give up on finding something to read when you came across the title ‘the map of time’. A thrilling melodrama of a man who could travel back in time.

Picking the book from the shelf, you found a nice, cozy couch next to a row of windows, claimed it and started reading. As if there was anyone else there to fight for it with you.

It was quite an interesting book if you had to admit. You would have been completely engrossed in it if it weren’t for that strange sensation of the same pair of eyes from before still watching you. Wanting to catch the culprit you jerked your head up, catching a glimpse of someone’s hair before it disappeared behind a shelf. The biggest clue you got was that the hair was blue, and immediately you knew who it belonged to. Of course it could only have been that boy, choi yeonjun.

You found out about his little crush on you from your tattletale of a friend Beomgyu. You never thought much of it but after that you started to pay more attention to yeonjun. You didn’t have a chance to see him very often but you had started to realise that he may have caught your interest too.

Yeonjun was a carefree boy that everyone thought to be full of confidence but never dared say two words to you and that you admittedly said to be cute. You never really confronted or teased yeonjun about this before so you figured, why not today?

You put your book down, you walked towards the shelf you last saw him at. Looking at his reflection in the window, you saw how he was leaning against the shelf, hands to heart, eyes wide, catching his breath as if he was just caugh red handed, which he was. You silently chuckled at his reaction and continued walking towards him.

Poking your head around the corner, you greeted him, “hello.”

Yeonjun jumped, making you laugh as you walked forward so you were in full view in front of him.

“Sorry, i didnt mean to scare you.”

He nodded, not saying anything as he tried to compose himself after the shock.

“So what are you doing here? Don’t you have class?” You asked, not wanting to immediately point out the fact you caught him creeping on you.

“Oh- i er... my class was cancelled,” he answered simply.

Humming a response you continued, “so care to explain why you were watching me?”

You already knew the answer but yeonjun’s face turn a bright pink as he avoided eye contact was something worth seeing. You smirked as you watched him struggle for an answer.

“I... I... I’m sorry, i didnt mean to. I was just-” he stumbled out.

You kept quiet for a while, loving the sight of the embarassed boy that everyone thought to be ‘mr. Confident’. Oh, this was going to be fun.

“It’s okay. But you know, i heard from someone that you have a crush on me. Is that true?”

Yeonjun chocked at your sudden question. Mouth hung open at a lose for words.

“Cause you know,” you took a step close to him, grabbing his hands placing them around your waist, keeping your hands on his.

Watching how yeonjun physically looked like he was about to break down, leaning in closer before continuing, “if it was true, i would admit that I’m interested in you too.”

Yeonjun’s eyes were blown wide open at your sudden confession, face and ears a bright shade of red. You took a half step back, smirking at him before held the back of his neck, lips landing on his.

It was a gentle kiss at first. But that only lasted until yeonjun had left his dazed, flustered state and processed what was happening. His grip around your waist tightened while one of his hands wandered to your cheek, holding your face in place. You took this as a sign to deepen the kiss.

Your hands glided down to his chest, his stomach, and back up, admiring his toned figure through his shirt. Whimpering slightly when you felt him flex under your touch as one of your hands travelled further down.

You broke the kiss to speak, earning a whine from the boy.

“Does baby boy like it when i touch him?” A devilish smirk plastered actoss your face, you hand ghosting over the slight bulge in his jeans.

“Do you want me, yeonjun? You still havent answered if the rumour is true that you like me. I need an answer before i can do anything,” your eyes fluttering down to your hand then back up to his face suggestively as you bit your lip.

Once again, your actions left yeonjun a flustered mess and all he managed to choke out was a measly, “yes.”

“Yes to which question baby?”

“Yes to everything. I like you and i want yo- no, i need you,” he let out in one breathe.

That was all the confirmation you needed for hand to start massaging him through his tight jeans, that you could only imagining getting more uncomfortable by the second.

Yeonjun moaned at the contact, causing you to tsk.

“You have to be quiet my baby. There’s no one here but we’re still in a library afterall, the librarian’s still here and there are still rules. Can you do that for me?” you whispered into his ear, breath tickling his skin.

Mouth shut in a straight line, yeonjun frantically nodded at your request, desperate for more.

“Good boy,” you praised as you leaned in to kiss him again, hands working on his belt, unzipping his jeans and bringing his hard member out from his briefs.

This time the kiss was needy and hungry as you felt his member press against your lower stomach. You felt yeonjun’s hands move down your waist, to your hips, stopping at your bottom. Squeezing lightly, cueing you to wrap your arms around his neck and jump, straddling his waist.

He walked you forward until your back hit the opposite shelf, not breaking the kiss a single time. And just your luck, it had to be the literature shelf.

You thanked whatever braincell of yours decided to put on a dress that morning and preyed Shakespeare will never see your crude behaviour disrespecting his books. But then again he did write Romeo and Juliet.

One of your hands slipped down between your bodies, taking yeonjun’s throbbing cock in your hands as you started pumping him, spreading his precum, using it as lubricant. He moaned into the kiss causing your core ached from need.

“Yeonjun,” you whined.

And as if through telepathy, he knew exactly what you wanted. Hooking his arm under your tigh, he moved your panties to the side as you guided him inside you.

You both let out soft moans at the sensation as yeonjun slid further in you, his length stretching you out deliciously.

“Move baby boy.”

His thrusts were slow at first, being mindful of the amount of noise you were making. The possibility of the librarian discovering the two of you just added to the thrill.

“Fuck yeonjun, you can go faster than that,” you moaned, planting kisses down his neck, holding on to him for dear life.

That was the first time yeonjun heard you say his name that way and he had to admit- he loved the way it rolled off your tongue. His thrusts got faster and harder, letting out a low groan every now and then at the way you tigthened around him.

With each snap of his hip, he hit that sweet spot inside you. With each thrust, you felt your lower back hit the shelf behind you and you knew that if anyone were near enough, there was no way you would have got away with this.

As you approached your high, you he was as well as his actions got sloppier.

“Jun-i i want you to cum inside me,” you managed to let let out between moans.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, it’s alright. I can take the pill,” burrying your face in the crook of his neck as this thursts got harder, chasing his high.

With a few more thurst he came undone. The feeling of his warm seed in you trigerring your own high. You both stayed like that for a while as you caught your breath.

“I really like you y/n,” he suddenly admitted.

His confession caused you to giggle, “well, i would hope so. Considering the fact you’re still in me right now.” Nodding your head, gesturing to the srea where you were still connected.

“Ri- right, sorry,” he apologised, face red as he slid his softened member out.

He put you down gently, holding on to you until he was sure you wouldn’t fall. After you both had made yourselves presentable again, he rested his forehead against yours.

“Shall we get to class? For once I’m glad we’re in the same lecture hall,” he whispered before gradding your hand, leading the way.

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So not rly a sub!yeonjun so ill be writing another one soon. If u have other requests, send them in and ill see what i come up with 😚 hope you liked this!

Masterlist

#txt yeonjun #txt #txt ff #txt fanfic #txt smut #txt au #txt imagines #txt post #yeonjun scenarios #yeonjun fanfic #yeonjun imagines #yeonjun ff #yeonjun smut #choi yeonjun

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rightnowyoucanttell · 4 years

Text

Malibu, Next To You

Title: Malibu, Next To You

Summary: Is it supposed to this hot all summer long? Or is it just him? A very fluffy date with some minor molehills between Veronica and Grayson on a Malibu beach. Just because the sun is down, the night is still young, and so are they. But which way does it go...

Warnings: Fluff, implied smut (I don’t write smut, sorry guys), talks of anxiety

A/N: When this idea came to mind, i say that because i have a roughly planned full series timeline in my head it started with just the first part as a blurb but then I was like hey let's make a series, it was originally to be a reader insert (Y/N, Y/L/N, ect.) but i always have problems doing that as they feel too weird to write so I came up with Veronica and added it to the plot/timeline whatever you'd call it. so you can do that or appreciate it for the beauty it is with Veronica and Grayson.

Tags: @dzoint @graysavant @blindedbythelightt @tadadolan @heartofalionxo @beatement-l @grayswhore @saggitariusagirl @tattoogray @onlyangels-world @dxlxnbby

Part one

Series Masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You know..” Ronnie drifted as she walked kicking the sand beneath her feet forward in a rhythmic pattern,” I’ve never enjoyed going to the beach..” Veronica glanced up from the sand and over to Grayson who gazed down to the ground before making eye contact.

The smell of saltwater brushed their noses, seagulls cawed in the distance as the water crashed closer and closer and then pulled itself back out. The pair, Ronnie and Gray watched the sunset as they walked barefoot as the tide came in and set back out, like both of their hearts, coming to a calm stop and then flooding back in a rampage of fluttering butterflies, beating in there chest.

He explained the currents and she just gawked in a secretive manner, so he didn’t notice, the dumbfounded look his body gave her.

“Really? You don’t say, I mean I figured that much, for someone who has a fear of seagulls and drowning…” he pondered the thought as his feet stopped the wallow in the incoming tide that was just far enough from Ronnie who was in the dry portion of sand.

She giggled shaking her head continuing down the shore all while facing Grayson,”..are you saying you’re not enjoying yourself?” he shouted over the crashing waves that he ran from to catch up to her.

“You remembered…,” Ronnie’s heart fluttered. Grayson knew about her anxiety. Ronnie explained to Grayson that night in Starbucks, her fears, in return for him doing the same. There was a semi prolix list. Seagulls, birds, circus clowns, large crowds, heights, and significantly Drowning.

She shook herself from the bliss and continued, “but, no. No no, no.. of course not. You brought me here!” she exclaimed twirling with open arms, the wind catching her grey wool shawl that covered her white strapless sundress with bright red roses.

Her damp dark brown hair caught in the breeze flew gently, her eyelids covered her vibrant green eyes. Grayson’s eyes followed Veronica in awe as she twirled in the sand and breeze all the way as she ran back to him and nearly ran into him.

The two laughed and turned around to walk back to the there picnic blanket, both inaudible deciding it was time to eat,” Your something else, you know that?” he offered up to the conversation. His hand brushed against gently against Ronnie’s.

Ronnie just smiled letting silence sit between then,”..Something good I hope…” the entirety of the walk back to the picnic blanket and the food was silence, blissful and incentive for Grayson, but nervous and nerve wracking for Veronica. She hastily wondered if she had said the wrong thing, or turned him off or away and that’s why he hadn’t said anything, but she tried telling herself it was just the anxiety and the nerves this Italian boy from New Jersey stirred up.

Veronica Chandler likely always would be anxiety-ridden. After all, Fears my life, Ronnie had the words tattooed on and wrapping around her wrist. The black ink still had water droplets from when she had been swimming and wading in the water with Grayson. Veronica left the fishing on her stepfather’s, Darren, boat to him and her older brother Noah, even all the while, an excelling science student, she never got how they were floating.

However, if tonight, if Grayson asked her, Ronnie probably would step foot on a boat. She never willing went to the beach, even though living in Miami with private beach access growing up at her home, and certainly did not stand by the ocean. But on this evening, Grayson brought her there, and she was happy that he did.

So here they were.

The sunset warmed Veronica the pinks and blues entangling themselves, like the hopes of how Veronica undeniably wanted to be entangled with Grayson later that night. Something in Grayson hoped it too.

On a picnic blankets, following a stroll along with the tide on the now rather deserted from the public eye, on a beach in Malibu. Munching on what Ronnie’s mom would call “Rabbit Food”.

“This is one of the best wraps I’ve ever tasted,” Ronnie added as she quietly finished chewing her toes in the sand below and surrounding the blanket.

"Its from.." Grayson paused to chew," this stand in downtown LA, Marty's I think, they're delicious." They made eye contact, Ronnie smiled with her eyes, covering her mouth as she was chewing.

"We should go together sometime,"Ronnie offered nervously.

"Defiently...,"Grayson brushed his hands above the wrap on a clear piece of plastic wrap beefy ass salad chickpea wrap sat on, in between final swallows of his bites of food he started, "so... care to explain why you ignored me for a week, 'ronica?"

That's when the evening went south.

What Grayson didn't know, that the week Veronica avoided him..one week desperate Gray was left with no sign she was alive, no text, calls, and no DM’S except the confirmation seen from the first night.

That week the week she ignored him, the week he was referring too, Veronica, was in Miami visiting her mother. Veronica had deep-rooted feelings for Grayson.. but, again, like a record used, the last had left a few scratches, and overtime... they scarred.

But it was nothing, Gianna, Mama Chandler couldn't fix...

Ronnie sighed heavily,"Why does everyone I love settle for someone so low of them?" She pondered the thought in silence as she finished her rant of the night she met Grayson.

“..well, he sounds like a keeper..and handsome....,” her mother drifted. Ronnie wasn’t paying attention fondling with the small strands that belonged to the blue and white polka-dotted beach towel her mother and herself were tanning on. Within seconds her attention was grabbed by an incoming frisbee, that landed...perfectly in one of the white polka dots. Ronnies eyes widened when she caught its sight, she gazed curiously and then picked it up examine it, before tossing it to the wind aimlessly,”-Veronica! You could have hit someone!” Gianna gently smacked the four-arm of her daughter’s right hand with the back of her hand.

“Mom!? What the fuck? Did you not see that it landed in the circle, that’s not a coincidence...that’s a fucking conspiracy. Like how a cartoon predicted 9/11 and then moon landing was faked...," Ronnie slumped back so her back rested against the beach chair set up behind her.

"It was an accidental coincidence..dear," her mother licked the tip of her finger pulling the pages apart. Her sun hat covers her sunglasses covered eyes, and held her brown hair in place around her shoulders, she was paler than Ronnie, she and noah got there skin from her absentee father, he was the Brazilian in her jeans.

"Yeah well, accidents don't just happen, accidentally, mother," Veronica huffed and crossed her arms leaning back farther and closing her eyes, enjoying momental peace before the woman started up again.

"When you head back to Los Angeles, you better text that boy, I'll be damned if you pass up a chance with someone like that. He's a good one that Grayson, I can tell. You cant let your life wither away to nothing and give up on love because of one bad drinker and a beater bad apple.. theres good people out there.. you just gotta look in front of you."

The memory on the beach faded, she hadn't realized she had been gazing into Grayson's hazel eyes the entire time the flashback played out in her head like a scene from a movie,"do you, uh. Really want to know? Is it fundamentally necessary.." she drifted off leaving a tenacious gap of silence. Just the wind and the waves to be heard.

Grayson scoffed a chuckle,"..well, no, but, I'd like to know."

Ronnie thought for a few moments, if she didnt tell him, he'd be suspicious, if she told him he might doubt the feelings she had if they were legitament,"I was in Miami. With my mom, i needed advice. A break. I was worried you were..a player. And now I know, I know that your not. Your kind, cute, hot, sexyyy, and-"Veronica's ramble was cut off by Graysons hands wrapping and cupping her head into his hands and pressing his lips to hers.

Internal fire works went off, if it were a movie they would be exploding over the water between there heads just visable to camera shot. Both hearts beat against there respective rib cages, not knowingly they both had been wating for this moment the entirety of the night.

Ronnie's hand came to touch Grays chest shortly before she came up to breath in the salty air,"that.." she panted,"was hot. But, I dont know.. if this'll work. I'm lonely and broken.. and can barely take care of myself, just, Grayson-"

"I like that your broken, and lonely" he grasped her face one hand still behind her head his thumb caressing her cheek,"not like in a kinky sort of way," they both laughed for a few seconds, Ronnie looked down. He placed his pointer fingern underneath her chin, tilting it up,"I could be lonely with you.."

"My place or yours?" She smirked. Hoping that night of entanglement would happen after all.

"Mine, definetly mine." He breathed there chins pressed together.

Ronnie had never run faster than she didn that night, all the way back to the porsche.

#lyricalbrokendolan #brokendolan #grayson dolan blurb #grayson dolan imagines #grayson dolan au #grayson dolan oc #grayson dolan series #Spotify #grayson dolan fanfic #grayson dolan fanfiction

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bbbrats · 5 years

Text

grand theft pussy

pairing: gamer!jeongguk x reader

genre: domestic au, smut, crack, comedy (its all smut i fucking lied)

warnings: dirty filthy disgusting inexcusable talk, non-penetrative sex with a Playstation controller, penetrative sex, cum play, creampie, snowballing kinda (sorry), cum eating, forced orgasms, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, fingering, spit swallowing, throat fucking (im-), cock to face slapping, slapping, cockwarming (this was filthy enough ok so nvm), SO MUCH DEGRADATION, so much bad language im sorry, grinding against jk’s rib area, filth, oh um lol btw JK has a humongous cock?, kinda ended up praising jeongguk’s cock too im so fucking SORRY, kinda wrote switch!jungkook on accident but dont worry he’s mostly dom’ing our bitchass

rating: 21+

summary: Jeongguk just wants to play his game in peace without his brat of a girlfriend fucking with him. But of course, he doesn’t get what he wants.

A/N: Please excuse this god awful mess of hormones and thirst for the one and only Jungkook. And excuse the fucking title, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.

You heard Jeongguk exhale angrily through his nostrils as another online character shot him as he was changing his clothes. He started fuming, his thumb heavily tapping the X button for him to respawn and you heard him mutter the faintest insult under his breath, “Fuckin’ pussy”, and you snorted, looking away from your phone and to your side seeing the angry glare in his eyes.

“Babyyy”, you whined, trying to cheer him up, yet it only irritated him a bit more, the sweet distraction of your voice caused his Grand Theft Auto online character to be killed once again by another person. He snarled, pressing a chaste kiss to your cheek in attempts to soothe your needy hands clawing at his arm to get his attention, only to have you turning your head to lock your lips together. He huffs and looks into your eyes as he sucks your bottom lip into his mouth, nipping and biting at the flesh until you’re all lightheaded and throbbing. He then pulls away, exhaling a puff of frustration and continuing to pay his attention back to the screen.

Needless to say, his ministrations caused your pussy to glisten under the lace fabric of his favorite panties, your thighs clenching together and tongue peeking out to flick at your lips.

You wanted him, and you wanted him now.

“Googiee”, your soft voice graced his ear drums as your hands traced over the firm muscles of his back, fingers grazing up and down over his black T-shirt. His mouth lifted into a entertained snarl, his voice oozing dominance as he spoke, “Baby, what’re your slutty little hands doing, hm?”, and the reply he got was nothing short of a whimper, your legs unfolding from under you to wrap around the side of his waist, knees locking together.

Sat in this awkward position, he did his best to ignore you, eyes still locked on the graphic game in front of him, that is of course until he felt the slightest movement of your hips circling on the side of his hips. You were grinding on his fucking side. His mouth watered, feeling the heat of your pretty pussy against his side had his cock stiffening in his shorts, his hands grasping the controller a bit harder at the slight hitched breaths leaving your lips while your pleasured yourself against him. Lips twitching up into a snarl, he closes the application on the game, and throws the controller down, the noise causing your eyes to snap open just as he unwraps you from around him and jumps up.

Looking up into his face, it’s written over with pure lust, his pupils blown wide and his bottom lip tucked under his teeth, gnawing on the soft and rosy flesh as he stares down at you expectantly, his eyebrow cocking as you slide off the couch and onto your knees, head bowing to acknowledge his aura dripping with dominance.

He tsk’s as his lips curve into a sinister smile, “Care to tell me why you were acting like such a slut, hm”, he growls, and your thighs tremble; you fucked up. With no response from you, he continues, “And why you were grinding that pretty little pussy against my side?”

Staring up into his eyes without a response, he exhales, his hand slapping your cheek lightly as a sign to answer him. So you do, “I-I’m sorry daddy, I just wanted your attention and the way you kissed me and I-”, he cuts you off with a hand coming to brush at the cheek he slapped, his knuckles kissing your unblemished skin with adoration as he acknowledges your pathetic attempt at apologizing without falling to pieces under his piercing gaze.

Tears well up in your eyes as he nods slowly, understanding your attention craving. In honesty, he knew with the busy schedules and long nights away that he wasn’t giving you as much pleasure as you deserved, and he felt guilty on the inside, but now wasn’t the time to get all sappy. You wanted his cock, and by god you were going to fucking get it.

“Safe word is ‘angel’, understand”, he murmurs, still brushing your cheek with his fingers, and once you nod, those once gentle fingers snake up into your scalp, snatching you up by your hair and you whimper, lips trembling in excitement as he pulls you toward the bedroom, hand tight with all your hair balled up into his fist, a sly smirk on his lips as he shoves you into the room, still standing in the doorway.

“Naked and on the sheets by the time I come back, I was hoping I wouldn’t have to spank that pretty ass tonight, so don’t make me”, he grunts, turning around and heading back the way you both came to retrieve something, and in the mean time, you’re hurriedly stripping yourself down, and right as he crosses the threshold of the bedroom door, you’re settling into the sheets on your knees.

A soft smile appears on his face at your beauty before it’s wiped away by the greedy look flooding onto his face at the exposed flesh, teeth gnawing at his bottom lip as he strides forward placing the controller between your spreading legs, and as his nose bumps yours, he holds down the R2 button and immediately it roars to life, vibrating intensely against your hooded, glistening clit, and your eyes roll, and throaty moan unleashing from your lips as your back bows and your hips raise off the mattress.

He watches with a sick smirk on his face, eyes glazed over in pure entertainment as your screams echo off the walls, an orgasm unexpectedly radiating through your heated body as he pressed down harder, and a tear leaks down your cheek before he pulls it away, sighing at how fast you came. ‘Pathetic if you thought it was over, whore’, he thought.

Grabbing your ankle, he drags you down the mattress, until your feet are touching the floor, and he tells you firmly to stand up and drop to your knees, and like a good slut, you follow.

“Baby, I’m fucking your throat tonight, so open up and put your hands behind your back”, and you look up at him through your lashes, smirking, “Sure you’re rough enough to do that, daddy”, and a angry snarl leaves his lips, his slender form bending forward to wrap a hand around your throat and squeeze until your mouth is parting, and eyes watering.

“I suggest you watch your fucking mouth, bitch, otherwise the only thing that’ll be rough will be the way I’m fucking you into the sheets. You pretend to be all dominant when you’re just a try hard sub that loves to be pushed into submission. Now shut the fuck up before I break you, petite pute”, he snarls, and your stance visibly weakens, the words sending heat straight to your pussy and fogging your mind, as you stick your tongue out and hold your mouth open, to which Jeongguk let’s a globule of spit fall into your mouth before gripping your jaw with his other hand and forcing it closed so you can swallow, “Good girl, now back on your fucking knees, mouth open. And I won’t tell you again”, and he releases your throat, allowing you to catch your breath as you drop to your knees, ignoring the pain that sparks up through your nerves.

Your eyes flick back over to Jeongguk, watching as he flicks the button of his jeans open and pushes them down to his knees, then removing his shirt and finally, releasing his cock to your eyes.

Jeongguk’s dick was something to be admired; it was perfect. Long and girthy, with just the right curve that left your pussy quivering around him whenever he banged around inside your walls. Along with a angry red tip that you could easily see precum peeking out of, and a set of hefty balls to match.

He noticed your oogling and decided it was time to give you a taste, so while he guided his cock to your open mouth, with the delicious sight of drool pooling inside, he huffs holding the heavy weight of his cock in his hand before lightly tapping at your cheek, then your chin, and finally your bottom lip, teasing the leaking head at your warmth. Being bold, you decide to flick out your wet muscle and tongue at his leaking slit, causing a whiny moan to grace your ears.

Unable to take teasing himself anymore, he shoves his cock into your mouth, pushing past your barriers and gag reflex, causing your throat to tighten and your body to stiffen as he quite literally begins to fuck your face. His chest begins heaving not even 5 minutes into the oral session, his head tilted back as his ears strain to hear the choking noises around his cock, “Swallow my cock, bitch. Eat it”, Jeongguk huffs, stuffing his cock, as he said, down your throat, “That’ll teach you to be a mouthy little whore.”, and you whine, muffled by his thick dick stretching your throat open.

Luckily for you, he relents, right before he falls apart and pulls his cock out of your mouth, or he tries to, but you hang onto his hips, sucking with determination and he cries out in surprise, “Y/n! What the fuck are you d-doing- a-ah s-stop, fuck! s-shit, baby, ugh im gonna fuckin’ c-cum”, he whines, his cock spurting thick streams of cum into your mouth, and you suckle at the tip until he’s done, holding the cum in your mouth.

His chest is heaving as he pulls you up, kissing you and you push his juices into his mouth, and he moans heavily sucking on your tongue and then pushing his cum back into your mouth, pulling away and allowing you to swallow.

“Bend over”, he grunts, fisting his cock as precum oozes from the tip some more. Obeying, you bend over the front of the bed, spreading your legs, and you thank the heavens as Jeongguk has lost his patience and instead of teasing he decides to just utterly destroy you as you feel his thick head prod at your entrance.

“I’m going to fuck the fucking shit out of you, slut”, he murmurs, hands clawing at your hips and jostling them to his desired position. A moan surpasses both of your lips as he sheaths himself inside of you, his cock nestled firmly against the cervix of your pussy, and he almost falls apart at the quivering, wet warmth around him.

Appreciative of the time he gives you to adjust, because Jeongguk is no little man, you pull your hips forward slightly before slamming back in a signal to get Jeongguk to just move. And he does, his hips pulling all the way back before slamming forward and fucking you into the sheets as he promised.

You were loud, you knew you were, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to care as Jeongguk fucked you senseless, your eyes rolling and clit brushing against the covers, you didn’t have a care in the world. You were going to cum, and soon with the way Jeongguk was moaning into your ear, “You’re so fucking gorgeous, I love this tight little pussy. God I can’t wait to spill my cum in this pussy and claim you as my bitch”, he growls, “But you already know, you’re mine. You and this perfect fucking pussy are mine”, he exclaims the final word with a harsh thrust that sends you over the edge with a yell, your voice hoarse and eyes spilling tears as Jeongguk just fucks you past your limits, another orgasm forcing itself free and just as you reach it, Jeongguk cums inside, his breath hitching as he rides out both of your highs together, cock softening inside you.

Breathing heavily, he rolls off you to the side, releasing your hips and letting you go before snorting at you, “I just wanted to play GTA, Y/n”, he pouts, and you toss a pillow at him.

Fucking mood killer.

#grand theft pussy #gtp #smut #jungkook smut #bts smut #bts #pwp #sigh #its done #here #leave me alone

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iceeckos12 · 4 years

Text

dont spare the horses

Summary: Jon and Martin get domestic. The next logical step is to adopt some cattle.

did i write jonmartin fluff of post-159? I did! spoilers for 159 and everything that happens after. canon divergence after 160. warnings for attempted selfharm.

title is taken from ‘home’ by bruno major.

“How much work is it,” Martin wonders, “To take care of cattle?”

Jon lowers the book he’s reading so he can study Martin’s face. Jon is sitting on one end of the couch, and Martin is leaning against the arm, his feet propped up on Jon’s lap. Jon knows and he Knows what Martin’s face looks like, but it doesn’t hurt to study it again, just in case he’s missed any important details. Like the freckle under Martin’s right eye.

Then Jon remembers that he’s just been asked a question, and his partner is probably expecting for him to take advantage of the remnants of his Beholding powers to answer. Jon closes his eyes and reaches for the embers of it, slowly smoldering away in his soul. It gets harder and harder to find it each time. He thinks that it’s a good thing.

(Sometimes he misses the constant flow of information, the high of all the knowledge in the world at his fingertips.)

He sifts for a couple of seconds through useless information—the Highland cattle breed is the oldest registered breed in the world, happy cows make more milk—before finding what he’s looking for. He sighs and looks up into Martin’s expectant, cow-brown eyes and says, “They’re relatively low maintenance, apparently. I think they require a bit more space than we currently own, though.”

Martin hums and lowers his head to his laptop, apparently satisfied with that answer. Jon watches him for another second, before leaning back into the couch and finding where he’d left off on the page.

It’s not long before Martin speaks again. “How much do you think this safehouse would fetch?”

Jon doesn’t have to be an avatar of omniscience to know where this conversation is going, and how it will end. He would be happy to live out the rest of his days in quiet contentment in their cozy little safehouse, reading his books while Martin publishes award-winning poetry (he feels a little bit like a trophy wife, if he’s being honest. He finds that he doesn’t mind it in the slightest). But if Martin wants to move to somewhere with wide open spaces so they can raise herds of adorable little cows, then Jon will do what he can to make it happen.

Jon closes the book and squeezes Martin’s ankle. “I don’t think we’re allowed to sell Daisy’s safehouse without her permission. Do you want to call her or should I?”

Martin beams at Jon, and Jon thinks that there’s nothing he wouldn’t do to make Martin look at him like that again.

-0-

In the end, it’s Basira that saves them.

Three weeks into their stay at the safehouse, they’re woken by a phone call at two in the morning. Jon lets out a confused sound and makes to get out of bed, but Martin shushes him and tucks the blanket over his shoulders, and tells him to go back to sleep. The lack of statements has made Jon weak and tired, and sleep is more important than it ever has been.

Martin picks up the phone. The dirt in the floorboards is rubbing against his feet, and he’s still getting used to the way a chill seems to permeate the entire building in the middle of the night.

“Hello?” Martin murmurs, voice quieted by both his desire not to wake Jon and his proximity to sleep.

“Martin, is that you?” Basira asks, and there’s something in her voice that makes him stand straight up and pay attention. Something is wrong. “It’s Basira.”

“Uh, hi Basira,” Martin pushes his hair back from his face, flicking a gaze into their darkened bedroom. Should he wake Jon? “Something the matter?”

“I put together a bunch of statements for Jon, like I promised,” Basira begins, and there’s a soft rustle in the background. Paper? “I found something.”

Martin sits down slowly, finding and squeezing the edge of the small cardtable that they’ve been eating their meals at the past couple of weeks. “Okay…?”

“Elias—no,” Basira lets out a low, shuddering sigh. “Jonah was going to use Jon to start the apocalypse”

“What?” Martin gapes.

Basira’s voice is shaking slightly, cut through with horror. Martin has never heard her like this, not even when Daisy went missing. “He’s had everything planned right from the beginning—Prentiss, Sasha, whatever the fuck happened to his hand—he was planning on turning Jon into some—some sort of ritual to end the world—”

Martin thinks about the man lying in their bed, made small and terrified by repeated exposure to a world that made him very, constantly afraid. He thinks about the slow spiral, the hunger that ate at what was left of Jon’s humanity, piece by bloody piece. He squeezes the table, and imagines Jonah Magnus’ thrumming pulse beneath his fingertips. “Basira—”

“I wouldn’t have noticed,” she sounds tired, thready, “But there was a spider sitting in the middle of the page, and it drew my attention, and I read—”

“Did you burn it?” Martin demands, the world tilting on its axis like a top. If Basira didn’t burn it, then he will go to London himself.

“Of course I did,” Basira says, and Martin lets out his breath. “Of course I burned it. But Martin, you have to be careful.”

“We will,” he whispers. “You as well.”

“And tell Jon that I’m sorry,” she adds, and then hangs up the phone.

Martin lets the hand holding the phone fall to his thigh. His world is still spinning about him, thoughts jumbled and hazy and all he can think about is that stupid fucking birthday party, where Elias had sang ‘Archivist’ instead of Jon, and Martin hadn’t thought anything of it.

God. Jon.

Martin drops the phone and walks to the doorway of their bedroom, examining the small lump under the blankets. Jon’s long, black-and-grey hair is fanned out over the pillow, and his hands are curled into fists. His face is smooth, free of stress and fear, and for a moment Martin burns at the thought of Jonah Magnus, who’d looked at this nervous, bright man and thought, I will destroy the world with you.

If Jonah was here, Martin thinks, fingers twitching.

But then he sighs, because while Jonah Magnus is not here, Jon is. He comes around to his side of the bed and lifts the covers, sliding in beside Jon, who lets out a fuzzy, confused sound and rolls toward him.

“What was it?” he asks sleepily.

Martin takes Jon’s hand in his, rubbing his thumbs over the scarred knuckles, and says, “Nothing. Sleep. I’ll tell you in the morning.”

-0-

“What do you think about chickens?” Jon asks Martin.

Martin looks up from the flower he was admiring and blinks. It’s a perfect day for once, no clouds on the horizon, and the breeze has picked up just enough to be refreshing. The meadowgrass is soft and forgiving beneath their hesitant footsteps as they stroll arm-in-arm through the fields.

“Well, I mean…” Martin wrinkles his nose endearingly. “I’ve heard that chickens are kind of mean, actually.”

“Not quite as good as cows,” Jon agrees, “But it’d be nice not to have to buy eggs. And we have the space for it, now. We wouldn’t have to get too many.”

Martin studies him, as though searching for some ulterior motives. It’s different from the way people used to look at him at the archives, when that sort of suspicion is warranted. It’s almost playful, a warm smile teasing at one end of his lips. “Is there a particular reason why you want chickens?”

“Well…” Jon frowns, now trying to decide whether or not his reasoning for wanting chickens is embarrassing.

They have a real cottage now, rather than the rickety old safehouse. It’s warm and cozy, with clean white walls meant to be filled with photographs, and thick carpets that are wonderful to wiggle your toes on. More importantly, they are now the proud owners of a few acres of land, perfect for raising lazy herds of cattle.

“It’s just—when you’re raising farm animals,” Jon begins carefully, “I thought it was...standard to have chickens around as well.” It made sense, the way arithmetic made sense. One plus two equals three. People who raise farm animals have chickens, even if they’re not technically a chicken farm.

Martin lets out a light, surprised laugh, his hand finding Jon’s. “Jon do you—do you actually want chickens because you want chickens, or do you want chickens because you like the idea of having chickens?”

Jon feels a flush rise in his cheeks, but he stands his ground. “It’d be useful to have a bunch of chickens around.”

Martin shakes his head and presses a warm, fond kiss to Jon’s temple, like he simply can’t help himself. Jon tightens his hand around Martin’s. “Alright then,” Martin says, “We can get some chickens as well. On the condition that I don’t have to take care of them.”

“Come on,” Jon laughs, shaking his head. “Don’t be mean to my chickens.”

“These are still metaphorical chickens,” Martin corrects. “Who I will not defend you from if they decide to turn on you.”

“Liar,” Jon shakes his head again and smiles, and tucks his arm in Martin’s. They continue ambling onward, the scent of rain and fresh earth rising in the air around them.

-0-

Understandably, Jon does not take it well.

Martin is quiet as Jon falls apart, piece by piece, bit by painful bit. He is quiet as Jon grabs at his hair and makes muffled, heartbroken sounds into his knees, when he reasons out loud with himself, with Jonah. It’s only when Jon grabs a knife and almost gouges his own eyes out that Martin finally intervenes, wrestling the knife from Jon’s grip. Jon collapses into Martin’s lap, weeping, and Martin is crying too, just like he knew he would be if he spoke out loud.

Jon falls asleep against Martin. Martin doesn’t dare move, even when his whole body is screaming at the position.

Martin grimly screens all of their mail after that, every transcript that comes into their house. Jon is a skittish thing, hovering at the edges of the room as Martin scans page after page, starving but terrified of the idea of posing a danger to the world.

He tries to wean himself off the statements as best he’s able. At first he records once every couple of days, then once every four, going as long between each read as he can stand. Martin wishes that he knew how to soothe the worry, but Jon isn’t the only one recovering from the influence of a fear entity. The Lonely has made it hard for him to talk about things that need to be said.

They figure it out, though. Martin starts writing poetry again, figuring out how to put words to paper, figuring out how to put himself to paper. Jon stops beating himself up for choices he didn’t make and crimes that he didn’t commit. Because what else can they do? Sit still? They just didn’t end the world; it only makes sense that they try to at least enjoy it.

Slowly, they figure it out.

-0-

And so, Martin and Jon get some cows.

Martin is in charge of naming the cows. The first one they get is an older cow, a sweet, shaggy brown one Martin quickly names Henrietta. Martin is quite taken with her, always rubbing at the white star on her nose. The second one is a bull, a bit younger than Henrietta but no less sweet. He is dubbed Jackson, and he has a particular fondness for butting his head against your shoulder when you’re not paying attention.

Jon is deeply amused by the way Martin fawns over their cows. He rises well before Jon to feed them, and is usually still gone by the time the rest of the world wakes up. Jon can usually find Martin in the field, prattling away to Henrietta and Jackson, who are a surprisingly attentive audience. Sometimes, Martin even reads them some of his poetry.

Jon is quite taken with the cows as well, if he’s being honest. When he sees Martin in the fields in the morning, dew just beginning to burn off the grass, he’ll climb the fence and pat Henrietta’s star, and Jackson will chew lazily on his sleeve. Martin will beam at him, face gently lit in the rising sun.

Jon is, under no uncertain circumstances, in charge of the chickens. He is in charge of figuring out how to put up the chicken coop, putting up the chicken coop, but most importantly, naming the chickens. Jon’s never been good at naming anything, so he secretly picks the names from old statements. Martin thinks it’s hilarious that there are chickens running around with names like ‘Susan’ and ‘Laura’. The big rooster that Jon buys, that runs around and shrieks menacingly at you until you give him a swift kick, is dubbed, ‘Jonah’, because Jon has always been a bit of a bastard.

They still get letters from the Institute. Jon knows that they do, because each time Martin finds one, his face scrunches up with an awful, alien anger. The letter is quickly reduced to ash in their fireplace, though. Basira tells them all they need to know about the Institute these days, and they have better things to do.

-0-

“So what now?” Jon whispers.

Martin looks down at Jon, who is curled as close against Martin’s side as he is physically able. His long, black-grey hair is pulled into a loose ponytail that spills over and down one shoulder, and his glasses are tucked in his collar. Time has done a good job at wearing down some of his hard edges.

Martin tucks Jon’s bangs behind his ear and lets his hand rest there, gently caressing. Jon sighs and covers it with his own, still watching Martin with those dark, expectant eyes.

“I suppose now…” he trails off, thinking about the Institute, about the safehouse where they now live. Thinking about good cows, and the nightmares they can’t seem to shake, and meadowsweet, and the I love you’s, and the affection so kind that Martin had almost been in tears the first time he felt it.

“I suppose now,” he decides firmly, “we get to live.”

#tma #my writing #tma spoilers #tma post 159 #fix-it #the events of 160 never happen because FUCK that #jonmartin

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albapuella · 4 years

Text

How to Lose a Lover in 10 Days or Less: A Comprehensive Guide to Becoming a Future Romantic Failure (Chapter Two)

AO3

Fandom: Homestuck

Summary: How To Lose A Guy In 10 Days AU Dave needs to win a bet; Karkat needs to write an article. Shenanigans ensue.

Tags: Humanstuck, alternate universe - no sburb session, POV switches galore, implied/referenced child abuse Author’s note: This story is the result of a jam session I did with aceAdoxography on the davekat thirst federation discord server. This one's a little out of my usual wheelhouse, but I hope you will enjoy reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing it. New chapters every Saturday/Sunday. Didn’t bother with the formatting this time: You want the fancy formatting, go to AO3 :D

Day 1:

Despite his slacker appearance (and life-style, to be honest), Dave was always punctual. He'd even made an effort to look the part of a guy going on a date with another guy: jeans with only a few holes at the knees, his favorite record shirt, and a red hoodie—all freshly cleaned. So freshly cleaned that the sweater was still very slightly damp. Well, whatever, it'd be fine. They were having dinner first, and that meant he'd have plenty of time for the thing to dry out before they went to the movies where the main thrust of Dave's doki-doki plan would commence.

Karkat arrived a few minutes later. He wasn't dressed to the nines, but it was at least to the sevens. It occurred to Dave, as he watched him approach, that he hadn't known how tall Karkat was. The answer was slightly shorter than Dave but with a more solid build. Stocky. Or maybe that was just the black sweater he was wearing. Then again, his legs looked pretty solid in the black pants he was wearing, too. Either way, he looked good.

Dave gave him an appreciative whistle which made Karkat's eyes narrow. Not the reaction he'd wanted. “Looking good, Karkat,” he said quickly, hoping to smooth over any feathers he might have inadvertently ruffled. “I'm digging the whole sexy college professor thing you've got going.”

“Uh, thanks,” Karkat said with evident disbelief. “You, uh, you look good, too.” He straightened up. “You said we were doing dinner first.”

“Yep.” Dave held out his arm. “I’m taking you to my favorite place. A lot of people think it’s wack, but I’m buying, so if you really don’t like it, at least it didn’t cost you anything.” When his date didn't immediately take his offered arm, he shook it invitingly. “It's not too far from here.”

Karkat looked from Dave's arm to Dave, suspicious. Then he sighed and laid his hand on Dave's arm, his hold tighter than Dave had expected it to be considering his earlier hesitation. “Okay. Fine. Sounds great. Let's go.”

---

The first thing Karkat noticed when he took Dave's arm was that his sleeve was damp. Then he noticed the feeling of the arm beneath his fingers. Despite looking thin enough to break, there was some muscle here. As they walked to what was apparently Dave’s favorite restaurant, Dave just kept talking. If Karkat had been offered a thousand dollars, he doubted he could have remembered any specific details of the inanity he'd been subjected to. A nervous talker. He'd have to put that down in his notes.

Dinner went much the same. Dave talked at him while Karkat sat there trying to eat his food (overpriced, faux Italian—of all the places Dave could have chosen, he'd picked a fucking Olive Garden? That was going in his notes, too.). In all honesty, Karkat tried not to pay too much attention to what was being said. First, he'd already determined that most of what came out of this man's mouth was completely meaningless nonsense, and second, if he actually listened to any of it, he'd be hard pressed not to respond to the idiocy. While Dave had no evident compunction about swearing, Karkat wanted to get through at least this first date without screaming.

All right, so that was an exaggeration. Some of what Dave said was actually pretty funny. In a hopelessly awkward sort of way. Karkat hated that Dave's clumsy compliments were making him blush. Clearly, the man had brain damage... which also explained the rapping that Dave kept doing (completely unprovoked!). By the time dinner was over, Karkat was only too grateful that their next destination meant that Dave would have to stop talking.

---

Since Dave had picked the restaurant, Karkat had picked the movie. Some romantic comedy chick flick Dave couldn't be bothered to remember the title of. Still, it gave him an opportunity to sit right tight next to Karkat and eat his weight in popped, buttery goodness, so he really couldn't complain.

“What’s the deal with that dude?” Dave whispered. “I thought he was already tight with that other chick. What gives? Is he cheating on her?”

Karkat made a noise like a cat being stepped on but softer. “Dave,” he whispered back, his tone full of the same sing-songy patient impatience that Rose would use when she thought Dave was being particularly dim, “if you were paying attention, you'd already know that that 'dude' is that 'other chick's' cousin. They are probably not romantically involved. I know you're from Texas, but that's not how it works above the Mason Dixon line.” Then he ducked his head and took a long drink from his soda. “Sorry. Just-just watch the movie and be quiet.”

Dave blinked. He'd been starting to think Karkat wasn't going to open up at all. At least, he'd had fuck all to say during dinner. Even if it had been an incest joke at his expense, it still was nice to hear Karkat say something. Something that wasn't just non-committal noises or unenthusiastic agreements. He leaned against Karkat's shoulder to whisper, “It's not true, you know. About Texas. We don't fuck our cousins; I mean, we do, but not first cousins. We're strictly second cousins only. It's a rule. Of course, none of my second cousins are as hot as you, so I'd be willing to make an exception. Just this once.”

This earned him a light elbowing to the gut and a low growl, but Karkat didn't push him off.

By the end of the movie, Dave had gotten five more elbows to the gut, three startled bursts of laughter, two creative insults (quickly joined by muttered apologies), and one “Will you please just let me watch this movie?” Over all, Dave felt like he'd succeeded in charming the hell out of this motherfucker, thank you very much.

They'd walked out into the open air, a nice breeze whisking away the smell of popcorn and sweat from the movie theater. “I had a lot of fun, Karkat. Thanks for coming on this date with me. Do you think we could do this again sometime?”

Karkat blinked at him, a clear look of surprise on his face. “Oh, uh, sure.” He shook his head. “I mean, yes, I'd love to go on another date with you.”

Dave's heart leapt. “Awesome. You can hit me up on Pesterchum. Or I can hit you up. How about I hit you up?”

“Fine, that's... that's fine.” Karkat's smile seemed uneven. “I'll be looking forward to it.”

Although Dave was tempted to try for a kiss, he didn't think he ought to press his luck so far on the first date. Karkat had loosened up some while they'd been in the theater, but out here under the streetlight, he looked nervous again. The last thing Dave wanted to do was chase him away. “Okay then. I guess I'll see you later?”

A slow nod. “Yeah, later.” Karkat was stilted and contained again. Restricted, like a hermit crab stuck in a shell that was too tight. It wouldn't do. It wouldn't do at all. Dave had caught a few glimpses of the real Karkat tonight, and the sight made him hungry to see more.

Dave watched him walk away, admiring the view with a new goal in mind: he was going to get Karkat Vantas out of his shell if it was the last thing he did. Getting to rub him in Rose’s face at her wedding was only going to be a bonus.

---

* Never shuts up. Not even during movies. Especially during movies. Attention span of a gnat. From Texas. Doesn't know how to use a dryer. Finds me attractive. Probable brain damage. Funny. Charming. Obnoxious. Never takes off sunglasses. Olive Garden.

Karkat sighed and set down his pen. He'd tried his best to be as cordial as he knew how to be, and he still hadn't managed to last for the entire four hours without insulting his date. Multiple times. Oh well. At least Dave was apparently brain damaged enough to find rudeness terribly amusing (if the way he'd kept bugging Karkat during the movie had been any indication).

He'd been surprised when Dave had actually asked if they could go on another date. Karkat knew he hadn't made the best impression, and yet Dave wanted to spend more time with him? He looked over his notes, trying to ignore the surge of happiness that filled him at the thought. It didn't mean anything: Dave was clearly an idiot, and after a few more days, Karkat was going to start on the offensive. Whatever meager promise there would have been in this fledgling romance, it was still doomed from the start: like all of Karkat's relationships.

Day 2:

It was all Dave could do to wait until the next day to pester Karkat. He didn't want to come off as too eager, after all. Didn't want to put Karkat off. But Dave was only so strong.

TG: so i was thinking TG: if youre not busy TG: we could go to the park this afternoon TG: watch the grifters and maybe get robbed TG: or you could come to my place and hang TG: is it too soon to do that? TG: asking for a friend TG: this is dave by the way TG: i dont know how many people youre talking to TG: not that its any of my business TG: i wouldnt want you up in my grill asking me who im talking to CG: IT IS SIX O'CLOCK IN THE MORNING ON SUNDAY. TG: yea and youre up anyway CG: BECAUSE YOU WOKE ME UP. WITH YOUR TEXTS. THAT YOU SENT JUST NOW. TG: oh shit sorry CG: IT'S FINE. I NEEDED TO GET UP ANYWAY. CG: YOU WANT TO HANG OUT WITH ME? WHY?

Dave frowned down at his phone. Was Karkat fishing for compliments or was he being serious?

TG: because its fun to hang out with you TG: thats how this works right? TG: i thought we could watch another movie TG: at my place TG: or your place i guess if that works better for you TG: ive got popcorn if that sweetens the deal at all CG: YES. BECAUSE THE WAY TO MY HEART IS MICROWAVED POPCORN. TG: fucking called it CG: … CG: FINE. I'LL MEET YOU AT THE PARK AT 2:30PM. IS THAT ACCEPTABLE? TG: perfect ill meet you by the giant yo CG: YOU MEAN THE OY/YO. TG: tomatoes tomotoes karkat

Dave watched the little “CG is typing” message run for almost a minute, feeling his nervousness grow. What had he said that required a novel length response? He managed to reign in the impulse to apologize preemptively, but it was a struggle.

CG: OKAY. WHATEVER. I'LL MEET YOU THERE.

He let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Fine, good then. Nothing was wrong.

TG: im looking forward to it TG: its not hard to intuit TG: when we come out to debut TG: sit by the yo then well go round TG: downtown get the lowdown TG: before we get busy in the hissie TG: partake of the fizzie cause we got a duty TG: to watch the fuck out of this movie CG: RIGHT. SEE YOU THEN. BYE.

Dave shrugged. He couldn't expect Karkat to really appreciate his off the cuff rhymes so soon after waking up, he supposed. Maybe they'd land better later. Flat reception or not, the important thing was he'd gotten Karkat to agree to come to his apartment. He looked around, frowning. Maybe he should clean up a little.

---

Jesus Fucking Christ. Karkat tossed his phone on the bedside table with a groan. It had been all that he could do not to curse out Dave like there would never be a tomorrow. Considering the fact that he was currently planning to go to the apartment of a practical stranger, that much might just be true for him. He lay in bed a little longer, out of spite mostly—he could never get back to sleep after being woken up—, before getting out from under the covers. First things first: notes.

* Inconsiderate asshole. Horrible rapper. Calls the OY/YO “the YO”. Doesn't know the right way to express “tomatoes, tomahtos”. Wants to spend time with me. Insane. We have that much in common.

Thanks to Dave's wake-up call, Karkat had plenty of time to eat a hearty breakfast and start his article.

“How to Lose a Lover in 10 Days or Less: A Comprehensive Guide to Becoming a Future Romantic Failure” BY KARKAT VANTAS

Since you have decided to read this article, I will assume that you are looking to learn the art of ruining your relationships without the mess of all that trial and error. Maybe you enjoy breaking hearts. Maybe you are the kind of masochist who enjoys getting their heart broken but is at a loss as to how to properly sabotage your relationship yourself. If you can manage to follow these simple steps, you will be well on your way to the same bitter loneliness that usually only the most unlucky in love get the privilege to experience.

The first step is the victim. For the purposes of this article, I picked one that is particularly obnoxious and brain dead. You may have different qualities you are looking for in a potential short-term partner. Ultimately, the most important thing to consider when you plan to lose a guy (or gal or enby) is that you make certain they are one you do not mind losing. That way you can start the process without any regrets.

The second step is the hook. Laugh at their dumb jokes; accept their stupid compliments; ignore their mangling of the English language (in my case, his horrible rapping); and generally be as agreeable as you can manage. A severe lack of intelligence in your short-term partner can be a boon here, though you will find most people are not immune to flattery. You need to make certain that you have your short-term partner well and truly interested in you before you attempt to lose them. If you try to lose them too soon, you will miss out on the full relationship ruining experience.

A little too informal, maybe, but a fine start. Depending on how well this afternoon went (assuming he wasn't murdered and stuffed in a closet), maybe Karkat would be able to start on step three. He was able to stomp down his nascent guilt with ease. After all, Dave wouldn't have been interested in him after the novelty wore off anyway.

---

The afternoon was a little warmer than the evening had been, but Dave still wore his hoodie. It felt lucky, and it was still clean. More the latter than the former, but the point stood! He sat down on the bench next to the giant yellow YO installation and waited. While it was tempting to shoot a message to Karkat, he decided against it. He’d be seeing him in less than ten minutes, and he didn’t want him to think he was clingy. Which he wasn’t. Totally not. Dave Strider had never clung his whole life. Ask anyone. Except Jade. Don’t ask her.

He noticed his leg was bouncing and put a stop to that noise. He was a cool operator. He had this thing on lock. The date yesterday had gone good, right? Karkat wouldn’t have agreed to see him again if he’d had a terrible time. He pushed back his hood and ran a hand through his hair. Nothing to worry about. He’d have a date for Rose’s wedding and continue sorting out the mystery that was Karkat Vantas.

Dave heard the crunch of gravel and looked over to see Karkat approaching. Another sweater combo, but gray this time. The guy had a style he preferred, clearly. It was fine: he looked great. He stood and closed the distance between them. “Hey, Karkat.”

“Hey,” Karkat returned, frowning. Of course, that seemed to be his default expression. “I brought a movie to watch,” he said gruffly.

Although Dave had been hoping he’d be able to pick the movie this time, he wasn’t too cut up about it. It might be a little early in the relationship to bring out The Room anyway. He wouldn’t know. “Sounds great. My place isn’t too far from here.” He held his arm out. “Shall we?”

Again, Karkat regarded his arm with suspicion. “Why do you do this?”

“Do what?”

Karkat opened his mouth before seeming to think better of whatever he’d planned to say. “Never mind.” He took Dave’s arm. “Let’s get going.”

As they walked to his apartment, Dave tried to keep the conversation flowing, but Karkat’s subdued responses quickly killed his enthusiasm. “I feel like I’m talking too much,” he said finally.

Karkat mumbled something which sounded suspiciously like “You think?” before he shook his head. “No, of course not. I’m just a little too tired to, uh, participate, that’s all.”

Dave winced at the reminder of his first faux pas of the day. “No problem, dude. I got us covered. I got words for days.”

“Months even,” Karkat added before ducking his head. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have--”

Nudging Karkat’s side, Dave laughed. “Nah, man it’s true. I’ve got words for fucking years.”

Karkat smiled slightly. “Decades.”

“Centuries.”

“Eons”

“Until the next motherfucking epoch, I’ve got words, Karkat. So many words. All the words even.”

Karkat snorted, covering his face with his free hand. “Damn it, Dave. Stop making yourself likeable.”

“I think that’s the point of this whole thing,” Dave pointed out reasonably. “Dating, I mean. It’s not like the old days where your dad and my dad decide if you’re worth enough chickens to trade me for, you know. These days I get to decide for myself how many chickens I want to be traded for.” He gave Karkat a mock critical eye. “How about it, Karkat? How many chickens could I get for you?”

“I don’t know,” Karkat said, his mock serious tone almost too close to a serious tone for Dave’s comfort. “Let me look in my pocket.” He made a show of staring down at the pocket containing his free hand before sliding the hand out and flipping Dave the bird. “Is this enough for you?”

Dave laughed. “I’m sorry, Karkat. You must have at least five chickens to ride this ride.” He felt his face flush but pushed onward. “I guess you’ll have to settle for a movie, and maybe some pizza.”

Karkat was grinning, and Dave decided right then and there that he wanted to keep seeing it. “Maybe next time.” As though to intentionally spite him, Karkat frowned again. “Are we almost there?”

“Yeah, man, just a little further.” As they continued their journey to his apartment, Dave felt himself frown. What was Karkat’s deal? He was a lot more fun when he let himself be himself. Dave didn’t like meanness for meanness sake, but he enjoyed a good joke. For some reason, Karkat seemed to think he shouldn’t joke around? Why? His frown deepened. Karkat also apologized a lot. And he was so often deferential even when it was obvious he had OPINIONS he wasn’t sharing. The pieces were adding up to a disturbing picture.

Maybe after he was done hanging out with Karkat today, he should hit up Rose. She’d know what to do.

---

Karkat’s expectations for Dave’s apartment had been fairly low, and he’d been pleasantly surprised. While not as meticulous as his own apartment, there at least weren’t empty food containers on every surface or dirty clothes everywhere. There was an overall shabbiness though: the feeling that the occupant didn’t care overly much about the apartment’s upkeep. The futon in front of the television was ancient and threadbare as were the carpets. The posters hung on the walls were dusty and faded, and there was a sort of mildewy smell. Still, as previously mentioned it was clean (more or less), and there were no obvious signs of a hidden murder dungeon (not that there would be if there were one, naturally).

“Nice place,” he said for politeness’ sake.

Dave beamed like a little boy who’d gotten just what he’d wanted for Christmas. “Thanks. It’s not much, but it keeps the rain off.” He gestured towards the futon. “Make yourself at home. Do you want anything to drink? I’ve got apple juice. And water from the tap, I guess. I could go pick up some beer if you want to go that route, or--”

Karkat held up his hand, hoping to stem the tide of suggestions. “Water’s fine, thank you.”

“You’ve got it,” Dave said before tilting his head and making twin awkward gestures with both hands involving his pointer fingers. “I’ll be back in a flash.”

It wasn’t until after he’d disappeared into, presumably, the kitchen that Karkat realized he’d been making finger guns. What a dork. Not that Karkat was any more suave, but he liked to think he was at least less childish. He tried to supplant the rush of fondness he felt by recalling just how pissed he’d been with this manchild this morning. It was not one hundred percent successful.

Dave returned with two glasses: water for Karkat, and apple juice for himself. “Take a seat,” he insisted as he set the glasses on the coffee table (sans coasters). “It won’t bite.”

Gingerly, Karkat took a seat on the ancient futon. The padding was so thin, he could feel the bars beneath. It was going to take a while to become unbearable, and he hoped this hang out? date? didn’t last long enough for that to happen. Just as he’d been about to reach for the water, suddenly uncertain whether he actually ought to drink anything Dave gave him, Dave flopped down onto the futon beside him like a sack of gangly flour. “Dave!”

“S’up?” Dave asked, grinning.

“Don’t ‘s’up’ me--,” Karkat managed to stop himself from calling Dave an asshole, but only just. “Just don’t ‘s’up’ me. Speak like a normal person.” He realized he was making a mistake as soon as the words were out of his mouth. “Sorry, I--”

“Dude,” Dave said, his grin dropping away, “Karkat, you don’t have to apologise for every kind of mean thing you say. I’m a big boy: I can take it.”

Karkat supposed he shouldn’t be surprised: he’d never been good at pretending to be a good person. If he could have managed that feat for any length of time, he wouldn’t be in this position. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he said as dryly as he could.

“I’m serious.” Dave sat up and turned to face Karkat head on, and Karkat saw his own annoyed expression mirrored in the black lenses. “I haven’t known you very long, and maybe I shouldn’t say anything, but--”

“You’re right,” Karkat interrupted, feeling his tenuous hold on his temper slipping. “You shouldn’t say anything.” After taking a moment to make sure he wasn’t going to say anything he didn’t mean to, he spoke again. “Let’s just watch the movie and eat some microwaved popcorn. Does that sound like something we could do? Or would you like to keep pretending you have some deep insights into my character as though we’ve known each other longer than three days?”

Dave raised his hands, and Karkat realized he’d sounded far more aggressive than the situation warranted. At this rate, he wouldn’t even get a chance to lose this asshole! Nice job, Vantas: stellar work. “No, you’re right. I’ll step off.” Dave said softly. He got off of the futon with far more grace than he’d flopped onto it with. “You just put the movie in, and I’ll, uh, I’ll make the popcorn.”

Karkat watched him go before putting his head in his hands. Well, fuck. As though this whole situation hadn’t been awkward before. He should just leave. Just leave, forget about his stupid article, and stop dragging this stupidly likeable idiot down with him. He should.

He stayed where he was.

---

Dave took maybe longer than he absolutely needed to to prepare the popcorn. As much as he liked to consider himself a smooth operator, he could tell when he’d made a mistake, and he wanted to give the guy in the other room a chance to cool down. What made it made it worse was that Karkat had been right to get mad at him: Dave barely knew him. In his place, Dave would probably be pissed, too.

Even so, Dave didn’t think he was wrong about the conclusions he’d come to. It was obvious that Karkat was, for whatever reason, putting on a show for Dave’s sake. Honestly, it was kind of creepy. If he understood why Karkat felt the need to do that, he’d feel better about it.

But it wasn’t his business. Not yet. Maybe you had to reach a certain level on the boyfriend echeladder before that kind of thing was something you talked about. It would probably help if they were actually boyfriends and not just newly dating, too. There seemed to be at least one obvious solution to that problem.

Dave could be patient. After all, he still had eleven days or so to get Karkat to at least like him enough to be his plus one at Rose’s wedding. It wasn’t all he wanted anymore, but it'd be enough to start with. As Rose had so often told him, start with small goals.

He poured an obscene amount of butter over the popcorn in the bowl and headed out to the living room. Karkat was bent over, fiddling with the DVD player, and when he looked up at Dave, his mouth was curved somewhat upwards. “What movie do you have for us?”

Karkat stood. “Coming to America.” He made his way back to the futon and sat down as though worried he might fall through if he sat down too quickly. “It’s more comedy than romantic, so I thought you might enjoy it more.”

That sounded vaguely familiar. “Okay.” Dave joined him on the futon, taking care not to startle him this time. “Let’s get this party started.”

---

Karkat had hoped bringing a comedy would hold Dave’s attention enough to keep him from talking through the whole thing. He’d been mistaken. Yes, a lot of what Dave said was funny, but it just never fucking stopped. Finally, Karkat couldn’t take it anymore.

He grabbed the remote and paused the movie. Then he very deliberately set the remote back down. “I want you to listen to me, Dave. Are you listening?”

Dave looked confused, but he nodded. “Yeah, I’m listening. Do you have something you want to tell me? I’m all ears. Lay it on me.”

God, he couldn’t even listen without rambling! “Would it kill you to shut up?” He saw Dave’s eyebrows peek over the tops of his glasses. A part of him told him to reconsider his current course of action, but naturally, Karkat could never abide by a piece of good advice. “Would it literally cause you to drop dead if you couldn’t expel your idiocy out of your mouth like a goddamned septic pipe full of half-formed metaphors and bullshit? Would your head explode? Can we try that experiment and see what happens?” Karkat felt his fingernails biting into his palms and realized he’d clenched his fists. “What do you say, Dave? Wait, I’ve changed my mind: don’t say anything. Let me bask in the gentle ethereal glow of silence for a moment. Can you do that for me, Dave? Can you let me bask? Will the endless flow of words finally cease?”

‘No’ was clearly the answer to that question since Dave was already opening his mouth. Then, to Karkat’s utter shock, he shut it again. His expression wasn’t ever easy to read with those douche shades he insisted on wearing all the time, but now it was completely closed off. Even the eyebrows had lowered back to their original position.

Silence stretched between them.

Karkat felt sick to his stomach. Shit. Shit. He really just couldn’t do it, could he? Couldn’t pretend even for a few hours that he was a normal person. Well, so much for this experiment. Time to write off this little adventure. Was it worth even trying to apologise? Before he could decide, Dave made the decision for him.

He was clapping. “Damn, just got owned,” he said, a wide grin splitting his face. “You owned me, Karkat. You should feel proud. Not everyone gets own this,” he gestured to himself. “I just hope you know what you’re getting into: I’m barely house trained.”

For an embarrassingly high number of seconds, all Karkat could do was blink. “You’re not mad?”

“Fuck no,” Dave said, still grinning. “I’m a big kid now. I’ve graduated from diapers all the way to pull ups. It takes more than a finely crafted, well-deserved take down to take me down.” The grin softened. “This is what I was trying to say before: I want to date you, not some weird super agreeable version of you. If you want to tell me off for talking too much, fucking go for it. You’ve got a way with insults--it’s a gift. Frankly, I’m insulted you’ve been keeping it to yourself.”

“There’s more where that comes from, asshole,” Karkat said before he could stop himself. To his amazement, Dave still seemed more amused than anything. A strange mixture of anger and fondness welled up inside him. “Stop grinning at me, and watch the fucking movie.” He picked up the remote and hesitated. “You don’t have to be silent,” he said, still feeling a little guilty over his earlier outburst, “just maybe less talking?”

Dave made a big show of running a zipper over his lips. Then he immediately ruined it by saying, “Scouts honor, Karkat. My word is bond. You can cash that shit at the bank.”

Karkat tried to picture Dave as a boy scout and failed. “Right.” He pressed play and the movie resumed. Of course, Dave still talked during the movie, but the sheer volume of words had slowed to a moderate stream rather than the full-bore blasting Karkat had been subjected to earlier. As he sat there on the futon, occasionally answering Dave’s stupid comments with barbs of his own, he felt warm in a way that was only nominally connected to the temperature of the arm he was leaning against. He felt… content.

---

Overall, Operation Hang Out had been a big success. It had been rocky in places, but again, overall, Dave felt like he’d hit his major mission objectives. A movie was watched, pizza was consumed, and Karkat finally, finally, did something other than apologise every time a hint of the person he’d met at the cafe had come through. He didn’t necessarily want to keep pissing Karkat off, but that bitch fit he’d thrown had been epic.

Karkat wasn’t the kind of guy Dave had expected to find himself interested in. At least, he’d never thought he’d have a grumpy asshole kink. Not that he hadn’t enjoyed the more quiet parts of Karkat’s visit, too. It had felt nice to sit on the futon with someone leaning against his shoulder. Dave wasn’t a sap, no, not a suave guy like him, but he couldn’t deny he’d like to do it again some time.

He considered texting Rose as he’d planned to earlier before deciding not to. After all, he’d managed the first crisis all on his own, and she might consider it cheating if he got her help. No, for now at least, this bird was flying solo.

---

* Clean apartment. Finger guns. Puts too much butter on popcorn. Also talks during movies outside theater setting. Likes getting insulted. Kink? Wants to date the “real” me. Delusional. Comfortable arm. Had a nice time. Had acceptable time. Clothes in his shower???

#Homestuck #Humanstuck #fan fic #my fic #wip

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boogiewrites · 5 years

Text

Choking On Sapphires 76

Characters: Alfie Solomons x Genevieve (OFC)

Title & Song: You’ve Got The Love

Summary: Alfie's Birthday Party. Genevieve's plans a lovely and humble (for her anyway) celebration of her favorite man. But little does she know she isn't the only one that has their own plans for the evening. Song is You've Got The Love by Florence + The Machine.

Warnings/Tags: Fluff. Dancing. Giving Alfie gifts. Some Cyril. Lotf of cute affection.

Click on my icon then go to my Mobile Masterlist in my bio for my other works and chapters. (Had to do this since Tumblr killed links, sorry.)

Genevieve’s pointed leather heels kick up dust along the well walked pathway towards Alfie's office. The navy shoes in their cool tone set apart from the sepia-toned expanse of dirt and wood as the employees of her future husband, the formidable gangster Alfie Solomons politely bowed their heads in greeting as they dare not do anything that could be read as anything but. A trip to Solomons office for even the bravest of men was a nerve-racking experience. But for Genevieve, it was always a journey of excitement and delight. This trip was no different.

She dusts her flowing, floral spring dress as she stops just short of bumping into Alfies second, Ollie. The tall and always slightly nervous looking young man had a curious bead of sweat on his brow as his body language gave away his hesitancy for her unannounced appearance.

“Bonjour Ollie darling!” She greets with a very pleasant smiling face, an envelope clutched in her hand over the small purse she carries that matched her shoes. She did always look very put together, and most always the opposite of her love Alfie as his appearance, particularly when he was at work. He was unkempt and old fashioned at best. She had brought many new things into his life but a complete shift in his wardrobe wasn’t one of them.

Ollie as always enjoyed hearing the sweet melodic greeting of his boss’s charming love interest, but not even his fondness for laying eyes on her could distract him from his anxieties as she cheerfully trotted towards Alfie's office door.

“Shalom Miss Durand.” He sputters with darting eyes and a face that only half turns to her as it nervously glances to the half glass door she could hear Alfie shouting from. He’s relieved when she takes a few steps back as he approaches her with outstretched arms.

“I DONT FUCKIN CARE IF ITS THE BLOODY QUEEN WHAT NEEDS SEEIN' TO MATE!” Alfies gruff and almost slurred thick Camden accent in its usual loud and booming delivery makes its way through the wooden door to their ears.

“Oh.” Genevieve says with puckered, painted lips, her dark brown eyes wide and understanding of the man before her and his unwelcoming body language.

“Yeah he’s uh...” Ollie stutters.

“YEAH 'N I FUCKIN' PAID YOU YEAH? NO ONE ELSE,FUCKIN YOU!”

“Poor man.” She sighs. “His birthday and he still can’t enjoy himself.” She tsks and opens her mouth to speak but his words interrupt her.

“YEAH 'N IF I DONT FUCKIN' 'AVE IT BY NOON, RIGHT? I 'ONT CARE HOW MUCH FUCKIN' MONEY I PAID YOU I'LL FUCKIN' SHOOT YOU! DO YOU UNDERSTAND? EITHER IT IS IN MY HAND AND PERFECT OR YOU WILL BE FUCKIN' CUT INTO LITTLE PIECES 'N NO ONE WILL EVER FIND YA MATE!”

“He’s going to die from a heart attack before the party.” She shakes her head and shrugs. “I apologize if he’s been poorly to you Ollie. I know a party isn’t really his sort of thing and he’s probably well miffed about it.” She responds apologetically. “He seemed rather pleasant this morning.” She reflects thoughtfully with a slight tilt of her head, her half pulled back hair shifting as she did so, the ends of it swishing across her lower back as she shakes her head out of the thought. “But maybe he’s only saving face because he knows I love a good party. Bless the poor lad.” Her hand rests on her ample chest that was still noticeable even in the humble neckline of her pink and blue floral dress. “I’m afraid I have one more thing to add to your to-do list today Ollie.”

“PISS OFF!” Alfie's voice interrupts again, hearing his hand hit the top of his desk.

Gen sighs and continues on despite the usually charming deep gruff she experienced from the man being replaced with a rather unpleasant gravelly growl full of threat. “I need you to put this envelope in his desk for me, please. It’s extremely important and no one, including you sees what’s inside. Trust me.” She hands the envelope to Ollie who’s shaking hands tentative lift to meet it between them. He takes it, looking at the sealed folder with question as it slides from her manicured fingers. “After he leaves put it-“

“WHAT PART OF I WILL FUCKIN' KILL YOU DO YOU NOT UNDERSTAND?”

Unphased she continues, “Put it in his desk where he will find it. No one else but he needs to see what’s in it. It’s important.” She said a stern nod of her head. “Put it in your jacket and keep it a secret from him and place it after he’s gone.”

“May I ask what’s in it?” Ollie cautiously asks.

“It’s for his birthday. It’s from me. It’s a letter and a gift and I want him to find it when he comes into work tomorrow. I want it to be a surprise.”

“Oh.” He says with a quick nod and slides it into his pocket. “I can certainly do that Miss. No worries.” He gives her a polite smile.

“What the fuckin' hell are you doin here love?” Alfie's voice without the door blocking it comes unfiltered to both their ears as it makes Ollie jump and Gen perks up and almost floats over to him at the sound. She must be the only person that responded that way to hearing that tone from the man Ollie estimates.

“I wanted to see if everything was on schedule for you to come home early.” Her voice is soft and sweet as her hands move across the gritty and rough fabric of his shirt that was in a loose style that made him look far older than he was.

“Ya don't know how to use a fuckin' phone now?” He laughs.

“I had to come to town to pick up a few things for tonight and I wanted to see the birthday boy.” She bats her lashes and leans into his chest, giving a peck to his chin as she does a little lift to reach him.

“Who?” He laughs heartily and leans in to kiss her on the lips.

“Don’t be daft now, Alfie.” She sways her head and beams at him.

“Don’t know no boys I’m afraid mate. Only know old, old fuckin' men yeah?”

“Wel lucky for you I happen to love me a cheeky old man hmmm?” She chuckles and he grumbles as she coaxes another kiss out of him. Ollie watches the display of affection, which was nothing new for him to see but the softness he showed to Gen always caught him off guard.

“I’m the luckiest old bastard in all of England love.” He says with a quieter voice as he hums into another affectionate kiss from the small dark-haired woman who held his heart in her painted, soft, deadly but well-manicured hands.

“Maybe you will be tonight after the party.” She giggles against his full lips and he lets out a single loud laugh of amusement for her cheekiness.

“It IS me birthday.” He shoots a charming grin her way as she steps back and gives his chin an adoring squeeze.

“Oh is it?” She chuckles.

“Ah ya silly bird. Get on wif ya now. I gotta work to afford to pay for ‘is party.” He teases.

“I’ll see you at three darling?” She says, stepping away but her hands still holding his shirt.

“Yes, you will pet. Now I do ‘ave to get caught up so I can leave dunnit I? So you go and get ready and I’ll be in later. On time. Promise.”

“Alright darling.” She coos, stealing another kiss from the older man.

“Love you Ari. Happy Birthday.” She chirps.

“Love you too Genny bee now get on.” He says giving her bum a little pat that she acts offended by but she giggles and tucks her hair behind her ear as she quickly trots away back down the corridor.

Alfie watches her leave with fondness in his eyes. He saunters towards Ollie, his broad and more experienced shoulders turning faster than the younger and taller man could comprehend as he grabs him by the shirt collar after knocking him in the stomach after he’s sure Genevieve is out of sight.

“Did she fuckin hear anyfin'?” He growls into the younger man’s face. So close he could feel the spit leave his lips as he demanded an answer.

“No.” He whimpers out, avoiding Alfies intense steely blue gaze.

“Then you should make sure ya go to temple then eh? Because you got real fuckin lucky dinnit ya?” He says with a taunt to his voice as he lets him go roughly, shoving him backward a few steps. “If you’d gone and let her hear me plans I would’ve killed you along with this fuckin twat of a jeweler.”

“She didn’t. I swear it.” He stays slightly hunched with a hand over his stomach as he rapidly shakes his head back and forth.

“Well, then what’s wrong lad? Stand up, we got fings to do! It’s me birthday! Didn’t ya know?” He asks with a hard slap to Ollie’s back as he turns and moves back into his office.

----------

Genevieve sits with glistening freshly oiled skin on the end of a sweeping, velvet canopy bed. Her pink silk dressing gown a sweet contrast to the black curtains that surrounded the bed and the windows on either side. Behind her rests a previously disgruntled Cyril. The poor pup didn’t care much for the new people and movement in the house while everyone readied for the party. Gen had taken some of Alfie's shirts and laid them on the bed for him to have a cuddle and settle down and it had worked. She sits leisurely stroking the large brown slobbering sweetie as he snorts into a sleep shirt of his owners.

Alfie enters into the room, the attention of his two favorite creatures sitting on the bed now focused on him. Cyril tail thumps loudly against the duvet and if Gen had a tail it’d be doing much the same. “Aren’t you two just precious?” He says throwing his jacket onto the same chair by the desk that he always does. “Ya havin’ a cuddle without me?” He asks, grunting and sitting on the edge of the bed as Cyril slides on his stomach towards him to greedily receive his head pets from his favorite human.

“He was missing his papa. With all the noise in the house he's been upset poor baby.” Gen coos, stroking the beasts back as Alfie take his face into both his hands.

“Ya like me innit ya? Don’t like all these people 'round do ya? Two old men need their peace dunnit they?” His lips pooch out as he skirts on the line of baby talk with the snorting dog as it licks his palms.

“I gave him some of your shirts to lay on and he’s been a good boy while I bathed.” She says with an affection tone.

“‘Ats cause he is a good boy innit ya Cyril?” He coos and lets the dog put his head in his lap where he quickly shuts his eyes.

“I have your suit pressed and hung for you darling. No rush of course, it’s still hours 'til the party. We can’t all be as fortunate to be as handsome as you and only require a quick comb and new suit and be public ready.” Gen teases, giving him a kiss to his temple.

“I know it’s me birthday but ya don’t gotta lie to me.” He chuckles.

“Shush.” She scolds with a tap to his strong nose. "Come and have a look at it." she says, her confident stride dragging the long gown behind her, cinched at her waist tightly and only accentuating her curves. There were plenty of up and downsides of dating a baker, and for Alfie, the softness she'd put on since they'd been together was an up side in his opinion. She'd been such a slight thing when they'd first met, hip bones and ribs just under the surface of her warm toned skin. But now her hips matched the swell of her chest, her thighs a perfect soft frame for the black hair that rests between them under a soft stomach with no protruding bones in sight. Only a real-life illustration of a woman with curves he'd seen as a young man that had most likely sparked puberty within him.

"It's a suit, love, why I gotta look at it?" his usual cantankerous grumble comes out.

"Because it's the first of your birthday gifts, darling." she says with an authoritative tone, one hand moving to her hip, her painted nails tapping against the arch of pink satin underneath it.

"A gift? Ya buy me a suit? I got plenty of 'em, Genny." he says with a less angry tone, toeing off his shoes and giving Cyril a good ruffle between his ears before moving towards her with a sigh heavy in his chest.

"No. It's from Freddie actually." she says with a more charming smile, removing the protective covering she'd been keeping it in her closet.

"Oh! Ol' Fred's at it again, eh? What is it? A chartruese three-piece with coattails?" he chuckles, amusing only himself as Genevieve gently handles the soft fabric.

"No, silly." she says with a shake of her head, presenting it to him. A lovely soft fabric in black for the coat and trousers, the inside a silken sapphire blue with a matching vest.

"Well this innit bad at all." he says with pursed lips in consideration for the good taste the usually flashy best friend of Genevieve's had.

"The buttons are all solid gold and look like little old coins." she says excitedly. "Touch it, darling, it'll feel fantastic on your skin." she says hanging it on the handle of the armoire. He does as is suggested as he uses the back of his still dirty hand, still smudged from work on the other side. He nods in consideration, thankful the two hellions had, in fact, kept his preferences in mind while making this for him.

"It is rather nice." he mutters, examining the little gold buttons.

"And there's also this. He designed the suit and we both decided on these." she says, returning with hurried feet in her little maribou tipped slippers as she holds a square velvet box open to him. Inside rest two sapphire cuff links with gold bases.

"Now 'is. 'Is is well good." he says taking the box from her hands. "This is lovely innit?" he says more cheerfully, holding the box in one hand and pulling her close with the other. She's rewarded with an affectionate kiss to the temple. "I am more than pleasantly surprised love. Well chuffed 'bout it." his more charming and smooth voice comes out as he beams down a smile that makes her slump and gaze up at him with adoring eyes.

“Very glad to hear it. I’m happy you like them, he had them made for me so they’d match the fabric exactly.” She says with a precise annunciation as she taps the deep blue vest with one pointed finger.

“Thank you my most thoughtful flower. I’ll wear it all with pride tonight.” He says politely, placing the box on top of the dresser for later.

“Perhaps you’ll use one of my other gifts for you tonight.” She says with a mischievous smile as she moves away towards her closet.

“More? And what would that be?” He asks with a dipped chin her way.

“I’ll give them to you before the party.” She says with a playful shake of her head. “Right now I need to throw something on to go do rounds to check everything.” She says as she holds the archway into her large closet, body posed as she speaks.

“I can do it for ya love. I’m sure you’d rather take ya time gettin' ready, yeah?” He says adjusting his shirt before shuffling over to his side of the bed to slide on his slippers.

“There’s a list on the desk. Just finalizing that everyone is where they should be really.” She says dismissively. “I was going to do it with Ags.”

“I can do it. Let me have some part in this party.” He grins. “Aggie can help me. She could handle it herself the old girl.”

“She could but you know how particular I am.”

“'N 'ats why I'd be a good man for the job, eh?” He says convincingly as he looks over the list written down in her dramatic and looped handwriting.

“Thank you darling. I appreciate it. I’ve been hopping about like a little rabbit all day with this party planning I’d love a little rest so I could have a nice time dancing tonight.”

“Then have yaself a little lie down yeah? I’ve got this.” He says shaking the paper in the air.

“You’re a lovely and thoughtful man Alfie.” She falls out affectionately.

“Now what I’d say 'bout lying on me birthday?” He shouts out in his usual gruff tone but she knows he’s only teasing. What she didn’t know was his ulterior motives for wanting to speak to the hired staff.

“There’s just the girl I was looking for!” Alfie booms in a warm voice as he sees Aggie fussing over flowers.

“There's the birthday boy!” She says with a face that beams only happiness his way. She grabs him by his cheeks and give him a sturdy pat and shake. “Gen is in her room I believe.”

“I know I’ve already spoken to her, thank you.” He gives her a curt nod. “But I actually needed to speak with you for a moment.” He says dipping his voice low.

“I’m all ears.” She chirps with her eyes hidden by rounded flushed cheeks.

“May we do so in private?” He asks with a gentlemanly disposition, his hand to her upper back as he shows her towards his study.

“Of course.” Her tone shoes her worry. A turn to her words Alfie was very used to hearing by now. “Is something the matter?” She whispers with large eyes that follow him as he moves to shut the door to his study behind him. He moves into the wooden, red and golden decorated room with its large bay windows and intimidatingly sized dark stained desk in front of them. He sits he list down as he rests on the edge.

“Nothing is the matter.” He says with a swipe of his hand. “I just needed you to be privy to my plans tonight and now was an ideal time to discuss them.” He clears his throat and lifts his chin high in a proud stance with his arms crossed. “You’ll want to sit Agatha.” He adds with a grin.

Her face still reading worried dispute his reassurance, he studies her as her fingers fidget, hands clasped in her lap as she lowers herself into one of the plush leather chairs in front of the desk.

“I need you to promise to keep ya voice down, yeah?” He says leaning forward slightly. “Because you’re going to want to make noise when I tell you this and I need to keep it a secret, right? I’d hate to have it at all ruined this close to the party wouldn’t I?” He speaks to her as if he were a child. Under normal circumstances, he would be much more respectful to dear old Agatha as she was the glue that held the house together but he knew her well enough to know she would squeal like a pig once he shared his news.

Aggie answers by turning a pretend key by her mouth and tossing it away, making Alfie chuckle, eye wrinkling at the corners with fondness for the woman who took care of him and Genevieve without complaint.

“Tonight I have some plans of my own in place after the birthday party she has planned, right? I’ve gone over with the band and the florist and everyfin' is set. Now's all’s left is you.” He says with raised brows. He moves to grab the matching chair to the one Aggie sits in, turning it towards her and taking both her hands into his after settling with a grunt from both him and the leather seat. “Tonight. After everyone clears out from the party. Which will be dismissed promptly at ten Genevieve assures me...I am going to formally ask her to marry me.” he speaks slowly and purposely, wanting to make sure his words were heard and processed.

Aggie's eyes grow wide as he speaks his final sentence, her mind trying to comprehend what was being said to her. She stares blankly at him for a few moments, She thought she could feel her heart rising into her throat. She thought to ask him to pinch her because she wasn’t sure if she was in a dream or not, she’d only been waiting for around 15 years now to hear of this sort of news for her Genevieve. And before he had shown up she had almost given up hope of hearing them at all. But here she was, her pride swelling up like a mother hen and her chest doing the same as she took a deep breath to compose herself.

“Are ya alright?” Alfie asks with laughter in his voice. “I thought I would have to hush ya or get flogged by ya to be honest.” He grins.

“I’m not doing anything so I don’t do either of those things.” She says with her knuckles turning white from squeezing her hands together. “You’re going to propose to my little Gen tonight?” She asks with her voice a whisper in her excitement for being able to ask him.

“I am.” He nods. “I’ve got the flowers bought 'n paid for that’ll be put in the ballroom once it’s cleared out and the bands been informed of the song to play. I know she’ll head out to the garden for a little nightcap before bed like always and she’ll come back in, and with your guidance she’ll go to the ballroom. And there I’ll be waitin'.” He says with confident nods as he explains.

She squeezes his hands. “You’re going to marry my Genny?” She says with her eyes now gathering tears.

“I have every intention in the world of it.” He says and takes out his handkerchief and hands it to her preemptively.

“You’re going to propose and she’ll say yes and you’ll get married and have children and I... I....” She starts to cry as it all finally breaks loose. All the years of worry about Gen after she was gone we’re no longer valid. She could breathe and enjoy her late years with the sounds of children in the house and dare she even wish she helps deliver the babies of the woman she helped deliver herself.

“Oh c’mere Agatha, sweetie.” He says wiping her face and giving her back a friendly rub. “This is more what I expected.” He chuckles and it causes her to laugh. “I know ya worried 'bout her yeah? But know I’m gonna take care of her best I can. I’ve been workin' on the ketubah and setting her up even if something happens to me. So no worries, eh?”

“Oh bless you Mr. solomons” She says with a shake of her head.

“Oh come now, off with that nonsense, it’s Alfie. You’re basically me mother at this point innit ya?” He gives her another charming grin.

“Oh heavens! Alma!” She starts to sob more loudly. “She’ll be so happy my God she’ll be in pieces! Her baby girl marrying a Jewish man. Oh my lord.” She gasps and holds her chest.

“I’m hoping we can have her family for the wedding. I’ll be talking to Altar bout it as soon as she says yes.”

“Oh Altar!” She wails And throws her face into the handkerchief as Alfie holds back a laugh at her dramatic delivery. Perhaps Gen had taken more of Aggie's traits than either of them knew.

—————-

Alfie completes all the things on the list, being stern with the specifics and not shying from cursing at the people who were being paid. He's sure they'd be far nicer to Gen this way now and avoid him for the rest of the night. He was paying the ones that mattered enough to where it didn't matter if they liked him or not, they'd do that job right.

With a now crumpled up piece of paper in his balled fist from shouting at the idling young girls on the staff, he saunters back into the bedroom he shares with the enchanting woman that is sat perched and in her knickers in front of her vanity table.

"Happy Birthday to me indeed." he says with a cheeky growl, bending to place a kiss on her bare shoulder as she reaches up to gently caress his bearded cheek with a loving smile.

"You should get in the bath, dear." she says turning to give him a kiss to the cheek as his hands run across her soft stomach. "It will be time to greet our guests before you know it." she states with her proper posture and posh matter of speaking and holding her face as she slowly transforms into the hostess of the year and the woman that caught his eye in the first place.

"As you command sweetie." he teases, another grunted smooch to her cheek as she leans into it with a content smile before he shuffles into the marble bathroom.

After a good scrub it's his turn to sit in front of the vanity as Gen works her magic on him. Rubbing different concoctions in her hands and slicking his hair back and making him look like a proper gentleman. She only fusses with the untamable piece of hair at his crown that always insists on misbehaving before sighing and pouting her lips in amusement at it. She'd given up the fight against it long ago, she now only found it an endearing reminder of his boyish stubbornness with his looks.

"Now mind your hair and get into your suit, I'll need you to button me up." another kiss given to his now waxed and smoothed beard as he watches her sashay into the closet in her pants and bra, watching her hips and peachy bum wobble as she trots like a little show pony across the room.

He's working on the buttons of his vest as she emerges, the sapphire blue sequined gown hanging loosely off her feminine frame as she holds it up and watches the ground while tiptoeing towards him. Wordlessly she turns, his fingers know intimately how to latch her up at this juncture in their relationship with so many dresses having been done up and undone by his hands.

"Thank you darling." she says with a sweet voice at almost a whisper, as she always does. She turns and he gets to take in the perfected fit of the gown he's certain Freddie made her. It was stunning, but she always was to him. Fitted to the hip then sweeping out, a slit up the thigh to accommodate her dancing legs later in the evening. The shoulders hung excess loose fabric, flowing over her strong upper arms as the deep V neckline was held together by flesh-colored fabric, keeping the pieces of her he enjoyed oogling like a boy the most in place. She wore his mother's necklace, a simple understated piece with little diamond stud earrings sparkling through the heavy veil of thick almost black hair that she had pulled to one side. Tiny combs with diamonds holding one side of her hair back and a single ring of sapphire.

"I thought you wouldn't be caught dead matching." he smirks at her, seeing her lips curve into an enticing smile before she tilts her head and smiles, putting his watch into his pockets properly.

"If the vest were made of sequins I would say it was too much. But a nice deep blue and this shifting fabric are different enough for me to accept." her eyes never leave her hands, her lips painted and poised as they smirk at his teasing. "There are so many things I never said I would do before I met you Alfie. Is us both wearing the same color really the one you want to pick on me for?" she gives him a charming soft laugh and takes his hands.

"Well what else is there?" he says with a knowing grin her way.

"If you want me to list off all the things for you I will because it is your birthday. But they are mostly terribly sentimental," she says with a roll of her eyes and a shake of her head with her sarcastic delivery. "About how I said I would never love a man as I do you. Or never trust one with power. Never let one lie to me and get away with it." she smiles and sticks her tongue out just slightly through her pearl-like teeth as she gives his chin a pinch.

"Alright, alright." he says loudly, deflecting from the tenderness as she fusses over him.

"How about we get to your presents, hmmm?" she chirps with an adorable tilt of her head. "I want to give them to you before the party. As is tradition it seems."

"It's a good tradition." he says in support with pursed lips.

"Alright. The first one..." she begins, tugging him to the bed and having him turn and stand facing away from it. "I need you to close your eyes." she says with her hands on her hips as he must give her a stubborn glance before residing to do as she asked. "NO peeking!" she says as she moves to pull both of the presents he'd be receiving tonight out of their hiding place in the closet. One she sets on a chair in front of him.

"What the bloody 'ell are ya doin'?" he asks at the sound of the scratching chair across the floor.

"Don't you dare open those baby blue's Alfie Solomons! I meant it!" she says continuing on with her task as he sighs and obeys. "Alright." she says proudly, moving next to him and clasping her hands together. "Present number one. Open!" she says, holding her hands up in celebration as he twitches his nose and bats his eyes before focusing on the painting that sat propped against the back of the chair, sat in the seat in front of him.

His posture straightens and his chin pushes into his neck at the realization. He steps closer, hands in his pockets as he studies the depiction of himself. "You do 'is?" he asks with a slow pace of words.

"I did." she says with great pride.

"Fuckin' 'ell love." he says shaking his head. "You managed to make an old 'orse like me look handsome. Dare I say it 'bout myself. Awful 'fing to say 'bout oneself."

She laughs and moves to take his arm into both of hers. "Don't be silly. You ARE terribly handsome and it's a lovely thing to say about yourself!" she insists with a genuine sincerity in her voice that makes his stomach flutter just slightly. What had he done to have someone like her see him in such a way? "I merely painted you as I see you." she says with a hand motioning to the portrait. "I thought it could hang next to mine in the hall." she suggests. "I know you wouldn't want it in your office or at the bakery." she says as an afterthought.

"HA!" he lets out his gruff and loud burst of a laugh. "Who the fuck am I? Tommy Shelby?" his broad smile captures her attention as his eyes light up and crinkle at the edges.

"Oh hush." she chuckles and smacks his chest lightly. "Having a portrait of yourself if a sign of stature." she enthuses.

"If ya innit got taste." he murmurs and she pinches his arse. "Hey now there little kitten with the claws." he says moving to pull her hip to hip with him. "I'm not sayin' I don't think it's brilliant, pet, because it is. You just know it innit really... my way of doin' fings to have pictures of meself hung up everywhere."

"I know that, darling. That's why it'll hang up next to mine. To show who the owners of the house are. You know, so people know exactly who they're messing with when they come in." she gives an amused chuckle.

"Now 'at I can agree too." he nods. "Am I an owner of the house?" he smirks. "I innit signed my name to no deeds last I recall." he says playfully with a rub of his chin.

"You silly beast." she teases, a poke to his stomach that he acts like harms him. "You live here as well. The staff answers to you just as they do me. This is where your things are and where you sleep and escape from the city. This is your home just as much as it is mine. I mean... you have seen my secret room and safe so..." she shrugs and gives him an adoring smile.

"You're as a sweet as a sufganiyot, Genevieve." he coos and gives her a gentle caress to her cheek. "What about you schedule a double portrait then, eh? The man and lady of the house together, yeah?" he insists with a nod of his chin.

"I had planned on doing such a thing after we were married." she says bashfully as her big brown eyes look up at him almost sheepishly.

"Well you should call and schedule it." he says with a confident nod. "Make sure ya get the person ahead of time that you'd like to do it booked. I think it'd be a lovely gesture for us don't you think?" he asks, a kiss to her forehead that lingers a moment and makes her close her eyes with contentment.

"Certainly, darling." is her quiet reply.

"And what is this here, eh?" he says loudly, moving towards the bed where she had sat the final present.

"Your other present." she says with a happy sigh.

"Lookit 'is! Proper fancy that is, mate!" he says with more enthusiasm for this gift than the previous one, but it was to be expected. He held up the black patent cane. It was gold tipped and had the head of a lion on top, as was his Hebrew name. It had an open roaring mouth, large enough for his palm to rest on it and two impressive sapphire stones set in its eyes. "You've given me so many jewels tonight love I fink you might be buttering me up!" he laughs his dry and coarse haw of a laugh. It was rough and abrasive but she knew it was more importantly genuine. She would never tire of watching the way it carried up his chest in a burst, his chin bobbing and eyes closed in surrender to it.

"A cane fit for a Jewish King named Ari." she says affectionately.

"Oh she IS tryin' to butter me up. What am I? A bloody biscuit' to ya love?" another coarse laugh as his hands move lightly over the detailed and expensive piece.

"You are a biscuit." she chuckles to herself, shaking her head and taking it from him. "There's a little extra thing here..." she says, pushing it down and twisting the head, her finger pressing down on the tongue in its mouth as she unsheathes a sword with a melodic, metallic swipe.

"Fuckin' 'ell!" he says impressed and a boyish grin on his face of excitement. "Ya outdone yaself Gen." he says almost a mumble as he looks it over. "Like the captain's swords from the war." he murmurs to himself.

"Exactly." she says with a knowing smile.

"You brilliant little thing." he says sheathing it and holding it in one hand as he moves to give her a single press of their mouths. "How am I supposed to out do ya if ya keep givin' me 'fings like 'is! Makin' me art... both for the wall and meself." he shakes his head and gives her a tap to the bum with the cane. "Ya perfect you know that my little flower? Ya bloody brilliant." he insists with a bite to his words, his lips so close to hers as he grazes their noses together before planting another kiss on her, this time dipping her back as she shrieks in surprise, her arms clinging to him as he laughs into the kiss. "Now 'at's better. Prefer ya with ya holdin' me like 'at." he gives her a cheeky wink before letting her go as she moves to adjust her dress and hair, a flushed and amorous, giggling smile on her face at his antics. That's how he liked to see her. His stone-faced warrior queen looking more a blushing bride with her softness on full display for him. Only he got to make her giggle and blush pink as the flowers in her garden and tonight he was going to assure it stayed that way.

------

The party was much more understated than Genevieve's birthday had been. She knew what Alfie would prefer it and she had certainly delivered. A modest spread of food in the dining room, the band playing much more timid choices in songs than at her bash. The guest list was small and only had the most tolerable of Alfie's friends and acquaintances. The decor was also gentle on the eyes, just enough to show there was a feminine touch in the planning of it with small flower centerpieces. With the drink flowing and the less obvious drug use, the dance floor grows heavier with bodies and the music reflected that. Gen as always, found people to dance with between rounds of networking, setting up future meetings and kissing cheeks with praise as she moved alone and with Alfie at her side through the party. She was a brilliant host and as the night started to go on, Alfie knew there was one small thing he was willing to do to make her night a little more special before he gave her what he'd wanted to for what felt like forever now.

She laughs with her hand to her chest, her skin dazzling as the sheen from sweat sat atop it and made her shimmer in the low light of the chandeliers. He moves through the crowd, everyone parting for him as they always did, even with a friendly face his body language was always clear that he was the one in charge when he was going somewhere.

"May I have this dance Miss Durand?" he says with an outstretched hand as she turns quickly, her hair falling into her thrilled face.

"Yes you may Mr. Solomons." she giggles and hops towards him.

He takes her hands, their rings knocking together with interlaced fingers as he keeps her chest to chest with him. A large bejeweled hand, more so than hers so far this night rests on her lower back possessively. "This is much easier than the last time I recall it." he speaks quietly to her, leaning into her ear to cause goosebumps to break across her skin.

"Certainly is." she chuckles, resting her head on his chest. "There's no hiding anymore." she says with a content sigh.

"No there is not." he says with a certainty that makes his eyes soften as he watches her smile against him. They hold each other and sway, a slow song into another slow song as per his orders to the band. "Might the birthday boy get a kiss?" he says playfully into her ear and she laughs with her head thrown back and a big lovely smile.

"He doesn't even have to ask." she says with large eyes batting up at him, chin already lifted to answer his request.

He takes her off guard, as he did love to do. The hand he held was placed to his chest, moving to her face to keep her close as lipstick be damned while he kissed her with purpose. He kissed her in front of everyone like he'd wanted to all those months ago on her birthday. Wanted to whisk her away and make her feel like the only woman in the world. It's what she deserved he thought. A unique man such as himself, an educated but unhinged, controlled but an animalistic man never thought he'd find the same qualities in a woman. Certainly not a woman who wanted him the same way he wanted her. But here he was, with his match, the other half he'd been lectured about looking for his entire life by his mother, sisters, every older woman that knew him. They all told him she existed but he wasn't sure he ever believed them. He supposed he owes them all an apology.

This time when he dips her, she doesn't squirm or squeak. She keeps her lips fast to his, her foot popping as he swings her with his strong arms, never fearing she would fall. And wasn't that a perfect example of how she felt about him now. Even after he raises her, she doesn't part from him, kept chaste but passionate, his hand never reaching below what would be thought indecent of lovers in public, they held close and kissed. Only parting to breathe and murmur into each other, affectionate turns of phrase as they danced forehead to forehead, both of them sharing an intimate moment in a room full of watching eyes. The onlookers finding it either jealousy inducing sweet or a rather uncharacteristic behavior of a powerful man seeming as if he might be showing weakness. Either way, no one but them understood the significance of it, and they preferred it that way. Both onlookers were correct in their own right. The women had every right to be jealous. The men did see a weakness in Alfie, his Genevieve. But what most didn't know was that she was stronger than they could ever imagine and that with them together, they should have all been scared. ----------- As he knew she would, Genevieve moves out after dismissing everyone to the garden to cool off. She saunters out, a moment to gather herself as she sighs and watches the moon in the sky over the hills that show the line of her property in the distance.

"Thank you, dear." she says to a girl that brings her the last flute of champagne for the night. Her fingers fumble with the diamond placement of Alfie's mother's necklace, thinking of him as she held it to her lips, wondering what the future had in store for them. She sips away, the drink loosening her up for what she was certain would be a rather wild night ahead. She yawns and stretches, wandering on the dimly lit garden path through the now blooming flowers when she started trying to shake the sleepiness that was creeping up on her. She certainly wasn't the party animal she used to be, she muses.

----

Alfie stands in the now full ballroom. Hand holding the box in his pocket tight.

"She's just gone out dear. Should be back in any moment. I'll be cleaning up." Aggie grins broadly.

"Thank you, love." he says with a nod that to anyone else would seem business as usual, but Aggie could see the nervousness in his eyes. But she was thankful for its existence. A man should be nervous when proposing she thought. No one should ever think something was guaranteed, even though she knew when he asked that her little Gen would certainly say yes.

He stands in a room full of flowers, a band on wait with their Debussy sheet music. He'd bought every flower in London again it seemed. More lavender with large bows tied around the bundles, Iris's dotting the mostly purple floor, a path clear for her to walk through to him a circle to dance in the middle. Hanging flowers from the columns fell down, ribbon and lace wrapped around the so very French decor in its gold filigree. He stood and waited, his jaw tight and trying to think of what he'd say. He'd been over it so many times in his head. But now in the moment, it seemed that as it was still yet to be proven wrong, Genevieve was the only thing that truly made him a nervous mess.

So he waited. He stood there for what felt like forever. "How long's it been?" he asks out loud, looking down at his watch. It'd been nearly half an hour, which was usually the maximum amount of time she'd stay outside before coming to join him. "Aggie!" he shouts, and she trots in with a confused look on her face.

"She still not come in? I thought I saw her." she says with a quick darting of her head down the hall.

"No." he states obviously. "She's usually not out there this long. Could you go check please?" he asks with a controlled voice but his mind felt anything but.

So he waits again. And Aggie returns empty handed. "I couldn't... find her." she says with a confused look on her face.

"Did ya check the lily pond?" he asks with a rush to his words.

"Oh! No I didn't! I'll go-"

"Nah. Let me." he says with a dismissive swipe of his hand. "She loves that place, not a bad place to start the 'ol speech." he says with a pat to Aggie's shoulder. "You stay 'ere and I'll be back with the little minx." he instructs her politely. "And you all stay, right? Be ready!" he points to the band.

He takes a deep breath of the cool night air, slowly making his way into the bushes to her little hideaway. "Genny love, what ya doin' hidin' out here? Ya gonna freeze." he says affectionately, turning the corner to meet her but she wasn't there. This is went he felt a terrible pang in his gut. This is when he started to worry.

He moves quickly in and out of the rows of the garden, checking the barn, the greenhouse, the pond and back again. And nothing. As he's about to shout, his foot crunches on something in the pathway. He looks down and his heart drops. His mother necklace lay broken in the dirt path, the latch clearly having been jerked from its place around her neck. He holds it, knowing what it meant and his mouth goes dry. "Not tonight." he whispers, moving to run back into the house.

"AGGIE!" he shouts, breathless and sliding into the main hall where she stood with worried eyes.

"What is it?" she asks, knowing now something had to be wrong.

"Genny." he pants out, holding up the necklace. The one thing they said they'd do if one of them was ever abducted. Leave something behind. "Someone's taken her."

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