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charliemwrites · 4 months

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Mafia!Price warm up because I am… so tired. I’ve had back-to-back events the last few days and ya bitch canNOT hang. So, while I rehydrate and wait for caffeine to work it’s magic, here’s this:

Part 1 here

Mr. Price is the best boss you’ve ever had. He’s straightforward and blunt, but unfalteringly courteous. Likes things a certain way — his own way — but that’s nothing you’re unfamiliar with from rich men responsible for billions. At very least, he seems to respect when you challenge him.

“We’ve always done records this way,” he says.

“Yes, sir,” you answer serenely, “but that was before you had me.”

He stares you down and you beam right back, tablet balanced on your forearm. One beat, two. In the corner of your eye, you see Gaz shift. You tilt your head at your boss.

He sits back in his big office chair, thumb swiping over his index and middle fingers. A gesture you’ve been mentally cataloguing as “contemplative” — perhaps deciding if he’s annoyed or amused. You don’t let yourself get nervous seeing it; you’re good at your job and you know it. He’s going to know it too, by god.

“And what do you have to do with it, luv?”

Your smile stretches wider as you take that as an invitation to round his desk. He turns and shifts a bit to make room for you, eyebrows ticking up as you set a neatly paper-clipped report in front of him, highlighted for convenience.

“See here?” You point at one section, a list of finance records. “Inconsistencies that the accountants took two months to notice. Two!”

He grunts as you set it aside, face up, for further perusal and then show him the next set. Different highlighter (and a smiley face in the corner).

“And look here, doing it this way, we noticed the discrepancies within a week,” you explain.

He picks up the page, eyes scanning over it thoroughly before setting it down. Taps his index finger over the discrepancy (circled in bright red) twice.

“Would you happen to have the account — ah, thank you.”

You hum, smoothing the sticky note (hot pink, shaped like a heart) onto the page. “So what do you think, sir?”

He runs a hand down his face, palm rasping over his beard. But there is a grateful note to his gaze as he glances at you.

“We’ll be doing it this way from now on, then.”

“Thrilling, sir. I’ll send out a memo.”

He waves you off, frown already forming on his face. You politely leave his office, stop by the break room to make a fresh cup of tea (a dollop of cream only, no sugar) and knock on the closed door. It’s Gaz that opens it.

“For the boss,” you say. “Before heads start rolling.”

“You’re a doll,” he breathes, accepting the cup and slipping back inside.

You happily toddle back to your desk and begin calling appointment confirmations. You’ve got about a million emails and a hundred calls to make.

—

Working for Price also comes with some… eccentricities. For one, you have a driver now.

Usually Farah, sometimes her partner Alex. On the rare occasion it’s Gaz. They always usher you into the backseat. On rainy days (so, most days in the UK) they hold an umbrella over your head while you scurry into the luxury leather interior of whatever stupidly expensive ride you’re taking.

That was a non-negotiable when you and Mr. Price discussed the details of your employment contract with him. Something about safety…? You feel silly being driven to work as an assistant, but it was your first encounter with the Steel Gaze of Decision and it was unfortunately effective.

Not that you mind the rides! All three of your usual drivers are wonderful. So friendly and chatty. You love hearing about Alex’s niece and Farah’s hobbies, Gaz’s little “spats” with Soap. You spoil them with extra treats from whatever bakery you make them stop at for morning breakfast. (Always local, you love supporting small businesses and strong arm Price into doing so as well).

There’s the gun as well. You’ve only seen it once or twice, always discreetly hidden under his suit jacket. A shoulder holster, all black. Pretend that you don’t see it because… well, you’re not entirely sure it’s legal and you’d rather live in the blissful cloud of plausible deniability.

And speaking of — there’s his bodyguard. To be fair, bodyguards aren’t a new or weird presence with your bosses. Expensive men, they need protection. Ghost is a different kind though.

He always covers the lower half of his face — actually, he’s covered head to toe. Usually in black, sometimes with little skeleton or skull motifs. And he’s fucking big, which is saying something because Mr. Price isn’t a small man either.

Ghost hardly interacts with you, but he’s unfailingly polite when he does. Not talkative, but he holds doors for you, has walked you down to the car. Even once attitude-checked a guest that decided to be rude to you. Didn’t even say anything, just walked into the guy’s personal bubble and stared him down until he subsided. Then he turned, gave you a nod, and you squeezed his arm before toddling off to let Price know his appointment had arrived.

All around the vibes in the office are pleasant, if sometimes stuffy. A little odd. All of his employees are polite if not kind to you, and Price himself is a fair and reasonable man — at least with you.

(The first time you heard him raise his voice through the closed office door nearly scared the daylights out of you. He always uses a low, even tone when speaking to you, so to hear his voice booming like that was something of a shock. Even more shocking was when he opened the door — damn near throwing his “guest” out — before turning to you.

“Call Farah when you have a mo’, would you?” He asked, calm as you please.

You blinked, still having war flashbacks of your last boss. “Yes, sir.”

“Cheers, luv.”)

There’s also the “field trips” as you call them.

Mr. Price is something of a very “hands on” businessman (“micromanager” you tease when he’s in a good mood) who has a hand in several industries. One of them is shipping. Which means that sometimes you find yourself standing beside him in warehouses or at loading docks. And of course you have to go, you’re his assistant! You take meeting notes, provide information or report details. Basically act as his second brain while he reams out idiots or organizes plans.

You suck it up, but you rather hate the smell of low tide. And the occasional gusts of blood on the sea breeze from fishermen gutting their catches. Price catches you looking ill once or twice and at least makes an effort to keep things short after that.

“Poor thing,” Soap teases when you’re in the back of the car, fussing at your wind-swept hair. “Get a bit blown, did you?”

“MacTavish,” Price snaps.

That’s the other thing. Even the slightest hint of suggestive or inappropriate words at your expense are met with firm, almost harsh, reprimand from your boss. It does wonders for you nerves and your respect for him.

“Wish I’d known we were going to the docks,” you sigh, carefully picking at pins to fix your hair. “I would have used more hairspray.”

“Thought I told you?” Price says.

“No, sir, you did not,” you answer, long-suffering. “You know you can put it into the scheduling app, right?”

He blinks. “Scheduling app.”

You blink back at him. “Oh, dear. Here, look at this.”

You spend the entire ride back to the office showing him how your scheduling software works so that you don’t have to deal with any more surprise dock visits.

#cod #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #mafia!au #mafia boss price #mafia!price #assistant reader #oddly wholesome for a mafia au

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auspicioustidings · 5 months

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Mermen au with mer TF141 and researcher reader trying to learn about their. . .biology :Dd Or them trying to bring progressively bigger fish trying to woo and then Ghost ends up bringing you a fucking orca or some shit,

...I had to look up the reproductive cycle of several marine animals for this I hope you are happy.

Deductive Reasoning

Words: 1.3k

CW: ...light fish porn (?)

It was just fascinating. It would have been dreadfully difficult to not talk about this every chance you got and thus break your NDA if not for the fact that you never left this secure little island base. You were permitted to, but why would you want to? You were speaking with living, breathing mermen almost everyday.

4 of them, although they had alluded to their being more out there. These 4 were a... well that was the question wasn't it? Only one shark did not make a shiver, only one seal did not make a herd, only one walrus did not make a rookery and only one mandarinfish did not make a shoal. Was there a collective term for mermen? You were told you were now the leading researcher in the world for this new species, so perhaps that meant you got to decide.

Or maybe you'd just ask. They spoke to you sometimes, or at least made noises. They seemed to understand each other at least which was intriguing on its own.

It had been Soap you had met first. You had been basically abducted and hurried to this island facility where they had captured a real life merman. You were enamoured immediately by the furious thing in the tank. Half seal, harbour seal you thought. Top half looked all but human (skin must be different to allow for underwater living and ah, yes, you could see gills), hair in a mohawk (which suggested someone had cut it to look like that, who? Was it a ritual? Did they have community? Was it an emulation of human culture? Perhaps some mating strategy?), eyes somewhere between human and seal (his physicality was a similar story, he was built strong and thick, a healthy layer of fat over hard muscle).

You perhaps felt a little bashful looking back. You had been so wildly excited, asking a thousand questions and going into chaotic science mode that it took you a whole 16 hours of straight observations and notes to realise there was a creature of higher intelligence being held captive in a tank. You did, of course, apologise profusely. He clearly did not understand what you were saying, but the emotion was human enough. Bemusement.

Soap had come about because he was slippery. Well, actually he wasn't, but the story was that he was slippery. Because if the military knew you had actually been helping him escape you were probably going to get disappeared. It was lucky the facility at that time wasn't as high security, you had gotten away with it.

You had met Gaz right there on the coast when Soap went slicing through the water. You thought looking back that Price and Ghost had probably been there, just out of sight. They had come for him. Gaz was a magnificent thing. His tail was the same pattern as a madarinfish, bright orange with gorgeous blue markings. You had shown him a tin of irn-bru once with a grin and learned then that Soap could laugh. He had come right up to you and after some form of exchange with Soap had been playful, showing off his tail and holding his hand out to you. You had been existing on caffeine and noodles so hardly your fault you took it, getting dragged into the water.

Oh how thrilling an education you received in the courting practices of Dragonets! He had made quite a show of displaying his fins, including a gorgeous dorsal fin on his human looking spine. You knew you simply must see them again if only to study why Gaz's eyes were more human while Soap's leant towards seal like. He was certainly the most expressive of them. His name had only come about because you had tried every other one and he made his disdain for them very clear. By the time the merman had been rubbing what you would call his ventral fins against you, Soap had grabbed you and soundly deposited you back on shore. Just in time too for the soldiers to find you because the doctor later told you that you were in the early stages of hypothermia. Totally worth it actually.

You talked the powers that be into allowing your pet projects to free roam, after all they kept coming back to see you. Over the course of a year the facility was upgraded and a channel added from the sea to an indoor pool that would allow for better study. Soap and Gaz didn't run on a schedule exactly, but they seemed content to swim in every so often and let you poke and prod. Fascinating that they should both be half human but their other half was so entirely different. Soap was half mammal, retractable penis something he was very proud to show off anytime he was in the observation pool. Gaz was half dragonet, and while you tried to put a clutch of eggs in the pool to see if he could fertilise them he had only raised an eyebrow at you and tried once again to pull you in. Tough luck, you had learned your lesson about going into the water with them when you had met Ghost.

It had been the middle of the night when he swam into the pool. Silent, you hadn't heard him (that's where that name had come from in the end). So unsuspecting were you that you were too near the edge and his hand had snaked around your ankle, one sharp pull dragging you in after you fell to the ground (hardly avoiding a broken nose). It wasn't only his tail that was shark, he had a sharp set of teeth that he sank into the meat of your shoulder without much ceremony. His claspers had been strong as hell holding you there, the only thing likely saving you his frustration at your clothes. He must not have understood the concept very well because he released you and dove, pawing at your trousers to try and figure them out. It was an endless source of fascination for him anytime he visited after. He would lean his arms on the pool edge and just stare at your legs, tracing the outline of your body with his sharp eyes. It only seemed fair to let him look since you spent an inordinate amount of time staring at him. He was sleek and muscular, every inch an apex predator in his prime.

It was a contrast to who you would say was the leader of their group. The merman who had saved you from Ghost that first time you met him, who had ripped him away from you when his teeth had sunk into the meat of your thigh through your trousers. Price had hauled you out of the water with ease. He was part Walrus, huge and soft with a layer of blubber similar to Soap's that hid considerable strength. Of all of them his animal half was most pronounced, his canines elongated into tusks and his hair thick and whisker-like around them.

As a scientist you could not possibly play favourites. Price was absolutely your favourite. He would be still and patient with you when you were working with him. He would gently run his fingers over whatever parts of you were in reach. When you babbled excitedly he seemed to listen as best he could.

If you had taken more than a moment to really look into it, you might have realised you were not the only creature conducting research. If you had used some deductive reasoning, you probably could have anticipated that fateful day you were dragged into the sea, never to be seen by the human military again.

#mhairiwrites #cod au #tf 141 x reader #today on CWs I never thought I would have to use #was going to make one an octopus but we all know that would be Konig #and I liked flamboyant Gaz and fat Soap and Price and sharp toother Ghost too much

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ichorai · 26 days

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ties that bind ; nanami kento ; october 26th.

pairing ; nanami kento x reader

drabble synopsis ; nanami shows up to work smelling like you, and gojo has quite a keen sense of smell.

themes ; fluff, slice of life, established relationship (married)

warnings / includes ; more domestic vibes, nanami's Tired guys someone give him a vacation

series masterlist.

26th october, 2016

Nanami was having a long morning. Granted, the clock hadn’t even hit 9 AM yet, but he was already feeling particularly exhausted.

Possible reasons included, but were not limited to: the local bakery he usually went to for breakfast was out of his favorite kind of almond croissants, the vending machine that held his precious coffee outside of the school was out of order, forcing him to go forgo caffeine for the day, Principal Yaga informed him of an influx of village curses he needed to take care of since the school was currently short-handed on staff, and, finally, Gojo would just not stop pestering him.

The lanky, white-haired colleague of Nanami’s started off by sending roughly a dozen memes about a trendy topic he really had no interest in whatsoever. Then, when Gojo realized that Nanami had muted his messages when he no longer kept responding with: “Stop sending me these during work hours”, he took it upon himself to barge into his office and languidly splay himself across the couch situated opposite his desk and chair.

Perhaps the only saving grace of this morning, Nanami recalled, was waking up next to you—a sight he’d been blessed with for over a year now. You were still asleep when his alarm buzzed, though you mumbled something groggy and unintelligible under your breath. Knowing that you had a tiring day yesterday, your husband let you sleep for another five minutes while he slipped out from beneath the comforters to wash up. When he returned, you had curled up on his side of the bed, nose smothered into his pillow to inhale his scent. Nanami’s hand reached out to brush stray hairs away from your face, still slackened with sleepiness, but your eyes were cracked open into narrow slits.

“Hey, honey,” he whispered, voice soft as ever. “We’ve got work soon. Do you want me to drop you off?”

You worked at a local university quite close to home. Though curses weren’t particularly attracted to you, what with your easy-going and admiringly-positive demeanor, where you worked was a breeding ground for negative emotions. Stressed students and impatient professors always had universities crawling with curses of all sorts. Nanami never liked the idea of you working in such an environment.

“I think I’ll call in sick today,” you mumbled back, pushing yourself to sit up against the headboard with a lethargic wince. “I have a terrible headache… I think I might be coming down with a cold. I’ve just got to reschedule today’s lecture with the students for another day.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he said, brows kinking with worry as he moved to sit down next to you. “Do you need me to pick up anything for you from the pharmacy?”

“I’ll be okay,” you told him in a reassuring manner. A bright, but tired smile made its way onto your face when the back of his hand rested over your forehead to feel your temperature. He frowned in concern and pulled away—you were much warmer than usual.

Then, he dipped forward to press a chaste, but loving kiss right over your temple. “Get some rest, okay? I’ll make you some tea.”

“You should be getting to work, Kento—”

He made a dismissive noise, and got up to go fix you the warm drink, squeezing in some honey and lemon in case you had a sore throat, too. A few minutes later, he came back with the steaming mug, and a pack of unopened paracetamol he fetched from the kitchen drawers.

“Take one now, and another by lunchtime if you’re still feeling unwell,” he told you, his sharp features displaying nothing but raw concern.

“Yes, doc,” you said with a slight laugh and a salute. “I’ll be okay, honey, really. It’s just a little cold, but thank you for the tea. Now you go and get ready for work.”

Kento pursed his lips, kissed your head again, and rose from your side to go change into his professional attire. Even after all this time, he could feel a warm flush settling over his cheeks when you whistled in appreciation from the bed, clutching the mug of tea in between your palms with a grin.

“You look so handsome, Kento.”

“It’s the same thing I always wear.”

“My point stands,” you said, voice rife with mirth. He shot you a soft, appreciative smile.

In his haste to get ready and rush off to work, he accidentally spritzed himself with your perfume rather than his usual cologne. He didn’t mind all that much, anyway, because that meant he’d be able to smell you all day long, and hurried to gather the rest of his things.

“I love you, please send me a message if you need anything,” he said just as he was about to leave, thumb brushing just beneath your jaw.

“I will,” you reassured, one hand lifting away from the mug to take hold of his palm and tug the appendage upwards so you could kiss the inside of his wrist, right over his pulse. “Have a good day at work, hon.”

God, he loved you more than anything.

Now, with Nanami’s mind both burdened with thoughts of you being sick, and stressed over the new wave of village curses Yaga asked him to take care of, he hadn’t even noticed Gojo suddenly right at his side rather than ridiculously spreading out over the office’s couch.

“Ooh, Nanamin,” he said the fond nickname in a crude, high-pitched tone, and over-exaggerated sniffing at Nanami’s suit, “Who is this I’m smelling on you? Are you seeing someone behind my back?”

Nanami’s left eye twitched behind his spectacles. It was a relatively easy choice he made not to tell anyone at work about you. He very much preferred to keep work and personal life separate.

“It’s my new perfume,” Nanami bluntly said, expression remaining unamused.

“I didn’t take you for a floral-note kind of man,” Gojo crooned in response with a roguish grin. If he thought that Nanami was lying at all, he betrayed no signs of such. “I love it! What brand is it? Where’d you get it?”

“Get out of my office, Gojo.”

The blind-folded man snickered and rubbed his hands together. Nanami’s evident irritation only seemed to egg him on. “Didn’t Yaga tell you? I’m coming with you today! Apparently there’s been reports of a special-grade curse there. You’re going to need my help, you know.” Gojo prodded at Nanami’s biceps.

Nanami’s lips pinched tightly. “Perfect,” he gritted out.

It was only nine in the morning, but he already couldn’t wait to get back home to you.

#nanami kento x reader #nanami kento fanfiction #nanami kento x you #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #jjk fanfiction #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #nanami kento ff #kento nanami x reader #kento nanami fanfiction #nanami kento fluff #nanami kento drabbles #nanami kento imagines #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk fluff

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capslocked · 1 year

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DECAF

male reader x chou tzuyu

5k words

"Figured you should know," Tzuyu says, appearing in the bathroom mirror behind you, "you’re all out of coffee."

This unfortunate revelation comes as you’re halfway into brushing your teeth. Comes when her warm arm reaches around your waist, fingers splaying out across your stomach before they decide to slip past the waistband of your pajamas.

"Did you—" You raise an eyebrow at her before leaning over the sink to spit, and the mouthful of toothpaste no longer muddles the question, "check the cupboard above the fridge?"

"And the pantry." Tzuyu gives your cock an experimental pump. "And the hall closet."

As you eye her reflection, Tzuyu is already distracted, trading one vice for another: dragging her lips against the side of your neck. Of all the places she loved to be—at your side, in your arms, on the end of your cock—the pucker-shaped bruises shadowing in across your throat were beginning to indicate something of a clear favorite.

"Hey." You drag the toothbrush out of your mouth, minty foam nearly drooling off your lip as you let out a dry laugh at the fingers wrapping your cock. "Can you, like, give me a minute?"

Tzuyu looks up over your shoulder, straight into the mirror and blinks a few times. Caffeine conundrum aside, it’s not a sleepy kind of blink, rather the kind that might buy one but a moment to think, get their thoughts in order. She rolls her eyes, because she likes getting what she wants, especially when you’re involved, but you like her better when she’s a little riled up, after the suspense of waiting has caught up with her. Chipped away at that prim and proper outer layer of perfection.

"No," she says finally in a surprisingly steady voice, and squeezes her fingers tighter around you. Gets a couple of gentle pumps going under your shorts. "I don’t think I will."

It’s not through any fault of her own, but she looks an ounce less put together than when you both staggered through the front door of your apartment the night before—you’d gotten your hands into the delicately styled waves in her hair and as a result, all those primly smooth toffee-brown locks either tightly curled or straightened stiff to their own volition. Then it’s your sweatshirt thrown over her shoulders, she’s absolute swimming in it. Perhaps impossible to not find it endearing. And her cheeks, still flush (because oh, had you just done a real number on her) are smoldering and probably hot to the touch. You usually have no problem getting out of bed in the morning, but the fact that she’d woken you up with her ass in your hips made it hard not pick up where you’d left off the night before.

That fact that she’s all bundled lust and sin in your arms, playfully teasing your cock between her fingers and looking at you like you’re the one who’s at fault is en route to the same outcome again.

By the time the two of you are out of the bathroom and stumbling down the hall, it’s all hot kisses and heavy hands, working toward a common goal one moment, tugging gently at your hair, lined firm beneath her jaw, faces pressed together in this sloppy, consuming kiss—and antagonistic the next, silencing the loud smacks between your lips as Tzuyu begins to tug your shirt up over head.

Tzuyu pushes you down the hallway which is every bit as ludicrous as it sounds, presses your back against drywall with a hand at your waist, and gets her fingertip tracing a lazy circle over your chest. "Hey," she says, and her voice comes out cool and composed like she isn’t standing there in her underwear, the long lines of her legs getting tangled up with yours. "Do you think it’s bad?"

"Gotta be more specific, beautiful," you tell her, snaking a hand up her sweatshirt. Still no shirt. No bra. The same as how she woke up.

As she leans her body against you, all gentle angles and immaculate curves that would make Euclid roll in his grave, you’ve got a handful of incredible ass to knead and a second sinking fingers into her chest that makes her question come across all that much more ridiculous:

"That the two of us are always together, you know, like this." And even as she considers—however seriously—that the two of you might spend too much time behind closed doors and under fitted sheets making each other cum over and over and over until you’re gasping and red in the face, she begins to rut her hips gently against you, finds a circle of motion that brushes your stiff cock between her legs in just the right way.

"Well," you say, voice trailing while your thumb skates beneath her lip, admiring how much better she looks in your hands than on TV, in magazines, all glitzed up in studio lighting and digital effect.

And psychologically, you think you understand it. How this is the only way the two of you can put any part of yourselves—the joint self, the you and Tzuyu, the combined unit—first. You can’t do what regular couples do; you can’t indulge in everything that Tzuyu so desperately wants to do. You want to as well. Of course, you don’t whine about it as much as Tzuyu, but in reality, there’s nothing more than you’d like than to hold Tzuyu’s hand in the middle of a crowded street or kiss her passionately in an airport terminal, in front of a tourist attraction, get an indulgent makeout going at a concert or a bar like you see of so many other couples. You see them all the time, so happy, so wrapped up in each other, so oblivious to what they get to enjoy that you don’t.

So you’re both lenient about the going-ons in the privacy of your own home. To a degree.

Doesn’t mean you can’t say you try to be responsible about it, keep the way you two go at each other in check, under control. You know better than to let Tzuyu have access to you where her name is up in lights, where cameras are flashing and under all those prying eyes, where the two of you could turn a mistake into calamity.

But still you like to test those limits.

"How do you figure?" You nuzzle your lips into Tzuyu’s neck. Her response is exactly like what you expect: a heavy sigh and a tilt of her chin that tells you to kiss her more, touch her more, get your mouth all over her and make her feel good. When you get closer to her ear, you whisper, "where’s the harm?"

"I just think we really have to be more careful," Tzuyu has to tell you. Frequently. "You know you drive me crazy. But if someone were to find us—"

"Tzuyu," you start, and the sound of her name on your voice, coming out low and austere, always brings her to heel. Quickly. "No one’s going to find out. So tell me. What do you want me to do to you? Right now."

Her cheeks burn brighter with that beautiful rosy shade of pink, a flush heat that travels across the bridge of her nose—eyes flicking down to where you can’t see them, suddenly bashful like she wasn’t the one who jumped you in the bathroom, gotten you hard and ready—like she wasn’t the one who woke you up with her thighs sandwiching your cock and silently demanding you fuck her right there.

"I’m just saying—"

"Tzuyu," you say again, and this time she all but shudders. Starts to quietly whine as your fingers get closer to where they can have her absolutely creaming and whimpering and coming undone; teasing at elastic, tracing the wide form of her hips; only closer without ever arriving. "Tell me what you want."

You watch the usual suspects: the swell of her lip twisted between her teeth, eyelids lidding and dusky irises glinting with thoughts of you. It’s all there, and it’s not going anywhere anytime soon. The Want. The need.

Tzuyu’s mouth falls open in a whiny moan as you realize there’s not a lot keeping you from simply shoving her across the hallway, turning the tables and getting your weight on top of her. She bites back a needy sound as you pin her in place. Normally, the proud smirk on your face would be enough to make Tzuyu groan and roll her eyes, but it’s hard to muster up the resolve required to send you a piercing glare when her current expression is as far from intimidating as it could ever be.

"Tzuyu," you say a third time, after a long pause, breathing slowly and keeping your voice even. You don’t need her knowing that seeing her like this gets your heartbeat going rabbit-fast. Don’t need her knowing how bad you want to turn her around in your hands and fuck her senseless.

"What are you doing?" Tzuyu asks, and the muscles in her body are coiling so tight they’re practically screaming. "I’m not a little girl. Stop teasing me."

You’ve got your free hand running a thumb down Tzuyu’s chest, along her stomach and sliding it across the smooth pale skin that stretches over her ribs, until in one quick delivery, you’re pulling her soft cotton panties down around her thighs. When your pointer finger makes contact with where she’s hot and fidgeting between her legs, Tzuyu’s throat clicks with a swallow.

"Just tell me what you really want," you repeat, gliding your finger across the surface of her cunt’s aching lips, "or I’ll stop." It’s possible you’d never be able to help yourself, you have to tease, playfully nudge her. The real fun is when you could get her to start cussing and swearing and begging—that’s how you knew you’re giving it to her good, that toe-curling, mind-blowing sex that everyone dreams of, when that delicately maintained veneer started to show cracks and rough edges. "Let me make this easier. Do you want me to hold you down?"

It’s not a surprise that you’re hitting the nail on the head. She’s yours. You know Tzuyu, and her eyes go wide. She nods, because it’s what she’s only ever wanted—filled her nighttime fantasies and daydreams for months before she’d ever truly seen it, truly felt you over her and fucking her with your tongue, your fingers, your cock. She’ll later swear up and down that you’re the one always dragging things to the bedroom, getting her so worked up she can’t help but ride out her own frustration. The way she sees it, you’re the one who’s corrupted her. Not that it’s even half the truth.

"Do you want me to get you wet?" You ask, even lower now, like a growl at her throat, and Tzuyu lets out a delightful sound at the mere mention of it.

She spreads her legs wider as you continue to finger her, wriggles her hips desperately on your hand to find some sort of friction that might set her loose, but you bring a grip down hard onto her waist, pressing her firmly into the wall to keep her from shifting.

"I want—" Her words become cut off and unintelligible when your fingers find purchase inside her, find her immediately soaked and dripping around you. She gets that adorably needy tone in her voice the moment your thumb comes to rest on her clit, prodding at the bud just light enough to make her shiver. "Please."

It seems to take a special kind of awful to look down at Tzuyu’s desperate expression and find it nothing other than charming and adorable, but much to her impatient displeasure, you’re that exact kind of awful.

"Speak up," you say, even though rationally, everything is clear to you—the fact that you can get Tzuyu begging for it a whole separate matter. "Wanna hear your lovely voice, Tzuyu."

She sighs. It’s anxious. It’s needy. It’s a perfect honesty: "want to feel you in me."

"Want me to fuck you," you amend, kissing her once, hot and hard, and when you pull yourself off her mouth, you make sure she’s listening. "Want me to cum in you."

She nods. Swallows. Rolls her lips between her teeth.

"Want it." Tzuyu’s chest heaves to shoot out a hot, pointed breath, and she preens the misplaced hair off her cheek and back behind her ear before returning to a moment more composed. "Want you now."

"Oh, I think we all have all the time in the world, darling," you breathe into the hollow of her throat, and the two of you don’t stop kissing this time, your lips always on each others, the smiles growing at the corners of your mouths giving way to something more heated and intense. More urgent.

Tzuyu’s arousal is like a living thing, fighting for control, getting her furious and blotchy and burning up to the roots of her hair. When you draw your fingers out of her throbbing cunt, she doesn’t even stop to think; takes them between her lips and starts sucking. She doesn’t decide to do it, you figure, it just happens, as if she’s meant to. She’s perfect for everyone, and then she’s flawless for you.

"Gonna make you cum now," you growl against her cheek, and she coos the moment you sink to your knees. Starts slipping her hands through your hair in anticipation. Gets your face between her legs where you’ve got wet kisses trailing down her inner thighs. It’s so close to where she needs you, has her rocking and circling her hips in the hope she might reach your mouth, the pleasure she might only realize at the end of your tongue.

And finally, you slide your mouth upward. Tongue flattened, lips hot and loose, you let her find it.

"Fuck!"

Between her legs, you grin, pull back enough to murmur, "there’s my girl." And with that you’re hooking a hand behind her thighs and diving back in.

Tzuyu’s eyes are all docile gleams and innocent glimmers, watching from above as you push her legs open wider for you—sharp draws of air as you eat her pussy with delicate and calculated approach: the tip of your tongue against her clit is just the right amount of hot and wet and firm to get her dizzy, voice flooding full of lust and want. She yearns for nothing more than the way you pull at her swollen lips, masking her cunt with these hot, hungry kisses that cover your chin in her slick, fill your mouth and your thoughts with her.

"Oh, my god," she says behind the knuckle worrying her teeth, crying out in such obvious satisfaction that it has you nearly laughing—so smug and self-satisfied that you push your face into her hot pussy harder to hide the expression. Like flicking a switch, you’re tapping, teasing, torturing that button that makes her feel all of that pure concentrated relief. Makes her feel like you’re pulling her apart and tearing her to pieces—makes her desperate and choke back moans, ones that cry for more.

"God," Tzuyu curses, and your name on her lips becomes a wish, a prayer, begging, "fuck, what are you doing, that’s so—that’s so good, you’re so good, please, please don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop."

Even if you consider keeping her on that precipice, nudging her closer and closer until she physically can’t take anymore, Tzuyu’s cunt is so warm and sweet, and even her cum tastes incredible, all strange and familiar at once—gets you bearing down to kiss deeper, harder. You know the basic principle of what you’re seeing: that Tzuyu’s body is reacting, that you’re reducing her to instinct, bringing her to the edge and fucking her earnest.

"C’mon princess, you can cum for me, I want you to cum," you rasp, and the pet name—one that you’re sure would in any other context make her wince—gets her heating up even more. When you lower your mouth again, you swirl your tongue around her clit and then suck.

"Yeah," she says, nodding, "Yeah, yeah." The word becoming all she can manage between hot, shuddering breaths that you can feel coil in her distinctly tight stomach, only releasing in the violent jerks of her hips, each spasm more uncontrolled, less predictable than the last.

It’s a concerted effort: the wet touch of your mouth, the two fingers—three now—that you have fucking her dripping cunt get her needy cries echoing through your apartment and her throat hoarse. The pressure must be just perfect because Tzuyu flies right over the edge into everything. She’s all broken moans and stutters and hiccups—all you find between her thighs is hot and wet and pulsing and quivering and perfect. The beginning of the end, and she’s pleading, begging for release.

"You’re going to make me—" she pants, twice, holding tight to your shoulders, nails sharpening like claws into your skin, and her legs aching into quakes and tremors around you.

That’s your Tzuyu.

"Cumming—I’m cumming," she cries out, almost silently, and then it’s your name and curses all sputtered out across these keening moans that almost see her young, tight body collapse and spill all over you. "I can’t—You’re making me cum."

"Good girl," you murmur, your mouth still dragging across her stomach, and it’s the praise that all but kills her, gets her breath arriving in fits and starts, wrestling against you for control, but it’s far, far too much. Far too gone in her own orgasm to realize she’s fucking soaking you in her slick. Of course, you’re kneeling there, just grinning like the devil himself, pushing your fingers in and out of her slowly to ensure that Tzuyu’s fucked right through the apex of her high; curling against the way she throbs; feeling the way she quivers.

She’s the girl whose name is on everyone’s lips, and she’s practically drenching you—oh, what a heartthrob, you think, and then immediately remind her: "you’re so fucking pretty Tzuyu. Love when you cum for me."

Her fingers thread through yours, and she finally lets her lips twist out that million dollar smile, laughing all abashed and flushed and red in the face until finally giving you that look: an expression that lets you know she has only one thing on her mind, and that she wants for nothing more than to get filled by your cock, mend the empty feeling knotting in her stomach, the utterly foundational need.

And after kissing you, melting into you and getting her own taste off your lips, she brings her mouth against your ear, breath still hot and haggard, tells you, "get on the bed, baby."

And but so, you arrive at a familiar crossroads, those four corners of your bed. You’re sprawled with your head at the base and feet at the pillows because that’s simply how you two managed to tumble, Tzuyu controlling the fall. When she peels the sweatshirt from up and over her lithe frame, your cock jumps, twitching in her hands, because the image is nothing less than perfection. The fact that a girl could have a face like hers, and a body like that is some sort of error, a cosmic mix up—one to which finds you the sole beneficiary.

"Maybe I should tease you," she says, licking her palm and getting both hands around you, pumping you languidly to full attention. "Look how bad you want it."

"You’re in charge, princess." you say, laughing out loud.

Tzuyu rolls her eyes. Gets her elbows on either side of your face so you’re looking at nothing other than just her. There’s a story here, and sure, it’s novel and unique. Right up until the point it isn’t; there’s never been a different ending beyond your cock buried deep inside her until she’s panting and whimpering.

"Is that right?" she asks, leaning in so close you can feel her warm breath tickle your neck.

"I mean, I might be lying; decide to get you underneath me if you go too slow."

"I’ll keep that in mind." Tzuyu chuckles, her laugh echoing against your chest as her lips curve up into a toothy grin. If that isn’t a look perfected. She grabs you by the jaw and kisses you, so thoroughly that you really haven’t the shadow of a doubt in your mind that she will be every bit the challenge you could ever hope for—and when she pulls away, her tongue licks across your lower lip, before gently biting down and whispering, "I’m gonna ride you now, baby."

The look on her face is careful, more determined, as she lines herself up against your body, straddles your hips and rubs the head of your cock through her heat, kissing it to where you’d made her soaked and wanting; there’s a deep breath between you, and then Tzuyu slides closer in your lap. Sinks down.

And then you feel her—all of her—as she takes the full length of your cock into her hot, tight cunt. Neither of you even move. Simply sit there and look on all teary eyed and so wracked in pleasure to the point your mouths just hang, frozen, because apparently she was discovering the answer to every question in the universe, and all of them were you.

"Move your hips for me, Tzuyu," you say, and you’re guiding her, urging her, making haphazard grips out of the beautiful curve beneath her tiny waist, a makeshift reign where her hips flare and that ass smacks down hard against your thighs. "There you go; fuck yourself on my cock."

Actually it’s more like she slams down. It’s a lofty goal of hers, to get you so fucked and bothered and reduced to smithereens. That, or get you so close to the edge, get you so needy for your own release that you’ll simply throw her off you and pin her to the mattress and fuck her like she really wants.

"It’s so fucking good," Tzuyu gasps, raising her hips. The sound that comes out of you is indescribable when she lowers them again. That’s the reaction she’s looking for, that you—ever indomitable you—are shuddering under her hips, that every time she drags her pussy along your length, gets you aching inside her tight, hot cunt, she has you absolutely struggling, hanging on by a thread.

"Tzuyu," you choke, and you’re gathering all these smirks and haughty looks; she throws her head back because apparently that vice-like grip she has around you, a glove to your cock, all velvety smooth and addictive is just as good for her as it is for you. "I just love how this pretty little body looks when it’s bouncing up and down on my cock."

"Oh my god," she curses, moaning at how good you feel inside her, voice finding a familiar tremble as each bounce on your cock gets her hot cunt that much more fucked, more soaked, more perfect, and you’re both whimpering mindless. Her body stretches to accommodate you as she squeezes up so tight around you that you’re joining her groans with a lazy smirk. She nods, slapping her hips roughly against you, fucking you with all the energy she can muster, and she rasps, smiling in silent laughter, "ugh, I can feel you filling me so deep. Love fucking you like this. Could do this all day."

The sounds coming out of you—fucked out of you each time her thighs land flat against yours, each swivel of her hips in a rhythm that doesn’t falter even once—are driving Tzuyu up the wall. Every last moan and sigh only spurs her to ride harder and harder until she realizes she’s better off lifting herself onto her feet, crouching over and using every muscle of her toned legs to fuck your aching shaft. With her beautiful form above you, tight young body glistening with sweat and whimpering at the bottom of every rut, you hold tight to her waist, carelessly marking bruises under your fingertips, grasping hard as you’re fraught with the utterly perfect, tight, wet cunt wrapping your cock.

"It’s good," Tzuyu gasps, on repeat, and her cheeks begin to flush again, fill so unbelievably pink. "It’s so fucking good, baby."

On the basic, thrust by thrust level, it’s kind of her trademark—what you’ve come to expect from her. She’s all toned muscle and coiled lust around you, merciless, truly fucking you, taking you up and down while her curves ripple in place: small, perfect tits shaking each time she crashes onto you, and her ass against you waist feeling incredible.

It’s fast and heavy and hot and you’re nearing everything dangerous, nerves on fire and holding your breath right up until the moment Tzuyu cums all over your cock. She slows to a near crawl, hips still circling against you, and then, overcome by the sensitivity of another orgasm, freezes. This time, it comes with no warning, just the writhing and wracked look of a girl who can’t believe how good your cock feels deep in her pussy, making her feel so full and complete.

"Tzuyu, you’re gorgeous," you reaffirm, reaching a hand against her chest, sinking your fingers hard into her perfectly sculpted breasts. You know how this goes, the fact that she never knows how to ask for what she wants, that when she’s like this, she needs you to take control. There’s always such sweet fun to be had in grappling her hands behind her back, get her ready to be fucked and used like she craves. Shift your hips downwards and prime yourself at the perfect angle, and get her cumming over and over until she’s a hot, fucked mess. "You look so good cumming for me. I’m going to fuck you through it sweetheart. I’ll take care of you. I always do."

"Mnppph." Tzuyu moans into your neck, as you start to glide upward into her hot, fucked hole. She’s so massively drenched that the sound of it, you thrusting fast into her cunt, is absolutely filthy. If the sheets were in bad condition from your romp before, they’re approaching new levels of fucked, completely beyond repair.

Tzuyu grins. She loves this. She loves whittling down your arrogance and repurposing it into an unabashed lust, the kind of raw emotion that will hammer at her cunt until she’s mewling, keening, and simply falling apart. Until she’s recovered enough from losing herself on your cock, and she’s whispering in your ear, "want your cum, want to feel you fucking burst."

You consider it. All with Tzuyu’s lips on your throat, kissing your face and punching out tiny breaths every time your cock buries into her, it’s a pretty real possibility. It was taking some amount of self-control to hold back before with Tzuyu’s pussy being the hottest, tightest, wettest you’ve ever known—only growing more unbearably immaculate with every inch you bore into her—and here you are, fucking her with such strong, hard strokes that slide so easily from base to tip of your cock that you’re approaching it all. Dangerously fast.

Yours, Tzuyu croons in your ear, crying out in heavy desperation with a voice so crushed and gravelly it’s near irreconcilable—she’s so wracked that the only thing she can do is beg for you to unload in her cunt. "I’m yours. Want you to cum in me so bad, fucking own this pussy baby, fill me and make me yours."

"Tzuyu, you—" Holy shit. You’ve got it all twisted, explosion imminent. Nerves and muscles acting together and without your permission. "—feel so fucking good."

"I know," she says, thumb rubbing at your cheek while she barely holds herself above you—eyelashes fluttering each time you bottom your cock out in her cunt. "You can cum. Go ahead. Cum for me, baby."

Your teeth grit, and you take a final gasp of air between your teeth, "Tzuyu, fuck."

You’ve got your hands clamping down on her ass, pulling her into the end of each thrust, and as you bury yourself deep into her cunt again, you cum.

"Amazing," Tzuyu breathes against you, ignoring the groans and sighs still billowing out of your lips. "You’re perfect." She clenches down on you, tightening around you to wring you dry with each shallow thrust you make to fuck your cum deeper into her. It’s hot and wet and fucking unbelievable.

It takes all your remaining energy—those last waning vestiges—to shift Tzuyu’s body aside you. Your cock falls out of her well-fucked pussy and onto the sheets before you feel her ass snuggle again into the crook of her hips, as good a way to start as it is a way to finish, and the exhaustion of your own orgasm has your breath short and unsteady.

"Hate to say it," Tzuyu says, wiggling her ass against you, which is truly a dangerous game, regardless of your condition, "but I’m really hoping you’d go get more coffee."

#kpop smut #male reader #twice smut #twice tzuyu smut #tzuyu smut #male reader smut

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monseulamourrr · 5 months

Text

→ “can’t help but love you.” || ahn yujin x reader fic.

— you planned a study date with your favourite girl after a long time of being separated due to your busy lives, and you noticed a tiny change on her that made you itch to do something new for the night…

word count: 1.7k.

tags: tooth-rotting fluff. that's it. tee hee.

requested? : nope.

a/n: hiya 🤓 welcome to ena’s fluff era 😭😭 i’m still gonna be very active on pupyuj and ofc i’ll still do tons of work there but this account is where all of my works that aren’t smut will go!! i hope you guys enjoy the work i will do here as much as you enjoyed the ones on pupyuj 🥺 p.s. ik the title is a bit far-off from the synopsis but let’s ignore it—

2:07 a.m., it said on the digital clock sitting on your desk.

surprisingly enough, you were not tired. maybe it was the caffeine coursing through your veins, or the fact that you were actually enjoying studying for once. you weren’t a masochist; you could only be enjoying studying for one reason and it was because of one ahn yujin—your girlfriend who you were fortunate enough to accompany you this night.

“where are you going, (y/n)?” you heard yujin whine as soon as you started shuffling away from her side. she looked cute! with her oversized sweater that had her volleyball team’s mascot (in chibi form!) stitched on it (yujin was a middle blocker), her big glasses, and the scrunchie on her wrist that was so obviously yours.

between the hours and hours of staring at a screen, scribbling down notes, and reading material, yujin was fucking exhausted and it showed on her (very handsome—) face. she had a pout on her pretty lips—neither of you have spoken to each other too much in the name of trying to focus on your studies but yujin loved just having you there with her.

“i’m just going to get another cup of coffee. i’ll be back,” you said, squeezing her hand. but as soon as you tried to pull away, yujin yanks you back to her side, wrapping an arm around your waist tightly and pressing up against you. “baby! it takes like three minutes.” you giggle.

“no, you’ve already had too much… we’ll go to sleep soon,” her words were a bit muffled since she had her face buried on the crook of your neck. she raises her head slightly, looking up at you with her big puppy eyes that never ever failed to soften you up. “and i don’t like it when you’re away.” she mumbles.

oh, how she melts your heart.

“alright, cutie. i’ll stay.” you said, bumping your nose gently against hers.

if the way she almost immediately agreed to having a joint study session when you texted her about it days ago wasn’t enough to tell you how much she missed you, perhaps how she kissed you right now would. so soft you could barely feel it, and so sweet that warmth bloomed in your chest. you broke the kiss slightly just to take yujin’s glasses off her face, making her giggle softly before kissing you again.

a bit stronger this time—her hand rested on your waist, gently squeezing every now and then as she whimpered while you put your hand on the back of her neck, playing with her hair. her lips tasted like chocolates, most likely from the little treats she consumed every now and then because it helped her ‘focus’. you knew yujin just had a sweet tooth.

you could taste the chocolate on her lips, and after a single swipe of your tongue on her lips, you could taste it in her mouth. this was a much needed break, so you didn’t complain when yujin pulled you to her lap. both of you laughed at the way you nearly knocked yujin’s laptop off the bed, willing you to put your hands on her cheeks and control the kiss as you pleased.

‘finally,’ you thought. you felt your girlfriend tug at your shirt, making you laugh once again. she can be so needy. ‘we’ve both been waiting for too long.’

just as the kiss started to lead the two of you in that direction, something tickled the tip of your nose. you leaned back slightly, wondering just what gave you that weird sensation. yujin’s eyes slowly fluttered open, her lips forming another pout since she was so desperate (and determined!) to kiss you all night. then, you notice it—her cute bangs that have grown way too long.

they were nearly poking at her eyes! at first glance, yujin looked so cute but then you remembered the way she would shake her head softly every now and then to get her bangs away from her eyes, or how she would brush them away every second… and just then, you had a brilliant idea.

“baby, no… come back.” yujin whined when you slid off her lap. you grabbed a spare folding chair from the depths of your closet (you don’t remember why you have that, actually…) and disappeared into your bathroom. you were thankful to conveniently have a roommate who took cosmetology classes because any extra equipment she had, she stuffed it under your bathroom sink.

and so, you pulled out a cape and a pouch that contained various combs and scissors before swinging the bathroom door back open. yujin was standing right there, all cute and sleepy and very much confused.

“i need you to change into one of my shitty shirts.” you said, earning a head tilt from the taller girl.

“i love all your shirts, though.”

“come on…” you sighed deeply and went through your drawer on your own. inside you found a grey t-shirt with its design all faded out and chipped. yujin puts the shirt on as you so kindly requested and immediately, you dragged her inside the bathroom and sat her down in front of the mirror on the chair.

“look,” you gave her a kiss on her crown and softly patted her bangs. “i’m going to give them a little trim!” you exclaimed with a big smile.

yujin should be scared. not once has she ever seen you cut hair nor has she seen you hold a pair of scissors so clumsily like you did with the one you had on your hand now but instead, she grinned as widely as you did. “really?! i didn’t know you knew how to cut hair, baby!” she says excitedly. she turns her head to you—with her ‘brightness of a thousand suns’ grin and eye-smile, you couldn’t help but melt.

“j-just a little… but you don’t mind?” you asked.

“of course not! i believe in you,” yujin assures you. “plus, this is way cheaper than going to the salon and paying hundreds just for a little cut.”

you chuckled, “you’re lucky you’re my girlfriend then. otherwise i would’ve charged you like fifty dollars.”

yujin laughs along, “yeah. i’m really lucky.” she replied with warmth and sincerity in her voice. you couldn’t hold yourself back; you leaned down and gave her a sweet kiss on the lips. chocolates, still.

not long after you decided to get to work—yujin sat there quietly, trying her very hardest not to bop her head to the music you’ve put on (it was one of your shared playlists, particularly yujin’s favourite of the bunch) to fill the silence. yujin stared at your face through the mirror, her heart increasing its size every time she catches you do your little habits: biting the corners of your lips, blowing your own hair away when it gets in the way of your eyes, and the way your eyebrows furrowed so deeply from how focused you were.

“does that look okay?” you asked after a few minutes, stepping aside. her bangs were still a bit long, but you didn’t want to overdo it just in case yujin actually liked having them long.

“hm… they’re still a bit…” yujin replied, moving her head softly. obviously she wanted it shorter, so once again you gave her a kiss on the cheek before continuing your work.

it was obvious that yujin was struggling to sit still. she was a very active person! heck, while you were studying for hours, yujin would take small paces around your room and poke around every forty minutes just to keep herself entertained. of course, yujin wouldn’t dare ruin her hair so instead, she decided to keep her hands busy by playing with the hem of your shirt. she’d poke on your stomach, making you laugh and jokingly kick her shin but she’d do it again and you wouldn’t say anything. her cold hands felt right against your warm skin.

a few more laughs, short kisses, and ‘snips’ later, you once again stepped aside to let yujin have a look of herself.

“whoa!” your girlfriend exclaimed. she touches her bangs, moves her head around, and beams up at you. “you’re amazing, baby!” she was saying as you cleaned up the scissors and the cape. as soon as you took it off of her, yujin leaps up from her chair and hugs you tightly.

she peppers your face with kisses amidst your giggles and half-hearted attempts of kissing her back. “you’re the best, (y/n). thanks a lot.” yujin whispers in your ear as she embraced you a bit more gently. your caressed her hair, giving her a chaste kiss on her shoulder, before melting into her.

the two of you stayed that way for a while, until you leaned back to take a look at your girlfriend’s face. she was beautiful, except that her bangs were a bit shorter and, in yujin’s most honest opinion, a lot cuter. you pulled her down to give her a kiss in the forehead, her favourite, before she captures your lips in a kiss. having been this amazing girl’s lover for years now, you’ve come to know where these unexpected make-out sessions lead up to… and you definitely did not want the two of you to go there when the bathroom floor was littered with tiny strands of yujin’s hair.

“clean up first, babe,” you whispered against yujin’s lips. that got you another whine. “please?”

well, that quickly got yujin moving around. you laughed as she cleaned up the entire bathroom in record time and before you knew it, it looked as good as new. the least you could do was put the equipment away, so you folded up the cape and put the scissors in the pouch before tossing it all under the sink once again.

as soon as you stood back up, yujin hugs you from behind. you smile at her through the mirror, she smiles back. even brighter. you intertwined your hands and of course… yujin’s lips were on your skin again.

you giggled, feeling her soft kisses from your neck to your cheek, “do you ever get tired, baby?” you asked, turning your head and catching one of her many, many kisses.

yujin shakes her head, smiling at you like she wants you to fall in love with her all over again, “can’t help it.”

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jarofstyles · 6 months

Text

Cocoon- Best Friend's Dadrry

hello my loves, here is part 6 of the best friend's dadrry series!! I hope you enjoy

Patreon

Previous part

Warnings- age gap relationship, hints of smut, fluffy and angsty

WC- 2.9k

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“Fuck me.” Harry muttered, looking down at his phone.

It was a day in-office for him, one of the few ones that he still did just to keep order of it. Having his own company had a lot of perks, which were thoroughly enjoyed by the man with taking trips and spending money and living lavishly. One of the best so far, though, had been being able to be home when Y/N had days off. The pretty girl that stayed on his mind 25/8, the one he was still trying to gauge how she felt.

Today had been scheduled before she had been given the day off. The man had mourned the loss of a later morning, snuggled between her legs with her thighs keeping his cheeks warm. He loved having breakfast in bed, languid licks at her sensitive cunt while she stroked his hair and squirmed under him with soft little sleepy moans. His ultimate best morning routine, tarnished by the fact he had to leave at 6 in the damn morning. He’d kissed her pouty lips goodbye and driven to the city, grumpy and under caffeinated as he sat down at his office chair.

He’d been in the middle of a conference call when he had opened up the messages sent from Y/N. One in particular had him cursing under his breath.

It was her in his bed. His shirt on her body, lifted up by her hand to expose her naked torso and the curve of her hips. Her beautiful, beautiful body that he had dragged himself away from this morning, albeit mournfully. His eyes took in the faded marks of his fingers on her hips and the very fresh love bite he had left on the swell of her breast. He could remember the exact moment he had given it to her, too. Her body laid out under him on the couch, vibrator he had snuck downstairs pressed firmly to her clit as she whined for him. He’d worshiped her breasts, sucking on the nipples until they swelled and made her shiver when he blew on them, kissing and licking every available inch of skin just because he could. Because Harry wanted to own her, and she loved to be owned by him.

That one spot in particular had made her squeal, so he had latched on. Sucking rough, feeling her hips roll and her poor clit be slightly abused as she came and he kept it pressed there for another time around. Harry had become increasingly greedy with her and her body, her time. He wanted all of it. Making her orgasm was an addiction, feeling her nails dig into his arms as she weighed in his arms and telling him ‘enough’ but knowing she wasn’t safe wording out? He went feral on that.

Their sexual chemistry was a modern marvel. He’d wondered many times how it was. Why it was. It had to be his daughter’s best friend who had finally unlocked the side of him that he had thought never existed. Passion and lust and the need to please had engulfed him like a wall of flames as soon as they kissed, achy hands gripping soft flesh and pulling her closer and closer so he could get her scent on his skin. Her taste on his lips. His orgasms before were barely considered now that he had came inside of her.

Y/N had woken up a part of him that he had thought had died a long time ago. The adventurous sex and excitement, he felt like a boy discovering love and intimacy all over again. It was terrifying and exhilarating and he wanted to hoard all of these moments with her for himself. He had considered it a potential midlife crisis when the topic had been broached, but quickly dismissed that. The things he felt for her were real. The sweaty palms and the need to please and the shot of butterflies shot into his stomach when she fucking smiled at him. He had been in a few relationships in the past and it was similar, but Y/N just seemed to understand a part of him.Unspoken, perhaps, but it seemed like she didn’t even have to try to make him happy. Her simple being an natural instincts leaned towards his preferences.

“What?” One of the voices on the call had responded.

Fuck.

“Sorry, I spilled coffee on myself.” He tried to save it. “I apologize for the unprofessionalism, it just burned me.” He hadn’t realized he said it out loud.

“Oh, I’m sorry. That’s awful. Are you alright?” Another voice asked, the concern making him smile to himself.

“Yes, I’m fine. We can continue.”

His eyes went back to the photo, making sure to mute himself this time as his thumbs typed out a text to her.

H: What are you trying to do?

H: You know I’m in a meeting right now.

💋: I know 😇

💋: thought you’d like some motivation.

H: The only things it’s motivating me to do is mark your ass up with my hand when I get home.

💋: say it again, Daddy. I’m close.

H: Y/N….

💋: Daddy H….

H: You’re lucky you’re cute.

💋: ooo, what else am I?

H: Trouble.

💋: hm, maybe a little bit.

💋: what else? 💋💋

H: One of the most beautiful people I’ve ever seen. Incredibly intelligent. Kind. Strong willed.

💋: … damn. I was teasing but you’re making me blush.

💋: you’ve earned a blowie when you come home.

H: I’m only stating the truth.

His smile grew as he realized that she called his place home.

H: You’ll still be there when I get home?

💋: Mhm. I was going to run errands but the bed… it’s too comfortable.

💋: I think you should bring home take out and eat it with me in bed. Be lazy with me. We can watch the documentary you wanted to see.

H: I won’t complain about coming home to my pretty girl in bed.

In fact, it would make him giddy all day. She wanted to spend time with him like that? Yes, they’d done it a lot before but it felt way better now. More real. Domestic.

💋: I’d hope not.

💋: not opposed to a pizza and some wine. Just putting it out there.

H: Anything for you, darling.

💋: if you keep saying that you won’t be able to get rid of me.

H: I wouldn’t dream of it.

He never wanted to. He wanted to keep her. That was part of the problem.

—-

Harry came home with two pizza boxes in hand and the requested wine in the other. The house was quiet, tranquil. The string lights she had asked to hang up on the deck were on and the sun was almost set, casting s glow into the kitchen as he walked through it. His home had felt so empty when his daughter had left for college, even more so when she’d actually moved out- but having Y/N here was a remedy. A blessing. He wanted to come home every night to her shoes in the entryway. Her mug in the sink. She made it feel like a home again.

His briefcase was set down in the office, his work phone left too so he didn’t have it and grabbed two glasses from the kitchen before he basically zoomed up the stairs, opening his bedroom door to see- a lump.

A Y/N sized lump under the covers. Hair piled up on top of her head peeked out of his duvet that was clutched close to her face, which was smushed slightly against his pillow. She was sleeping on his pillow on her side of the bed. His heart tingled, a slight smile rising on his face as he placed the pizza boxes down on the dresser and the wine following.

He took a moment to observe her. He’d done it plenty of times before as she slept. Creepy? Perhaps. But there was something so sweet about her when she fell asleep. Staying curled in his bed, no walls up, she let go of any defenses and felt safe enough with him to snooze in his bed- with or without him home. Her gentle breathing was all he could hear besides the low buzz of the tv playing some show he couldn’t place, the peaceful look on her face one he wished he could memorize.

Fingers couldn’t stop the urge, reaching out and brushing the hair from her face. The baby hair that had been fussed with and fallen out in her sleep, her warm skin igniting his fingertips. She was so goddamn beautiful, it made his heart ache a little bit in his chest. He knew she was younger than him, but she was a woman. She was a sweet woman, strong and full of life and vigor. Y/N was hilarious and feisty but above all else, she was kind. She had a good heart. Perhaps there were flaws- ones he knew about, like her stubbornness, and some others that were more than likely hidden under a layer of heavily guarded fluff- but he thinks that they all add together to make her Y/N. And that in and of itself was fucking beautiful.

His chest squeezed when she leaned into his touch, falling deeper into the pillows with a soft noise. His touch calmed her, even in her sleep had her gravitating towards him. His heart felt like it was in his throat as he realized that it wasn't something he could talk himself out of. There were real feelings here. It wasn’t just an illicit affair anymore. Not just two people indulging in the taboo. It was a relationship, even without the label.

He stroked over the apples of her cheeks, petting her heated skin as he saw her eyes flutter. One sleepily popped open, looking up at the man in confusion for a second before the most gut wrenchingly sweet smile tipped on her sleepy lips. A slow hand grabbed his hand keeping it where it was as she turned her face so her lips met his palm. Something that had become a habit for them both, her smooth, soft lips pressing chaste against the slightly tough skin of his hand.

Wordlessly, her hand weakly tugged at him before she opened up the blankets.

She wanted him in.

Harry wasn’t going to tell her no. Especially not after how raw his heart felt at his revelation just mere seconds ago. He shrugged off his jacket and his belt, letting them fall to the floor so they wouldn’t irritate her while she scooted more towards the middle of the bed, allowing him space. His brain was whirling around, full of thoughts and things to say, but he couldn’t get them to organize themselves. All he could do is indulge in her request, crawling into the bed with her and laughing under her breath as she dove for his neck, tucking her face into the crook of it.

God. He was so, so fucked.

“Hi.” Out of everything he could have said, it was what escaped his lips. Arm wrapping underneath her body while the other moved to stroke her exceptionally warm back, he felt her snuggle into him. Melting into his body like it was a second piece to his own. Her breath was warm as he felt a single peck to the thin and sensitive skin of his throat, her nose running over it as she clutched his work shirt.

“Hi.” Was the peep back, her voice raspy with the sleep she had just gotten. Y/N was a nap fiend, always excusing herself for a bit of shut eye, but this had to be one of his new favorites. Sleepy Y/N in his bed, desperate for a cuddle when he got home. There was no semblance of hesitation, she was simply doing what she wanted and it made him feel full knowing that this was the choice.

“Sleep well when I was gone, darling?” His voice was hushed, not wanting to break the intimate moment. This was the type of thing that Harry had been exceptionally greedy for lately. The tenderness, the sweet heart of this girl showing itself to him front and center. He could tell that sometimes it was intimidating for her to do such a thing, but she had been making him so, so happy.

“Mhm.” The soft hum was met with her hand slipping under his work shirt, resting on his chest. He’d unbuttoned it and lost the tie on the way in, but he knew now that he needed to thank whatever gave him the idea to do that. Her little warm hand smoother over his skin, brushing over the light hair on his chest with another hum before she settled it there. “Missed you, though.” The admission had him smiling to himself, unable to see her face but knowing it was a little bit shy. His hand found a similar position, slipping under her tank top and splaying across her smooth, warm back. “Yeah? Missed you too. Always do.” He decided to reward her with some of his own vulnerability. It was a team effort. She should know he felt just as fond. “Don’t like goin’ into the office. S’not as nice as working from home.. And I can see more of you.” Lips brushed the crown of her head, inhaling deeply as he pressed a kiss to it. Her shampoo smelled so good, it was just essential Y/N, and it was all over his bed. He would seek it out when she inevitably, unfortunately, would have to return to her flat.

Y/N waited for a second before raising her head from his neck, pecking his jaw and looking at him with those pretty, hazy with sleep eyes that he utterly adored. She took a moment to stare at him, his pulse going a bit harder when she didn’t reply right away- but he was rewarded. Her lips found his, her nimble fingers tangling in his silver necklace. Ever so gentle, her lips closed around his and she arched into him, letting it linger for a few seconds before Harry returned it, pecking her lips with a few light pecks. The sound of them made her smile, peeling her eyes back open to look at him.

“I like when you stay here with me, too. I’m a little greedy with your time…” She joked, a tiny smile showing the humor. It wasn’t really a joke, though. Y/N had found it hard to stay away from the man. It was a culmination of things. What she had always intended to be hot, whirlwind sex before she settled and searched for a good job had turned into a mess. One that was starting to mean more to her than most other things.

“I like it when you’re greedy.” there was a double meaning there but the tone was showing he meant it in the pure way. “I like spending time with you. Y’know that, yeah?” He mumbled, pulling her body in to snuggle against him. The softness of her limbs and heat of her nap soaked him to his bones, the covers pulled up around them to keep the cocoon of warmth steadily baking around them. “Love sex with you, but… This is nice too. Or goin’ out to the pool with you. Cooking with you. It’s made my days lately.”

Y/N’s heart felt like it was a bit too full, a shy smile painting her lips. It was difficult to look him in the eye when he said sweet things like this when her brain hadn’t even fully broken out of the nap and kiss haze. The older man cradled her like she was precious- she felt precious- and he always made her feel appreciated. It had been the last thing she expected when this had started but she couldn’t deny how good it felt to know that she wasn’t just a body for him to fuck. He enjoyed spending time with her.

“Me too.” She peeped, hiding her face back in his neck as she resumed her clinging to him. His cologne had faded a bit, leaving the last bits of it mixed with a tiny bit of coffee and his telltale soap smell of his skin soothing her down. “I’m happy. We can keep doing it, right?”

He knew she had a bit of a shy streak when it came to softer things. A fierce and demanding girl when it came to sex, but real vulnerability had her cowering away a bit. Not to the point where he felt her pulling away from him, but showing that it still intimidated her. He nearly melted as she asked if they could continue it. As if he would ever be the one to tell her to stay away, as if he would ever be the one to break it off. As if he wasn’t completely and utterly obsessed with the girl in his arms.

As if he wasn’t falling in love.

“As long as you’ll let me, darling, I’ll be here every day.”

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haosweater · 3 months

Text

perhaps i loved you.

content: idol! jeonghan x gn! reader, angst, fluff, past life au, coffee shop au, royalty au (just read, you’ll get it), unrequited love.

summary: a unique cafe down fifth avenue opens a whole new door of surprises for jeonghan.

word count: 1.4k

note: based this off the short exert i wrote at the end lol. totally not inspired by real life events haha… also i’m writing this at almost two in the morning please forgive any grammar or spelling mistakes.

it was cloudy. the sun peeked through the smallest crevices it could find as the wind gently brushed against jeonghan’s skin.

he shivered, pulling his green cardigan on tighter. he reached up, grabbing his white bucket hat to make sure it didn’t fly away. god knew the wind was ruthless these past few days. jeonghan felt like the world seemed to be against him.

he hummed along to his music, walking down the street in solace. the cherry blossoms bloomed magnificently, its pink petals falling to spread its beauty. he looked up, admiring the trees with a gentle smile.

there weren’t a lot of people out this time of the day and jeonghan liked that. he liked the comfort of not being recognised, being able to go about his day peacefully. the solitude was exactly what he needed.

inhaling a deep breath, he turned and continued down the street. the shops down this road were vintage. unique little thrift stores, record stores, quaint coffee shops that sold overpriced coffee— wait.

jeonghan paused, staring into the shop. olive green bookshelves lined the beige walls of the shop. behind, there was a counter with coffee machines and cake displays. at the very front of the store, there was a table. it had two chairs with a typewriter sitting on it.

a cafe? no, bookstore? or was it a vintage thrift store? confused, jeonghan looked up at the sign.

‘caffeinated literature’.

‘how peculiar,‘ jeonghan thought. glancing around, he peeked into the cafe again, noticing no one was inside. he wondered if it was closed, a slight pang of disappointment filling his chest.

however, the ‘open’ sign on the door proved him wrong. his eyes moved down, and noticed the poster on the door, prompting him to move closer and read it.

enjoy a cup of coffee,

and let me write you poetry.

welcome to caffeinated literature.

it didn’t take jeonghan another second to push the glass door open, the soft chime of the bell ringing in the air. “hello?” he called out softly.

there was a muffled crash followed by a yelp, shocking him. “hello! just give me a moment! please, take a seat!”

jeonghan sat down apprehensively, fluffing the cushion beside him. the interior was cozy, minimalistic and welcoming. swinging his feet, he continued to observe his surroundings, not realising you had emerged from behind the counter.

“hello, so sorry about that! what can i get for you today?” you panted, handing him the menu.

jeonghan looked at you in awe. your voice sounded like sweet, smooth honey that dripped slowly into a cup of warm tea. there was a sense of familiarity to you, but he couldn’t figure out what it was.

“uh, sorry,” he mumbles, snapping out of his thoughts. “i’ll just get an iced cappuccino and a poem, please.”

you grin. “great choice. i’ll be right back with your coffee, so just take a seat in tbe front,” you gesture to the table with the typewriter. he nods, getting up as you disappear behind the counter.

jeonghan feels light-headed from staring at you. something about you was so enchanting, so magical and so familiar. he sighed, annoyed that he was unable to figure out what it was.

the aroma of his coffee drifted in the air as you brought it over. he thanked you as you sat across him, smiling as he sipped on it slowly.

“oh, wow, this is really good,” he remarked, licking his lips. “thank you.”

“it’s no problem,” you say, smiling. “now, for the poem,” you gently slot the paper into the typewriter. turning around, you turn the speaker on, calm jazz music filling the cafe.

“i know this sounds rather far-fetched, but i usually hold people’s hands to get a better feel of their aura before i write their poem. do you mind if i do that with you?”

jeonghan shakes his head almost instantly. “no, not at all,” he says, extending his hands.

you smile, nodding in acknowledgement as you take his hands into yours, slowly shutting your eyes.

jeonghan shivered, and suddenly, he wasn’t in the cafe anymore.

he was now clad in formal wear, standing at the entrance to a balcony. you stood at the edge, back facing him. the moon was bright and the stars shone in the sky.

“i didn’t expect you to come,” your voice wavered. jeonghan couldn’t speak– he could not control what he did.

“i’m here now, aren’t i?” he chuckles, swirling the glass of wine in his hand. “what bothers you, my dear, on the night we are to celebrate?”

when you turn around, tears rolling down your cheeks, he freezes. you stare at him, sniffing softly. even when you’re crying, you look breath-taking to him.

averting your gaze, you sigh. “i can’t lie to you anymore, han,” you whisper. “tonight i watched you get married to the love of your life, confessing your love to each other in front of the whole kingdom,” you look up at him again.

“and now, i will confess my love to you, in front of the moon and stars.”

jeonghan is in shock. he doesn’t know how to comprehend this situation. it is all too fast, too quick– was this his past life?

“i have loved you ever since we were kids, han. my heart has held onto you tightly, refusing to let go. i’ve seen the best and the worst of you. i’ve seen all your flaws and imperfections and yet still i love you. i have been your friend, but never once did i love you like one. i loved you more than that. i would sacrifice the moon and the stars just to gaze at your beauty. i would burn the kingdom down if you wanted me to. my heart aches and yearns for your touch, your love, your heart and i know i will never get it, but i had to tell you.”

by the time you’re done, you’re panting, out of breath. jeonghan wants to rush forward and hold you, but his body stops him. there is no control.

“b-but y/n, i’m a prince and you’re a—”

“knight, i know,” you sob. “i prayed to the gods every day that my heart would let go of you because i knew i could never be yours, nor you, mine.”

jeonghan simply stood there, heart aching at the sight of you. “i am sorry, y/n. i am sorry i cannot love you the way you want me to,” he whispers, taking a step forward.

“it’s okay, han,” you say softly, tears staining your once rosy cheeks. wiping them away, you look at him with a sad smile. “it was never meant to be anyways.”

with a loud gasp, jeonghan finds himself back in cafe. he’s panting, eyes darting around vigorously before landing on you.

you were crying.

and so was he.

“sorry,” you let out an awkward laugh, wiping your tears away. “i don’t know why i’m crying,” you whisper, trying to stop yourself from crying, but the tears keep coming.

“it’s okay,” jeonghan stutters, quickly wiping his own tears. he wants to comfort you more, but he couldn’t find the words to. he felt like he didn’t deserve to.

sniffing, your fingers suddenly start to gly across the typewriter, the clicks ringing in the air. jeonghan observes you intensely, watching you throw draft after draft away. you were clearly frustrated.

finally, after his ice had melted, his coffee finished, you were done.

“sorry,” you say, removing the paper. “i had a hard time finding the right words,” you confessed as he smiled.

he looked down, reading the poem as you fidgeted with your fingers. his eyes drift across each word, heart clenching as he reached the last line.

“this is beautiful,” he says breathlessly. “thank you. i love it.”

you return the smile. “thank you for coming. i hope to see you again.”

jeonghan’s heart flutters at your words momentarily. “thank you for the coffee and poem. and who knows? perhaps i will see you again,” he chuckles before waving goodbye, pushing the glass door open as the bell chimed.

the breeze was stronger now, and jeonghan had to grab onto his hat again. with a loud sigh, he began to walk down the street, thoughts flooding his mind. it was racing, restless and utterly confused.

as he reached the end, he stopped at a traffic light, waiting for it to turn green. pulling out the piece of paper, he reread what you had written, tears forming in the corner of his eyes once again.

‘who are you,

stranger?

you look rather familiar.

perhaps i have loved you.

in another life.’

#seventeen 🫧#seventeen x reader #seventeen angst #seventeen fluff #seventeen fics #seventeen fanfic #seventeen jeonghan #jeonghan #yoon jeonghan #jeonghan x reader #seventeen #seventeen imagines

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thatmooncake · 10 months

Note

HI I THINK YOU'RE VERY COOL PLEASE TALK ABOUT SUN AND MOON🌘☀️💙🌠 like!! Go crazy go stupid!!!

If you want some questions then here!! If they could eat/drink what would be their starbucks order? What would be their wormsona if they could design it 👀? What is your favorite part of them to draw 😊? Is there anything specifically that would make you go "they would not say that!!" in regards to dca 🤔🤔?

Don't feel pressured to answer any of this btw!!! You can completely ignore this 👌 And sorry if any of this came off as rude or patronizing 🙏🙇‍♂️

I love every ask like this btw now it’s crazy stupid time

If Sun and Moon could eat or drink they would eat your coffee cups the moment you’re not looking, they’d “confiscate” items only to hide them in a little space somewhere in their miserable room (they’d look so smug about taking them just to hide them for later), I think caffeine would make Moon a little loopy because I think Moon is a bit of a spider. Have you seen what happens to spiders on caffeine?

Like, this is Moon on caffeine, he’s made his web and now he has to lie in it.

I like to think if Sun could get hyped up on caffeine the effect would stick when they switched and Moon would not be happy about it.

I think if Sun could like a drink he would like those summery drinks like frappuccinos the most, I bet if he could drink caffeine he’d have an extreme response like either he’d be restless for DAYS or he’d unexpectedly short circuit and actually run out of energy. Maybe both.

(Like, that is the face of a playmate, right?)

Maybe one followed by the other.

Sun and Moon worm on a string would be stripey or starry perhaps:

I happily accept contributions, let’s share the joy of the worms.

Their expressions are the best no matter what. Other than that I think it’s gotta be the sunrays or the hat because they can be so expressive as well just based on how they’re placed or how they move. You can pry Moon with a prehensile hat from my cold dead fingers.

(There’s no limit to his capabilities - but perhaps there should be)

Another thing I love is Sun’s rays popping in and out to express his emotions.

And the ray spin - can’t forget the ray spin!

(They’re both such creatures)

They would not say …hm. I don’t think they would swear but it is funny to imagine the sorta thing that would bring them to do that, so I present you with this:

And have a nice day!

#fnaf #sundrop #moondrop #fnaf daycare attendant #fnaf sun #fnaf moon #fnaf security breach #fnaf sb #fablesketches #fableasks #this is long but a lot of drawings in it #so have fun #and even though it seems in cohesive I hope you like #also sorry it took so long #tw spiders #maybe?#spider moon #fablethoughts

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ggomos-maribat · 9 months

Text

1 | in which Tim Drake tries to propose to the PA

Part 1 of No Mr. Wayne You Can't Adopt Me! | Masterlist

Bruce tried not to flinch as he sat down on his swiveling chair. He had twisted his ankle from pursuing Penguin's goons the previous night but had to cover it up for work. Sure, he was used to hiding injuries and slipping into his CEO persona, but that didn't mean his muscles weren't sore and beat-up.

Just in time, his PA entered the office, carrying a stack of folders and a hot mug of coffee. "Here are the partnership offers I filtered from the initial pile." She placed the papers atop his desk. "I've also noticed that there is a defect in the new prototype of the research department that they are yet to attend to."

Bruce frowned. "But isn't the demo and meeting for it scheduled today?"

"Yes, that's why I've convinced the head supervisor to push it back to next week after they deal with the defect," Marinette reported. "I've also postponed the investors meeting to tomorrow since there was a delay in the materials."

She lowered her voice as if relaying a secret. "I noticed you have difficulty walking today, Mr. Wayne. With your modified schedule, all your work can be done here at your desk. If there's other legwork to do, I'll take care of it."

Somehow, in perfect timing, Marinette always managed to accommodate the times when he was injured. Bruce didn't know if he was getting bad at hiding it because of his old age or if the girl's intuition was just crazy sharp. Maybe it was both. He cleared his throat. "Thank you, Marinette. I appreciate it."

She opened up the first folder in front of him and transferred the mug to an electric warmer. "Another skiing accident?"

"Not as bad this time. Just a twisted ankle."

Next, she lowered the blinds just to allow just a peek of the sunlight and prepared a snack tray on a circular table beside his desk. Bruce never communicated the particulars about his preferences and he wasn't actually picky about his office space (unlike his son-slash-co-CEO). But this PA of his, just somehow knows. Like Alfred-levels of expertise. It creeped him out a little if he were to be honest.

She clasped her hands behind her back. "Anything else, Mr. Wayne?"

"None at the moment, thank you."

She raised an eyebrow.

. . . Which drew out a sigh from him. "Fine. Can you maybe help limit Tim's caffeine intake today? He had too many cups last night and he didn't listen when I told him to take the time off today."

"Of course, I'll do that right away." She nodded in satisfaction.

When she left, Bruce pulled up a tab on his computer to search for the legal documents, wondering if there was etiquette about an employer legally adopting their employee.

***

Marinette entered the office of Tim Drake after receiving a greeting from Tam at her desk beside the door. The young PA kept her hands behind her back as she approached the boy who was glued to his computer screen. Upon closer look, she could see the heaviness under his eyes, accentuated by the dark circles on his pale skin.

"I looked into your request of acquiring a commission piece from M.D.C.," Marinette told him.

There was only a slight shift in his exhausted expression—a downturn of the mouth—before his scratchy voice replied. "I thought they don't accept commissions anymore."

"Yes, but I re-visited our correspondence and apparently they still make pieces for selected clients." She took a deep breath. "And I got you an in."

The clicking of the mouse suddenly paused, followed by the widening of Tim's red-rimmed eyes. He practically crawled out of his seat to kneel before Marinette to take her hand in his. "Please marry me."

Marinette gently pulled away. "Sorry, Mr. Drake, my contract with Mr. Wayne prohibits me from marrying or getting into a relationship with any of his children."

"Why?!" Tim cried out.

"Perhaps he precisely predicted this kind of situation." She smiled apologetically. "And by my guess, I think he wants to adopt me first and not marry into the Wayne family."

Not that she actually wanted to be the newest addition to her boss' family.

With a pout, Tim retreated back to his chair while muttering about Bruce's adoption addiction. But in a second, he brightened up once more as he seemingly remembered the new opportunity he gained with M.D.C. "I have to compile my requests for the clothes!" He furiously tapped at his keyboard.

Marinette's heart went out for Tam. It looked like Tim wasn't getting proper work done that day again.

"I will forward the list to M.D.C. as soon as it's ready," she assured.

And while the co-CEO was immersed in researching designs in his half-conscious state, Marinette brought out the mug from behind her back and exchanged the coffee on his desk with decaf: a custom brew which was guaranteed to help him sleep for the afternoon.

In triumph, she exchanged thumbs-ups with Tam through the glass window of the office.

***

Marinette kept a watchful eye on Bruce's office to keep anyone from entering and disturbing the boss. But when she peeked into the room to deliver more files to him, she saw Bruce facing the open window and talking softly with Superman himself, who was at the other side of the glass.

Fortunately, neither of them seemed to notice her. She closed the door slowly and leaned her back against it, wondering if she should be guarding the door with her life. At the strike of bad luck, one of the company executives was heading straight towards the direction of the office.

He shot her a look as she blocked the way. Head to toe. "Mr. White," she greeted slowly.

"I have some papers Mr. Wayne must sign urgently." He narrowed his eyes.

"Sorry." She forced out a smile. "Mr. Wayne is a little . . . preoccupied at the moment. Why don't I take those papers off your hands and I'll have him sign them later?"

The executive clutched the stack tightly as if it were some precious treasure. "No, I need to have them signed now. If you can let me in, I'm sure Mr. Wayne won't mind a short interruption."

He stepped to the side but she moved in his way just as swiftly. Marinette sighed inwardly. This is beyond my paycheck. And judging by how White went here on his own, it must be some fund-farming project proposal Mr. Wayne would never agree to.

"Get out of my way!" He cried out. "Who do you think you are?!"

"I apologize, but Mr. Wayne is meeting an important guest. Under no circumstances must he be disturbed," she told him firmly. "I'm certain the papers can wait. He's not going anywhere."

"Listen here," Mr. White spat out. "I have more authority over you. You will do as I say right now!"

"Mr. White—"

"I will tell Mr. Wayne how incompetent you are! Rude to company executives! How dare you speak to me like this?!" Marinette stared with disinterest as his neck turned red and his forehead threatened to pop a vessel.

"What is going on here?"

Marinette felt the door open behind her to reveal Bruce, looking at White with clear exasperation. What she didn't expect was a bespectacled man emerging from behind her boss clad in business clothes.

"Mr. Wayne!" The executive squeaked. "I need you to sign these—"

"Did you not hear my PA?" Bruce punished him with a cold look. "I was receiving a guest. And you had the nerve to cause a commotion right outside my office."

"But—"

"Leave. Now."

Mr. White scurried away, tail between his legs, as other passing employees whispered to each other. Marinette stepped aside to give way to the two men.

Bruce cleared his throat. "Thank you for your time, Clark. I'll get back to you soon."

Superman—Clark—responded with a nod and a gentle smile before excusing himself out of the area. Marinette watched his back whilst he left. If anyone looked more attentively, they'd notice that the button-up and slacks Clark was wearing was too tight for his size, pointing to the fact that they were Bruce's and not his.

"Marinette, if you can keep quiet about . . ." Bruce trailed off, face twisting as he tried to pick his words carefully. She, of course, would know that no guest had entered his office despite Clark Kent exiting it only a few moments ago.

"Don't worry, Mr. Wayne. I won't tell anyone about your affair with Mr. Kent," she promised before walking back to her desk.

"Thank you . . . Wait, my what?"

#maribat fic #maribat fanfic #dc x mlb #mlb x dc #maribat #dc x miraculous #NMWYCAM #PA!Marinette

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celestialwhoree · 2 months

Note

police officer!Simon x detective!reader perhaps..? reader is higher ranked than him

I love love love this dynamic💕 @alwaysshallow writes Ghost and Higher ranked!reader perfectly too! I'd highly recommend reading their stuff on them!

The wind is nothing short of biting as you stand outside the forensics tent, pulling your coat tighter around your shoulders with a huff. Your watch reads 04:17AM, Thursday the 14th of November. Cold and tired. Homicides always come at the worst times. Sirens and blindingly bright blue and red lights only serve to worsen the migraine you can feel clawing up the back of your neck, trying to find purchase within the walls of your skull, already swimming with ugly ideas and images.

"-ed a perimeter." The gruff rumble of Simon 'Ghost' Riley's voice snaps you from your self pitying reverie, his eyes crinkling at the sides in a small, secret smile when you look up at him with bleary, confused eyes, envying the balaclava which covers his face from the nose down. "What?" A wince crinkles your stinging, cold face as your voice cracks like broken radio static. Simon's face softens at your obvious weariness. "You need to stop staying up so late." He chides you like a parent would a child, concern melting his brown eyes into molten brass. It's easy for him to forget that not everyone shares the same military background as him, that most can't go for days with only a few hours of sleep and stay sharp. "I was working on the Makarov case." You huff, running your hands down your face in an attempt to wipe away the lingering tiredness settled there. "I know it's eating at you, but you're no use to anyone when you can barely keep your eyes open." Simon's voice takes on that chastising tone that reminds you of his former military prowess - pre honourable discharge. The thought still makes you sad, fills your chest with warm, sticky pity, choking you up with a lump in your throat.

You stuff your hands into your pockets in a futile attempt to stave off the cold, rumbling out complaints and drawing instinctively closer to your colleague as he parts the crowd of forensic scientists and officers with his presence alone. The officer doesn't hesitate to lay his coat across your shoulders, forever looking out for you, if not just to see the way you relax under the warm weight of his jacket. "Can we go for breakfast after this?" A gentle smile flickers across Simon's face as you plead with him. The strength of your stomach never fails to surprise him, your ability to think about food in the middle of a crime scene eternally entertaining. Truly a person after his own heart. "Course we can."

You're not really sure why you're here, seeing as you only seem to get in the way of forensics gathering evidence as Simon walks you around the scene, detailing what the team knows so far about the crime, leaving you and your tired mind to decipher the rest. Unfortunately, with the lack of caffeine and bacon in your system, all you can do is nod dumbly and try to hide the way you keep yawning. Simon, as always, is ever present at your back, your side, letting you lean into him or mutter about how hungry you are under the pretence of talking about information relating to the crime. He's known you for long enough now to know that trying to get your brain firing at this time in the morning is futile. You work better at night.

Before Simon is given the opportunity to usher you away from the impending crushing of some poor kids' hopes and dreams, one of Graves' wide eyed, freakishly excited mentees is making a beeline your way - not that you notice when you've got your head in your hands and no will to live. The prepubescent sounding screech of their voice makes you wince, drilling a hole in your skull just big enough for the migraine to slip through. "You worked under Laswell right?" They chirp, far too energised for this obscene hour in the morning, and for someone play investigating the scene of a double homicide. "Yup." The dull, tired drone of your voice should be enough indication that you're not feeling talkative, and the look Simon angles them is unwavering enough to make a grown man weep. Not that they seem to notice. Or care. "Isn't this so cool? like a real life, actual homicide? Did you see the bodies? They were so gross."

Simon notices the way you bristle, shoulders at your ears. Despite your grumbling, you have the decency to respect the dead, something that Kate taught you long ago. "One of them had this like-" is enough to send you over the edge, shooting the kid a cruel look as you stand from where you'd been hunched in the back of the police van. "Enough." You growl, and Simon reaches out to place a grounding hand on the small of your back, trying his best to soothe your anger. "Don't be so fucking immature." The sound of your hiss is enough for the trainee to take a nervous step back. "Those are dead people. Those are dead people that were brutally murdered, in their beds at shit o'clock in the morning. Have some respect." You snap before pointing back at Graves with a furious blaze in your tired eyes. "Now go back to your shitty mentor and rifle through some bins."

"I'm impressed." Simon perks up from behind you, waiting with open arms for you to inevitably stumble into, emotionally and physically exhausted. "Breakfast?" You plead again into the plain fabric of his jumper. "Breakfast."

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amongemeraldclouds · 14 days

Text

not being romantic

Jess Mariano may be cute, possibly charming, but he is most definitely annoying. He certainly can’t hold a candle to your secret pen pal who’s smart, loves books, and aspires to be an author. Or can he?

Jess Mariano x f!Reader

Warning: no use of y/n, mostly fluff, some angst, cursing, suggestiveness. This fic is set after he left Stars Hollow.

✿ Masterlist | 3.3k words

The cafe buzzed with the rush of customers lined up for their afternoon caffeine fix. Coffee machines droned on churning coffee as sunlight streamed through the windows and the smell of baked goods wafted through the air.

You smirked at Jess Mariano before you called the customer to hand them their drink. You proceeded to add another point to your scoreboard, waving your arm for emphasis. He rolled his eyes at your dramatics and hurried up, adding whipped cream to the drink he was preparing.

Everything was always a game with him. Who could get the highest amount of tips? Who could guess the new customer's coffee order? Who could make the most convincing foreign accent?

Today’s game was: who could make the fastest coffee order?

“You’ve gotten better,” he observed as you grabbed a cup for the next customer. “Aren’t you glad to have had an incredible instructor like me?”

You scoffed, “more like an incredible loser if you don’t hurry up with that order. Just because you taught me, doesn’t mean I’d go easy on you, Mariano,” you taunt, narrowing your eyes for emphasis.

He shook his head with a smile, “I expected nothing less from you.” He made his way to the other end of the counter to call the customer and handed them their drink.

Another busy shift flew by and before you knew it, it was time to close down the cafe.

You grabbed the scoreboard, beaming with pride. “I won! You can now call me the Queen of Speed, Barista Extraordinaire. Bow down before your queen.”

Jess looked up from where he was wiping the counter with a flat expression. “I’ll call you the Queen of Clean if you help me with these last few tables?”

You frowned at him and stuck your tongue out, of course he had a whole arsenal of retorts with him at any given moment. You grabbed the towel and disinfectant spray from behind the counter and moved to wipe down the tables. “You’re no fun, but I’ll let it slide since you now owe me a favor.”

“As long as I don’t have to help you dispose of a body then it’s fine,” he replied, eyebrow raised.

You rolled your eyes, “if I ever need to dispose a body, it would probably be yours.”

“Are you confessing to something you’ll commit? I don’t think that’s very wise.”

“I’m not planning anything,” you sighed, pinching your nose. The conversation was getting more and more off topic by the second. “You, however, will be the dea*h of me.”

“I’ll add you to the waitlist,” he nodded as he set aside the towel and grabbed the key, ready to close for the evening. Of course that wasn't the first time that line was directed at him.

“You’re just trying to avoid what you owe me. Stop deflecting, Mariano,” you accused, heading towards him to return the cleaning materials. “I need your help with my toaster, it stopped working and I can’t afford to get it fixed or replaced. Can you help me with that?”

“Of course, anything for the Queen of Speed,” he replied.

“You forgot Barista Extraordinaire,” you added helpfully.

Jess just shook his head as if to say, I can’t win with you. He fought the smile that threatened to break across his features. Perhaps you too had your own arsenal of comebacks.

With the final turn of the key, the door swung in and you and Jess headed into your tiny apartment. It was a studio that’s three steps away from the kitchen, five steps away from the bathroom, and ten steps away from the bed. You liked to keep it simple, minimalistic. It definitely had nothing to do with the cheap rent.

“Welcome to my apartment. It’s not much but it’s home,” you said, gesturing around the place.

“It’s cozy and it’s very you,” he remarked.

You folded your arms and stared at him, “I can’t tell if that’s an insult or a compliment.”

“Let me see. Second hand furniture, potted plants around the area, and the artwork looks similar to your napkin doodles. Don’t think I didn’t notice them. It’s a mosaic of different things, but you managed to tie it all together and make it work. It’s just like you to make good out of a potentially bad situation,” he observed.

“Slow down there or you’ll end up hosting shows about house tours,” you teased. “And hey, I’ll take the compliment. Who knew Jess Mariano could be nice?”

He shrugged, “I just call it like I see it.”

You took the three steps necessary to reach the kitchen. “Here’s the troublemaker, by the way. Not you, well, aside from you,” you amended and pointed to the toaster. “Not sure what’s wrong, it just stopped working.”

He approached you and it struck you just how small the kitchen was, certainly not big enough for two. When you turned to speak to him, all the words left your mind as you realized you’re only inches away from him. Heat crept up your cheeks and you blinked.

Jess smirked at your reaction, keenly aware of the effect he had to you. That cocky bastard. He leaned in a bit closer and your breath hitched. “You know, if you just wanted me over at your place, there’s a lot of other fun things I can help you with.” You scrunched your nose and took a step back, immediately transported to the area you considered your bedroom. “If that’s your way of confessing your feelings for me, it’s not very romantic at all. Thought you’d have more game than that, Mariano,” you hedged.

“Oh, that’s because I’m not trying to be romantic. If I were trying....” he said, taking a step forward, closing the distance you tried to place between you. He brushed the hair away from your cheek, the touch so unexpectedly tender coming from Jess. You took in how soft his lips looked up close.

When he touched the side of your face, your attention returned to his soulful eyes. “...I’d do something like this,” he concluded, his breath against your lips like the ghost of a kiss. That’s all it took for him to steal the breath from your lungs.

You’re disoriented when cool air greets you again as he took a step back and the only trace left is the fading warmth from where his hand caressed your cheek. “But like I said, I’m not trying to be romantic,” he shrugged.

You cleared your throat, brushing off the lingering heat of the interaction. You ignored the pang of disappointment that hit you. Besides, someone else already had your heart, this was nothing but a silly little crush. “Well can you please try to fix my toaster?” you asked, trying to stay on topic as always.

“Sure, I have tools at home. I can take it with me and bring it back when I’m done.”

You nodded, “okay thank you. Let me just grab a bag you can carry it in.”

He scanned the room while you opened the cabinet to grab a reusable bag.

“Why do you have lots of mail?” He asked, thumbing through the pile of opened envelopes on your kitchen counter.

You mulled over the question, unsure how much you wanted to share with Jess Mariano and risk a round of his teasing. Then again, you could handle Jess. “Well, there’s this guy I really like. We send each other letters. If you really want to know what romantic is, Mariano, it’s hand written letters. No one bothers to write them anymore. There’s something sweet and sincere about it.”

“Who’s the lucky guy?”

“I’m not really sure. I got his first letter from the bookstore I frequent, the employee handed it to me and I asked him to hand back my reply. We just kept going from there, I think the mystery just adds to the romance.”

Jess shot you a worried look. “You mean to say, you’re corresponding with a complete stranger? For all you know he’s hiding his identity because he’s a stalker or a serial killer.”

“Please, he is not. He is smart, funny, and he’s writing a book. I just don’t feel like he’s that type of person.”

“You’re going off this based on your feelings? I don’t think that’s wise or safe.”

“Jess, it’s fine. There’s nothing to worry about,” you replied, having had enough of him for the day. After handing him the bag with the broken toaster, you shoved him towards the door and out from your apartment, wishing him a good night.

“That was quick,” you said as you headed out of the cafe and walked towards Jess’ apartment to retrieve your now functional toaster.

Jess shrugged, “it was no big deal, just had a few loose screws to reattach. Speaking of loose screws, how about that imaginary boyfriend of yours? Finally decide to reveal himself?”

You sighed, Jess had been on your case the whole week since you told him about your mysterious crush. Needless to say, you regretted telling him about it. “No, but he hasn’t written to me recently,” you pondered. “He must be busy writing his book.”

“Or planning your untimely demise,” he retorts.

“Jess, I swear,” you grit your teeth, “I’ll be planning your untimely demise if you don’t drop it. Why do you care so much? Are you jealous? Is that what this is about?”

“Well I’m trying to look out for a coworker, why does this have to be about me? But hey, I’ll drop it,” he relented. “Besides, I won today so you owe me a favor.”

You groaned, but don’t say anything further. He won fair and square, you were ready to accept your fate.

Jess continued, “My uncle sent some food last night and I have a lot more than I can finish myself. Help me with that before you leave with your toaster?”

“Jess Mariano,” you narrowed your eyes at him, “are you asking me out for dinner?”

“No,” he quickly said and then caught himself. “We’re not going out, we’re dining in. Besides if I were being romantic, I might bring you flowers, pick you up, take you somewhere nice. So this,” he said, pointing between him and you, “is not me being romantic.”

“And there goes Mr. Defensive,” you smirked. Of course he was not being romantic, not to you. He had a hundred and one ways to tease and annoy you but never to charm you. Still, you couldn’t help the way it killed you just a little inside.

“I swear if you tell me this is where the magic happens, I will smack your head,” you deadpan as Jess opened the door to his apartment.

“Why does that turn me on?” He teased. Your face twisted in confusion and disgust and Jess laughed triumphantly, having drawn out a reaction from you. You had no idea you were adorable, he thought.

“Just welcome to my home then,” he said.

You stepped in, admiring his cozy space. You imagined a messy home with leftover containers and soda cans strewn about reeking of old laundry and faded furniture. You had little to no expectations at all.

Instead what greeted you was a small space, similar to yours. The bed was made, blanket tucked in neat corners and the furniture, while undoubtedly secondhand, was well maintained. If anything, the mismatched pillows against the pale blue sofa and the sanded down wooden table gave it personality. It smelled like subtle household cleaners and carried the scent that is so distinctly Jess, a mixture of soap and sweat, plus a hint of cologne he would never admit to wearing.

“It’s very you,” you remarked, “and I don’t mean that as a bad thing.”

He shrugged, handing you your toaster, “I’ll take it as a compliment.”

“Thanks again for the toaster. Now there’s only one troublemaker here in this room,” you quipped as you move towards his kitchen to help him set the dinner table.

“That’s definitely you,” he replied, handing you the plates and utensils while he moved to heat up the food from the fridge. “Hand me the glasses over there?” He asked, pointing to the drawers on the opposite end.

You nodded, setting down the plates on the table and headed towards the drawer. “Well, I’ll let it slide just this time because you’re feeding me and I can’t say no to free food. Thank you Jess,” you said, a small hint of affection blooming in your chest.

You opened the first drawer and found only papers. You were about to close it to check the next drawer when the familiar edge of stationery caught your eye. It was exactly the type of paper you smiled at for hours on end, trying to memorize each word. Curiosity got the better of you and you lifted a half written letter to your eyes. A half written letter addressed to you.

A storm of emotions struck you then: confusion, hurt, and anger. All this time. The boy who weaseled his way into your heart, who called you cute in his first letter and wanted to get to know you. Who charmed you into the romantic idea of secret identities like spies undercover. Who shared your love for books and had the best recommendations that made you feel seen like no one ever has. Who spoke about his love for writing with a passion that inspired you.

All this time it was Jess Mariano.

All this time it was a lie.

Just another one of his games.

“What about those gla—” he stopped mid-sentence when he turned back and saw you reading his letter.

“Fuck,” he exhaled softly as heat crept into his cheeks.

You looked at him, fire burning in your eyes. “Is that all you have to say, Mr. Fantastic Writer?” You huffed, trying to quell the tears that threatened to choke you.

Jess opened his mouth and closed it, wanting to say a million words and failing. You watched the war raging in his head.

“Well then indeed, fuck!” You exclaimed in frustration. “And fuck you too. I know you love your games Jess, but you can’t just go around playing with other people’s feelings.”

You retreat and grabbed your things, shaking your head. “God, I feel like such a fool.”

You threw the door behind you and was a few steps away when you realized you left your toaster. Shame and betrayal marched with you as you opened his door again and found him still frozen where you left him.

“I’m just here for my toaster, which I actually need. Unlike you, I don’t need anything from you, Jess. I’ve read and heard enough,” you said, your voice wavered at the end and tears spilled down your cheeks.

You turned away from embarrassment, toaster in hand, and ran the rest of the way home. He didn’t deserve to hear your sobbing. He didn’t even deserve any of your tears. He was just a stupid boy that your stupid heart fell for. No big deal.

The next week passed in a blur. Unable to switch shifts with anyone else, you called in sick at the cafe and lived life between your university, the library, and your apartment. Never mind that you needed the pay, you could drown in instant noodles for all you cared. It didn’t matter anyway. A broken heart never cared for a full stomach.

That Friday, you were about to call it a night when the doorbell rang. The was odd, you thought, you weren’t expecting anyone.

“You’ve got the wrong—” you stopped mid-sentence when you saw the last person you ever wanted to see, Jess Mariano holding a bouquet of flowers and books. If it were any other day, it might have sent butterflies to your stomach. Now all it did was fan the flames of your anger because it was much easier to be angry than hurt.

You slammed the door close but Jess stopped it with his outstretched arm. “Are you trying to get yourself injured?” You accused and you hated it, how much you still cared.

“Please, I just need to talk,” he said, pain and sincerity etched in his handsome face.

You sighed and let him in, not wanting to cause a scene at the hallway. “You have five minutes,” you held up your hand for emphasis.

“Fine, five minutes,” he breathed, steeling himself. "Here’s a story for you: I met this girl working at a cafe. She’s smart and quick witted, she never runs out of comebacks. Her smile makes my day and I needed to see more of it so I came up with these games. And damn it, I looked forward to going to work every day because of her.

There was a nagging at the back of my mind to get to know her better. I wanted her to get to know me too, but I have a track record of screwing things up so I sent a letter. Just one couldn’t hurt, right?

Clearly, I underestimated her. One letter was never going to be enough. I loved hearing about her dreams, her stories, the inside jokes we created along the way. Without meaning to, I fell for her. I fell for you. It was never a game for me, all of it was real. Is still real.

When I heard you liked your secret pen pal too, I didn’t know if I should reveal myself or just disappear, let you forget me. Of course, I screwed things up again. I’m so sorry, I never meant to hurt you but clearly I have. Would you give me a second chance? I’m not good at this but I want to try."

He’s breathless by the time he ends his speech and you take a moment as the words settled in. No wonder he discouraged your interest in your secret pen pal, which also turned out to be him.

You sighed, “you really screwed it up.” Your heart broke all over again only to come back whole together because he did like you. All those silly gestures he brushed off really did mean something. And the boy you loved through letters and your cafe crush turned out to be the same person.

You pondered his question. The way he went about it was all wrong, but a second chance might be worth a shot. “Fine, we can start over, but you’ll have to make it up to me. You owe me unlimited favors.”

“I'll fix all the toasters you need,” he said, presenting you with the bouquet of flowers and books.

“Oh you’ll have to do more than that. I have a broken bulb on the ceiling, the heater needs fixing, and the microwave will definitely break tomorrow,” you taunted him, accepting his bouquet nevertheless.

He just smiled, “I have a lot to make up for, but I’ll do it for you.” He moved closer to you, bringing the bouquet to rest on the kitchen counter, so he can wrap his arms around you. “You’re worth it,” he whispered in your ear and you hugged him back, fighting off the delicious chill that ran through your back from his words. Being in his arms felt so right.

“You like me,” you sing, teasing him like a child and you enjoy the way his chest rumbles against you as he laughs.

“Don’t let it get to your head,” he said, kissing your cheek. “Besides, you like me back.”

You removed yourself from his hug, already missing his warm embrace. “I never said I liked you,” you teased.

Mock hurt danced across his features, “what’s not to like?”

You laughed at his arrogance, the need to touch him overwhelming everything else. “Fine,” you relented, “we can call it even.”

You closed the distance this time, “just to be clear, this is you being romantic?”

He smirked, wrapping his arms around your waist again. “Yes, this is me being romantic and I will show you so much more,” he said, bringing his lips to yours with a thousand unsaid promises you were about to discover.

✿ Masterlist

Author's note:

✿ When I came across a Jess Mariano fic, I just knew I had to write one too. Jess and his sarcastic ass in a (sort of) rivals to lovers trope, heck yes. ✿ Thanks to my lovely wife @pizzaapeteer for encouraging me to write this all those weeks ago ♡ ✿ Published this fic from a cafe, very on brand for the story.

#jess mariano #jess mariano x you #jess mariano x reader #jess mariano fluff #jess mariano imagine #gilmore girls #amongemeraldcloudswrites

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blooberrytea · 4 months

Text

Connections

Pt: 1 2 3 4

Summary: Set in post-revolution Detroit, You've been assigned to the recently developed Android Crimes Division; and it's already off to a rough start.

Pairing: Connor x Reader

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: Mildly gorey description of a body, slow burn oops

There wasn’t enough caffeine in the world that could make this morning any more bearable. Connor and RK900's bickering was usually something you could handle, but after the night you just had– your nerves were shot to say the least.

“You state that you are ‘better’ than me in every comparison. I feel that’s just unlikely.”

You ignored the two androids, making a beeline for the break room. The coffee, as perusal, was lukewarm and honestly it could’ve been enough to break you. Your night had been seemingly uneventful– spent looking over casefiles and drinking some cheap wine you’d picked up at the grocery store.

It was around 2 in the morning when a new file appeared on your laptop.

It wasn’t from the station, that you were sure about. It was just suddenly there in your personal drive, its only announcement the notification in the bottom right: “ Local Disc (C:): Unknown File “

“What the fuck…” You murmured, your cursor hovering over the new icon. It was dated only a few days ago and it wasn’t very large. Your gut told you to wait until the morning and have Connor look it over.

You tapped twice on the touchpad and watched as the contents within the folder began to load in– A series of unnamed images and a single text document. That wasn’t eerie at all.

You sucked in a breath before opening one of the images, the clicking of the touchpad one of the only noises in the apartment. Saying that you felt sick to your stomach would be an understatement.

“Long night?”

You looked up from the coffee pot, eyes landing on Gavin Reed.

“Didn’t know you were capable of being here so early.” You grumbled, “Are you responsible for this gross, cold coffee?”

Gavin snorted, “Do you not know how to work this thing? It’s ridiculously easy to make a pot of coffee these days.”

To be honest, you’d never messed with the machines in the precinct– They were slightly more techy than the one you had at home. You usually brought a cup with you, but you’d downed it before you’d even made it halfway to the station.

The detective nudged you out of the way before placing the empty pot in the machine and pressing a few buttons.

“If this police business doesn’t work out, you should consider being a barista.” You teased.

Gavin glared at you as he pressed a mug into your hand, warmth flooding through your fingers and up your arms.

“You can get your own cream and sugar.”

You gasped and pressed your hand to your chest, feigning heartbreak as the detective walked away.

“Not only am I faster, stronger, and more resilient, but I’m equipped with the newest technology. Perhaps your analytical program is outdated as well.”

You saw Connor’s LED spin red as you approached, taking a very long sip of your freshly brewed coffee.

“What if– And hear me out; You didn’t argue like children today?” You mumbled around your mug.

“I’m not equipped with an ‘argumentative child’ program.”

If you had an LED it would be red too.

“Anyway,” You started, drawing out the syllables, and setting your mug on Connor’s desk, “Can you pull up the most recent case assigned to us? Should be about an android found down at the docks. The one on Lakeside.”

“That one’s new.” You nodded, pushing fingers through your hair as you sighed, “Yeah. Got assigned early this morning.”

With Hank back on human homicide, you had been assigned to the new android crimes division. The Lieutenant wasn’t particularly happy about Connor being reassigned to your team, but he understood. You on the other hand didn’t quite understand Fowler's reasoning for splitting up the two. Before the revolution you had worked briefly on the deviancy cases, assisting Hank and Connor when they met a dead end or just making their late night coffee runs while they mulled over case after case.

You thought they’d worked well together, more so when Connor loosened up. You supposed Hank was just too valuable in the human department.

Connor pulled up the file on his computer, you and RK900 crowding around the desk to get a better look. You knew they were humoring you by pulling it up on the desktop, when they easily could’ve scanned it in their heads.

“This file is practically empty. They don’t have any leads?”

You shook your head, “Barely anything. It’s also hard to place how old the body is because androids don’t decay like humans do. I was hoping you’d be able to scan him and get us some more info.”

“I supposed we’d better get going then, hm?”

Upon arriving at the docks, you found it blocked off with the digital, yellow tape. A few police cars were parked along the street and several officers stood around the scene.

“Chris!” You called, “Any witnesses?”

The officer turned to meet you, giving a shake of his head. “It’s sorta creepy how this crime went without a hitch. The android’s too damaged to even reactivate or make an attempt to access his memories.”

You let out a deep sigh as you slipped past officers, “He’s over here?”

Chris nodded.

The sight before you made you feel just as sick as last night. An android dangled over the side of the dock, ropes around each wrist and tied to the railing; his body half dangling in the water. Not only did the physical damage render him incapable of reactivation, but the water damage totally scrambled all his wiring too.

“Fuck..” You breathed out.

Brief pressure on the small of your back drew you from your thoughts, you barely had time to register Connors hand before it was gone.

“Hey, don’t get too far in your head. We’ll find a connection.”

You shook your hands out and gave him a small nod, “Notice anything?”

“The body is approximately two days old. But he’s only been here since last night.”

“How can you tell?”

“My scan gave me details about the water damage. If we replaced a few biocomponents back at the station, we may be able to reactivate him.”

RK900 suddenly appeared at your side, crossing his arms over his chest as he also scanned the android. You watched as his LED spun yellow.

“Reactivation could be possible, but it’d be for less than a minute if everything.”

A minute was better than nothing. A minute had the potential to provide you with a lead, a witness, anything.

Especially if one of them could interface and access the android’s memories.

#detroit become human #dbh #connor rk800 #rk900 #gavin reed #hank anderson #connor x reader #connor rk800 x reader #fanfic #dbh fanfic #x reader #fem reader #reader insert #bloo connections

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justagalwhowrites · 5 months

Note

Perhaps a Fucksgiving prompt: Joel, in grey sweatpants. (I can't be the only one so affected by grey sweats, right?!) Doesn't even matter what universe it's in because I think it could work in Lavender, Yearling, or NIT. Or something new. Just...have fun with it, lol.

AHHH BESTIE!!!

I love this, thank you so much for this ask. So here's NIT!Joel being an absolute fucking menace in gray sweatpants.

LOVE YOU!!

Fucksgiving 2K23: Gray Sweatpants

Joel makes an... interesting wardrobe choice for Thanksgiving dinner prep. A New in Town BestFriend'sDad!Joel drabble that can be read as a stand alone.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader (both from New in Town)

Warnings: SMUT :D No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ only

Length: 1.8k

“It’s too early for this,” you groaned, face down in your pillow. “It’s supposed to be a holiday…”

Joel chuckled, his large, warm hand spreading over the bare skin of the small of your back.

“You stay in bed,” he pressed a kiss between your shoulder blades. “I’m the one who decided to smoke a turkey.”

“No,” you sighed, turning your head against the pillow so your voice wasn’t muffled anymore. “Not going to make you get up on your own. Just do me a favor and start the coffee?”

He laughed again.

“Whatever you say, Beautiful.”

You listened to Joel getting dressed for a moment before you forced yourself to get out of the warm, comfortable bed.

You loved Thanksgiving with the Millers. So many traditions, so many delicious foods, so many people you loved who loved you back. But the smoked turkey thing was new and, as it turned out, you’d been a lot more excited about it in theory than in practice. Morning sex was not an option when your boyfriend needed to be cooking before 8 a.m. Joel had gotten you some cute festive pajamas, at least - not that he ever left your clothes on long once you were in bed - and you pulled on the orange plaid pants and matching thermal before toying with your hair enough that it wasn’t a disaster and shuffling to the kitchen.

The coffee pot’s brew cycle was just sputtering to an end when you got there and you pulled down a mug, pouring yourself a big cup and adding Irish cream before making Joel a cup of his own. You glanced at the clock. 7:18 a.m. Joel was never allowed to smoke a turkey again, you decided. Being up this early on Thanksgiving was a bridge too far.

“You look exhausted,” Joel laughed as you squinted against the morning light.

“You’d be exhausted, too, if you’d gone out with Sarah and her high school friends last night,” you groaned, passing him his favorite chipped mug, the one with an owl on it. “I swear, I feel like I’m still in my 20s and then I go bar hopping…”

You made your way over to a lounge chair by the pool and plopped down on it, taking a long sip of coffee. As the caffeine settled over you, you actually opened your eyes and took in the golden fall morning, the sun reflecting off the pool, the crisp air, the smell of wood chips as Joel got the smoker running, the outline of your boyfriend’s huge cock clearly visible through his gray sweatpants.

You damn near choked on your mouthful of coffee when you noticed it, shooting up from the lounge chair coughing and sputtering. Joel frowned, watching you.

“You alright over there?” He asked.

“Oh I’m fucking great,” you coughed, beating on your chest a bit to get the rest of the coffee down. “You’re getting changed before Sarah comes over, right?”

“Wasn’t plannin’ on it,” his frown deepened. “She’s bringing cinnamon rolls over in…” he glanced at his watch. “‘Bout an hour or so. Was just gonna wear this until closer to dinner. Why?”

“Because, babe, I’m pretty sure I can tell from here whether or not you’re circumcised and that’s not because I had your cock in my mouth last night.”

Joel’s eyes went wide and he looked down before looking over at you again.

“They’re just sweatpants, baby.”

You snorted.

“They’re gray sweatpants,” you replied. “Those are an entirely different animal.”

Joel’s frown deepened.

“What? Why?” He asked. “They’re… they’re sweatpants!”

“You really don’t know this?” You laughed a little. He shrugged, still looking at you like you were just a bit crazy. “Oh, babe…”

You set your cup of coffee down and went over to him, looking him up and down.

Yeah, you got to see Joel every day. You lived together, after all, and moving in together hadn’t exactly lessened your sex drives. The only day you hadn’t fucked in recent memory was when you had a stomach flu and you were too sick to have anything going into you, including Joel. But you still loved to look at him, at his shaggy, graying hair; at his soft, brown eyes; at his strong, broad chest. Even without the… advantageous sweatpants, you’d been enjoying the view. He might have been in a threadbare Texas Longhorns shirt that was probably the same age as Sarah he managed to look fucking gorgeous in it, the shoulders stretched a little tight and the sleeves a bit snug on his thick biceps, the outline of his soft stomach just visible through the drape of the fabric.

“Let me demonstrate,” you said, locking your eyes on his and reaching down to trace over his cock through the fabric, starting at his tip with the lightest pressure. He gasped softly when you made contact with him and you smiled ever so slightly. “I can tell your head starts right here…” He moaned a little and you ran your fingers down to the ridge of him, tracing back and forth over the flare of his tip. “And that it ends right here.”

“Fuck, beautiful…”

You smiled and moved lower, down his shaft.

“Can tell just how big you are,” you said, voice breathy. He moaned and you kept going until you were at the base of him, tracing him there, too, before wrapping your hand around him as best you could with the fabric between you, starting to stroke him. He whimpered, dropping his head to your shoulder. “And I can tell that you’re getting hard…”

“Not giving me much choice in that, Beautiful,” he groaned. “Jesus fucking Christ…”

You took your hand back.

“But you’ve got a bird to smoke so…”

You turned to go grab your coffee again, smirking once your back was to him. But Joel reached out and grabbed your wrist, pulling you back into him with a needy grunt.

“Don’t know where you think you’re goin’…” he growled, pulling you tight against him, so tight you could feel his hardening length on your stomach.

“Me?” You said, feigning innocence. “I just don’t want to be in the way of the chef…”

“Shoulda thought of that sooner,” he kissed you firmly, desperately, his tongue opening your mouth and sliding inside. You kissed him back until he pulled away from you, breathless. “Gotta make this quick…”

He took your hand and pulled you in the house and you laughed as he started tugging at your shirt the second you were in from the cool morning air. He tossed it on the couch and his mouth was almost immediately on your breast, sucking and licking at you as he maneuvered you back toward the couch. He pushed your pants and panties down as he did and you stepped out of them, leaving them in a pile on the floor. You pulled at Joel’s shirt and he almost reluctantly pulled his lips from you as you exposed his chest. He nudged you down onto the couch so you were sitting on the middle cushion and he spread your legs wide before shoving his pants to the floor.

Joel knelt between your thighs and hooked his hands in the crease of your knees, pulling your ass to the edge of the cushion as you let out a surprised yelp. He notched his head against your dripping hole and took hold of your thighs before thrusting fully into you in one sharp, firm motion.

“Fuck!” You moaned, the stretch of him burning in the most satisfying way.

“This what you were tryin’ to get me to do?” He panted as he fucked into you, fingers sinking into your flesh. “Tryin’ to get me to fuck you silly? That it?”

“Fuck, yes!” You groaned and he slid one hand to your lower stomach, his thumb finding your clit as fingers spread wide over your skin. He pressed down on you and the sensation of him filling you grew impossibly stronger. You could feel his hand pushing on where his cock was opening you and your body was already getting tight and hot and needy. “Fuck, Joel, holy shit…”

“Gonna fill you up real good, Beautiful,” his voice was strained. “Leave you so fuckin’ full of me, make you feel it all day.”

You moaned at his words, at his thumb working you, at the slide of his thick, heavy cock as he pushed deep into you.

“I’m gonna come, Joel,” you panted, all but squirming below his touch. “I’m gonna come, I’m gonna…”

“Do it,” he fucked into you even harder. “Come for me, come on my cock, want you to milk this cock, give it to me, Beautiful, fucking come for me.”

You obeyed, your hand flying to Joel’s forearm and digging your nails into him as your pussy fluttered and pulsed over him.

“There she is,” he fucked you through it. “Jesus Christ, feel so fuckin’ good, gonna fill you up Baby, leave you so full…”

He pressed deep, to the very end of you and you felt him spill deep inside you, his cock pulsing and throbbing as he filled you with rope after rope of his come.

“Fuck,” he moaned as your orgasms both ended and he collapsed onto you, his head on your chest as you both panted for breath. You scratched your fingers through his hair and you kissed the top of his head, breathing in the fresh, clean smell of him that was now tinged with sex.

After a moment he sat up enough to kiss you deeply as he pulled himself out of you and he got to his feet. He went to the bathroom and came back with a washcloth, gently cleaning your messy slit.

“Just because I probably shouldn’t say this around your entire family, can I say that I’m thankful for your dick?” You teased.

Joel laughed, shaking his head.

“I’m just thankful for you,” he said, leaning over and kissing you. “Pussy’s a bonus.”

He passed you your clothes before gathering his own. He put on his shirt and underwear but tossed his sweatpants over his arm before heading back toward the bedroom.

“What…” you began, but he cut you off.

“Clearly can’t trust you around the gray sweatpants,” he teased. “Better change before you got me worried about a different kind of stuffing…”

You groaned as you pulled on your shirt.

“Oh shit, I forgot, you still have to actually get the turkey in the smoker!”

He laughed.

“Don’t worry, Beautiful,” he said. “Think that was worth dinner starting a bit late. Might have to make it a new Thanksgiving Day tradition.”

You laughed, too.

“We just might.”

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #kit answers #send asks #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #new in town #smut fic #fucksgiving #joel miller x oc

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