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#this is up there with the time I clocked out of my old job last summer when they told me to go back instead of just going to back to help
mariacallous · 2 days
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One of the section leaders for my computer-science class, Hamza El Boudali, believes that President Joe Biden should be killed. “I’m not calling for a civilian to do it, but I think a military should,” the 23-year-old Stanford University student told a small group of protesters last month. “I’d be happy if Biden was dead.” He thinks that Stanford is complicit in what he calls the genocide of Palestinians, and that Biden is not only complicit but responsible for it. “I’m not calling for a vigilante to do it,” he later clarified, “but I’m saying he is guilty of mass murder and should be treated in the same way that a terrorist with darker skin would be (and we all know terrorists with dark skin are typically bombed and drone striked by American planes).” El Boudali has also said that he believes that Hamas’s October 7 attack was a justifiable act of resistance, and that he would actually prefer Hamas rule America in place of its current government (though he clarified later that he “doesn’t mean Hamas is perfect”). When you ask him what his cause is, he answers: “Peace.”
I switched to a different computer-science section.
Israel is 7,500 miles away from Stanford’s campus, where I am a sophomore. But the Hamas invasion and the Israeli counterinvasion have fractured my university, a place typically less focused on geopolitics than on venture-capital funding for the latest dorm-based tech start-up. Few students would call for Biden’s head—I think—but many of the same young people who say they want peace in Gaza don’t seem to realize that they are in fact advocating for violence. Extremism has swept through classrooms and dorms, and it is becoming normal for students to be harassed and intimidated for their faith, heritage, or appearance—they have been called perpetrators of genocide for wearing kippahs, and accused of supporting terrorism for wearing keffiyehs. The extremism and anti-Semitism at Ivy League universities on the East Coast have attracted so much media and congressional attention that two Ivy presidents have lost their jobs. But few people seem to have noticed the culture war that has taken over our California campus.
For four months, two rival groups of protesters, separated by a narrow bike path, faced off on Stanford’s palm-covered grounds. The “Sit-In to Stop Genocide” encampment was erected by students in mid-October, even before Israeli troops had crossed into Gaza, to demand that the university divest from Israel and condemn its behavior. Posters were hung equating Hamas with Ukraine and Nelson Mandela. Across from the sit-in, a rival group of pro-Israel students eventually set up the “Blue and White Tent” to provide, as one activist put it, a “safe space” to “be a proud Jew on campus.” Soon it became the center of its own cluster of tents, with photos of Hamas’s victims sitting opposite the rubble-ridden images of Gaza and a long (and incomplete) list of the names of slain Palestinians displayed by the students at the sit-in.
Some days the dueling encampments would host only a few people each, but on a sunny weekday afternoon, there could be dozens. Most of the time, the groups tolerated each other. But not always. Students on both sides were reportedly spit on and yelled at, and had their belongings destroyed. (The perpetrators in many cases seemed to be adults who weren’t affiliated with Stanford, a security guard told me.) The university put in place round-the-clock security, but when something actually happened, no one quite knew what to do.
Stanford has a policy barring overnight camping, but for months didn’t enforce it, “out of a desire to support the peaceful expression of free speech in the ways that students choose to exercise that expression”—and, the administration told alumni, because the university feared that confronting the students would only make the conflict worse. When the school finally said the tents had to go last month, enormous protests against the university administration, and against Israel, followed.
“We don’t want no two states! We want all of ’48!” students chanted, a slogan advocating that Israel be dismantled and replaced by a single Arab nation. Palestinian flags flew alongside bright “Welcome!” banners left over from new-student orientation. A young woman gave a speech that seemed to capture the sense of urgency and power that so many students here feel. “We are Stanford University!” she shouted. “We control things!”
“We’ve had protests in the past,” Richard Saller, the university’s interim president, told me in November—about the environment, and apartheid, and Vietnam. But they didn’t pit “students against each other” the way that this conflict has.
I’ve spoken with Saller, a scholar of Roman history, a few times over the past six months in my capacity as a student journalist. We first met in September, a few weeks into his tenure. His predecessor, Marc Tessier-Lavigne, had resigned as president after my reporting for The Stanford Daily exposed misconduct in his academic research. (Tessier-Lavigne had failed to retract papers with faked data over the course of 20 years. In his resignation statement, he denied allegations of fraud and misconduct; a Stanford investigation determined that he had not personally manipulated data or ordered any manipulation but that he had repeatedly “failed to decisively and forthrightly correct mistakes” from his lab.)
In that first conversation, Saller told me that everyone was “eager to move on” from the Tessier-Lavigne scandal. He was cheerful and upbeat. He knew he wasn’t staying in the job long; he hadn’t even bothered to move into the recently vacated presidential manor. In any case, campus, at that time, was serene. Then, a week later, came October 7.
The attack was as clear a litmus test as one could imagine for the Middle East conflict. Hamas insurgents raided homes and a music festival with the goal of slaughtering as many civilians as possible. Some victims were raped and mutilated, several independent investigations found. Hundreds of hostages were taken into Gaza and many have been tortured.
This, of course, was bad. Saying this was bad does not negate or marginalize the abuses and suffering Palestinians have experienced in Gaza and elsewhere. Everyone, of every ideology, should be able to say that this was bad. But much of this campus failed that simple test.
Two days after the deadliest massacre of Jews since the Holocaust, Stanford released milquetoast statements marking the “moment of intense emotion” and declaring “deep concern” over “the crisis in Israel and Palestine.” The official statements did not use the words Hamas or violence.
The absence of a clear institutional response led some teachers to take matters into their own hands. During a mandatory freshman seminar on October 10, a lecturer named Ameer Loggins tossed out his lesson plan to tell students that the actions of the Palestinian “military force” had been justified, that Israelis were colonizers, and that the Holocaust had been overemphasized, according to interviews I conducted with students in the class. Loggins then asked the Jewish students to identify themselves. He instructed one of them to “stand up, face the window, and he kind of kicked away his chair,” a witness told me. Loggins described this as an effort to demonstrate Israel’s treatment of Palestinians. (Loggins did not reply to a request for comment; a spokesperson for Stanford said that there were “different recollections of the details regarding what happened” in the class.)
“We’re only in our third week of college, and we’re afraid to be here,” three students in the class wrote in an email that night to administrators. “This isn’t what Stanford was supposed to be.” The class Loggins taught is called COLLEGE, short for “Civic, Liberal, and Global Education,” and it is billed as an effort to develop “the skills that empower and enable us to live together.”
Loggins was suspended from teaching duties and an investigation was opened; this angered pro-Palestine activists, who organized a petition that garnered more than 1,700 signatures contesting the suspension. A pamphlet from the petitioners argued that Loggins’s behavior had not been out of bounds.
The day after the class, Stanford put out a statement written by Saller and Jenny Martinez, the university provost, more forcefully condemning the Hamas attack. Immediately, this new statement generated backlash.
Pro-Palestine activists complained about it during an event held the same day, the first of several “teach-ins” about the conflict. Students gathered in one of Stanford’s dorms to “bear witness to the struggles of decolonization.” The grievances and pain shared by Palestinian students were real. They told of discrimination and violence, of frightened family members subjected to harsh conditions. But the most raucous reaction from the crowd was in response to a young woman who said, “You ask us, do we condemn Hamas? Fuck you!” She added that she was “so proud of my resistance.”
David Palumbo-Liu, a professor of comparative literature with a focus on postcolonial studies, also spoke at the teach-in, explaining to the crowd that “European settlers” had come to “replace” Palestine’s “native population.”
Palumbo-Liu is known as an intelligent and supportive professor, and is popular among students, who call him by his initials, DPL. I wanted to ask him about his involvement in the teach-in, so we met one day in a café a few hundred feet away from the tents. I asked if he could elaborate on what he’d said at the event about Palestine’s native population. He was happy to expand: This was “one of those discussions that could go on forever. Like, who is actually native? At what point does nativism lapse, right? Well, you haven’t been native for X number of years, so …” In the end, he said, “you have two people who both feel they have a claim to the land,” and “they have to live together. Both sides have to cede something.”
The struggle at Stanford, he told me, “is to find a way in which open discussions can be had that allow people to disagree.” It’s true that Stanford has utterly failed in its efforts to encourage productive dialogue. But I still found it hard to reconcile DPL’s words with his public statements on Israel, which he’d recently said on Facebook should be “the most hated nation in the world.” He also wrote: “When Zionists say they don’t feel ‘safe’ on campus, I’ve come to see that as they no longer feel immune to criticism of Israel.” He continued: “Well as the saying goes, get used to it.”
Zionists, and indeed Jewish students of all political beliefs, have been given good reason to fear for their safety. They’ve been followed, harassed, and called derogatory racial epithets. At least one was told he was a “dirty Jew.” At least twice, mezuzahs have been ripped from students’ doors, and swastikas have been drawn in dorms. Arab and Muslim students also face alarming threats. The computer-science section leader, El Boudali, a pro-Palestine activist, told me he felt “safe personally,” but knew others who did not: “Some people have reported feeling like they’re followed, especially women who wear the hijab.”
In a remarkably short period of time, aggression and abuse have become commonplace, an accepted part of campus activism. In January, Jewish students organized an event dedicated to ameliorating anti-Semitism. It marked one of Saller’s first public appearances in the new year. Its topic seemed uncontroversial, and I thought it would generate little backlash.
Protests began before the panel discussion even started, with activists lining the stairs leading to the auditorium. During the event they drowned out the panelists, one of whom was Israel’s special envoy for combating anti-Semitism, by demanding a cease-fire. After participants began cycling out into the dark, things got ugly.
Activists, their faces covered by keffiyehs or medical masks, confronted attendees. “Go back to Brooklyn!” a young woman shouted at Jewish students. One protester, who emerged as the leader of the group, said that she and her compatriots would “take all of your places and ensure Israel falls.” She told attendees to get “off our fucking campus” and launched into conspiracy theories about Jews being involved in “child trafficking.” As a rabbi tried to leave the event, protesters pursued him, chanting, “There is only one solution! Intifada revolution!”
At one point, some members of the group turned on a few Stanford employees, including another rabbi, an imam, and a chaplain, telling them, “We know your names and we know where you work.” The ringleader added: “And we’ll soon find out where you live.” The religious leaders formed a protective barrier in front of the Jewish students. The rabbi and the imam appeared to be crying.
Saller avoided the protest by leaving through another door. Early that morning, his private residence had been vandalized. Protesters frequently tell him he “can’t hide” and shout him down. “We charge you with genocide!” they chant, demanding that Stanford divest from Israel. (When asked whether Stanford actually invested in Israel, a spokesperson replied that, beyond small exposures from passive funds that track indexes such as the S&P 500, the university’s endowment “has no direct holdings in Israeli companies, or direct holdings in defense contractors.”)
When the university finally said the protest tents had to be removed, students responded by accusing Saller of suppressing their right to free speech. This is probably the last charge he expected to face. Saller once served as provost at the University of Chicago, which is known for holding itself to a position of strict institutional neutrality so that its students can freely explore ideas for themselves. Saller has a lifelong belief in First Amendment rights. But that conviction in impartial college governance does not align with Stanford’s behavior in recent years. Despite the fact that many students seemed largely uninterested in the headlines before this year, Stanford’s administrative leadership has often taken positions on political issues and events, such as the Paris climate conference and the murder of George Floyd. After Russia invaded Ukraine, Stanford’s Hoover Tower was lit up in blue and yellow, and the school released a statement in solidarity.
When we first met, a week before October 7, I asked Saller about this. Did Stanford have a moral duty to denounce the war in Ukraine, for example, or the ethnic cleansing of Uyghur Muslims in China? “On international political issues, no,” he said. “That’s not a responsibility for the university as a whole, as an institution.”
But when Saller tried to apply his convictions on neutrality for the first time as president, dozens of faculty members condemned the response, many pro-Israel alumni were outraged, donors had private discussions about pulling funding, and an Israeli university sent an open letter to Saller and Martinez saying, “Stanford’s administration has failed us.” The initial statement had tried to make clear that the school’s policy was not Israel-specific: It noted that the university would not take a position on the turmoil in Nagorno-Karabakh (where Armenians are undergoing ethnic cleansing) either. But the message didn’t get through.
Saller had to beat an awkward retreat or risk the exact sort of public humiliation that he, as caretaker president, had presumably been hired to avoid. He came up with a compromise that landed somewhere in the middle: an unequivocal condemnation of Hamas’s “intolerable atrocities” paired with a statement making clear that Stanford would commit to institutional neutrality going forward.
“The events in Israel and Gaza this week have affected and engaged large numbers of students on our campus in ways that many other events have not,” the statement read. “This is why we feel compelled to both address the impact of these events on our campus and to explain why our general policy of not issuing statements about news events not directly connected to campus has limited the breadth of our comments thus far, and why you should not expect frequent commentary from us in the future.”
I asked Saller why he had changed tack on Israel and not on Nagorno-Karabakh. “We don’t feel as if we should be making statements on every war crime and atrocity,” he told me. This felt like a statement in and of itself.
In making such decisions, Saller works closely with Martinez, Stanford’s provost. I happened to interview her, too, a few days before October 7, not long after she’d been appointed. When I asked about her hopes for the job, she said that a “priority is ensuring an environment in which free speech and academic freedom are preserved.”
We talked about the so-called Leonard Law—a provision unique to California that requires private universities to be governed by the same First Amendment protections as public ones. This restricts what Stanford can do in terms of penalizing speech, putting it in a stricter bind than Harvard, the University of Pennsylvania, or any of the other elite private institutions that have more latitude to set the standards for their campus (whether or not they have done so).
So I was surprised when, in December, the university announced that abstract calls for genocide “clearly violate Stanford’s Fundamental Standard, the code of conduct for all students at the university.” The statement was a response to the outrage following the congressional testimony of three university presidents—outrage that eventually led to the resignation of two of them, Harvard’s Claudine Gay and Penn’s Liz Magill. Gay and Magill, who had both previously held positions at Stanford, did not commit to punishing calls for the genocide of Jews.
Experts told me that Stanford’s policy is impossible to enforce—and Saller himself acknowledged as much in our March interview.
“Liz Magill is a good friend,” Saller told me, adding, “Having watched what happened at Harvard and Penn, it seemed prudent” to publicly state that Stanford rejected calls for genocide. But saying that those calls violate the code of conduct “is not the same thing as to say that we could actually punish it.”
Stanford’s leaders seem to be trying their best while adapting to the situation in real time. But the muddled messaging has created a policy of neutrality that does not feel neutral at all.
When we met back in November, I tried to get Saller to open up about his experience running an institution in turmoil. What’s it like to know that so many students seem to believe that he—a mild-mannered 71-year-old classicist who swing-dances with his anthropologist wife—is a warmonger? Saller was more candid than I expected—perhaps more candid than any prominent university president has been yet. We sat in the same conference room as we had in September. The weather hadn’t really changed. Yet I felt like I was sitting in front of a different person. He was hunched over and looked exhausted, and his voice broke when he talked about the loss of life in Gaza and Israel and “the fact that we’re caught up in it.” A capable administrator with decades of experience, Saller seemed almost at a loss. “It’s been a kind of roller coaster, to be honest.”
He said he hadn’t anticipated the deluge of the emails “blaming me for lack of moral courage.” Anything the university says seems bound to be wrong: “If I say that our position is that we grieve over the loss of innocent lives, that in itself will draw some hostile reactions.”
“I find that really difficult to navigate,” he said with a sigh.
By March, it seemed that his views had solidified. He said he knew he was “a target,” but he was not going to be pushed into issuing any more statements. The continuing crisis seems to have granted him new insight. “I am certain that whatever I say will not have any material effect on the war in Gaza.” It’s hard to argue with that.
People tend to blame the campus wars on two villains: dithering administrators and radical student activists. But colleges have always had dithering administrators and radical student activists. To my mind, it’s the average students who have changed.
Elite universities attract a certain kind of student: the overachieving striver who has won all the right accolades for all the right activities. Is it such a surprise that the kids who are trained in the constant pursuit of perfect scores think they have to look at the world like a series of multiple-choice questions, with clearly right or wrong answers? Or that they think they can gamify a political cause in the same way they ace a standardized test?
Everyone knows that the only reliable way to get into a school like Stanford is to be really good at looking really good. Now that they’re here, students know that one easy way to keep looking good is to side with the majority of protesters, and condemn Israel.
It’s not that there isn’t real anger and anxiety over what is happening in Gaza—there is, and justifiably so. I know that among the protesters are many people who are deeply connected to this issue. But they are not the majority. What really activates the crowds now seems less a principled devotion to Palestine or to pacifism than a desire for collective action, to fit in by embracing the fashionable cause of the moment—as if a centuries-old conflict in which both sides have stolen and killed could ever be a simple matter of right and wrong. In their haste to exhibit moral righteousness, many of the least informed protesters end up being the loudest and most uncompromising.
Today’s students grew up in the Trump era, in which violent rhetoric has become a normal part of political discourse and activism is as easy as reposting an infographic. Many young people have come to feel that being angry is enough to foment change. Furious at the world’s injustices and desperate for a simple way to express that fury, they don’t seem interested in any form of engagement more nuanced than backing a pure protagonist and denouncing an evil enemy. They don’t, always, seem that concerned with the truth.
At the protest last month to prevent the removal of the sit-in, an activist in a pink Women’s March “pussy hat” shouted that no rape was committed by Hamas on October 7. “There hasn’t been proof of these rape accusations,” a student told me in a separate conversation, criticizing the Blue and White Tent for spreading what he considered to be misinformation about sexual violence. (In March, a United Nations report found “reasonable grounds to believe that conflict-related sexual violence,” including “rape and gang rape,” occurred in multiple locations on October 7, as well as “clear and convincing information” on the “rape and sexualized torture” of hostages.) “The level of propaganda” surrounding Hamas, he told me, “is just unbelievable.”
The real story at Stanford is not about the malicious actors who endorse sexual assault and murder as forms of resistance, but about those who passively enable them because they believe their side can do no wrong. You don’t have to understand what you’re arguing for in order to argue for it. You don’t have to be able to name the river or the sea under discussion to chant “From the river to the sea.” This kind of obliviousness explains how one of my friends, a gay activist, can justify Hamas’s actions, even though it would have the two of us—an outspoken queer person and a Jewish reporter—killed in a heartbeat. A similar mentality can exist on the other side: I have heard students insist on the absolute righteousness of Israel yet seem uninterested in learning anything about what life is like in Gaza.
I’m familiar with the pull of achievement culture—after all, I’m a product of the same system. I fell in love with Stanford as a 7-year-old, lying on the floor of an East Coast library and picturing all the cool technology those West Coast geniuses were dreaming up. I cried when I was accepted; I spent the next few months scrolling through the course catalog, giddy with anticipation. I wanted to learn everything.
I learned more than I expected. Within my first week here, someone asked me: “Why are all Jews so rich?” In 2016, when Stanford’s undergraduate senate had debated a resolution against anti-Semitism, one of its members argued that the idea of “Jews controlling the media, economy, government, and other societal institutions” represented “a very valid discussion.” (He apologized, and the resolution passed.) In my dorm last year, a student discussed being Jewish and awoke the next day to swastikas and a portrait of Hitler affixed to his door.
I grew up secularly, with no strong affiliation to Jewish culture. When I found out as a teenager that some of my ancestors had hidden their identity from their children and that dozens of my relatives had died in the Holocaust (something no living member of my family had known), I felt the barest tremor of identity. After I saw so many people I know cheering after October 7, I felt something stronger stir. I know others have experienced something similar. Even a professor texted me to say that she felt Jewish in a way she never had before.
But my frustration with the conflict on campus has little to do with my own identity. Across the many conversations and hours of formal interviews I conducted for this article, I’ve encountered a persistent anti-intellectual streak. I’ve watched many of my classmates treat death so cavalierly that they can protest as a pregame to a party. Indeed, two parties at Stanford were reported to the university this fall for allegedly making people say “Fuck Israel” or “Free Palestine” to get in the door. A spokesperson for the university said it was “unable to confirm the facts of what occurred,” but that it had “met with students involved in both parties to make clear that Stanford’s nondiscrimination policy applies to parties.” As a friend emailed me not long ago: “A place that was supposed to be a sanctuary from such unreason has become a factory for it.”
Readers may be tempted to discount the conduct displayed at Stanford. After all, the thinking goes, these are privileged kids doing what they always do: embracing faux-radicalism in college before taking jobs in fintech or consulting. These students, some might say, aren’t representative of America.
And yet they are representative of something: of the conduct many of the most accomplished students in my generation have accepted as tolerable, and what that means for the future of our country. I admire activism. We need people willing to protest what they see as wrong and take on entrenched systems of repression. But we also need to read, learn, discuss, accept the existence of nuance, embrace diversity of thought, and hold our own allies to high standards. More than ever, we need universities to teach young people how to do all of this.
For so long, Stanford’s physical standoff seemed intractable. Then, in early February, a storm swept in, and the natural world dictated its own conclusion.
Heavy rains flooded campus. For hours, the students battled to save their tents. The sit-in activists used sandbags and anything else they could find to hold back the water—at one point, David Palumbo-Liu, the professor, told me he stood in the lashing downpour to anchor one of the sit-in’s tents with his own body. When the storm hit, many of the Jewish activists had been attending a discussion on anti-Semitism. They raced back and struggled to salvage the Blue and White Tent, but it was too late—the wind had ripped it out of the ground.
The next day, the weary Jewish protesters returned to discover that their space had been taken.
A new collection of tents had been set up by El Boudali, the pro-Palestine activist, and a dozen friends. He said they were there to protest Islamophobia and to teach about Islam and jihad, and that they were a separate entity from the Sit-In to Stop Genocide, though I observed students cycling between the tents. Palestinian flags now flew from the bookstore to the quad.
Administrators told me they’d quickly informed El Boudali and his allies that the space had been reserved by the Jewish advocates, and offered to help move them to a different location. But the protesters told me they had no intention of going. (El Boudali later said that they did not take over the entire space, and would have been “happy to exist side by side, but they wanted to kick us off entirely from that lawn.”)
When it was clear that the area where they’d set up their tents would not be ceded back to the pro-Israel group willingly, Stanford changed course and decided to clear everyone out in one fell swoop. On February 8, school officials ordered all students to vacate the plaza overnight. The university was finally going to enforce its rule prohibiting people from sleeping outside on campus and requiring the removal of belongings from the plaza between 8 p.m. and 8 a.m. The order cited the danger posed by the storm as a justification for changing course and, probably hoping to avoid allegations of bias, described the decision as “viewpoint-neutral.”
That didn’t work.
About a week of protests, led by the sit-in organizers, followed. Chants were chanted. More demands for a “river to the sea” solution to the Israel problem were made. A friend boasted to me about her willingness to be arrested. Stanford sent a handful of staff members, who stood near balloons left over from an event earlier in the day. They were there, one of them told me, to “make students feel supported and safe.”
In the end, Saller and Martinez agreed to talk with the leaders of the sit-in about their demands to divest the university and condemn Israel, under the proviso that the activists comply with Stanford’s anti-camping guidelines “regardless of the outcome of discussions.” Eight days after they were first instructed to leave, 120 days after setting up camp, the sit-in protesters slept in their own beds. In defiance of the university’s instructions, they left behind their tents. But sometime in the very early hours of the morning, law-enforcement officers confiscated the structures. The area was cordoned off without any violence and the plaza filled once more with electric skateboards and farmers’ markets.
The conflict continues in its own way. Saller was just shouted down by protesters chanting “No peace on stolen land” at a Family Weekend event, and protesters later displayed an effigy of him covered in blood. Students still feel tense; Saller still seems worried. He told me that the university is planning to change all manner of things—residential-assistant training, new-student orientation, even the acceptance letters that students receive—in hopes of fostering a culture of greater tolerance. But no campus edict or panel discussion can address a problem that is so much bigger than our university.
At one rally last fall, a speaker expressed disillusionment about the power of “peaceful resistance” on college campuses. “What is there left to do but to take up arms?” The crowd cheered as he said Israel must be destroyed. But what would happen to its citizens? I’d prefer to believe that most protesters chanting “Palestine is Arab” and shouting that we must “smash the Zionist settler state” don’t actually think Jews should be killed en masse. But can one truly be so ignorant as to advocate widespread violence in the name of peace?
When the world is rendered in black-and-white—portrayed as a simple fight between colonizer and colonized—the answer is yes. Solutions, by this logic, are absolute: Israel or Palestine, nothing in between. Either you support liberation of the oppressed or you support genocide. Either Stanford is all good or all bad; all in favor of free speech or all authoritarian; all anti-Semitic or all Islamophobic.
At January’s anti-anti-Semitism event, I watched an exchange between a Jewish attendee and a protester from a few feet away. “Are you pro-Palestine?” the protester asked.
“Yes,” the attendee responded, and he went on to describe his disgust with the human-rights abuses Palestinians have faced for years.
“But are you a Zionist?”
“Yes.”
“Then we are enemies.”
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eddiesxangel · 3 months
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Show Me | Older!Eddie x F!Virgin Reader
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Anonymous asked: I loved your post about Eddie x virgin!reader so much💞Do you think you could write older!Eddie x virgin reader?
Anonymous asked: Inexperienced!reader giving Eddie a handjob and a blowjob for the first time?
Cw: ten-year age gap, sex toys, female masturbation, the reader is kinda a perv (oops), Eddie is also kinda a perv (oops), reader first time giving oral, reader first time having sex, pet names.
CW: 7.1k It's long again, I'm sorry! idk how to do short
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Moving trucks have been parked in your neighbour's driveway for about two days. You had always liked the Kaminskys, but they were older and now moving to a retirement community. This is the second day of moving trucks, and the new owners are moving in today. You have yet to receive much information from the realtor regarding the new neighbours, but you hope they'll be pleasant. You had already baked something to welcome them to the neighbourhood, in hopes that it could be a younger family or couple. Perhaps someone closer to your age?
You moved to this town around three years back when you received your first job offer after completing your college degree. You had saved up enough money to buy a one-bedroom house for a very affordable price. Although it required some repairs, you were happy with it because it allowed you to decorate it according to your liking. You loved the neighbourhood even if you were the only twenty-five-year-old on the block.
As you looked out from behind your front rooms curtains, you could see the movers unloading a big moving truck. There was one person among them who really caught your attention. You had never seen him before. It was a small town and you lived in a quiet suburb by the water in the south of Michigan. Everyone knew everyone, and you hadn’t seen this man before.
He appeared to be in his mind to late 30s and had a muscular build. His brown wavy hair was tied back in a low bun that connected with the five o clock shadow in his face. He was wearing a tight black ribbed tank top that showcased the tattoos covering both his arms and hands. He was hot... Way too hot not to have not ever been seen or talked about in your small lakefront town. Upon further observation, it became apparent that he was not wearing the attire of a mover.
Oh my god. He must be the new neighbour.
“Please be single, please be single, please be single,” you chanted as you hastily went to your closet in search of an outfit that looked cute so that you could introduce yourself.
You took your time getting ready; he obviously needed time to unload, and you didn’t want to overwhelm him…. And whoever else might be moving in.
God, you hoped he didn’t have a wife or whatever.
You shook your head to get rid of your rambling internal thoughts. You took a deep breath and told yourself to chill the fuck out. You could do this. You’ll go over in your sweet little sundress, introduce yourself, and offer him the chocolate cake you baked…
You weren't as excited as you were last night while baking it, now you were just nervous. You imagined a sweet family moving in with a newborn - a couple your age with whom you could become really close friends. But now, you are faced with a hot and sexy bad boy neighbour who may or may not have a wife and kids. Maybe he wasn’t into women at all?! That would suck. This situation is making you feel extremely anxious and overwhelmed due to your lack of interactions with the opposite sex.
To say you haven’t had a lot of experience was an understatement. You went through high school without a boyfriend. You went through college without a boyfriend. You weren’t into drunken hookups with random strangers for your first sexual experience. You went on many first dates, but nothing ever came of those many first dates. So you waited. And waited.
You thought that maybe you would meet somebody through work and then it would happen, but you’ve been so caught up with working and renovating your house your social life has taken a step back.
Of course, you wanted to find someone. To finally be with someone in a sexual way. To give yourself wholly to someone. Nothing ever went past kissing and or being felt up. But that was the extent of your sexual experience with another person.
Your sexual experience with yourself, on the other hand, was pretty standard. You've got your toys to get by. The first time you gave yourself a real orgasm from the vibrator you bought, it changed your world. Slowly, you worked your way up to toys you could insert once you got a little braver. So technically, yes, you hadn't slept with another person, but now you were more than ready to explore and get out there. You wanted that connection with someone.
So, about half an hour after the moving truck left, you worked up the courage to walk over and knock on the front door. You gave yourself a once-over before leaving. You wore a white sundress with tiny red cherries that fell mid-thigh, your hair was pulled back with a matching red hairband, and you had a fresh, subtle makeup look.
With a deep breath, you held that cake with all your might to ensure you didn't drop it and you simply knocked on the door.
"Just a second," You heard a deep voice call out. A few long seconds later, the door opens, and you're face to face with a wet, shirtless man in just a towel. As you suspected, it was the man you saw unloading the boxes.Fucking hell, He was attractive, with a toned body covered in tattoos. Your gaze drifted to his towel hanging low on his hips. -"Oh shit, sorry, let me just uh- I'll be right back," He sputtered as he realized he was basically naked in front of a young woman, most likely his neighbour.
"Sorry, I can come back later!" to try to fight off the blood rushing to your face.
"No- no, just, uh-hang on!' You hear him yell from inside the house. He came back out wearing black sweatpants which he had cut himself to make into shorts and a plain black tee shirt.
"Hi." He smiles as he walks back onto the front porch where you stood.
"Hi, I'm sorry. I should have waited a little longer to come introduce myself." You laugh uncomfortably.
"Nah, it's okay; not every day I'm greeted by a pretty girl with a cake." He smirks.
"What? Oh yea, I uh- just wanted to welcome you and uh your...wife?"
He shakes his head no.
"Your partner?"
Another no.
"Kid?" you try one last time. And he smiles with a chuckle.
"Anyway, I baked a cake just to say welcome." You shoved the plate into his chest, almost smushing it into his shirt.
"Thank you, that's very kind."
"You're welcome. So, um, I guess I'll get going; leave you to it." You turn to walk down the steps.
"Wait! What's your name?" you wince. You're so nervous you didn't even introduce yourself.
"I'm sorry." You giggled uncomfortably.
"I'm Eddie Munson," he smiled. His smile was infectious; you smiled back and gave him your name.
"Pretty name for a pretty girl."
"Um- thanks." You shy into yourself.
"So you said you live next door?"
"Yeah, uh, I'm just over at forty-four." You motion over your shoulder to your house.
"You live there with your folks?" He cocks his head.
"No, Mr. Munson. It's all mine, mine alone." You giggle.
"You don't look old enough," he squints suspiciously.
"I would like to have you know I am twenty-five." You say proudly.
"Oh well, pardon me." He smiled. This made Eddie feel much better about being so attracted to you. God forbid you were still living at home with your parents. He would feel like a total creep.
"Anyways, I uh should get going," you point over your shoulder.
"Oh, ok, well, um, once I'm done setting up, please stop by whenever. I could use a familiar face around... being new to town and all."
"Sure thing, it was nice meeting you. Mr. Munson." you smile.
"Please call me Eddie!" He called as you walked back over to your house,
"Enjoy the cake!" You give a small wave.
"Oh, I will." Before you turn back, you watch as he takes a finger, dips it in the icing, and puts it in his mouth without breaking eye contact... you hadn't witnessed anything so sensual. You almost trip over your sandals as you scurry back into your house.
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All of your interactions with Eddie over the next week were flirtatious. He managed to make your heart beat faster than any man had before.
After a week and a half, Eddie finally organized the house. His furniture was set up, and most of the moving boxes had been emptied. He would see you when you came home from work in the evenings as he sat on his porch with a cigarette.
"Hey, Eddie," You would blush,
"Hey, sweetheart" He would smile back without fail.
If anyone else were to call you that, you'd want to clock them; however, coming out of Eddie's mouth? Somehow, it made you swoon.
"Hey, um, you don't have to, but would you want to join me for dinner? Tonight? I am sure you're exhausted from unpacking, and I'm a pretty good cook... unless you hated my cake so feel free to say no.-" You rambled on.
"I'd love to join you for dinner. That's very sweet of you to offer." This was so new for Eddie. Neighbours being neighbourly. He was always the outcast in his town growing up. Now, at thirty-five, he is finally saved up enough to get out of town, start fresh, and open his own autobody shop. Have an actual house of his own, not that he wasn't grateful for his uncle and the trailer park.
Here, he could be anyone he wanted to be. He met some of the townspeople, and they seemed nice enough when he told them he would be taking over for Mr. Sanders's mechanic shop.
"Okay, great! I'm just going to get changed, I'll leave the door open; feel free to come in and make yourself at home whenever you're ready." You motioned to him and his cigarette."
"Thanks, Sunshine." He smiled that smile you couldn't overcome, and you rushed inside to find a n outfit that didn’t scream ‘I work for corporate America.’
You made your way up to your loft, which doubled as your bedroom that overlooked the living area and kitchen. You were in the middle of stripping when you heard the front door open; only then did you realize that when you told him to make himself at home, you had forgotten the minor detail that he would be able to see you changing. You scurried into your walk-in closet with a squeak so he wouldn't have dinner and a show.
"Sunshine?" He asked, walking into your home.
"I'll be down in a minute!" You yell as you scramble to find your jean shorts.
"Take your time." He walks around your home, observing your picture gallery.
"Help yourself to a beer or whatever you want in the fridge."
"Thanks."
As you walk back down your stairs, you see Eddie sitting on your couch, beer in hand. Man-spread with an arm around the top of the sofa. You wished you could be by his side, arm around you instead.
"Good, you made yourself at home."
"Well, Sweets, I am a good listener." He tilted his head back, taking a swig from the bottle. You watched his Adam's apple bob in his long throat, and you thought about what it would feel like to kiss it.
"Any dietary restrictions?" You ask, shaking yourself from your dirty thoughts.
"Nah..." He shakes his head. "So, how did you swing a place like this at your age?"
It felt like a dig; maybe he just saw you as a kid... you would change his mind on that.
"Um, well, I got it on foreclosure; you should have seen it; it was a mess, and everyone wanted to tear it down, but I had a vision. It took a few years, but it's finally finished. I had some help from my grandmother's inheritance, but it wasn't much. So I worked my ass off, and here we are" you spoke as you got together the pots and ingredients.
"Looks like you're doing well for yourself" He smiled as he watched you bend over, unintentionally showing off your cute plump ass.
"Yeah, I guess. So what do you do?" you turn and catch him staring at your behind.
"Well, I just bought the auto shop off Mr. Sander's, so if you're ever in any car trouble, I'm your guy." He smiles.
"Good to know; I know nothing when it comes to my Ruby."
"Ruby?"
"Yeah, my car, she's red, so I named her Ruby."
"That's cute; it suits you."
You don't say much after you start cooking; you are in the zone, ensuring everything is perfect.
"So, what's a girl like you do around here for fun?"
"A girl like me?"
"Yeah, young, beautiful." He takes a bite like what he said was obvious.
"Umm well... work mostly. We have block parties, it is all families around here; my friends all live in the city." You take a sip of beer to settle your nerves.
"This is really good." He motions to the plate of food in front of him.
"You know what? We are having our town's Fourth of July party on Saturday. Everyone goes, you should come! I can show you around more, introduce you to more people, and you can spread the word about your new business opening up next week."
"Yeah, I'd really like that."
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After Eddie had thanked you for the meal, he stayed a few more hours; you enjoyed his company. He respectfully kissed you on the cheek goodnight, and you made your way straight up to your room with your toys because you couldn't stand it any longer.
Eddie made you feel like your body was on fire. When he would lightly graze his fingertips along your bare arm or when he would compliment you. His voice alone made your lower tummy tingle.
You pulled out your trusty rabbit that never failed you. You felt dirty, but Eddie had you so worked up you needed relief.
As you lay on your bed, you strip yourself down to nothing. You think about how Eddie’s big, strong hands would tease your body. Working yourself up in your mind. You got wetter by the second.
You imagined how his voice would sound as you imagined the filthy words that would come out of that perfectly plump mouth. That mouth you wanted all over your body.
You imagined, pictured, and played a movie of Eddie and you in your head until you got so worked up that you couldn’t take it anymore. Your clit was screaming at you to be touched. You turned on the toy, it came to life, and your body quivered with anticipation. Your body sprang to life as you slowly worked the toy around your wet hole and then plunged in the dildo. You went deeper and deeper until the little vibrator at the top of the toy hit your clit.
Your body arched up as you felt the waves of pleasure wash through your veins. You pumped the toy in and out of your wet pussy, thinking about your older neighbour. How hot he looked in nothing but that towel when you first met. How your pussy clenched at the sight of his happy trail. How his muscles formed a V travelling right to where you wanted most. You could see his bulge under the white fluffy bath towel wrapped around his waist. You thought about how good his flesh would feel against yours as he pumped his cock inside of you like how you were with your toy.
“Oh, Eddie!” You moaned, forgetting your window was open for the summer breeze you loved to feel in the night.
Your free hand travels to your breast; you tweak your sensitive nipple and moan out again. Your white transparent curtains fluttered with the wind, but you were too wrapped up in your fantasy to notice.
When Eddie got home he went straight into his new bedroom and opened his window because the evening breeze was blowing. He then got ready for bed and was reading when he heard his name. His head shot up, thinking he was hearing things. Then, he listened to another sultry moan. He took off his reading glasses and got up to investigate. His eyes shot wide open as he saw your silhouette through your curtains. He saw your the outline of your body, how your hand worked where he wanted to put his cock the most.
It was wrong, it was so wrong, but now Eddie couldn’t take his eyes off of the image in front of him. He tried walking away, and he almost did, but when he heard your sweet voice moan his name again, his feet were planted on the ground. This only confirmed that you were as attracted to him as he was to you. He had thought so tonight at dinner but now he would dare to go for it. Ask you out for real.
Your body felt like it was on fire the way the toy vibrated throughout your body. The pressure kept building and building until you were on the brink. Your body seized as your pussy clamped down on the dildo inside of you. Your eyes rolled back into your head as the waves of pleasure washed over your entirety. You caught your breath and knew that Eddie was the one you wanted to be with. He was the one; if he could make you feel this good in your fantasies, you can only imagine how it would be for real.
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Eddie was nervous, even though you had confirmed, unintentionally, that you were attracted to him; it had been a while since he asked out about a girl he liked, especially when he was about to ask out one who was ten years younger.
Saturday couldn't come soon enough. You had asked Eddie as a friend, but Eddie would treat it as a date, and he would make sure you knew it was a date. You were excited to spend time with Eddie again after your dinner. It had only been four days, but the anticipation was creeping in. You were so surprised when he showed up at your door with flowers.
"Eddie, you didn't have to do this, but thank you!" you smiled as you sniffed the daisies.
"Of course I did; what kind of date would I be if I showed up empty-handed?" He smirked as he stepped into your house as you went to get a vase for your flowers.
“A date, huh?” You smirked over your shoulder.
“Yes. A date”
“Okay,” you smile as you take his hand in yours and lock up your house.
Eddie was smitten; he had you on his arm, and he felt like the king of the world. You were also smitten. Finally, you were on a date with someone who you were very interested in.
Eddie was funny and charming, and you found out he was really nerdy, but it was only much more endearing. You learned how he played guitar and was in a high school garage band that landed a few gigs at the local bar. The more you got to know him, the more you wanted to be with him.
Eddie couldn’t keep his hands off you as the night went on, and you enjoyed it. When he wasn't holding your hand, he was holding your waist; if he wasn't holding your waist, his arm was draped over your shoulder.
When the fireworks started, you gazed up at the sky together, wrapped up in one another warmth as the cool breeze of the lake came through. Halfway through the show, he went to kiss the top of your head but you had moved to look up at him, and you caught his lips with yours. Just like the fireworks in the sky, there were fireworks between the both of you. When you both pulled back, you could see in his eyes that he felt it, too.
You finished off the night hand in hand as he walked you home. He kissed you good night like a perfect gentleman, and you bid one another a goodnight.
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You were so giddy and excited about Eddie. The more you went out, the more time you wanted to spend with him. You were finishing your third official date when you asked him to join you inside your place for a nightcap.
Things moved quickly once you settled inside. Your drinks were hardly touched. Eddie couldn’t keep his hands off you.m as you made out like a couple of horny teenagers in the couch.
Your mind was racing. Why hadn’t you told him you’re a virgin? You invited him in. He’s probably expecting sex… oh god, what if he’s turned off by the fact that you’re not experienced?
“We can slow down if you want.” he pulled away; he had sensed something was off. You became stiff and seemed like you weren't into the makeout anymore.
“I’m sorry. I’m just a bit nervous… I’m -uh just out of practice…” you shied.
“That’s okay we can take it slow.” He stroked your cheek.
“Are you sure?” You twiddled with his fingers that are resting on your thigh.
“Of course. We can go at your speed.”
“I need to tell you something.” You looked down at the floor. He nodded his head but then spoke because you weren’t looking at him.
“I’ve never… I uh. Shit. I’ve never been with anyone before.”
“What?” Eddie was dumbfounded. How? There was no way he heard you correctly.
“I’m a virgin.” You pull away, but Eddie reaches for you.
“oh wow. I wasn't expecting that... uh- but that’s okay. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” he comforts you.
“But I do want to,” you rush out. “It’s not like I’m waiting for marriage; it just hasn’t happened…”
“We will go at your pace” Eddie smiled.
“Thank you”
You shift closer to him, wanting to kiss him again, especially after being so cool with everything.
You leaned in to kiss him again, but he was hesitant.
“You sure, sunshine?”
“Yea” you sigh into his mouth.
Eddie grabs the back of your head so he can pull you in closer.
Your hand rested on his knee. As you continued to kiss him your hand bravely traveled up his thigh.
“Woah, hold on, sunshine.” He rested his hand on yours to stop moving.
Oh my gosh, this is it. He had come to his senses. He’s rejecting you.
"You sure you want to go there? Because if we keep going, I will want to do things to you, and I don't want to make you uncomfortable if you're not ready."
"I promise. I've waited so long for the right guy, and I'm ready, trust me." If he only knew about your little collection of toys upstairs.
"We don't have to go all the way tonight okay?"
"Yeah, okay." You nodded your head with anticipation. Okay, this was good. He accepted you, and he still wanted to fool around.
You returned to making out on your couch, and the heavy petting ensued. This time, Eddie didn't stop your advances as your hand travelled up his thigh to the crease of his leg and up his crotch. Your hand felt around his bulge through his jeans. There was no denying that he was turned on. The way his cock strained against the thick black fabric should have been illegal. It must have been uncomfortable for him. You just had to let it spring free.
You shifted your weight forward to get closer to him. To feel him. His thighs were thick and defined. You could also feel how hard they were. Your mind wandered to how they would feel to sit on.
Before you knew it, your body was moving before your brain could catch up. One leg draped over his, and you were mounted on Eddie's leg. His deliciously thick leg. You just did what felt right; as you sat down on Eddie, the pressure situated onto your pussy felt so delicious. Your hips started rocking back and forth, building up a rhythm.
You heard and felt Eddie moan in your mouth, and this only enticed you on to keep going, your body driven by pleasure.
"That feel good, baby?" He cooed in your ear before he started kissing down your neck.
"Mmmmhmmm." You nodded frantically, eyes shut, not daring to look at him.
"Good girl, keep going." You felt his big hands grip the top of your ass as he helped you rock your hips against his jeans. The pressure in your lower stomach was building and building; you could feel your orgasm as close.
“Fuck that’s it, use me”
Fuck, you haven't gotten off by dry-humping something in years. Not since you found your first vibrator.
"You close, baby girl?" He whispered against your lips as you kept kissing him. A muffled yes was said, and before you could continue to speak, waves of pleasure washed over your whole body. It stared from your clit and radiated up like it travelled through your bloodstream straight to your head.
Your movements slowed, and you managed to catch your breath; Eddie was still hard as a rock under his jeans, and there was no way you weren't going to help out with that.
You mimicked the way Eddie kissed your neck on Eddie. Your tongue moved the way he moved on your neck. Your hands worked in tandem with your mouth. Your fingers worked to open his jeans as you kept kissing on sucking on Eddie's long tattooed neck.
"You don't have to, Sugar," he panted, but you could hear in his tone that he was excited. He wanted this as much as you did... maybe even more.
"But I want to, Eddie." You batted your eyelashes, and you pulled away to let him see your playful pout.
You've watched enough porn and heard enough of your friend's stories to know what you're doing. Sure, the first and only time you saw a dick in real life was in your third year at uni when you tried to go down on the guy you were out with but then got scared, and he walked you home... but you got this! You're an adult woman who knows what she wants, and what she wants is right at her fingertips.
Your little pep talk in your head must have been evident on your face because Eddie started speaking again.
"You done this before?" He asks gently, not judgingly. You shake your head slightly in return.
"You want me to guide you?"
You nodded your head yes. You wanted to be good and do it right.
"Kay," He smiled.
Eddie told you how to work your hands slowly, teasingly at first, not too much but not too little. And no sudden sharp yanking movements at first... You listened, and when you were ready, you moved his boxers down, and his cock was released. It was so big, so much bigger than you thought it would be. The one you saw was a least half the size of Eddie's.
"Oh my god," You gasped.
"It's okay, sugar; he won't bite." Eddie kissed you to make you feel more comfortable. Your hand travelled back to his cock so you could grip it in your hand, not too hard, but not too gently like Eddie had said. The tip produced a bead of precum that was already leaking out, which was a good sign. Your fingers brushed over the head, and Eddie sucked in a breath.
"Did I hurt you?" you dropped his cock from your release.
"No, quite the opposite, baby."
"Oh," you giggled. You picked up where you left off, stroking his cock in your grip, teasing it and feeling it. You were surprised by how velvety the skin felt.
As you continued to make up with Eddie, cock in hand. You suddenly felt braver, and the need to have him in your mouth grew stronger. You slinked your way off the couch so you were sat in front of him on your knees, eyes and mouth level with his behemoth that he calls his cock.
“You sure, little one?" He asked, and you nodded your head with a smile. You moved before your surge of confidence broke.
You sat up a little more and moved his cock towards you, and tentatively licked the tip. You continued your kitten licks a few more times before enveloping his tip in your warm, wet mouth. You peered up at Eddie through your long lashes; he looked like he was enjoying himself, so you must have been doing something right? You swirled your tongue along the tip before dipping you're head down lower to take more of him. Eddie let out a moan, and this made you smile. Yes, you were doing something right. So you continued, lower and lower.
You'd be lying if you didn't say you've tested your gag reflex on one of the dildos you own; where is the fun in that? But now that it was a real mans cock in your mouth, you understood the hype about giving head. You genuinely liked it so far, but that's probably due to Eddie and how comfortable he makes you feel.
"You sure you've never done this before?" He managed to get out.
"uhhhhuuhhhhhh" You moned against his cock and that only jerked Eddie's hip up into you.
"Oh shit, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, that just felt really good, baby" He stroked your head before gripping the back of your hair like he was resisting to push you further down.
"Fuck baby, you're way too good at this to be a virgin."
"You calling me a Liar, Mr. Munson?" You popped off his cock and started jerking him off with your hand again.
"No, no, baby, shit, I mean, ohhh, fuck you're very good for this being your first time."
"Thank you" You put the tip back in your mouth as you sucked on it, but your hands continued to work the shaft.
Eddie didn't last much longer; he told you to take your mouth off but continue with your hands, not wanting to ruin his chance of being with you again if you tasted cum for the first time and you were disgusted. So you listened, wanting to please him; you watched as the white liquid spurted from his shaft and ran down your hands. It was warm and all you could picture was what it would look like leaking out of your pussy.
"Let me get you a towel" You got up when his cock finally stopped spazming.
You walked back over with a warm wet dishtowel, but not before you took his softening cock in your mouth to wipe up the access.
"Jesus Christ," Eddie wasn't expecting that. It was like he had awoken something inside you.
"I wanted to know what you tasted like," you surged before you handed him the towel.
"You, little minx, are going to be the death of me."
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Eddie and you had been going out for two months since he moved in, and it had been a week since you gave Eddie your first blow job. It's been on your mind for the majority of the week. So when he asked you out again on a fourth date, you were very excited to see how that one would end. What more would the two of you explore?
Eddie cooked for you; he had a nice romantic dinner in his kitchen. His place was finally fully unpacked, and he gave you a grand official tour of his house afterward.
"You going to show me your bedroom?" You teased.
"You would love that, wouldn't you?" He teased back.
You headed up to his room. You walk inside, and it's pretty spacious; he has a small window off to the side that looks into your house. You stroll around the beige-carpeted floors to see if your suspicions are correct. He does, in fact, have a direct view of your bedroom.
"Ever spy on me, Mr. Munson?"
"mmmmm once or twice." He chuckles as his strong arms wrap around your waist, pulling you in closer to his body.
"Really?" You got a bit nervous; what had he seen?
"Well, a man can't help his curiosity when he hears a sweet voice moaning his name in the middle of the night."
This makes you gasp. He had to be joking! But then again, your windows are close together, and you love leaving them open...
"Don't worry, sweetheart." He turned you to face him, but you buried yourself into his chest, too embarrassed to look at him. "It's flattering.”
"Eddie" you moaned into his chest."
"I'm serious, knowing you want an old guy like me?"
"You're not even that old," you mumbled.
"Please look at me, Sunshine." He tilted your head up so he could gaze into your eyes. You tried to fight it, but you ultimately gave in.
"I'm embarrassed," You pout.
"Don't be; you don't even need to be embarrassed about your fantasies with me. Understood?"
"Okay." You shy away meekly.
“You want to tell me your fantasies? What you were thinking about when you touched yourself all alone in that bed of yours?”
“I-i-want…“
“It’s okay. I know you’re nervous, sweetheart. You can tell me.”
You paused, took a deep breath and closed your eyes.
“I want to be taken care of,” you whispered.
“And”
“I want you to be the one to do it…”
"We can definitely arrange that," he said before taking your lips. His tongue parted your lips, making its way into your mouth. He was an excellent kisser. You were getting wet just by his kisses alone.
Eddie backs you up and leads you toward the king-size bed. Your knees give out when they hit the soft mattress, and you fall back, dragging Eddie down with you.
"You gonna let me take care of you, baby?"
"Please?"
"That's my girl." He smiled into the kiss before getting up so you could shimmy back onto the bed so you could rest on the pillows.
Eddie's mouth found yours again as his hands travelled up your body, feeling every inch of your skin. You felt like your body was on fire; the heat radiating between the two of you was evident.
"Can I take this off?" He played with the hem of your sundress.
"You can do whatever you want"
"That's a big promise, little one, gotta be careful with making promises like that." he cocks his head.
"I just want you." You go to take off your dress, but Eddie stops you so he can do it himself. You came prepared; you wore the nicest bra and panty set you owned. A pink lace and satin set. It made your boobs look out of this world the way the fabric cupped you just right. Accentuating every curve.
"All this f'me?"
You didn't answer. You just needed to kiss him again; your bodies melded together as he pressed you further into the mattress. His hands cupped your breasts, moulding and kneading them, and your sensitive nipples began to perk up at his rough touch.
"You're perfect," Eddie sighed as his mouth detached from yours and moved down to your neck. Your body tingled as his soft lips explored the exposed skin.
"Eddie," you moaned out in pleasure. Your hips started to grind up onto Eddie's calf, and he knew he had you right where he wanted.
His hands moved lower, cupping your lace covered heat. His fingers felt so good above the lace that separated the two of you; you couldn't wait to see what they felt like skin to skin.
"You mind if I?"
"Yes!" you said, a little too excited. But Eddie didn't mind. He thought it was so cute the way you were eager to let him explore your body.
"You know how often I've pictured you on this bed?" You shake your head, not biting your lip.
"Oh well, I would picture you like this... no, wait. There would be much less clothing." He wraps his arms around his body to take off his shirt, and he throws it across the room; next to go were his pants. You giggled at his antics. "Much better."
You could feel his cock press against your stomach as he pounced back down onto you. He continued where he had left off, his hand exploring your clothed cunt again, circling your clit above your panties, making you let out a sweet moan. He moved his hands further up until he made his way underneath your panties.
Your hips automatically moved as Eddie's hands explored your wet folds. His free hand pressed your hip, silently telling you not to move, that he will do this for you. You no longer had to be the only one to make yourself feel good. He was here to take care of you.
His thick finger slipped past your folds and up into your tight cunt.
"Oh!" You called out as his fingers broke past the barrier. They were much bigger than you're used to; your hands could never do the same as he was doing now.
"You're ok, baby," he cooed. He worked his hands inside of you, hitting a spot you'd never located before. That made your mind go numb and all fuzzy.
Eddie pulled out of you, and you whimpered in protest but quickly understood he was only taking off your panties for you. You lifted your legs, you helped him out, and he kissed down your leg until he reached your centre.
"May I?" He asked.
"Yes." You sigh.
Eddie waisted not a moment longer. His lips attached themselves to your lower ones. You’d never felt anything like it. The way his soft mouth moved around your clit, kissing and sucking on your swollen bud. You thought I couldn’t get any better than this. Until his tongue made its way onto your body and you cried out in pleasure. Too consumed by Eddie to be embarrassed by how loud you were being.
“Eddie! Oh god, yes, fuck right there!”
“You taste so sweet, even better than I imaged.” Eddie hummed into your cunt mimicking the vibrations your so use to with your vibrating toys. You body was quivering underneath him within minutes. He was way too good at this.
“Please, I’m coming, oh god I’m cuming!” You try to catch your breath with every world but it wa s no use. Eddie didn’t let up until your body was spent.
You watched Eddie sit up, your liquids covering his chin. He smiled as he spoke.
“We are only just getting started baby”
Another whimper left your throat as he pulled down his boxers to reveal his hard cock. It bobbed as it was released from its confines and you wanted nothing more than to feel it in your mouth again.
“I know what you’re thinking, baby. But no, not tonight. I need to feel you.” He went to the nightstand and opened the drawer. You watched as he pulled out the condom from its foil wrappings. Your legs clenched in anticipation.
"I'm going to take real good care of you, Sunshine." he rolled it into himself before crawling back over your body.
"Okay, Eddie. I trust you."
Eddie's heart fluttered as you spoke. He was so honoured that you chose him to be your first. He would make you see what you had missed this whole time.
"You ready?" He asked.
"Yes, I think so." You nod.
Eddie hovered over you as he took your lips into his once more. You could taste yourself in his mouth and he slowly worked the tip along your slit collecting your natural lube so he could slip himself easily inside.
"Oh my god!' Eddie was thick, so much thicker than you were used to with your silicone boyfriend you had hidden in the drawer. Thank god you were at least used to that because you didn't know how you would have handled this otherwise.
"You're doing so well for me, Sunshine." he praised as his cock dove deeper into you. Your tight cunt felt like paradise.
You told Eddie he could start moving once you were comfortable and adjusted to his size.
You saw starts as his cock plunged in and out of you; it felt so fucking good. You couldn't keep in your pleasure. Moan after moan was music to Eddie's ears. Why had you waited this long to feel something so good?
"So good, fuck, you're so fucking tight." His strokes never let up. He kept the same tempo as his hips snapped into you. Your mouths hardly disconnect unless you need to come up for air. His hands explored under your bra as he pulled a cup down to free your nipple. He moved from your mouth down to take your breast into his mouth, curling your peaked bud just like he did your clit minutes before.
Your body was lit up again; the heat between you both was one thousand degrees. Eddie, was your everything at this moment. You didn't, nor couldn't think of anything but the pleasure he was feeding you.
"More, more, more," You chant as Eddie's cock pounds into you, filling you more than you had ever felt before.
Eddie listened and moved his hands to your clit. Sparking an electrical bolt through your entire body. Your already sensitive clit was pulsing with desire as Eddie continued to pleasure you. With each stroke of his cock and hand, your body couldn't take it anymore, and you began to convulse under him.
"Shit fuck, you're squeezing me so tight," Eddie spoke before he realized that he was making you cum undone beneath him.
"Oh, yes! Eddie!"
"That's it, such a good girl, taking me so well. God your pussy is made for me." he spoke as he still used your body for his own pleasure. He didn't take much after your cunt latched down on him like a vice that he was coming right after you. A loud grunt left his lips as he felt a wave of please come over his body. His sensitive cock spurted its hot while cum into the condom that was still inside you.
"Wow," Was all you managed to say. Your brain was mush, but it was the best way possible.
"Yeah, wow," Eddie chuckled as he rolled off of you, out of breath but feeling blissful nonetheless.
"Is it always like that?" You mindlessly asked.
"With me, baby girl? Yeah." He chuckled.
"Wow," You repeated. Your brain is still not fully back down to earth.
"You wanna be my girl Sunshine?"
This snapped you back into reality.
"What? Really?" You turn your head to look at him.
"Yeah, baby girl," He cupped your face, waiting for your answer.
"Yes, Eddie, I'll be your girl"
Part 2
Tag list: @starksbabie @skyline4446 @bl00d-puppy @xxhellfirebunnyxx @amira0303 @ali-r3n @lavendermunson @fairykissesaresweet @minorlystuck13 @feral-pumpkin-energy @asimpforthe80s @flawiette @munsoneightysixx @localemofreak @babybimbo777 @elegantkolalapaper @stayonmars @harringtonxkeery @hellfiremunsonn @eddiestans-blog @sp1dyb0y1008 @nailbatanddungeon @munsonology @shadyhologrambanana
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redcoralpot · 5 months
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U Malatu - Mike Schmidt x M! Reader
Summary: Mike gets a call back on the ad he had sent out for a new babysitter for Abby. While they were interested in the job, Mike was more than interested in them.
Warnings: NSFW content (masturbation), and mentions of murder.
Word Count: 1.55K
Notes: Consider this a gift for the gay Mike simps!!
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-
Mike had expected nothing of it, really. He had paid a newspaper company a few dollars to display ads for a babysitter in their daily papers; a last ditch attempt before starting his new job at a local pizzeria. He was working the night shifts, and with his office being in the middle of a highly dangerous, abandoned building, he hesitated in bringing his little sister along. Abby was only ten years old– who knows what she would get into?
So, when his phone rang with a call from an unknown number, Mike immediately answered, “Hello?”
Radio silence from the other end. His mother always had warned him about spam. 
His finger hovered over a red button, ready to end the call, when a noise froze any movement, “Um… are you Mike Schmidt?”
“Yeah, this is him.”
The caller cleared their throat, “Okay, so, I’m calling about a babysitting ad I saw at a local diner; I’m interested. Is it possible for us to meet there to discuss details?”
“Woah, hold on. What’s your name?” Mike questioned, folding his jacket over a chair.
“Don’t worry about it, I’ll meet you outside of Sparky’s at four o’clock. I’m looking forward to it!”
“Wait–” That was the only thing he could respond with before the line cut out, and his home screen went back to normal.
Suspicious. Maybe he should have gone a different route than dropping the opportunity of watching over a vulnerable child into just anyone’s hands, but it was too late to turn back now. Sparky’s was a public place, at least, so this person would not be able to hurt Mike without getting caught. If he got any weird feelings from them, he’d immediately call it off and go home. 
Mike glanced at the oven clock, ticking away at time like it was nothing. Currently, it was only three, and the drive to the popular diner was only fifteen minutes away. Well, shit. He was too desperate to pass this up, not with the court constantly watching his back. Mike groaned, rubbing the bridge of his nose, dreading his first shift already.
He ended up needing that extra time to get Abby comfortable enough for him to leave, and oh, how stubborn she was. Mike had to carry her over his shoulder just to get her into her bedroom, where she had plenty of sensory toys and items to occupy herself with. Additionally, Mike had put extra care into making sure she had the opposite too, such as noise canceling headphones in case the neighbor decided to mow his lawn again. The last time he saw her, she was huddled up on her desk again, using crayons to draw scribbly pictures of her imaginary friends. Yeah, imaginary. They weren’t real, as much as Abby claimed they were.
By the time he had gotten in the car, started it, and driven to Sparky’s, he was five minutes late. Yet, from his windshield, he could see a man in a quirky uniform sitting outside the main doors. Mike couldn’t see the details of the stranger– he needed to get his eyes checked– but he witnessed them flinch at the sound of his car door slamming. As he approached, the man jumped up with a sparkle in their eye, and held out a hand.
“Mike Schmidt?”
He didn’t shake it, causing the hand to fall awkwardly to your side, “Yeah.”
“Uh, anyways, I saw your ad. The diner hands out a paper full of ads with their menus, you see, and yours caught my eye.”
“You mentioned that.”
The man had a lopsided grin on his face, and you chuckled; the sound sent a spark up Mike’s spine, “Yes, yes I did. I make decent money, but I’m also looking for a bit of a side job too. Babysitting was on the top of my list, ‘cause I love kids.”
“Do you have any actual experience with it?”
“I was a babysitter for my first job in highschool,” he rambled, “my favorite kid was a little boy from a local daycare. His mom said he got diagnosed with autism and she needed extra help taking care of him during the evenings. He was a delight!”
“Why did you stop?”
“Ah, it’s a shame. Fritz, the little guy, was one of the kids that went missing at a pizzeria a while back. His mom was never the same after that, and I felt guilty that I wasn’t there.” You shuffled closer to the doors, shoulders tense.
“A pizzeria?”
You shrugged, “It got shut down soon after that. I guess when a couple of kids disappear into thin air in a restaurant, parents aren’t keen on bringing their children there anymore.”
Mike opened his mouth, ready to ask another question, but you stopped him, “Listen, I gotta go, this was my break. You have my number, right?”
He nodded, and you replied with your pinky and thumb sticking out of a fist, held to your ear. Mike watched as you disappeared into the diner, curiosity and another, more unknown feeling creeping up his chest. He remembered it so well, looking back on it.
-
Nowadays, Abby loves you. Mike could lean on the doorway, and a smile would tug on the corners of his lips as he watched you make shapes with your hands. A light was set in her room specifically for this purpose, as the shadows cast would mimic whole storylines. His little sister would view it in glee; the tales always accompanied by voice acting, your doing. Mike even started, in the back of his mind, to prefer the idea of spending the night like that instead of in front of a collection of security cameras. He observed your hands, how your body moved, your face, and more embarrassingly, your lips.
Mike studied how gentle and sickeningly sweet your voice was when you praised Abby, but also the stern expression that played in your eyes when she misbehaved. You would glance up at him sometimes, the manner still stained, and a heady feeling would slam into his brain. The experience always only lasted a few seconds, when his little sister would grumble again, and you were pulled back towards her. Frankly, there were times when Mike wished you would continue, though he’d never admit it. He pushed it down with everything else.
Alas, that can only work for so long– a man has needs. Those needs surface at the worst possible time, and for Mike, that was on his endless night shift at the pizzeria. He cursed under his breath, feeling his dick straining against his jeans. The feeling of your hand manhandling him out of his own front door was imprinted on his shoulder, even if his uniform vest covered it. Just thinking about it sent a shiver down his spine, and he closed his eyes as his eyebrows scrunched together.
“F-fuck.” He whispered. 
His seat shook as Mike shifted in it, fidgeting, unable to focus on the bright screens on his desk. The more he tried ignoring it, the more depraved thoughts infected his head. A finger trailed up the seam of his pants, his breath hitching, where it finally landed on the button holding it all together. Mike bit his lip and unbuttoned it, a whine escaping him as he palmed himself. 
He imagined it was you that was doing it, your strong palm cupping his crotch as easily as you did a mug at home. He snaked fingers into his boxers, sliding himself out of the top, and rested his forehead against the wood under the cameras. His dick twitched at the movement, and he brushed against the tip. Mike huffed as he slid his hand down, and then up, repeating; spreading precum as it came out. What else could you do with that strength?
Could you manhandle him on his hands and knees? You could, he knew, and you would trail your hands down his body. So very gentle, so very kind, for what you were about to do. You could hold his hips still to prevent him from thrusting up into your hand, as he whimpered in complaint. Sweat dripped down his forehead as he felt the stickiness grow in his hand; you could call him the most pathetic things and he wouldn’t be able to do anything about it. A pet, a slut, a little whore.
Mike let out a quiet moan, “Please…”
He’d face away from you as you thrust your own against his cock, not even earning the privilege to look at you. You would treat him as only a toy to use, whenever, and however you wanted. His ass would be red from how hard your skin slapped against his; the sting only sending down zaps of pleasure. You wouldn’t even bother taking off your own clothes, only his. 
“That’s it, that’s a good boy,” you’d grunt.
That same heady feeling slammed into Mike again, but this time was different– this time it was accompanied by a white flash in front of his eyes. His body seized upwards, drool smearing against the desktop. The guard felt warmth drip down his palm, onto his pants and the floor. For the first time in what felt like forever, he let out a deep, shaky breath. 
The stain was going to be hard to explain.
-
1K notes · View notes
likelilacwine · 6 months
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cw children, cw families. gojo and f!reader were idiots in love and they are now married and have a baby. my effortlessly good painter gojo hc won out over being normal in my brain today so yeah. reader is referred to as mom/mama/mother and princess, satoru makes a joke about readers breasts. wc 1.1k
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Your morning has started far quieter than they usually do.
The day is overcast, no sunshine through your floor to ceiling bedroom windows, but you don’t mind. It feels good to embrace the cloudy days that have come with the changing of seasons, no harsh light to shock you awake. That job will be for your identical menaces in the coming months, the gummy smile of your morning person nine month old and her unabashedly obsessed father Satoru always eager to be your twin alarm clocks with their giggling and playful babbling at each other.
There’s nothing they love more than giving you the gift of four identical blue eyes blinking at you while you come to your senses every morning. You can almost admit aloud that you’ve become a morning person since becoming a parent, the delightful giggles of your daughter giving you the motivation to conquer anything and everything you can.
For today though, you wake gently, softly rolling from your side to flat on your back but something feels off. There are no hushed giggles, no silly songs being recited with children’s show host precision.
Your bed is empty and quiet and you feel…sad. Perhaps in the past you would’ve found this to be a luxury - no freakishly long limbs of your husband starfished across the bed to keep you pinned to it, no baby to tug at the earrings you forgot to take out last night, but instead it just feels like a less welcome start to the day.
Lingering in bed doesn’t feel good so you roll again, dropping your legs over the edge and sliding your feet into your waiting slippers. Scuffing across the floor, you yawn and stop in your tracks hearing voices from inside Satoru’s closet.
Well, a voice and some baby giggles, anyway.
“Can you say mama?”
Leaning against the door frame of the walk in, you stifle a laugh listening to your husband babble at his little girl who babbles back excitedly. Peeking around the corner, you see him standing in front of the portrait of you that he painted on your 24th birthday, little babe held to his chest and leaning her head on his shoulder.
“That’s her, that’s right. Your perfect mom.”
He sighs and your heart squeezes watching the two of them sway side to side, your baby who is growing into an independent toddler every day reaching out as if she recognizes your face. You’re sure she does, actually; the painting is an impeccable likeness and it still frustrates you 6 years later that he managed to become so good at a craft you’ve spent your life working on in less than a month.
Someday you’ll tell her the entire story, your version of it anyway. For now you’re content to let her father tell his side considering it was one of the most grand and romantic gestures he had performed at the time in an effort to show you how serious he was about your relationship.
“Listen, little girl,” he starts, unknowing that he has captured both of your attention. “I know I’m going to have to tell you this again eventually but do not ever bring a man or woman or anyone else into this house that loves you less than I love your mother.”
She coos at the sound of his voice and he chuckles down at her, kissing the downy white hair atop her head.
“I mean it. If they won’t stay up for four nights straight to get a start on painting your nose from memory, leave ‘em behind.”
With this, you giggle and the attention of both of your menaces is captured. Your daughter squeals from over Satoru’s shoulder, holding one little hand out and making a grabbing motion and he copies her excited babbling with his own.
“My little tricksters snuck out of bed this morning!”
Grinning, you cradle your little girl against your chest and kiss her temple, inhaling the clean smell of her shampoo and skin. She’s been bathed and everything.
“You’re the best.”
You feel the need to remind Satoru at this moment and he grins, bending to give you a good morning kiss.
“Duh.”
Giggling, you let your wiggly daughter settle herself and the three of you stand in front of the painting. You recognize the younger woman permanently captured in it, the soft lovesick look in her eyes, and it amuses you to know he took extra time to capture you exactly like that. Hopelessly in love.
He could capture you using the same medium and you’d look identical to how you did back then - utterly stricken.
“Did you really stay up practicing for four nights?”
“Princess, I stayed up practicing for four weeks.”
You snort, looking up at him from the corner of your eye.
“There’s no need to embellish now, you’ve already won me over.”
He shrugs, pulling the two of you close to his chest. He leans over his little family, cheek resting against the top of your head.
“But what if I never want to stop winning you?”
You reach up and brush his hair off of his forehead affectionately. Every touch you give him is full of love and every glance carries tenderness.
There will come a time when your daughter will be old enough to gawk at the love the two of you have for one another. Maybe she’ll stick her tongue out and roll her eyes just as you remember her father doing more than once or perhaps she’ll simply smile and hide her face in the collar of her shirt, dreaming of a love like what’s in front of her someday.
“I mean, I could paint you again. You are coming up on the big three oh and I have to say that a few things have grown since back then if you know what I mean.”
He waggles his eyebrows suggestively and drops his voice suggestively low. You flick him on the forehead and laugh about it, your daughter joining in on your giggles as a nine month old is apt to do.
The thing you hope she’ll understand the most is that sometimes love isn’t just big paintings and grand gestures and sweet looks. It’s being grounded enough to give each other a hard time when things are good and a good time when things are hard.
You are fortunate enough to have the best of everything with her father.
“Let’s go make breakfast, Monet.”
You turn on your heel and your husband follows closely behind, small steps to match your own. He looks over his shoulder one final time to look at the painting of you on his closet wall and he smiles, soft and warm.
“Whatever you say, my muse.”
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bouncybongfairy · 6 months
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Late Night At Fazbear's
Mike Schmidt x Fem Reader
Summary: Mike is an ex-coworker with whom you have a situationship with. Knowing about your interest in arcade games, he invites you to visit him at an abandoned pizzeria to check it out. Things get a little heated before you get a chance to look around.
Word Count: 2.5k+
(!This is a smut fanfic, you’ve been warned!)
<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3
You were working on some last-minute statistics homework after you got out of the shower. It was a Friday night and even though you got an offer from your friend group to go out, you decided to stay home. Going to house party after party was getting annoying. Half the time, the only people there were drunk frat boys trying to get some before their whiskey dick kicked in. Being a wing girl for your friends was fun the first thirty times but now you’d rather stay home. Things in your life seemed so stagnant, it was like all you did was school, work, then bumming it at home. Like you were some uncharismatic dad in a sitcom. Suddenly your phone goes off, which breaks you out of the trance you were in. When you answered, you immediately recognized the voice to be Mike from the pizza place you guys used to work at together. You thought it was kinda weird that he was calling you so randomly but you did talk often when working together. For reasons that still are unclear, you answered.
“Hey! Sorry I know this is- it’s kinda random but can you talk for a second?” his voice spoke over the receiver. 
“Yeah, I’m just hanging out at home. What’s up?” you asked, now standing up to pace around your room. 
“Oh cool cool, so kinda weird to explain but bear with me here. Remember how you were super obsessed with the old arcade games we had in the back of the pizza shop? Anyway, I got this new job at an old pizzeria and there’s a bunch of old games and animatronics. I was thinking while I’m working the graveyard shift you could maybe swing by for an hour or two and check it out with me?” His voice was so sweet and soft-spoken that you couldn’t help but blush over the phone. You coiled your finger around the wire of the landline. 
“Umm, yeah that sounds kinda fun actually, when are you there till?” you asked with a hint of a smirk on your face. 
“My shift starts at 12 am and ends at 6 am, no pressure. Obviously, I’ll be here all night,” he laughed.
“Yeah, I’ll call you right before I leave okay?” you asked softly. 
“Yeah that’s perfect, I’ll see you then,” he said. 
You put the phone back on its hook and check the time on your alarm clock. To your dismay, you’d been studying for two hours and it was 10:50. Luckily you’d already showered but that wasn’t the problem. Internally, you were going through a moral dilemma. Part of you was telling yourself that he was just a coworker that got attached and another part, wanted to do your hair and make-up and hair before going. Making sure that every strand sat just right as if he’d somehow notice. To make sure your eyelashes have the exact amount of mascara they need to be long but not clumpy. If you thought all these things, wouldn’t that mean you do care what he thinks of you? Although you were bubbling with a mix of nervousness and anticipation, you managed to finish getting ready. You start packing your bag, pacing around looking for all your items. Car keys, pocket knife, compact, body spray, and your wallet. As you went to take the cartoon of cigarettes from your bedside table, you thought about taking the joint that was rolled. Sitting on your knees in front of your nightstand, you start dialing Mike’s number to let him know you are on the way. After shoving all the contents into the bag, you make your way outside and start your Mazda. You were sitting in the car for a few moments, thinking about if you were really going. 
Once you pulled into the parking lot, thoughts of regret started to bubble in your brain. You would have turned around if it weren’t for Mike’s car being in the parking lot. You checked the time on the radio and saw that it was only 12:57, was it weird that you were there so early? You were slightly worried that it would look desperate. Deciding to let that unneeded anxiety go, you get out of the car and lock your doors. Take a moment to take in the outside of the building. It appeared to be severely unkempt, brown vines covered most of the building. Due to the unsettling vibe of the building, the bear that was supposed to look cute and inviting was the exact opposite. Creating an ominous feeling as it waved at you. The walls were mostly a dull yellow color with red and blue accents and a black and white checkered line across the middle. One of the R’s of the sign was out, only adding to the sketchy feeling. You knocked on the big metal doors, wiping your knuckles off on your jeans. When Mike swung the door open, it made you jump and gasp. This caused him to break out into a fit of laughter. You playfully pushed his shoulder back. 
He took you back to the small room where he was monitoring all the security footage. The room was more creepy than the outside of the building. You sat down on the desk and Mike plopped down on his office chair. He was completely slouched back, wearing a gray thermal and a dark hooded sweater. His hair was more curly than shaggy and he had a five o’clock shadow. You set your purse on the desk and stood up, looking at the security cameras. One of the first things you noticed was the group of animatronics that were standing on the stage together. It was then that you realized what you really had gotten yourself into. 
He was surprised that you even came, yes you guys had become close while working together but he didn’t think it would lead to anything after. You were currently facing away from him, and he couldn’t help but admire you as you did so. He liked the fact that you were so well put together. Your jeans were fitted perfectly and your thong peaked out slightly from the top of your waistband. When you entered the small room, the entire space began to smell like apple-scented perfume. The white long sleeve was also very fitted, which brought attention to your figure. You turned around once you noticed it had been silent for a while. Grabbing your purse, you pull out the cartoon of cigs. Bringing the lighter to it and taking a drag to light it. After taking a couple of puffs you pass it to Mike who leans forward with a groan. As he took his hit, a piece of ash fell onto his pants. You leaned down and brushed it off his knee. 
“So much for cutting back right?” he asked rhetorically. 
“Oh yeah, I did switch to Spirits though. My grandma swore by these,” you said taking it back. 
“Do you smoke weed?” he asked, you laughed and started digging through your bag and pulled out the Altoids container, grabbing the joint. 
“Will you get in trouble? For like, smoking on the job?” you asked. 
“Oh no, this place is abandoned. There’s usually nobody in and out of here that would notice,” he said. 
You lit the joint and took a deep drag, blowing the smoke at his face playfully. He laughed as he took the joint into his hands and inhaled. You put the cig out on the glass ashtray that sat on the desk. He commented on how good the flower tasted which made you relieved knowing he didn’t think it was reggie. You guys started talking about memories of working together. You guys would always take smoke breaks together and go to lunch every once and a while. Mike actually listened to what you had to say. He wasn’t the type of person that constantly changed to a conversation with himself. A lot of guys you spoke with were usually just telling you whatever you wanted to hear. Everything you had to say was so fascinating and impressive because they were just trying to butter you up. Mike would actually give his opinions on things and would tell you if he thought what you were saying was stupid. It was refreshing, to be honest, to have an interaction with the opposite sex without them drooling on you. You glanced over at Mike, maybe it was the weed but something felt different now. The way his legs were spread so widely made something in you feel hot. Eyes were now bloodshot, making the hazel color stand out even more than before. When he reached for the joint again, his hand brushed over yours. This made you make eye contact with him but then break away once the awkwardness set in. You looked down and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. 
“Are you still with Jackson?” he asked.
“What? Oh yeah, we broke up a while ago,” you said, rubbing your arm.
“Well, what happened? I mean… If you don’t mind me asking,” he said. 
“No it’s- he just..” you took a deep inhale and spoke as the smoke poured out of your mouth, “he was really aggressive like, not just with his words. Not saying he beat me or anything but some things are meant to be more sweet and gentle. Sorry, I don’t know why I'm telling you this,” you said, passing it back. 
“No, I’m the one who brought it up. He always was a little misogynistic when we talked, I’m sorry you were subjected to that,” he said. You were sitting on the desk, you kicked off your sandals and gently swung your legs back and forth. 
“Yeah, I guess it just wasn’t meant to be,” you sighed.
“For sure, you could do so much better than that,” he said. 
“Oh yeah? When you say better what do you mean by that?” you asked, leaning over to grab the joint. 
“Like if you said he was overly aggressive then you’ll find someone that is more gentle and shit,” he said, chuckling a little. 
“Oh, I see,” you moved your foot so that it was resting on his inner thigh before continuing, “Maybe you could show me?” you asked flirtatiously, he looked up and looked at you with a shocked expression. 
You used your leg to roll him closer to where you were sitting. He was now smirking, looking up at you. He let his hands slide up both your outer thighs. He pulled you off the desk so that you were now sitting in his lap facing him. You still had the joint in your hand, you took a hit before letting it sit on the ashtray. Your noses were touching and you were relieved to see that his breath was as fast as yours. Running your fingers through his hair, forcing his head to tilt back a little. You ran your bottom lip across his, arching your back and pressing your crotches together. He picked you up which caused you to wrap your legs around his waist. He set you on the desk again so that he was standing, hovering over you. You reached your hands down between your bodies, trying to unbuckle his belt. He stopped the kiss and chuckled at your eagerness and helped you. As you unzipped his jeans, one of his arms reached behind you and undid the clasps of your bra. The way he unhooked it with one hand made you throb. He pulled your shirt over your head, leaving you in nothing but jeans. He still had his jeans on but now that his pants were undone, you could feel how hard he was through his boxers. It was like the heat coming off his dick was making your stomach feel warm and tight. Before he buried his face into your chest, the look on his face was almost primal. Like it was taking everything he had to keep his hands off of you. He took one of your breasts into his mouth and sucked, biting down every once in a while. He reached into his backpack that was sitting on the desk and pulled out a condom. He was breathing heavily and a couple of drips of sweat were beading down his forehead. As you unzipped your jeans you looked over at the security camera and thought you saw one of the animatronics move from the stage. You pulled away for a second to show him,
“Mike, I know we smoked and everything. Oh my god, I know this is going to be crazy but I swear I just saw one of those… things moved,” you said as he trailed kisses up your shoulder. 
“This is my third day here and I think that all the time. It’s just your head playing tricks on us because of how creepy they look,” he said, then tearing the foil package open. 
“Are you sure because I could have..” you started but then were interrupted by Mike throwing the still-packaged condom onto the desk and pressing a button that made both doors close around you. He then got down on his knees and gripped the top of your jeans, pulling them down. Instead of trying to pull your panties off of you, he simply pulls them to the side. Sticking his tongue in between your folds, massaging your clit. You had been in a dry spell since you broke up with Jackson and even then, he would never go down on you. The feeling of his mouth pressed against you was so euphoric, the moans that came out of your mouth were completely natural and unrehearsed. His pace was slow but he kept a steady rhythm which helped you chase to your climax. Instead of pulling at his hair, you cupped his face, gently stroking his cheeks with your thumbs. He looked up and made direct eye contact with you. His eyebrows were furrowed but when he saw the look on your face, his eyes closed and he groaned loudly. He grabbed your ankles and pushed your legs back so that your feet were now on the desk. You grabbed two fistfuls of hair and threw your head back, moaning loudly. The pressure of the top of your thighs being pressed into your lower stomach. Crying out as you cum, the moans came out strangled. As you started to come down from the wave of ecstasy, you began to feel insecure about how fast he made you cum. 
“God you are so fucking hot, like seriously I almost came in my boxers,” he said standing up and grabbing the condom. His lips were parted and his mouth was still covered in saliva. Without wiping his mouth, he slid the rubber onto his shaft. 
“Sorry, do you want to keep going?” he asked, you didn’t verbally respond. Instead, you grabbed him by his shirt and smashed your mouth into his. He moaned the word ‘fuck’ into your mouth before continuing kissing. He broke away to look down and line himself up with your entrance. You were still wet and swollen from the previous orgasm, enabling him to slide in with you easily. He dropped his forehead down on your shoulder, mouth open and moaning as he slowly started rocking back and forth into you. You scooted your ass down so that you could fully be pressed against his hips. The desk was continuously banging up against the wall. Your foreheads were now pressed together groaning and growling into each other’s mouth. Everything suddenly came to a halt when everything went dark. You both jump and start looking for any articles of clothing that are nearby. The big metal doors on both sides of you slam open so loud, that your ears start ringing. 
“What the fuck just happened!” you exclaim.
“The battery died,” he realizes. 
“Well has that ever happened while you’re working?” you asked.
“No,” he stated. 
“Holy fuck, do you hear that fucking music?” you whispered. 
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coralinnii · 6 months
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❋ You said what now? ❋
↳ He accidentally found out your feelings
feat: Ruggie ⭑ Chenya ⭑ Lilia ⭑ Epel
genre: fluff (uhh for the most part), humour,
note: no pronouns used with the reader, no explicit spoilers for book 7 in Lilia’s section, reader is referred as human in Lilia’s section, reader is implied to be a first year in Epel’s section, bad cat-related wording in Chenya’s section
Fun fact: while not obvious in the English translation, if you listen to Chenya’s Japanese voice lines, he likes to say “nya” at the end of his sentences.
Will I keep that fact in mind anytime Chenya pops up? Absolutely.
Also, I just started my college classes again last week (which is why I didn’t post last week). All of my classes are dense with text and quizzes so…I need to study real hard which will most likely eat up my time for writing. Good ol’ inconsistent me~
Although, I’m taking History and we focus a bit on the age of nobility and old kingdoms…so maybe some inspiration for my villain/ess!au series (or maybe not cuz history is weirder than one thinks…)
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How it happened
Perhaps a little sneaky, Ruggie is someone reliable, resourceful, and fun to be around. You started to fall for him and even that sneaky side of his became endearing to you.
But bigger, financial priorities occupy the hyena beastman’s mind more than anything else. Unless he can make a madol from it or get a freebie, his interest in anything else is seemingly non-existent. It was rather easy to keep your feelings to yourself when the topic of love rarely, if ever, comes up.
So it came to a surprise to you when the shaggy-haired sophomore mentioned his coworkers at a part-time job he picked up in town.
He started ranting about how a duo at his workplace started an unlikely relationship a few days ago. According to him, the two were from two different worlds and didn’t appear to be either of their types.
“Doesn’t make any sense if you ask me” he mumbled, scratching his fluffy head by the sudden revelation at his job.
You nodded and hummed as he recounted his workday with you, but in all honesty, you didn’t share his confusion over the so-called sudden pairing. By the way Ruggie described the couple, it does sound like their personalities wouldn’t mesh well and would theoretically clash too much for anything to bloom between them.
But attraction follows no simple formula. No one can stop themselves from falling for someone. You yourself were an example.
“Love is never predictable, Ruggie.” you commented without thinking, perhaps too distracted by the cute love story of Ruggie’s coworkers or it could be that you’re drowning in the warm feelings from being so close to your crush that your mouth is running too comfortably on its own. “I mean, I never thought you were my type but I still ended up-“
You shut your mouth before you could finish but looking at the wide-eyed expression on Ruggie’s face, the effort was moot.
“You still ended up?”
…Shoot.
What happens now?
Colour him shocked. Ruggie never entertained the idea that you would like him, out of all people.
He could’ve pretended not to figure it out, or convince himself that it was a misunderstanding. But he knew when he saw your flustered embarrassment and your cute stuttering trying to come up with an excuse, there was no misunderstanding. You like him.
Ruggie has a good amount of ego and he wouldn’t downplay his boyish good looks (odds are it got him out of a few close calls), but in a school of celebrities, royalty, and guys with money coming out the wazoo? He knows when he’s outmatched.
To be honest, his brain froze for a moment at your slip up. He clutched his heart which stuttered out of beat, his ears and tail stood in attention like a meerkat. Jack was worried watching his upperclassman in such a daze while folding laundry, heck it even got Leona raising a brow over the uncharacteristic clocked out look on his shorter dormmate.
But, Ruggie is a workaholic hyena. Always planning his way to work up the ladder to earn some good madol. Even if he likes the idea of making a family of his own, romance wasn’t in his peripheral vision at the moment. Not while he’s working multiple jobs at once. He would honestly feel a little bad because he knows he’ll end up ignoring any poor soul stuck with him.
As bad as it is, he might at first think to pretend he heard nothing about your feelings. He couldn’t bring himself to make you go through that, to be in a relationship where work takes precedence over you.
But then he thought it wouldn’t be so bad…snuggling up to you during one of his rare free time. Maybe you’re the type to surprise him with lunch and he could rest on your lap while you brush his hair. Would you maybe rub his sore muscles after an arduous club training session? Having boyfriend privileges means no one can complain when he slides up to your side, keeping your attention to himself without having to share…
Screw it, he’ll figure something out. He’s a greedy hyena through and through
Shyeheehee! Better be ready for what you’re asking for. Once I’ve set my eyes on something, I’m not lettin’ it get away!
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How it happened
This man is a literal magic trick, appearing and disappearing to revel in the shock of his unsuspecting audience. As elusive as he is, the times he does show up brings a shock of joy and excitement to you.
It seems that the purple-haired student has made it a habit to join the Heartslabyul’s unbirthday parties from time to time, enjoying the occasional chaos and keeping you company to your conflicted delight.
You didn’t know why but Chenya made it his mission to fluster you every chance he gets, with cheeky comments and sly touches as he leads you away from incoming mishaps such as a stray splash of paint or a flying slice of cake. You don’t know why but the cat-like menace has taken a shine to teasing you out of the blue. Sometimes he would suddenly whisper nonsensical riddles into your ear, or tap your shoulder to then poke your cheek as you turn. Small silly pranks that should annoy you but your body becomes filled with butterflies when he smiles that charming grin at you.
How maddening, you thought as you fell for another sneaky surprise from the impish beastman. Once again, Chenya appeared right behind you, smiling just over your shoulder which gave you and your friends a fright (for different reasons) to which he took pleasure in, judging from the mischievous grin on his lips.
Your shouting caught the attention of the other Heartslabyul students and recognizing the white jacket and castle emblem, their eyes boiled with competitive rage. An RSA student? On Night Raven territory?!
“Ah, looks like fun time is over. I’ll just show meowself out~” and like a mirage, Chenya’s figure disappeared as the NRC students failed to catch even a strand of his fur. Not even when he took a second longer to fade out just so he could teasingly tickle the tip of your nose with his fluffy striped tail.
The students kept on making a fuss, eager to teach the mischief maker a lesson for trespassing on rival territory. You sighed at the wasteful effort, assuming that Chenya would be smart enough to have left long ago.
“Why must my crush be such a frustrating person?” Angry hollers and Riddle’s commanding cease-and-desist orders overwhelmed your tired voice, and your soft words ended up softly carried off into the wind.
But your words caught the interest of a curious ear before it disappeared.
What happens now?
Curiouser and curiouser. He was not expecting such a confession. Though to be fair, he supposed you didn’t mean for anyone to hear it.
Chenya found joy being in your company. The shock in your bright eyes followed by your cute laugh sends a warm, giddy feeling in his heart that he just could not stop. He had a feeling he knew what these feelings could be but he was content with what he could get in the rare moments he can see you.
But now, when he realized what your cute reactions meant? That sends whole new exciting feelings within him. It’s fuzzy and warm as usual, but now also shocking and thrilling. The sneaky beastman is grinning for more than one reason now.
He won’t immediately confess back. Considering this wonderful predicament where you don’t know he knows of your affections, his playful nature compels him to milk the fun of this situation for all its worth.
If you thought his cheeky antics were bad enough, you haven’t seen his flirty side till now. Playful taps on the shoulders become sneaky grabs by the waist, and just when you think he’s gone, his signature grin would grace your vision as he fades into view, a little too close to your own face. Sometimes when he feels emboldened, Chenya would sweep you off your feet for a spontaneous walk along the sweet breeze.
When you’re finally at your wit’s end, when all his teasing and heart-fluttering gestures fills you to the point of combusting in flustered frustration, that’s when he’ll finally tell you his reciprocated feelings, perhaps while stealing a quick kiss when you least suspect it. All to see that terribly adorable look on your pretty face.
Every adventure requires a first step. I’m excited to see where we’ll go together from meow on~
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How it happened
See, you thought he already knew. You swore he did. Why else would he tease you so much with his sweet compliments and flirty jokes? The mysterious senior spoke to you as though you were a naive child crushing on their older peer, which you supposed wasn’t entirely wrong.
The way he treated you with so much care and love that you wondered if he already suspected of your feelings and was being considerate to you. He listens to your rambles as though he has all the time in the world for you, compliments you on your achievements as though he’s genuinely proud of your hard work, and he jokes with you with that boyish charm of his. But the scarlet-eyed fae never pursued further with advances with you, which made you think that perhaps this was just who Lilia was, a strange but friendly man, unwilling to hurt your feelings. Were you grasping at straws and misconstruing his intentions?
With a heavy heart, you tried your best to give up your hopes but maintained a cordial bond with Lilia, not wanting to avoid the jovial fae so suddenly (well, without having to explain why anyways)
But one day, when you were walking with the smiling senior, he started talking about a souvenir shirt that Kalim had given him during their club meeting. It was a shirt patterned erratically with various colours and pictures of tiny bats littered about. It was an eccentric visual of fabric but it strangely fits the equally eccentric man.
“What are your thoughts? Would I not look absolutely adorable in this?” Lilia asked, holding the shirt in front in his uniform with a boyish smile, his fangs peeking out slightly. But you rolled your eyes as you sighed exasperated by this man’s antics.
“Don’t you think that’s unfair for you to ask me?” You looked at him with a pout, somewhat irritated at the mature fae you’re trying to get over. “Of course I’d said you would, considering how much I like you”
For a rare moment, Lilia turned wide-eyed at your words. “Pardon? Do you by chance… harbour feelings for me?”
Turns out, he didn’t know at all
What happens now?
Guess you can still surprise this old man. He had his suspicions but for all he knew that was how the youth were these days. He was fond of your shy expressions whenever he was around and he could hear the quickening of your heartbeat, but he didn’t want to assume. Perhaps you were just more on the skittish side.
In the centuries he lived, he saw love in many forms. In the recent centuries he lived, he got to experience some of those forms of love he’s seen, with the pain and joy that comes with it. To him, it couldn’t ask for more as he lives out the last few centuries he has left.
You however, were still vibrant like a freshly bloomed flower in its prime. Was that why he just couldn’t take his eyes off you? He couldn’t help but watch in admiration as you lived with almost enviable vigour. He felt pulled, entranced to be by your side for even just a moment, just to see that beautiful gleam of life (and love, he realized) in your eyes.
But Lilia felt a beat of guilt in his heart. Your life is so short in comparison to his own. You should be sharing your youth with someone as brilliant as yourself, not pining over an old soul like himself. Humans are fickle creatures but he supposed with such short lives, it’s best to be curious and experience all one can without regrets.
He would be honest with you, sharing his thoughts with you as though warning that your affections were better spent with someone that suited you better. It would be up to you to convince the stubborn fae that he was your choice, that you already decided he suited you just fine. All you’re asking from him is if he shared the same feelings as you did.
“I may have tried to get rid of my feelings before, but I’m choosing not to run away this time,” in your eyes, Lilia sees that same vibrant gleam that mesmerized him, almost breathing a new sense of life into him. “All I ask is if you feel the same way”
And he does. He’s lying to himself if he hasn't thought of a life with you where he could steal surprise kisses throughout the day, where he could bring you to soar through the night skies as he takes you to explore the world with him. He imagines a life of silliness but also a life of blissful content as he gazes at you like a beacon of light in his life, a new reason to live a bit longer.
Lilia feels ensnared by love once more, but the burning warmth in his soul is just too invigorating. He’s looking forward to this new chapter in his life, with you.
I do hope you’ve prepared yourself, my dear. Eternal love with a fae should not be taken lightly. But rest assured, I look forward to our new adventure
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How it happened
You were Epel’s close friend and confidant, someone who he can share his achievements and woes with. Being so new to the college, the two of you depend on each other through thick or thin and along the way, you grew to see the lavender-haired freshman as more than just a companion.
He has a bit of a temper and is quick to the jump at times, but he was always there for you and even though he doesn’t always see eye-to-eye with them at times, he respects his seniors and takes their lessons to heart.
When he talks about how much he dislikes his height or his feminine features, you nodded along for his sake but you couldn’t tell him that you were actually in disagreement. You adore his fluffy locks that you occasionally got to touch with his permission and his light blue eyes felt like calming waves of the purest lake. Epel constantly swore to you that he’ll have his growth spurt and will even tower Leona in height, but you like how you could hold him close to you without issue.
You love all that he is, even if he’s not too keen on some parts himself
But you kept this all to yourself. You thought Epel had other priorities on his mind and you were scared that confessing would ruin the friendship you’d built with him. For now, you were content to be by his side for however long you can.
You were dead tired during a particularly harsh Flying class with Coach Vargas and you were barely conscious enough to keep your eyes open. It took everything you had to just nod along to whatever Epel was saying, something about some Savanaclaw students?
“Who they think they are, callin’ me cute like that? I outta rip off their yapper for underestimatin’ me.” You weren’t helping his point when you thought how cute his accent was as he grumbled about his day. You were falling in and out of consciousness but thought you should at least reply back to your friend…anything at all…
“I’m sorry…that happened…even though…I think…you’re really cute…”
You were already out cold to notice your friend frozen in place as you finished your drowsy comment, your head landing on his stiff shoulders.
What happens now?
ALDFIUAHLBWAIGLH
Congratulations, you broke your friend and you don’t even remember it. When you woke up, you couldn’t figure out why Epel was as bright red as his hometown’s apples. Epel couldn’t even bring it up without getting too tongue-tied, his accent sputtering out incomprehensible words.
The blue-eyed freshman was raking his brain for an explanation. You thought he was cute…really cute to be precise, but what does that mean? Did you like him? As in like-like him? Is it normal for non-countryside folk to just say something like that? But most students around here tend to mean it like an insult but you weren’t like them, you would never do that to him. So what did you mean by it??
Left without a choice, Epel thought about who he could ask about this, maybe one of his seniors. But he immediately reconsidered when he realized who his seniors were (Vil and Rook will never let this go and there’s no way Leona would entertain this conversation) and turned to the only adult he can trust, his meemaw.
In his letter, he asked his grandma what it means when someone you cherish calls you cute (not mentioning who) and after a few days of fidgeting and awkward encounters with very confused you, he finally got an answer from her.
“STOP SITTIN’ ON YOUR KEISTER TWIDDLIN’ ‘ER THUMBS! GO AND ASK, DAGNABBIT!”
And that’s how you were confronted by a flustered Epel about your cute comment one random school day. To be fair, you probably didn’t fare any better when you realized you let your thoughts slip out.
You may have confessed your attraction to him but Epel can still be the first to make the first move. Relationships and dating are all new to the petite freshman and honestly he felt a little weak in the knees, all the nerves wracking his body like his first broom ride. But the past few days, he couldn’t stop thinking about being with you, sweeping you off your feet, impressing you the only way he can, to have your eyes solely on him like he does when you’re around. Heck, he thought what it’d be like to grow old with you, holding you like no one else can as you spend day and night by each other’s side. All these thoughts and more is what spur him to take the next step.
I ain’t too great on love and romance, but I’ll work hard to show ya how much ya mean to me. I promise that!
2K notes · View notes
vivzzi · 5 months
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pairing: mike schmidt x reader
synopsis: the day guard and night guard communicating through notes.
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your shift starts the same way as every other day. you start by checking the pizzeria to make sure no intruders came in then you start cleaning the office. normally it’s full of empty fast food wrappers and cigarette ashes but this time you find a small bottle of sleeping pills with the owners name on the side of the bottle. mike schmidt. you remember vanessa telling you about the new night guard so you assume it’s his. grabbing a sticky note and pen you write a small note.
try and remember to take your pills home with you next time mike :)
- the day guard
you stick the note on the top of the pill bottle before sitting down and checking the cameras and taking small naps every now and then till the end of your shift. once the clock hits 11pm you grab your belongings before making your way out. while walking to the bus stop the sounds of your shoes hitting the ground with each step being the only noticeable sound throughout the empty street you start thinking about what the new night guard could be like. probably lazy since he brings his pills to work with him.
-
everyday starts the same. doing the same tasks around the pizzeria and checking on the animatronics every couple days. you walk into the office setting your bag on the ground taking your headphones off when you see a note attached to the security monitor.
Thanks for keeping my pills safe and not throwing them away. maybe you could tell me your name as well? i wish there was another way i could thank you.
- Mike
a small smile appears across your face before you take out another sticky note writing a small note for him.
it’s y/n and you keeping the office clean is the best thank you gift lol
- y/n
you place the note next to his old one before continuing with your job.
-
when you got to work the next day you didn’t bother with your daily tasks instead you were focused on reading the new note mike has left behind for you. instantly walking through the hallway and straight into the office your eyes see a tiny fort set up in the office which looks like it could fit a small child in before looking over at the desk and seeing another note.
Sorry about the fort my sister came to work with me since i didn’t have a babysitter available last night :/ i promise to clean it up once i come back later. please accept this drink as an apology gift
- Mike
you see a can of coke next to the note and you smile while picking it up. a small gesture which you appreciated.
no worries about the fort it’s kinda cute but thanks for the drink :)) please accept this i think you need it more than me
-y/n
you walk towards your bag and pull out a can of redbull before placing it next to the note feeling proud of yourself. after that you start doing your tasks with mike being the only thing occupying your mind.
-
your routine has completely changed instead of doing what you used to do now all you do is leave notes and small gifts for mike as he does the same for you. this time you brought a gift for his younger sister who’s name that you learnt is abby. you place the gift in her fort. a small stuffed bunny before going over to see mikes new note.
This note thing can’t go on forever i may have to clock in early one night so we can talk in person. Abby would also love to meet you.
- Mike
the note was placed on a small bar of chocolate. mike has already shared his past with jobs and how he ended working here so you never really expected any type of expensive gift from him and to be honest you loved all the things he has given you so far.
-
the next day was different. the second you walked into the pizzeria you were greeted with broken glass everywhere, ripped posters and prizes all over the ground. you sat down in the main dining hall covering your face out of stress you couldn’t help but to feel guilty as if the place getting broken into was your fault. suddenly your thoughts were interrupted by a person running into the pizzeria.
“y/n?”
the person runs up to you before pulling you into a tight hug whispering soft words of reassurance into your ear.
“vanessa told me what happened don’t worry about it- are you hurt?”
“mike?”
you finally look up at him as he gives you a small smile and hums to show you that he’s really there before you hug him back.
“i’m so glad you’re here”
“i cant believe this is how we meet”
he makes a quick joke to lighten the mood and it works as you let out a small laugh shaking your head. the rest of the day was spent cleaning up the mess with music playing in the background while you and mike connected over anything you had in common.
leaving him that note was the best decision ever.
-
bonus:
you walk out of mike’s car and to his front door with him as he opens it. you see vanessa sleeping on the couch after babysitting abby. you ended up staying at the pizzeria with mike for his shift that same day which made him invite you over to meet abby.
as mike shuts the door you can hear footsteps approaching you guys. abby runs up to mike giving him a hug before turning to you slightly confused.
“abby this is y/n”
her confused expression slowly turns into an excited one as she runs up to you giving your figure a tight hug.
“thank you so much for the stuffed bunny i still have it. do you want to come and see my stuffed animal collection in my room?”
before you could answer her she drags you down the hallway and towards her room. you turn around giving mike a smile while following abby.
“already bringing her home mike? that was fast”
mike slightly jumps due to vanessa’s voice before rolling his eyes.
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a/n: might turn this into a mini series because i wanna expand their relationship but im still thinking about it and i lowkey hate this 😭😭
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endlessthxxghts · 3 months
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Joel Nye, The Science Guy
no outbreak!Joel Miller x afab!reader || W/C: ≈4.6k
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"Is he really choosing coffee right now over having you? I mean, not to toot your own fucking horn, but seriously. Who would delay an orgasm for some coffee? Apparently, Joel fucking Miller would."
Summary: Joel stumbles across an article online about the effects of coffee on the body. Determined to uncover the truth, he tests the hypothesis with you as his subject.
Contents/Warnings: Any physical description of reader is neutral (no size descriptions). Joel is bigger than you though (but he’s fucking huge in general, so…). No age mentioned for reader or for Joel. Implied established relationship. No matter what age, Joel is a grandpa when it comes to technology. Mentions of Amazon LMAO. SMUT 18+ MDNI (mutual masturbation on the phone, touching yourself in the workplace, dirty talk, sexting [kinda], ..kitchen activities…reflections…, finger fucking, lots of liquids, squirting, cumming untouched, drinking coffee with an ulterior motive!, allusion to further sexual endeavors). Please let me know if I missed anything!
A/N: Happy New Year, my loves! I just got done rewatching TLOU for the millionth time while drinking some coffee, and for some reason, this was born. I have no idea wtf this is, so don't ask me.💚 Also let’s thank @javierpena-inatacvest for titling this silly thing for me hehe. Fucking iconic. I love you, bestie.🥹 Here's to my first fic of 2024, and to many more! I hope you enjoy.💚
MASTERLIST
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Joel’s number one favorite sensation every morning was when the first drop of the bitter, black liquid met his tongue, consuming all his senses into nothing but pure coffee. It was one of his favorite things—past tense—because then he got to experience what it was like waking up to you every morning, what it was like tasting you every morning. The first drop of you blessed his tongue one year ago, and he never looked back.
That is, until now. 
You had work today and Joel had the day off, a rare occurrence. You forgot to set your alarm this morning, so you broke from his hold in a rush, leaving him nothing but a sweet kiss to last him the day. 
Usually your mornings together are spent tangled in his sheets until he leaves you with less than twenty minutes to get ready for your day. Too addicted to the way he makes you feel, you mastered the art of quick change, using the rest of your time to do your morning skincare routine. This, you’ll never skip—subjecting yourself to a few scoldings by your boss because of it.
Joel allowed himself a few more hours of sleep after you left, his body needing extra rest from his unusually crazy day at the job site yesterday and from the way you pounced on him as soon as he came home. You promised him it would be you doing all the work, but like the addicting little thing you are, he couldn’t help but take charge so he could watch you fall apart over and over and over again. 
Joel pulled himself out of his bed, a chill running down his body from leaving the trapped body heat of the sheets. He was hard, of course, and usually you’re there to help with his morning problem, but apparently today’s full of rare events for Joel. He grumbles to himself as he makes the way to the bathroom, not wanting to take care of himself without you, not anymore. He could wait for you to be home, but he knows he’d be a leaking, grumpy mess all day—God forbid he has to interact with another human in that aroused, frustrated state. He checks the little clock you bought for his bathroom counter when you moved in—so I can watch the time when I get ready for work, you scolded him when he made you late for the first time. 
11:48 the clock displays; twelve more minutes until your break. He can wait twelve minutes. You usually close your office during your lunch, don’t you? Maybe he can call you. He might as well do his own morning routine while he waits. Joel’s old morning routines consisted of brushing his teeth, then washing his face with soap and water. Though, upon witnessing his wretched routine the first morning you two spent together, you were utterly appalled at his actions, forcing him to the store and spending the first half of your morning educating him on proper skincare. His morning routine went from four minutes to fifteen with your influence, but because he didn’t want to be a minute late in calling you, he shaved three minutes off from his task. 
As soon as the clock hit twelve, Joel plopped himself in bed, leaning against the headboard, and reached for his phone, immediately dialing you. 
Two rings later, and your sweet voice fills his ears. “Hi, baby,” you say. He can hear the small smile on your face. 
“Hi, darlin’,” Joel rasps, his voice still groggy from the lack of use. 
“You just wake up?” You jokingly scold, knowing damn well what the answer was. You like when he sleeps in. He deserves the rest from all that hard work he does. 
“Maybe,” he tells you. You can hear the smirk on his face now. “How’s work goin’? On your break now?”
“Work is… definitely going,” you huff. “And yeah, I’m on my break now, which means I’ve got an hour to counterproductively stress about these reports that have to go out.”
“I’m sorry, honey,” he tells you softly. But then he’s smirking again. “Can I help?”
“Help?” you repeat.
“Yeah,” he states like it’s the most regular answer ever. “Lemme help de-stress ya,” he adds, his voice dropping an octave. 
A heat consumes your face, but you remain calm. “Yeah?” You breathe. “And how would you help me, cowboy?” You ask him as you swiftly stand from your desk to lock your office door and close your blinds. 
“I reckon you just locked that door of yours, huh?” He asks rhetorically, knowing you better than you know yourself. Not even your past lovers would be able to pick up on the slightest of changes in your voice when you’re aroused. Joel picks up on it instantly. 
“Maybe,” you repeat his sentiment from earlier. 
“If I’m remembering correctly,” Joel says as he rubs his hand over his tenting bulge in an attempt to ease his ache. “You’ve got a couch in there, baby?”
“Yeah,” you whisper.
“Well, you know what to do next, babygirl.” 
Glancing at your door to make sure it’s really locked, you make your way to your couch, unbuttoning your jeans in the process and shucking them down as your ass meets the cushion. Fuck, you’re already soaked. 
“Where are you?” You ask him, your fingers ghosting your core over the wet patch on your panties.
As soon as the words leave your mouth, your phone buzzes. Joel sent you a text. An image. Clicking it, a breathy little whimper escapes you. “Fuck.” He’s leaning against the headboard, legs pushed open, his thick thighs on display. He’s just wearing his boxers, and his hand is inside, gripping onto his length. His leaking, angry tip is showing from the top of his boxers. A little circle catches your eye, and- oh. It’s a live photo. You hold down on the image, and you see his hips jerk into his hand. “Fuck,” you say again, your pussy twitching in excitement yet frustration that you can’t have him inside you right now. “I need you so fucking bad, Joel,” you whine into the phone as your fingers finally dip inside. 
“I need you, too, baby,” he groans, “I’m fuckin’ dyin’ over here.” He sounds so pained. It riles you up even more. Your fingers speed up at his words, breathy moans escaping you. You circle your clit a few more times before reaching lower and dipping your middle and index finger inside of you. Joel hears the faintest sound of a squelch, and the grip on his cock tightens. He pulls his boxers completely down over his thighs, his cock completely free, and he tugs at a slow, teasing pace in an effort to build himself up the way you normally do for him. “Let me hear you, baby, let me hear you touch yourself for me.”
Lord, you hope your room is sound proofed enough because without any hesitation, you’re putting him on speaker and setting your phone down near your cunt, pumping in and out of yourself faster and deeper for him to hear. “J-Joel, f-fuck,” you stutter, “I- I’m-”
“You’re close, baby, I know,” he says soothingly. You can hear the slick sound of his hand speed up. Your other hand falls to your clit as your fingers continue inside. “Let go for me, mi amor, soak those fingers as if it were my cock fuckin’ you,” he rambles. “Just like I know you can, baby, atta fuckin’ girl.”
With the help of his filthy mouth, your body seizes up and you’re seeing stars, your eyes falling to the back of your head as you remove your hand from your clit to slap it over your mouth in an attempt to stop the high-pitched, purely pornographic moan of his name from escaping the walls of your not-so private office. You can hear the moment Joel cums, too, a painful groan roars from his throat as you hear the movements slow but get slippier with each pass over. 
You’re on the phone for a few moments more, listening to each other’s breaths, slowly fixing your clothing as you let your heart rate return to normal. 
“Joel,” you finally have enough strength to say. 
“Yeah, darlin’?”
He hears a faint knock on your door. You pull the phone away to lessen your volume on his end. Just a moment, he hears you call out. “Gonna need more of you when I get home.” 
“Yes, ma’am,” Joel replies more than happily.
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After your phone call, Joel cleans and dresses himself up and heads to the kitchen. 
Joel can’t help the way your words bounce around his head. Gonna need more of you when I get home.
“And I’m definitely gonna need a fuck ton of you today,” he mutters to the bag of Colombian coffee grounds he pulls out of his kitchen cabinet. He refills the machine with water, inserts a filter, pours two heaping spoonfuls of the ground beans into the compartment, places a mug, and hits start. He goes to put the coffee away, but it’s then he feels how lightweight the bag is starting to feel. 
Genuinely, he begins to panic. He needs to order more, and he needs to do it now. He cannot go a day without his precious coffee. The brand he orders is online only, and usually he would wait for you to help him place the order, but he doesn’t want to risk hitting the cutoff for same day delivery. 
Joel isn’t that old, and he certainly grows with the time period, but when it comes to technology, he’s worse than your 97-year-old grandmother who attempts to group FaceTime both of you every night. Sure, he knows how to send you pictures, but that’s the extent of his ability. Truly. With his coffee in mind, though, he puts on his bravest face and opens Safari. He searches for the website you’re always on. A, he types. M. A. Z. 
There! Amazon. He clicks the website, not knowing the app is already installed on his phone. He sees the smiling logo, and, proud of himself, he smiles back at it. 
The smile is quick to fade, however, because the intricacies of working the website is giving him heart palpitations. He sets his phone down and reaches for his reading glasses in his pocket and slides them on. He picks up his phone again. 
The thing about using Amazon on a phone through a search engine, though, is that the website is constantly glitching. So when he types in the word coffee, he has zero idea how he ended up on a completely different website, his original search lost in the complicated webs of the internet. 
It takes him a moment to realize what he’s reading, but once it registers, it’s way more interesting than his original task. 
Women reporting intensified orgasms after drinking coffee, the headline read. His eyes begin to scan lower. Researchers concluded there was a “correlation between caffeine and sex” after testing its effects on rats.
Oh, yeah, he’s intrigued. 
After reading the article, Joel restarts his original task and ends up ordering a larger amount of coffee than he normally would. In the name of science, he rationalized with himself.
Satisfied with his accomplishments, he grabs his mug and takes the time to enjoy his cup of pure caffeine. He needs the energy after all.
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You get off promptly at 4pm, not wanting to spend any more time in your office—especially with the way you’ve been buzzing with need ever since your noon phone call. As soon as you park, you see an Amazon delivery person dropping off a box. They don’t ring the doorbell, and you know Joel doesn’t pay attention to the delivery notifications.
You get out of your car, leaving your things to get later. You reach the front porch and unlock and open the door first, bending down and picking up the box second. 
Joel greets you at the door, immediately cursing himself for not paying attention to the door, resulting in you doing the heavy lifting. He knows you’re more than capable—Hell, you could probably handle his job better than he can—but his Southern upbringing is too deeply rooted into him to allow anything less. 
“Hi, my love, I’m sorry, I coulda brought that in, baby,” he tells you as he takes the box from your grasp, giving you a forehead kiss as a trade off. The warmth of his lips physically relaxes you. 
You two walk towards the kitchen, Joel sets the box down on the counter. “I just parked as they dropped it off, honey, it was no biggie,” you reply softly. 
“I know, baby, but you know I-” he starts. You don’t let him finish as you grab him by his biceps and pull him into you, your arms finding their home wrapped around his neck as his grip completely wrapping your waist. Your lips slot together in a slow, needy embrace—your tongues slowly breaching each other’s mouths. You swallow the groans escaping his throat as you pull away from him. 
“I know,” you say breathily, eyes as dark as his morning coffee. “Won’t do it again, promise,” you smile, knowing this is the only false promise you’ll ever make. At the rate of how hard you work him in other things, carrying a few heavy boxes is the least you could do every now and then. “Now, please undress me, baby,” you whimper, your hand skating down the front of his body, your deft fingers sliding into his waistband. 
With one arm around your waist, another claws at your top, untucking it from your jeans to lift it over your head as he kisses and nips all over your jaw and neck. He turns your body so that your ass meets the counter, pushing his hips into yours, silently telling you to jump up. 
Too eager, you don’t realize the trajectory of your jump, and your ass smacks the package, causing it to almost slip off the edge. The impact to your rear surprises you enough to pull away from Joel and look back. Apparently, your brain is already turned to mush because you completely forgot about that box’s existence. 
However, now that you’re looking at it, you’re confused. You haven’t ordered anything recently. Did Joel order something? But he doesn’t even know how- 
“You okay, darlin’?” Joel asks, pausing all his movements. 
“Did you order something?” You ask.
His cheeks go red. “Yeah.. we were runnin’ out of my coffee ‘n I didn’t want to not have any for tomorrow or for later ‘n I wasn’t sure what time you’d be home to help me-” 
The bubbly sounds of your giggles are what cut him off. “What?” He asks, slightly defensive and slightly giddy at the sweetness blessing his ears. 
“You ordered something!” You exclaim. “You ordered something! And you were successful with it!” You’re gasping for air, speaking your excitement into his chest as you wrap yourself around him. 
“Don’t make fun a’me,” he pouts, grabbing your chin with his thumb and forefinger, giving your face a little scolding shake. 
“Oh, baby, no,” you coo, your laughter calming down because of the pain in your cheeks from smiling so wide. “I’m not making fun. I’m so proud!” your voice raises back up, as if you were talking to a baby who hit their first big milestone. 
He rolls his eyes. “Baby, don’t be like that,” you say as you lean in to give him a soft kiss. He gives in, of course, and he deepens it. “I really am proud,” you say as you attempt to pull away. 
He doesn’t let you. “Yeah, yeah,” he says sardonically in between kisses. 
Your hand drags up and grabs at his jaw, pulling him away so you can speak. “Now you don’t have to ask me to order things for you anymore,” you say with a smirk.
“Mmm, I don’t think so,” he breathes, trying to push against your hold on him. “Worst experience ever, I even-” 
He cuts himself off because he was so caught up in you when you got home, he forgot about the little detour his internet experience took him on today. 
Women reporting intensified orgasms after drinking coffee. 
“Actually,” he redirects. “Can we have some now?”
Your eyes pop out of your head in astonishment. “Right now?” you ask in disbelief. 
He gulps. “Y-yeah, right now. That okay?”
You don’t see why not besides the fact that his erection has been perched right against the soaked fabric of your panties for the last fifteen minutes and you’ll probably go mad if you don’t actually get relief in the next five minutes—but yeah, sure. Why not?
“I guess?” You say. Or ask? You really don’t know anymore. 
Is he really choosing coffee right now over having you? I mean, not to toot your own fucking horn, but seriously. Who would delay an orgasm for some coffee? Apparently, Joel fucking Miller would.
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You’re not really a coffee person. Sure, you have a cup here and there—mostly iced and from your favorite local shop on your way to work—but compared to Joel, you are nowhere near the level he is. 
“How do you want it?” He asks, his back turned to you as he prepares two mugs. 
“Rough,” you mutter, slightly annoyed. You can feel the slick in your underwear start to get cold—and dry. 
Joel briefly turns around catching your eye; he points to his ear. “Say that again, sweetheart?” 
Fuck. Okay, maybe you’re being a little too bitchy. You rise from your seat at the counter, perching yourself right beside him, reaching your hand into his curls to give him a little head scratch. “I’ll do it, baby,” you say. “Thank you.” With your hand still at the back of his head, you guide him to look at you as you stand on your tippy toes to give him a soft kiss.
The coffee, honestly, wasn’t that bad. Yeah, you put your usual creamer and sugar, but you put slightly less—curious to get a glimpse of the natural flavor Joel loves so much. You could get used to it like this, you think. One thing is for sure, though: the brand Joel buys is fucking strong. You’re on your last sip, and you are struggling—you can feel your heart pumping out of your chest, and you swear you feel like your entire body is pulsing. Like you can hear your blood coursing through your veins. You don’t tell Joel because you don’t want to sound weird, so you shrug the feeling away and take your last sip. Perfectly in sync with you, Joel finishes off his coffee and reaches for your mug to also bring to the sink. 
Quickly letting the faucet run into the mugs so the coffee doesn’t stain, Joel speaks up. “How was it, darlin’? I know you don’t really enjoy coffee the way I do,” he notes. 
“Actually, baby, I really enjoyed it,” you say with a genuine smile. 
“Yeah?” He asks, a boyish grin sneaking past his lips.
“Yeah,” you reassure. “It was really strong, though,” you add. 
“Strong?” he asks, eyebrow quirked. 
“Yeah, um-” you start, unsure of how to describe it. “I don’t know, I just- I’ve never had coffee make my entire body feel like- like it’s buzzing or something. I don’t know,” you ramble. 
“Huh,” he says to no one in particular. “I mean, it is one of the stronger roasts,” he tells you. Is this because you were already severely worked up beforehand? It can’t be the placebo effect—he didn’t even tell you about his discoveries. 
Guess there’s only one way to go from here. 
Not giving you a chance to respond, his hands find your waist, pulling your back flush to his chest. He kisses your jaw, trailing his lips down the juncture of your neck and shoulder. Your head falls back onto him, your eyes fluttering shut as you give him full access. His fingers skate across the front of your jeans, your shirt already untucked from his earlier attempt. Your hips buck into his hands in response, a whiny little please leaves your mouth. 
“Shh, I got ya, sweet girl,” he rasps in your ear, his drawl licking a heat up your spine. He adjusts himself so he’s the one leaning against the kitchen counter, your body entirely relying on his support to keep you standing. 
He’s unbuttoning your jeans and right away you’re reaching for the zipper, helping him pull your bottoms down in one go. 
You’re shaking in his grasp, too pent up with a need your body doesn’t know what to do with. “Relax, baby, I’ma take care a’ya,” he says with a nip to your shoulder, his middle and ring finger already finding their place running through your soaked folds. 
Your eyes shut at the sensation, your breathing erratic and vocal. He drags your slick up to your throbbing bundle of nerves, circling with a precision only he knows how to provide. “F-fuck,” you moan. His other hand slides down to your sex, his two fingers going straight for your entrance and sliding in with ease with how much is pouring from you. “Fuckfuckfuck-”
“Gonna cum on my fingers, babygirl?” He’s pumping in and out of you at a languid pace even with the squirm of your hips. The stimulation on your clit never falters. “I can feel that pretty pussy flutter ‘round me, darlin’, I know she’s close.”
“J-Joel, please,” you let out, your head bobbing back and forth, unable to keep its heavy weight up.
Before he even realizes what he’s doing, he’s using his foot to kick your legs further apart, settling yours on the outside of his, and then both of you are dropping to the ground. His back is to the wall of the kitchen island while you land perfectly spread open atop his lap. Not worried about his or your balance anymore, he fucks into you harder, applying more pressure on your clit—the kind that makes you want to force your legs shut but you can’t, not with the way his own legs are keeping you open. “Open your eyes, sweet girl, need ya to look at yourself when you fuckin’ soak me.”
You open your eyes immediately and cast your eyes downward to his hands on you. “Nuh uh,” Joel tuts. His hand working your clit comes up to your jaw, your slick dampening your jaw as he guides you to look straight forward. Your reflection stares back at you from the dark oven window. Even in the dull image its showing you, you can see the way your pussy is glistening in the fluorescent kitchen light, the sweat dripping down your temples, your fucked-out face with Joel’s dark gaze ravaging every part of you. 
Everything—all of your senses—is completely Joel, Joel, Joel, and before you know it, you’re gushing into his hand; his newfound liquid gold ever since he met you, collecting into the depths of his palm, all while you’re roaring and thrashing out in pure bliss on top of him. 
The sight, sound, the feel, everything—just like you—consumes him whole. His lust takes over now, and his hands aren’t stopping. They continue their pace—their assault—on your sensitive core. He peers down over your shoulder, and his cock grows impossibly harder at the messy, slippery sight before him. “Christ,” he mutters under his breath. “Gimme one more, c’mon,” he breathes in, your scent beginning to linger into his nose, crawling into his skin and finding its home there. “I know you can gimme one more, baby, always such a good fuckin’ girl f’me.”
Your head is nodding furiously as you fight with your eyes to stay open and locked on your reflection. Your babbling, spit thick and coating every inch of your mouth as you try and respond. Mhm and one and more and fuck break free from your mouth, giving all the green light Joel needs to know he isn’t going too far. 
You turn your head to face Joel, your hand flying to the back of his curls and pulling him for a kiss that’s all teeth and tongue—an intermingling of each other’s spit as you swallow the other’s coffee-tinged breaths. 
He feels the flutter in your cunt once more, but this time it’s stronger, tighter. The way you’re clamping down on him sends him into a frenzy, his hips rutting his erection into your lower back at the feel of your warmth wrapped around him. “C’mon, baby, let go, I feel you,” he encourages. 
“Fuck-!” A high-pitched gasp turned whine comes out of your mouth as your entire body goes rigid, your pussy uncontrollably fluttering and spasming as Joel fucks you through your high. All you see is white, your body is engulfed by a tingly feeling that only describing it as TV static could do it justice. Your breathing is deep and shallow all at one, but more notably, you feel wet. Completely and utterly soaked, you can feel liquid pooling at your asscheeks and on the hardwood floor. 
You finally gather the strength to look down—Joel too, and he steals the words right from your mouth. “Holy. Fuck.”
You two stay there for a moment, trying to gather your thoughts on what the fuck just happened, and finally, you speak first. 
“I just-” you start. 
“You did,” he finishes, equally as shocked. Amazed. 
“How are we gonna-”
He rubs your thighs. “Can you stand?” 
You think for a moment. “Yeah, I think so.”
“I’ll get up first. Then I’ll pull you up. Just don’t move, I don’t need ya slippin’ on-”
“Yeah, okay,” you stop him, feeling slightly embarrassed about it all. 
He stands up, avoiding the little puddle below; then he pulls you up, kneeling to pull your underwear on for some sense of emotional comfort. “Hey.” He nudges your face with his hand to look into his eyes. “That was fuckin’ incredible. Ya hear me?” Heat washes over your entire face. You say nothing. “It was so fuckin’ hot and sexy and so so beautiful, I’m fuckin’ lucky to have witnessed somethin’ so heavenly, darlin’.” He pulls you in for a kiss. “Ya hear me?” he repeats his question, softer this time. 
The embarrassment washes away in an instant. “Well,” you look into his eyes, a flash of trouble dancing across your orbs. “Felt fuckin’ incredible, too.”
“Yeah,” Joel says, grabbing and guiding your hand down to his cock. “It did feel mighty incredible,” smugness written all over his face. 
He dips your hand inside his pants, and you're met with his half-hard, sticky length. “Joel, did you-”
“That I did, baby, that I did.” 
A moment passes, and you burst out into laughter for the second time tonight. Only this time, Joel joins in, completely taking advantage of how sweet the comedown always is with you.
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“I think I oughta drink more of that coffee,” you say out of the blue, taking Joel completely off guard as he finishes wiping up your… spill. 
“Why?” he asks, trying to maintain a normal tone.
“I swear, Joel,” you whisper as if there’s other people listening in. “I swear that coffee is the reason I finished so… intensely,” you finish, your eyebrows raised in intrigue and curiosity. 
“You really think so?” Joel asks, a victory smile threatening to escape him. 
“Yeah,” you tell him. “I think we should test it out. You’re off tomorrow, yeah?”
“Well, I am now.”
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End note: The article Joel stumbled upon is a real article LOL. Here it is, in case any of you were interested. The article is from 2023, so by all means, picture 56 year old Joel. I’m imagining him a bit younger in this lil AU, but there’s no explicit age description, so imagine whatever the hell you want😘. And in case you were wondering: yes, he ends up telling you about his intentions behind wanting to drink coffee first. Let's just say... you both end up getting hyperfixated on trying to "prove" this theory even though you both damn well know what the result is. ;) All my love, I hope you guys enjoyed.💚
Be sure to follow @endlessthxxghtsnotifs to stay up to date with my stories!!
Utilizing my taglist a few more times just to have a slow transition to my updates blog! @katiexpunk @janaispunk @farmerlarrry @mellymbee @jobee403 @soavenuepenguin @rainbowcosmicchaos @untamedheart81 @lilynotdilly @babygal-babygal @pedritoferg @pedrostories @akah565 @getitoutofmymind @axshadows @survivingandenduring @joels-shitty-puns @its-nebuleuse @axshadows @yorksgirl
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goosita · 4 months
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working as young!politician!coryo’s secretary is usually a fairly calm job, not too stress inducing.
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most days, you greet people who come in for meetings with coriolanus, send out emails and faxes, make and take phone calls for his office, and keep a steady flow of fresh coffee at all hours. then, you tidy up your desk when the day is done and you wait for your best friend to come pick you up and drive you home from work.
today was going according to plan, having been an especially easy day. mr. snow had been out for most of the afternoon, only returning about an hour ago. the phones had been quiet as well, giving you time to finish all of your work on the computer you had put off. it was rounding out to be quite the easy day, until your best friend called 5 minutes before you were due to clock out for the evening.
“i’m sorry! the tire just exploded, literally. and now i’m stuck waiting here for god knows how long for a tow truck. i’m so sorry,” they babble, clearly feeling incredibly guilty.
“it’s fine, i promise. i can just call a taxi or something.”
out of the corner of your eye, you see coriolanus leave his office, turning to lock the door behind him. he glances at you curiously.
“are you sure? i don’t know how long it’ll take but—“
“yes, i’m sure,” you cut them off, sighing. “cab fair to my place is only a few dollars, i’ll survive. let me know when you make it home though, alright?”
your friend laments and agrees to send you a message when they’re home, hanging up. you barely hold in a heavy sigh, sliding your phone into your bag.
“need a ride?” coriolanus asks, tilting his head to the side just-so. it startles you for a moment, having forgotten he was standing right there.
“oh, no. thank you, mr. snow, but i’ll be okay. i can call a cab,” you tell him, cheeks warming.
“nonsense, can’t let a lovely young lady like you risk getting into some seedy cab,” he insists. he gives you that charming grin, the one that makes the smile line near his cheek deepen prettily. you hesitate for a moment longer before he steps closer, offering his arm.
you try not to let it show that your fingers tremble just slightly, slipping your arm through his and resting your hand in the cradle of his elbow. coriolanus smiles even wider, leading you outside to the parking garage reserved for the building.
“thank you, mr. snow,” you say quietly as you walk beside him. he shakes his head and chuckles under his breath.
“it’s past business hours. you can call me by my first name, you know.”
you don’t know what exactly to say to that, simply offering a hum in response. coriolanus leads you to a sleek black car where a man in an equally sleek black suit stands at the driver’s side door. coriolanus holds his hand out to the man, who gives a look of surprise but drops the car keys into his palm.
“i’d like to drive myself this evening, gerald. thank you.”
he leaves no room for questioning as he walks you to the passenger side, his driver quickly disappearing. coriolanus opens the door for you and gently holds your hand as you slide in, giving you a soft grin as he closes the door. when he walks around the front to the driver’s side door, you speak up.
“i live on pr—“
“i know,” he cuts you off. you swallow, watching him sit down and start the car. he must sense your confused before he sees it on your face, because he speaks again.
“i have a good memory. i saw it on your application last year and remembered you live on the same street as an old friend,” he explains. you nod, looking down at your hands in your lap.
coriolanus smoothly pulls out of the parking spot, resting his hand on your headrest as he turns to look out of the back window. it’s so hard not to stare, to look at the way his neck is exposed like this. his jaw is so sharp, skin smooth and pale. you can smell his scent lingering in the small space between you; that intoxicating mix of roses and spice and metal.
“it’s not polite to stare,” he teases, turning his body back to the front. his hands settle comfortably on the wheel, his icy stare focused on the road.
“i-i’m sorry, mr. snow. i didn’t mean to.”
“coriolanus,” he purrs. “coryo, if you prefer.”
coryo. not just his first name, but a nickname. your hands feel clammy.
“coryo,” you say softly, almost under your breath. he hums in acknowledgment, the corner of his mouth quirked upward.
it goes silent in the car after that, your mind working overtime to try and figure him out. the last few weeks have been nothing short of dizzying, his lingering gazes and teasing quips, just shy of innuendos. you think back to the way he had watched you with the lollipop in his mouth, the way he had dragged his tongue over the red candy and the stain it had left on his plush lips. the way you’d been unable to stop thinking about what those lips would taste like against your own, sticky with cherry and sugar.
a warm hand settled on your thigh, breaking you out of your thoughts as you jump slightly, looking over at him. still, his eyes are glued to the road, as if he wasn’t doing anything at all besides driving.
“coriolanus…?” you murmur, glancing down at his hand. his fingers are long, spanning over your clothed thigh almost completely. his fingertips just barely brush the inseam of your trousers, but he’s still about it. he doesn’t move to stroke or caress, just rests there in your lap.
“yes, darling?” he says evenly. you don’t know why, but the petname makes your breath hitch. “everything alright?”
you breathe out slowly, slightly shakily. “yeah— yes.”
coriolanus smiles, eyes flickering to you just once before returning to the street. after a few more moments, he’s pulling onto your street and parking outside your apartment.
“here we are,” he says unceremoniously. like his palm isn’t burning through your pants on your leg, making you hold in a shudder. “home, safe and sound.”
it takes you a few moments to find your voice again, nodding. “thank you for the ride, mr. sn—….coryo.”
“you’re very welcome, my darling,” he says; and there it is again. that endearment. “i’ll see you in the morning.”
you nod and go to open the car door, letting his hand fall from your thigh. you grab your back and close the door behind you, turning and quickly hurrying up the sidewalk to the front steps of your building before you hear his voice call out again.
“miss y/n?”
you stop and turn, seeing that he rolled the window down.
“sweet dreams.”
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kiss-me-cill-me · 3 months
Text
Follow Me Down
Pairing: Robert Fischer x Reader
Word Count: 5.3k
Summary: Dealing with Robert's advances feels like a full time job in itself. When he finally pushes you past your breaking point at a company party, you decide that it's time to teach him a lesson.
Warnings: Smut, hate sex, semi-public sex, mean reader, pushy/bratty Robert, kind of switch!Robert, S&M themes, oral (f receiving), face sitting, high heel kink, spit kink, choking, non-consensual creampie, name calling (including one use of "bitch"), workplace harassment, degradation, misogyny, mentions of drinking/alcohol, reader insults Robert by suggesting that he would spike her drink (but it does not actually happen)
A/N: Are New Year's Eve fics a thing? If not, they should be haha. I love New Year's Eve, so as a little early present, please enjoy this piece of absolute filth. Title was inspired by George Taylor's song Come Follow Me Down, which I listened to on repeat while writing the smut portion of this. Thank you for reading, and I'm wishing you all a great start to 2024!
***Please read the warnings before continuing. Minors DNI***
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Robert Fischer was the kind of man who had everything handed to him in life, and it showed. He was petulant, unserious, and thoughtless. Or at least, mostly thoughtless; he did possess the very annoying ability to badger the living hell out of someone in order to get what he wanted. And tonight, as was so unfortunately often the case, the focus of his one-track mind was you.
He was trailing after you now, either oblivious to or willfully ignorant of the look of annoyance plastered over your face as you tried to lose him. He barely had to hurry to keep up.
“Don’t be shy asking for my help with closing that big merger if you need it,” he told you.
You grimaced. You knew how to do your job.
“Robert, let’s not talk about work while we’re off the clock,” you said shortly, trying to make your voice as sweet as possible so that he wouldn’t have an excuse to comment on your tone.
You were at the company’s New Year’s Eve party. Ostensibly, this was the last of (too many) excuses littered throughout the year for the big wig executives to drink expensive booze and make fools of themselves on the company dime. And, annoyingly, it was also yet another opportunity for Fischer to try and sleep with you. 
“Okay. Let me get you a drink then,” he offered.
You decided you were done being sweet. You stopped and turned on your heel to face him.
“I wouldn’t leave you alone with my drink for two seconds, much less accept one you’d gotten your grubby little mitts on,” you hissed.
Robert made no indication that he understood what you were insinuating. Instead, he rested a hand on your waist, tugging you just a bit closer to him.
“Then I’ll escort you to the bar,” he said. “And I’ll even keep my hands on you, so you’ll know that I haven’t touched your drink.”
He was disgusting. 
“Why don’t you escort yourself?” you shot back, shaking out of his grip.
You were abstaining from drinks tonight, wanting to keep your wits about you just in case Robert tried to get too handsy. Or, handsier than he usually was. This was a fairly frequent occurrence, and although you were used to it, it still pissed you off. Robert was nothing you couldn’t handle, but the arrogant rich boy attitude got old quick. It annoyed you that you couldn’t say anything without risking the job you had worked so hard for. Unlike him, you hadn’t been born into a world that put you automatically on a pedestal. On the contrary, it often felt like people were trying to kick you off the ledge.
Robert was walking behind you again, thankfully keeping his hands to himself even as he hovered at your heels, and you walked deeper into the party. All around you, drunken coworkers reveled and laughed. There was only about one hour left in the year, and by god the company was going to spend it drinking enough champagne to kill an elephant.
“Come on,” Robert called behind you, still trailing. “Don’t you know how to take a joke?”
You ignored him, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response. As you wove your way through the crowd, one of the higher-ups signaled to you. 
You jumped at the opportunity, hoping that Robert would at least have the common decency to leave you be while you were talking to a man who was essentially your boss. But of course, rules and manners didn’t apply to Robert Fischer like they would to anyone else. As you talked with the executive about mergers and acquisitions, Robert stood directly behind you. Practically breathing down your neck. You had to bite your tongue when he placed a hand on the small of your back again. What the hell did he think he was doing?
After a few minutes, the higher-up - slightly intoxicated - excused himself and wandered off, leaving you alone again with the man who was quickly becoming the bane of your existence.
“Robert-” you started to bark.
“God, you’re sexy when you talk business,” Robert interrupted.
You were facing him again, his arm still wrapped around you possessively. You caught a whiff of bourbon on his breath. He certainly wasn’t drunk, but the alcohol had clearly loosened his tongue. Usually he wasn’t this forward. You frowned.
“And you’re an unprofessional prick.”
Your outburst almost seemed to shock you more than it did Robert. His expression never faltered, except to allow a small smirk to spread across his lips.
“Sweetheart, don’t flatter me like that,” he teased. “A pretty girl like you could give a guy like me ideas.”
He raised his eyebrows at you as he said “ideas,” lowering his voice a bit. You got the message.
“I’m sorry if I was unclear,” you said, trying not to speak through clenched teeth. “But the only idea I want to give you is to leave me the hell alone.”
Robert put his hands up, pretending to look wounded. Or maybe he was going for shocked. As if you hadn’t made it abundantly clear already just how uninterested you were. He took a step back, to your relief.
“Okay, I can see you need some time to cool off,” he relented. Finally, you were getting somewhere. “But can you really blame me for getting mixed signals?”
You had no idea what Robert was talking about, until he started pointing above him. Your eyes trailed up, and you saw for the first time a little sprig of mistletoe, hanging in the hallway. A leftover from the company’s Christmas decorations. Of all the places you could have been standing… When you looked back at Robert, your mouth was a thin line.
“What are you, twelve?” you asked. 
He just smiled. 
“Christmas is over, Robert,” you said coldly.
As you started to walk away, he called after you.
“Can’t blame a guy for trying!”
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Fischer was right about one thing - you did need some time to cool off. Being around him made your skin crawl. It made you feel like you needed a shower and a guzzle of holy water, just to exorcize any lingering traces of him from your system. A gin and tonic would probably have at least some of the same effects. And you were craving one, but you reminded yourself that you needed to stay sharp. Robert had left you alone for now, but it was only a matter of time before he would be back. You settled for just the tonic.
Rubbing your head as you walked through the party, horribly bitter drink in hand, you wondered why you had even bothered to come. So much of what you did was for the sake of appearances. Anything to claw your way ahead. Though of course, even you had limits. Sleeping with Fischer would, ironically, probably end in a boon to your career. But you definitely weren’t about to let yourself sink to that level. 
You looked down at your gin-less tonic, twist of lime bobbing lazily in the bubbles. Why were you even drinking this? It certainly wasn’t for the taste. You dumped the rest of your drink in a potted plant, and set the empty glass down on a table.
This party was a total drag. But, you figured, at least you wouldn’t have to go far to find a little solitude. One of the benefits of working for an insanely wealthy company like Fischer Morrow was that even mid-level employees like you got extravagant offices. Your high heels clicked against the tile as you strode off, eager to leave the maddening din - and Robert Fischer - behind.
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You reached your office door, and instantly knew that something was off. Behind the frosted windows, you could tell that the lights were on. The party was on the floor below yours; there should have been nobody up here, much less in your private office. Maybe it was just one of the cleaners, working late. Well, no problem. They would be easy enough to get rid of, and then you could regroup and prepare yourself for the remainder of a night full of fending off Robert’s advances. You pushed open the door.
Really, you should have seen this coming. Of course it wasn’t going to be this easy to get rid of him.
“Robert,” you sighed. You took in the sight of him, sitting in your swivel chair and looking very pleased with himself. “Do I really have to ask you to get out of my office?”
“Not if you don’t want me to,” he taunted, effortlessly throwing your own words back at you. He winked, and you narrowed your eyes.
You walked over to your desk, large and shiny with a stained walnut finish. It was an expensive piece of furniture, and one that Robert somehow managed to look right at home sitting behind. As if he owned the place. Which was closer to the truth than you particularly liked to think about. 
“Why do you enjoy doing this?” you asked, not expecting a real answer.
“I just like getting a rise out of you,” Robert said.
It sounded strangely honest. You leaned over your desk, staring down at him. Trying to size him up.
“You’re very mean when you want to be,” Robert continued, almost observationally.
You weren’t sure where he was going with this. Sure, you could be mean. It was part of the reason why you’d achieved the position you were in now; you didn’t advance in business by being a pushover.
Robert, you noticed, was currently staring down the front of your dress. You scrambled to stand up, and crossed your arms over your chest. The little pervert wasn’t even trying to hide it. You circled the desk, coming to rest on the side where Robert still sat, watching you calmly. You silently willed him to get out of your chair; to leave your office and give you twenty seconds of peace. He didn’t, of course, and so you took a seat on the desk, crossing your legs and tapping one foot in the air.
“So, what? Do you get off on me being mean to you or something?” you pressed.
Robert shrugged, neither confirming nor denying. For some reason, that infuriated you even more. You hated his smug face; that little smirk he was wearing right now that meant he was getting what he wanted. You had the sudden urge to slap him. Maybe that would teach him a lesson.
“And what about you?” Robert asked. “What do you get out of this?”
“Me?!” You were incredulous. “Christ. What could I possibly be getting out of putting up with you constantly bothering me?”
Robert shrugged again, and your desire to slap him grew.
“Maybe you get off on it too,” he guessed. “Being mean, that is.”
“You think I get off on doing this?” you scoffed. “Do you ever think about anything besides sex?”
“You’re the one who brought up getting off; not me.”
You were really going to lose it. You could barely see Fischer sitting in front of you now for all of the angry red that was swirling through your vision. He thought he could walk in here, sit at your desk, and then tell you you got off on being mean to him? He didn’t know how mean you could be.
“What’s your end goal with all this, Robert? You really think you’re gonna get to live out whatever twisted fantasy you’ve made me a part of in that sick little head of yours?”
“Maybe,” Robert said nonchalantly. You could feel him undressing you with his eyes.
“Yeah? What are you hoping to do to me?” you prodded. You didn’t care what you were saying anymore; you were way past the point of professionalism. “Probably tie me up and watch me try to fight you off, right?”
Robert looked up at you very calmly, holding your angry gaze as he answered you.
“I’d rather have you step on me with those heels,” he said.
You were taken aback.
“Excuse me?”
“I said: I want you to step on me with those slutty little stilettos you keep waving in my face,” he repeated.
You froze. One foot was braced against the drawers of your desk, and the other was poised in the air, hovering just in front of Robert’s knee as he sat in your chair.
“What’s the matter?” Robert asked. “I warned you you’d give a guy like me ideas, didn’t I?”
Part of you was in shock. This was not how you had expected this interaction to go. But another part of you - a corner of your mind that you didn’t even want to acknowledge - really was turned on by the idea of putting him in his place. You grinned.
“What makes you think I’d do that for you?” you hummed, mocking him.
Before he had a chance to respond, you lifted your foot and pressed the sharp point of your heel against the fleshy part of Robert’s shoulder. His expensive suit jacket started to crease. You pushed your heel in a little more, pushing him back just an inch.
Robert’s eyes started to wander, trying to sneak a look under your dress as you sat in front of him, your leg lifted up to press into his shoulder. 
“You’re a pig,” you told him, shifting your foot so that it was in the middle of his chest. 
The new angle made it a little harder for him to get a peek, with your legs more pressed together. Robert’s eyes drifted back to your face, a look of restrained amusement dancing across his own features. He was trying to play it cool, but you noticed the way his fingers dug into the chair’s leather armrests.
“Just another pretty boy in a suit,” you continued, inching the toe of your shoe up toward his collar. 
The point of your heel was right over his sternum, and Robert started to smile. He really was enjoying this, and the realization both repulsed and aroused you.
“Think you can take whatever you want. You need to be put in your place.”
You pushed back with your foot, making Robert’s chair roll a few inches so that you had space to stand up between him and the desk. You planted one foot on the floor, and the other directly over his crotch, pressing in with the dull toe of your shoe. The point of your heel rested on the chair in front of him, between his slightly parted legs. You weren’t trying to impale the poor man, but the devious look that Robert fixed on you as you towered over him almost made it look like he would have preferred if you did.
“Told you y’get off on being mean,” he teased.
You grabbed hold of his tie and pulled his face closer to yours as you looked down at him.
“Robert, if you think this is what a woman looks like when she gets off, I have some very bad news for you. Why don’t you show me what that pretty mouth is good for?”
You pushed away from him, climbing back up on the desk and spreading your legs. The tight black dress you wore rode up your thighs, and Robert instantly dropped to his knees in front of you. He hooked a finger into the crotch of your panties, using it to drag them to the side until you were on display for him.
“You can deny all you want,” he mocked, “but you wouldn’t be this wet if you really didn’t enjoy it.”
“Jesus. Stop talking,” you ordered.
You shoved his face between your legs, and his tongue eagerly came out to lick at you. You were wet - there really wasn’t any denying it - but you didn’t need him pointing out that fact as if he weren’t the one desperately lapping at your cunt. Robert was the pathetic one here; you were really just going along with things to teach him a lesson. If he wanted you to walk all over him, you would make sure he regretted ever crossing paths with you. And if you happened to get off while doing it - well,  you'd just chalk that down as some much-needed stress relief. Dealing with Robert was exhausting.
You hooked your legs over his arms, pinning him in place as he balanced himself against the desk. As much as you hated to admit it, he was good at this. Very good. His tongue was lavishing you; his blue eyes never breaking contact with yours as he ate you out. The way he was looking up at you felt dirty and yet dangerously addicting, all at the same time. Your hand tangled in his hair, pulling him even closer as your breath hissed through your teeth. Abruptly, you pulled him away.
“Get on the desk,” you commanded, a little out of breath.
Robert stood up, wiped his smug face, and started to climb up onto the desk.
“On your back.”
He laid down, swinging his feet up so that he was fully spread out across the hard surface. You reached up under your dress to remove your panties. Having him hold them to the side was only getting in the way.
You carefully got up on the desk with him, knees resting on either side of his face.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” you scoffed, half for your own benefit.
“Think of it this way,” Robert smirked beneath you. “Isn’t it gonna make you happy to wipe this smile off my face?”
“I thought I told you to shut up.”
You sat down, putting almost your full weight on his face. Robert reached up to grab hold of your thighs, supporting you, and you were actually grateful for it even though it gave him an opportunity to grope at your ass. Your legs were getting weaker every second, and you could feel yourself tipping over the edge.
Part of the thrill was from being in such a compromising position. Before, if someone had walked in, there was a chance that Robert could stand up and you would be able to smooth down your dress in time to avoid getting caught. But now… well, riding a man’s face as he was splayed out on the desk beneath you was a little harder to recover from, logistically.
You ground your hips down, so tantalizingly close to coating his face in your release. Robert seemed to sense your urgency, and dug his fingers into your flesh, practically begging for it. His tongue dragged roughly across your clit, sucking with just the right pressure.
Your mouth hung open as you came, at first frozen in a silent scream and then moaning, sinfully, as an orgasm rolled over you. You seemed to shake from your shoulders down into your knees, and Robert’s tongue lapped up all of your arousal. He pressed his lips to your clit one final time as you slid off of him. 
When your hips were straddling his, Robert sat up to hold you. His hands were hungry, grabbing at your waist as he tried to pull you closer and into a kiss.
“No kissing,” you choked out, putting a hand on his chest to stop him.
Robert didn't try to push past you, just paused and looked up at you with light, teasing eyes.
“Come on, sweetheart. It's New Year's Eve. You're not gonna give me a kiss at midnight?” 
You swallowed, not trusting your shaky voice to respond without giving him more fuel to taunt you with. He didn't need it.
“Even after you already let me wrap my lips around your pretty cunt?” 
Your hand on his chest pressed down, pushing him back onto the hard wood. Robert smiled again, proud of himself for getting to you. He really did know how to wind you up.
“You’re such a typical rich boy,” you spat. “So used to getting anything you ask for.”
“Usually I don’t even have to ask,” Robert corrected.
“Right. Other women just throw themselves at you?” You felt your hatred flare.
He gave you that knowing look again, but kept his smirking mouth shut. You noticed the way your arousal still glistened against his lips. The whole lower half of his face, actually, was drenched, and the sight of it sent a pang of renewed desire all through you.
Suddenly, Robert’s grip tightened at your waist. He bunched up the fabric of your dress, exposing you a little more, and forced you down onto his leg. 
“Use me to get yourself off.”
Already impatient, his hands had started to pull at your hips, making you rock back and forth. The cloth of his suit pants brushed roughly against your exposed clit, still sensitive from his earlier treatment. But still, it felt good. Too good.
“Robert-”
You had opened your mouth to protest, but he cut you off.
“Mm, say my name, baby.”
He was so full of himself. Something snapped in you, and your hand flew up to his neck. As your grip tightened, Robert only threw his head back.
“Honestly, do you ever shut up?” you spat.
Despite yourself, your hips started to stutter against him, desperate to rub harder as the pressure started to build in you again. For whatever reason, you found yourself going along with Robert’s demands once more. Your hand on his neck squeezed.
“You really do get everything you want,” you hissed, teeth clenching against the ache that was rapidly growing between your legs.
“Not true,” Robert choked out beneath you. His voice was straining from your grip, but you could still hear the hint of satisfaction. “I haven’t gotten to stick it in you yet.”
Your walls clenched around nothing, and you hated how his words could affect you. You angrily took it out on him, pressing the hand on his neck down even harder. Robert hissed out through his teeth, then dissolved into a rough cry of pleasure. 
“Fuck," you gasped.
Your grip loosened, suddenly, as a wave of ecstasy came crashing over you for the second time. It was unexpected and fast, taking you by such surprise that you fell forward on the desk a little, caging Robert’s face with your arms. Your stomach churned with embarrassment as the feeling faded, and you realized that just the sound of his voice had been enough to push you over the edge.
You looked down, and saw Robert’s eyes full of mirth. His face was flushed, blood rushing back now that your hand was off him. A few strands of hair stood out of place against his forehead. Honestly, he was a mess; clothes all wrinkled and normally-neat red tie knocked askew. You could feel yourself dripping. His very expensive suit pants were probably ruined. Although, that was really his problem.
“Tell me again how you don’t get off on being mean?” Robert rasped below you.
You were panting, and clearly in no position to answer him. But even if you had been able to speak, you certainly weren’t about to tell him that it had been his animalistic moan that really made you come. Robert started to sit up a little, keeping one arm around your waist.
“You hate me so much.” Robert’s voice was still slightly hoarse, but there was that tone of amusement, as usual. 
“Poor little rich boy.”
It was all you could think to say, still trying to recover from two orgasms back to back. Robert gave you a look that was almost pitying.
“When are you gonna admit that you’re just jealous?” Robert purred.
You gave him a look of disgust, hoping your scowl would communicate everything that you couldn’t verbalize. Your head was still reeling, dizzy from the rush.
“You think you’re better than everyone else just because you have to scramble to get ahead? Please. You wish you had it as easy as me.” Robert’s hands came up to grasp at your wrists, holding you in place as he brought his lips close to yours. “But lucky for me, you’re not above sleeping your way to the top.”
Is that really what he thought this was? No. That wasn’t the reason for this. Inch by inch, Robert was bringing his lips closer to you. This bastard, thinking he understood you. Infuriated, you did the only thing you could think to do, and spit on him.
He stopped, but didn’t look particularly surprised. The trail of spit started to drip down his face, mixing on his cheek with the leftover sheen of your arousal. Calmly, Robert brought a hand up to his face and wiped off the efforts of your rebellion.
“I knew there was a reason I liked you, sweetheart.”
In the next instant, Robert’s hands were at his belt, nimble fingers working the buckle. You noticed for the first time how painfully stretched his pants were. He had to be in agony. But, you thought bitterly, that was probably exactly how he wanted it.
“Here - why don’t you spit on my cock?” he goaded, pulling himself out of his briefs.
Your eyes blew wide at the sight of him. That certainly explained the amount of confidence he had. You struggled to shoot back a response.
“In your dreams,” you muttered.
“Don’t be like that,” Robert chided, pouting a little bit.
As much as he liked to act, you could tell that he wasn’t really hurt. Someone as arrogant as Robert Fischer could never be truly bothered by anything. This was merely an inconvenience. He pinched your cheeks between his rough fingers, forcing you to look down at his dick with your mouth open. A long, wet rope of saliva fell from your lips.
“There, was that so hard?”
Robert’s pinching hand left your face as he brought it down to rub at his length, hastily working your spit over himself.
“This is for your benefit anyway,” he winked. “Don’t want it to hurt you too much.”
You watched, almost mesmerized, as he pumped himself a few more times. Satisfied, he stood up, taking you with him. Standing in your heels, you were almost as tall as him, and he looked directly into your eyes.
“Now, do you want me to fuck you over the desk, or up against the wall?”
You almost couldn’t believe his audacity. You glared at him, a heavy, electrical silence hanging between you.
“Tick-tock, sweetheart.”
“Go to hell, Robert,” you answered. 
“Well, then I guess we’re doing what I want.” He smiled. “How ironic.”
He lifted you up in one swift motion, and then your back was against the wall. The head of his cock was pressing into you, and the stretch was almost painful.
“So fuckin’ tight,” he hissed. “Just what I would expect from a stuck-up little bitch.”
His words stung, but not as much as the snap of his hips as he thrust into you, forcing a little whine out of your lips. You grit your teeth, trying to muffle your reaction.
“You squeeze me so good when you’re angry,” Robert laughed. “Fuck.”
His hands were digging into you, holding you up as he pulled out and then pressed greedily back in. Your head pushed back against the wall, overwhelmed by his size. 
“What’s wrong, baby? Too much for you?” he teased.
“You- wish-”
Your words cut off as Robert fucked sharply into you again, then paused. You wrapped your legs tighter around him, pulling his hips against you as you tried to hold yourself up. It only made him push deeper. 
“Fuck, Robert-!”
You cried out, interrupting yourself again, and felt his lips brush against your neck.
“I didn’t even move that time, baby,” he smirked. 
You couldn’t stand to see him so smug. Somewhere deep inside yourself, you found strength.
“W-what are you waiting for, then? Get to work, pretty boy.”
Robert grinned as he thrust into you, even more powerfully than before. You wanted to whimper, but bit your tongue. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.
“You really are something else,” Robert chuckled.
His pace had started to speed up, and now he was pumping in and out of you relentlessly, each thrust pushing you back against the wall. Your body had finally adjusted to his girth, and you were almost starting to enjoy the stretch. Not to mention the way that his head hit a certain spot inside of you, nearly making you fall apart every time he brushed against it.
You were finding it harder and harder to suppress your moans, and every now and then one would slip out of your tightly-pressed lips. Robert seemed to speed up every time he heard you whimper.
“Fuck!” you swore, as he hit a particularly deep spot.
“You take my cock so well,” he grunted. Even trying to keep his cool, it was clear that he was only seconds away from release. “Now let’s see how you take my cum.”
“Not… not inside,” you panted.
“Don’t- fucking- tell me what to do.”
“Don't fucking come in me!”
Pressed against the wall, your options for retaliation were limited. Your legs could do nothing but wrap around him; his hands stopping you from putting your feet on the floor. Your own hands were occupied gripping at the lapels of his suit, hanging on for dear life as he split you open. Really, the only available part of you was your mouth.
Your lips bruised hard against his, taking his bottom lip between your teeth and biting hard enough that you hoped it hurt. Robert let out a muffled growl against you, and you sank your teeth in more.
Somewhere far away, a clock chimed and the party below you surged drunkenly. Robert thrust his hips into you one last time, and then you felt him painting your walls; cum leaking out of you as he held you, still suspended in the air. As the buzzing in your head started to fade, you realized he was smiling against your lips.
You jaw relaxed just enough for Robert to pull himself away. His lip was bruised; angry red from where your teeth had scraped him. He was even more disheveled than he had been, and, somehow, even more satisfied with himself.
“Ended up giving me that kiss anyway,” he rasped, voice still heavy from exertion and lust. “And right at midnight, too.”
You felt your hatred surge again, weakly. You were exhausted; barely able to keep yourself upright when Robert finally set you on your feet. He stepped away, leaving you to tug down your dress and try to make yourself presentable. A very difficult task, considering you still had fresh cum leaking out of you. Your eyes quickly scanned the floor for your panties. You would not stoop to searching on your hands and knees for them. Not until Robert left your office, at least.
Robert finished zipping his pants and replacing his belt, shiny silver buckle clicking under his fingers. He tugged at his suit, barely making a dent in the wrinkles, and smoothed a hand over his hair.
“Well, I would say ‘same time next week,’ but I think it would be easier to pencil you in at lunch,” Robert joked. “Maybe we can finally have that drink before I take you back to my office. You’ll have a really nice view of the city while I fuck you against the window.”
You really couldn’t believe the nerve. Although, by now, it should have been easy to expect no less from Robert. You walked right up to him and planted a finger in the center of his chest.
“If you think I’m ever having sex with you again, you’re twice as delusional as I thought you were,” you huffed. 
Robert took one more long look at you, and shrugged.
“Can’t blame a guy for trying.”
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defrosted69 · 1 month
Text
A line Hook to you
(Danielle Marsh x Male Reader)
A/N: Its been a long time but here's something to you guys. Enjoy!
Note: 7k words
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“The invisible string theory is the idea that the universe itself is stitched together with unseen threads, all of which lead us to our destinies.”
You sighed as you finally clocked out of work with your back aching with a pocking pain. Working on heavy machinery for a good 9 hour shift isn't really ideal for you body who's used to be so athletic and is used in locomotive motion. But time just keeps on going forward, not backward so changes will be applied in life. And before you know it, from writing and sleeping at the back of the class to having to deal in fixing heavy engines and inspecting them everyday to make sure they work properly.
"Why the long face? Come, The old guys are going for a drink tonight. You should come with Y/N"
A pat on the shoulder made you sighed as you heard his voice. Despite this heavy loaded schedule and work you had, there was always a friend that keeps you laughing and knows to make your frown upside down and uplift your spirits.
"Ah I'll pass this one Sunoo. Since tomorrow is Sunday, I'll enjoy my 1 day break"
"Oh Bummer. But I understand since I'll pass with them as well."
"Huh? How come?"
"The last time I joined them, they cause a ruckus in a bar. Remember how our pay got cutted because Boss preety much used our checks to pay up their damage."
You chuckled remembering that fragment of your memory like it was yesterday. It was quite funny because despite how Sunoo claim they are, they were actually great seniors to you. When you were still new to the company, they knew you lacked experience when it comes to the actual field so they were open to teaching you stuff you were confused with. And the funny thing is here is that you were above them when it comes to terms relating to work.
Cause you see, the seniors are all mechanics and car parts specialists but you on the other hand are their supervisor. You graduated in college with a degree in Mechanical Engineering and it wasn't that long when you landed a job in this medium sized delivery company. Of course they were first surprised to see that their supervisor was new and unexperienced but you gained their respect when you had to show them on solving a problem in the Pistons of the engine.
Pistons are one thing to fix but to make adjustments on the fly and make the engine working twice as powerful as before made their jaw at Awe. If most of of them before didn't believe in geniuses, we'll you just debunked their belief.
But since then, you had a good relationship with all of them and you got more wisdom from them since most of them are family oriented now and others have unique experiences that preety much makes you amazed and inspired by them.
"Well where you heading too then Sunoo?"
"Duh I'm gonna watch my Drama. That's the only reason why I have Netflix."
"Right. I completely forgot about that."
Kim Sunoo was your very loyal and emotional friend. Everyone in the company knows he's the golden retriever of the bunch since he's just all smiles especially most of the times. But don't let that distract you that he's one of the best employees the company has. Despite only finishing highschool, he worked hard to understand how the engine works and he had to prove everyone why he's also one of a kind. Despite the two of you being born in the same year, Sunoo has more experience and knowledge when it comes to the company and working experience.
But he is also an open armed person meaning he's not afraid to help you whenever you were need. There was a time your window in the apartment got cracked because of a storm, and you couldn't go to work. Sunoo came after the storm passing with tools for replacing windows and he actually gave you a free window without even costing you any expenses at all. All he wants was to see you at work since it's been a while since he's had someone his age to talk too.
"Well enjoy your stranger things drama or whatever it is. I'll see You at work on Monday man."
"Yeah Man see you in Monday."
He waved you goodbye as he went on the opposite of your direction of where you were going. The night was very chilly and the sky was clear as the day. Looking up, the moon was shining brightly with its stars twinkling next to it creating a perfect harmony in the sky. You were used to walking to your apartment since it's usually just 15 minute walk from home and you could admire the beauty of the building around and scenery.
But something had to ruin the beauty of what your eyes admire as couples walk past you showing their affection to their love one as if the sidewalk was their hallway to act all flirty with each other. You had no objection to people being extra PDA with each other since you'll be getting a good show but it just throw you off.
Perhaps since you've never had a female in your life, you've become the bitter old man who gets angry when youngsters and couples exhibit their love in front of you. It seemed like salt was thrown at you, as the cosmos is continuously reminding you of how lonely you are in this world. So taking deep breath, you decided to take a small detour and feed your stomach a bit after all, you didn't have proper lunch since the company cafeteria is serving nothing but sandwiches and energy drinks. And you were never a fan of energy drink especially after that small incident you had when you drinked an energy drink despite only having 2 hours sleep.
You really though you were gonna die when your heart felt heavy and you started breathing heavily. Luckily for you, that attack only lasted for 5 seconds before everything returned to normal but you were glad it didn't lead to something worse.
So after taking a detour of going to your favorite ramen shop, your stomach grumbled one more time reminding you to eat already or you might faint from starvation. Entering the place, there wasn't much people around since it was night time already which you preferred more than a jam packed day time. So ordering your usual bowl, you took your food to your favorite spot, near the window side on a single chair.
That place has hold a significant place in your heart because ever since Highschool that seat has always been your spot admiring the sunset, the cars, the people but more importantly, it's because that solo space gave you sanctuary to the problems of life.
So anticipating it to be unoccupied, you froze when your eyes saw a woman with a smirk showing how proud she was in her position as she spoke.
"I knew you would be here. The Invisible string really is true!"
You were confused at to what she was saying yet she smiled and stood up and immediately taking over your personal space as she got close to you with her eyes glittering like stars.
"I meant to say is that fate us brought us here together. Because I need your signature right here"
She pointed with her pen a piece of paper in a clipboard which had a few signature of some people as well but, it was smudged and the paper looked like it was dried from air after being soaked in water.
"Is this paper dried up?"
"Ohh eer… Dont mind that. Just sign it please. For my extra credit in college. Pleeese Mr. Pleeeese."
She began begging you like a wild Woman as other people anf some staff look at the two of you weirdly. Thier Stares somewhat made you feel embarrassed of her so without even hesitation, you signed whatever was in that clipboard hoping to end this already. Once you wrote down your signature and name, she smiled brightly and giggled cutely.
"Thank you Mr. I'm sure I'll see you again in the sidewalk. See you next week again. Bye bye Mister~"
She happily waved at you and giggled her way away of the restaurant leaving you perplexed and with so many questions than answers.
"Who the heck is she?"
.
.
.
Danielle extended her arms out and giggled joyfully as the sun caressed her face. She was overjoyed once again since she would finally receive additional credit for her completed assignment. That signature from last night was what she needed the most since she was finally able to obtain 100 signatures on her paper, which wasn't easy given the time constraint their professor had set. 5 days to get 100 signatures isn't as easy as it seems. So she was pleased to receive her final signature from someone she knows well.
After doing her usual morning routines, Danielle smiled happily as she leaves her dorm with a sense of happiness amd joy filling her body right now. The sky was clear and the air was perfect for her for a walk so with that she did. She began walking to her university humming her favorite song along the way. The common sidewalk that she has been walking was so colorful in her eyes right now and everything was so just blooming.
"What a wonderful day to eh mate?"
She asked herself as she giggled to herself. Yet among the busy people walking tbe familiar sidewalk, her eyes were looking for a guy who she was very thankful since the first day of her college days. As she keeps looking for that man, from a far and from someone's perspective, she looked like a mole appearing in and out of the crowd of people trying to look for you.
That's right, there was a reason why she waited for you at that restaurant last night although it was mostly just her guess and it was completely coincidental that the events unfolded that night. Never in a million years would she would have known that the stars aligned just to answer her wish to make her last signature poetic. She betted on herself that someone special will sign the last space on her paper and boy was she right.
At the very last second, just when she just admitted that everything isn't a fairy tale and her stupid brain admitted that ideal scenarios will come to reality was a slap and a wake up call for her. But you pulled at the very last second and helped her once again. Just remembering the first interaction you had with her made her blush and squeal in delight which earned a few confused and weird looks from the people.
"Shit. I'm public I forgot.."
Danielle giggled as she continued her walk to university. Although she didn't see you today, she understands that you would have left your place earlier considering your a working adult and she's just a college student yet, in her eyes and brain, she's as equal to your status in society which further more pushes her agenda that the invisible string theory exist. Because there must be some kind of connection in which you would be a part of her huge life. After all, Your first encounter with her was during her first time being in the city.
Being a college student means that you have to choose a college to go to and unfortunately for her, her desired course was far away from her city and her family. And of course, that sucks and is hard to understand but Danielle knew that this was a huge chapter of her life and as much as she didn't want to get away from the hugs of her parents, she had to let go of the meantime and travel to an another city with no friends, no nothing at her silos disposals.
She was starting at level 0 where everything had reseted for her but that didn't stopped her to be productive and she continued to encourage herself everyday that what she's doing is the best for her family and for herself. Life may be hard but you have to got an iron will to keep up with the waves of life and keep on moving forward with a stronger resolve to finish college.
Now is where her first encounter with you was. She wasn't sure if you had remember it but you were the guy who picked up her wallet when she had dropped it on the sidewalk where you and her were usually walking. Although she was to be blamed of why she had let go of her wallet because, she choose to admire than to keep her valuable in check within her reach. Honestly, the moment she realized her wallet was gone from her elbow immediately made her feel a cold shiver down her neck.
Everything she needs in collage allowances was in that wallet filling with bank cards and IDs for her to use in public to identifying her. But more importantly she didn't want a handful of earing coming from her sister about her losing her Wallet. But as soon as she turned around, you stood there returning her wallet back at her.
There was this weird trait for Danielle in where she remembers the people's face of those who showed her kindness so it wasn't such a suprise why she would remember you but if she recalled your reaction the other night, she knew she fucked up big time and leaving a good impression of her.
"Gaahh! Why did I spew that nonsense infront of him!"
Daneille ruffled her hair in embarrassment and irritation from herself for acting like a complete fool to the person…
She might have caught feelings for.
In Danielle's defense for this such claims is that she is attracted to people who shows her kindness even if it's just a small one. So despite meeting you before, Her total times of meeting you was 3 times in total considering the other night. Since the guys who were nice to her was absolutely no one. She was often mocked for being an aussie or her accent was made off back in middle school. They weren't that rampant back in high school yet as time moves forward, that claims are now reversed.
"Morning Dani. Did we sleep well?"
Lily Morrow asked her friend who wore a bright proud smile as she walks with Danielle to campus. Hearing her voice snapped her in her characther emission fantasy about which you were glad because everyone in school would know how much of an idiot she is sometimes.
"I slept well. I'm sure I'll get my credit today hehe."
Danielle smiled brightly as the two of then catches up their weekend drama as Danielle happily explained to Lily what she felt during that time as Lily was on full mode listening to every details eh spoke out off. But as soon as that was done, Danielle proceed to the teachers office as Lily went to attend her class. Danielle carefully knocked before entering the room where her professor was waiting for her.
"Ah Ms. Marsh. I assume you brought in your task I have given you?"
"Yes sir."
Danielle pulled out her clipboard along with it was the signed paper yet it didn't take 10 seconds, her progress was returned to her. And that slowly made her confidence shatter into millions of pieces.
"I'm sorry Ms. Marsh but I can't accept this paper."
"But sir, I completed the 100 signatures under 5 days."
Her professor sighed as He knew this was the reaction of Danielle once he rejected her paper. It's not that like her report was not significant to her course but what irks him, was how obvious that her paper had gotten wet or soaked to be more exact.
"I know Ms. Marsh but you gotta understand. Your already in your 3rd year and yet you can't understand simple instructions. I had given you a clean paper to work on and you returned it to me like a wet Wipes dried up?"
"But sir-"
"I don't wanna hear it but I'll give you on last chance to get that extra credit you want."
Danielle was now in full effect to listening to her professor because she needs to pass this subject without enrolling it next semester. It would be such a waste of time and year of she didn't take college seriously.
" I'm gonna give you another paper but this time it's only 75 person BUT, I need you to pass this in Wednesday."
Danielle widen her eyes knowing that getting 75 signatures in 3 days isn't gonna be easy since her college schedule for this semester was absolute trash. But if it means to pass this subject she would do it. So Danielle accepted it and he handed her a new copy. She thanked him as once she leaves the room, Danielle let out a frustrated groan from her as her task was easy enough yet hard to execute.
Although she still has 2 days to work on it and she could easily fill in that 75 person mark, the requirement for that is people outside of the campus and not students. She wouldn't break a sweat if it was just students since it would be very easy. But for strangers? It might be very difficult for her considering that she doesn't know strangers at all and sometimes they could have intentions and very bad at one.
"What do I do?"
.
.
.
The sun was slowly shining down as you clocked out earlier today. It was quite a suprise for everyone when the boss announced that today would be an early work off day since he had something to do. It was very odd since Mondays are usually a busy day at the company with a lot of the trucks being used as transport for its services. But if it means more time for you to relax and sleep in your bed.
Yes, the bed is your best place to relax and just forget about the reality of things especially in the adult world. Rest is the most important factor because it's an escape for you from all the troubles of society and life itself.
Upon changing into your casual wear, Sunoo got your attention once again as he smiled at you.
"Whats your plan now? It's still quite early."
"Bed."
"Why? You wanna watch porn or something?"
"Nah I just love sleeping."
Sunoo nodded his head in understanding but you can tell from his body language that he was itching to tell you something so not wanting to make him look like a fool anymore, you decide to break his bubble.
"What? What are you trying to tell me?"
Sunoo chuckled in embarrassment as he got caught by your keen observation but then again, that's what makes you stand out from the rest of the guys working in the company and its the reason why your his supervisor. Your eyes always managed to observe every small detail and remembers them which leads to new adjustment and improvement of the engine. And mind you, it's no ordinary engine, it's a truck engine. Those who big and carry a lot of horse power.
"Well you see. My friend hooked me up and he said we need a third player and I was thinking you-"
"Pass."
"Okay."
Sunoo gave up now. Once you set your decision on one thing it means you wouldn't change your perspective on that decision. And he knows your not into relationship as of the moment as far as he knows. But that thought made him question you.
"Say Y/N, why don't you go on a date now? I mean your finished in college right? You have a good job now so why not right?"
"I don't think I'm ready for it. The responsibility of taking care of someone is a Challange especially since I can't even take care of myself."
Although the real reason why you don't want a girlfriend right now is because you thought you don't deserve to be loved after all, one rejection back in the past really pushed you way back into not stepping into the world of romance. The pain of rejection and seeing that girl choose the wrong girl will never be not funny and painful for you.
"I guess your right. But there's nothing wrong in at least trying something new right?"
"It's not new to me, I already have been in that position before."
"Then why stop at one and live a life of repeating cycle when you can add new things in your cycle of life."
You wanted to speak up but you decided to take in what Sunoo said. There was no hint of any lies in his words as they were all pointing at you about your daily life. Yes it was a repeating cycle of sleep-work-eat-repeat and that's it. Nothing was really getting in between your daily cycle of life which was kinda boring in a sense.
But boring life is what you have been accustomed to and somewhat that's what you like to live in. But is that all there is in your life now since your really crossing the late 20s now. At the age of 25 where many people get married and have a family, your still wondering what your life's purpose is. As you walk the familiar street towards you apartment, the question still lingered on your head.
What do you really wanna do?
A simple question yet it has so many possible wrong answers depending on how you read into it. For you, you definetly have no proper answer at all to that question because you yourself was finding that purpose since College and even now, that you have a proper job, that question still lingering on your mind and time wasn't helping you since people your age have already figured out their path in life. Yet for you, you were still trying to pick up the pieces together and look for that glue that connects everything together yet, you couldn't find it.
Sighing was the only response you could get out of your problem but your bubble of thoughts were popped open when you heard a soft voice of sobbing and sniffing from someone. Of course your not that person to mind someone's business but when your eyes landed on the side and saw a familiar girl with her head down, back reciprocating in a deep breathing motion, and her hands cover her eyes. You just sighed at the scene.
Your legs wanted to keep moving forward and ignore her but the voice of Sunoo once again entered your brain. Will you be stuck to mediocrity forever in your life? Will you never cross that path of change that is really needed in your life right now?
"You alright Miss?"
Taking a huge step forward, you kneel down on her level and what you saw is something you didn't know would happen. Danielle literally looked at you with tears and snott coming out of her nose as if she just had the biggest heartbreak of her life. Her mascara was all smudge down on her eyes and it was preety disastrous seeing her Iike this. But one part of you wanted to laugh at her face right now but you took every ounce of your spiritual being not to laugh at her and try to understand her situation.
"M-Mister? The guy from the ramen restaurant? The one I always see in this sidewalk?"
"Yeah but how come I have many nicknames?"
Danielle sat up as you handed her your handkerchief thinking she would wipe her tears away but no, she used it to blow off the snot she had and that made you froze up. She cleaned her nose and felt her cheeks blushing red mad after realizing what she has done.
"Oh no I didn't mean to make your handkerchief all disgusting. I'll.. Umm.. I'll wash it for you."
Danielle began to panic as she didn't know what she would do since she didn't want to look like a complete fool to you after all. You saw the panic in her eyes which was a little puffy from all her crying. After snapping out of your shocked state, you shook your head.
"No need. It's fine, I mean handkerchief are used for wiping stuff anyway."
"Naur but still. I'll wash it for you. As an Aussie, I promise to make it smelling like a jasmine flower."
"You don't have too."
"Naur I'll-"
GRUMBLE
A large lion roared in her belly and as you look at Danielle's face, the color red slowly took over her face as she looked away covering her face and groaning in embarrassment. There's was no way this day could have gotten worse in Danielle's books but it just got worst. The last on her list is to embarrass herself to someone she looks up and this was a sign that today wasn't her day.
You chuckled at her stomach and your laugher was the hidden laughter that you have been keeping since earlier after seeing her face. Danielle immediately looked back at you with a glare which you immediately stopped your laughing but her glaring and with a few tears was amusing to look at. Maybe a little to adorable in your book.
"Stop laughing!"
"I'm sorry the timing was just to perfect. I'm sorry."
But despite your words, you still couldn't control your laughing and this only made Danielle form more tears in her eyes and seeing her glaring while her lips quivering being mad, embarrassed and sad made you shut up at your action.
"Okay I'll stop. Sorry"
You were genuinely apologizing for your action yet Danielle continued to pout glaring at you trying to intimidate you which is failing exponentially because all this is doing is letting you see an adorable Australian pout cutely at you because she doesn't know how to get mad to people. Knowing that she won't stop pouting and glaring at you, you had to take an action to this one.
"Alright. Let's get something to eat instead so your stomach doesn't roar anymore and perhaps we can talk there about what bothering you. Is that fine with you?"
Danielle didn't reply to you but nodded her head. So taking that as her answer you stood up from the bench with Danielle trailing behind you. Honestly speaking, most people would have just ignored her or to be exact, Danielle should be calling for the police or be at least questioning your true intentions to her but no she didn't. And that though in turns question you why Danielle, trust a stranger like you because as far as you can remember, you don't know her at all except the other night where you first met her, in that restaurant.
But as you were thinking about Danielle, She was silently wiping her makeup and adding new ones. She pulled out her lip tint and applied it on her lips by a small portion. Next she made sure her eyelashes stand out and adding a few blush and powder on her face was the final touch. Using her phone camera as her mirror, she smirked seeing how preety she is as she knows she needs to look preety infront of you right now. Because we don't know when will be the next time you two will meet like this.
Upon arriving at the Restaurant you ordered your favorite meal as you turned back to ask her about her dish.
"So What do you want-"
You got cut off by your own words as Danielle looked nothing like what you saw earlier. Infront of you was a beautiful woman who shined bright as the sun. Her sweet smile was so warm and her headband was the icing on the top as you stood there not knowing what to say next.
"Hmm? I'll have what you have hehe."
She smiled and turned her to the side which really made you stare at her for a good while before the cashier snapped you out of your trance. You order two of what you were having as you paid and choose a seat for the two of you. Unlike before, when you would just sit alone in your favorite place, you have to look for a new place since you have company.
"Let's sit there."
You looked at her a bit shocked because the place she picked for the two of you to sit was where you always sit. Danielle grabbed an extra chair and sat opposite to you smiling happily. It felt weird having to share a seat with someone when you were usually alone in that seat. But nevertheless, you sat down as well on your favorite seat.
"So what made you like a mess earlier?"
You spoke up first trying to break the ice between you two as Danielle spoke up.
"Ugh just my signature getting rejected"
"Huh. Was it that the paper I signed the other night soaked?"
"Hehehe."
Danielle scratched the back of her head guilty of what she did as you sighed and Chuckled a bit. No wonder you found the quality of the paper before weird. It was soaked the dried up quickly.
"So what are you doing now?"
"Well now I have to do another one. But only 75 people signature this time and it's due on Wednesday"
"Oh so your boss needs it?"
"Boss? Naur my professer need it."
"Naur? You australian?"
"Yeet."
You smiled by her energetic response as the two of you shared a laughter together. This was quite a surprise for you because unlike a few of those times when meeting a new person, it was always about business and there was no feeling or sense of friendship that could brew between yet with Danielle, there was no such thing like that. It felt like you have known her since you were in highschool. An old friend kind of vibe.
"Can I see those papers miss…"
"Danielle! Danielle Marsh. 22 years old, college student studying management… And hopefully the one you call baby girl.."
Danielle mumbled the last part and you didn't even get a whip of what she said in the last line because Danielle quickly showed her the papers in which your attention went through.
True to her words, it did need 75 signature from strangers and somehow you felt bad for her knowing she had limited time to do this task. Then a light bulb of an idea popped into your head but will you really take that risk of getting out of your comfort zone to help someone?
Once again, the words of Sunoo echoed in your head making you choose the light bulb of your idea. It will be risky but at this point, you just trusted your guts and went with it.
"I'll help you out. By tomorrow afternoon this should be all signed up."
Danielle gasped covering her mouth with her hands as she couldn't believe your making a move on her. As crazy as it sounds, to Danielle's checklist, this was her first strike that the guy was perfect for her. Of course you didn't know this as you read her expression as shocked but what you didn't know was that she gasped because she thought you were making a move on her by helping her.
"R-Really? You'll help me?"
"Yeah sure since my last signature was wasted. I want it this time to be for good use."
"Oh thank you so much.. Err…"
"Y/N. Just call me Y/N"
"Thank you Y/N."
Out of nowhere, Danielle stood up and hugged you with her face deep in your chest. That action made your heart race so fast as you were sure Danielle could hear it. You were about to push her away when a sudden calmness washed over you when you saw Danielle looking up to you sweetly. It really felt weird seeing someone like her keep you so calm and relaxed without even trying. Add in her cute smile and eyes that see your reflection.
.
.
.
True to your words, you managed to get 75 signature from everyone in the company. You even got your boss to sign because Sunoo told everyone a fake lie. Sunoo must have heard it wrong but in reality, he heard it correctly. You were trying to help Danielle with her signature and he began spreading the word that you helping your secret girlfriend in college and everyone ended up signing it so fast to the point your boss even gave you his blessing.
Of course this made you a little annoyed how they signed it just to show their support for you but that also makes you happy that the people your working with was supportive of you. And perhaps it could also be a sign they want you to have a girlfriend already. So since you already have Danielle's contact on your phone you called her and not even a second in she already answered it in a heartbeat.
You told her that you'll be meeting her in the bench on the familiar sidewalk to which she agreed upon. So as the time to leave for work had arrive, you excused yourself to leave early which your boss was all okay about it. So you left work not even realizing your still wearing your work polo with the logo of your company on it. You sat there waiting for Danielle and it didn't take long before Danielle arrived.
Her bright smile once again shined as you couldn't get enough of her smiling beauty.
"Heyya Y/N, you look like a hard working man hehe~"
You blushed in embarrassment realizing that you were still in your work polo as you chuckled about it. Usually you would just brush off the compliment but when it comes to Danielle, somehow those compliments hit your heart in a bullseye accuracy.
"Oh.. Umm thanks Danielle. Ah right, here's the paper"
You handed her her project and truth be told, you did keep your promise as Danielle look so shocked and happy upon seeing the Paper filled with signatures.
"You really did do it! Thank you so much!!"
Danielle leaped unto you forcing you to catch her in your arms as she hugged you tightly. You were already blushing because this is the second time you hugged her and it felt so right to have her in your arms. She giggled as she buried her face on your chest and you really didn't want to let her go but it would very awkward to just keep on hugging her this long. So as you were letting her go, Danielle felt your arms getting loose so she hugged you tighter hoping you would get the signal that she didn't want you to let her go. She didn't care if she wanted to be clingy, because she IS clingy.
"Who said you can let go? Hmph! Meanie.."
Danielle looked up at you with a pout as you chuckled and sigh as you decided to hug her again. And just like that, Danielle was once again happy.
"I need to repay you somehow Y/N."
"You don't have to Danielle It's fine."
"Naur it's not. You helped me alot. I know, I'll make you lunch from now on and you can't say Naur okay?"
"But-"
She placed a finger on your mouth shutting you up as she giggled and smiled.
"Please? Preety pleaseeee?"
"Well I guess that wouldn't hurt."
"Yeet!"
Danielle giggled as she once again buried her face on your chest and at this point, you were getting accustomed to her Being a clingy girl and a sweet sunshine.
.
.
.
Waking up to get to work again wasn't something new you to yet this time it felt more postive in a sense your actually eager to work today. There was that postive aura around you right now and you couldn't help but smile as you looked at yourself in the mirror looking alright. You checked your watch as you stepped out of the door, only to be greeted by ms. Sunshine.
"Morning Y/N. I made you lunch as I promised hehehe~"
Danielle was holding a packed lunch but what caught your eye was her wearing an apron in her clothes and it looked like she just went to a slug fest with so many stains all over her apron. You felt a huge burning sensation growing up your cheeks as you felt embarrassed and happy by her gesture.
"You didn't have too Danielle. I told you I don't-"
Danielle got up close to you placing a finger up your mouth shutting you up as she giggled and puffed her cheeks.
"I told you didn't I? I promised to make you lunch until then. So just please accept it."
Knowing that she went through hell to make you a lunch box and it shows in her apron and in her hands because there are 4 bandaids in her fingers which she was trying to hide under the lunch box. Seeing her and the fact she mafe effort for you just show how serious she is when it comes to keeping her word so you accepted it. And boy the way your fingers brushed against her, Danielle's cheeks burned red and her heart rushed so fast.
"Thanks Danielle. I'm sure I'll enjoy it."
"Hehehe~ Goodluck at work today."
She waved goodbye at you waved back and walked towards your workplace. As you walk your mind couldn't believe that you actually got a free lunch and you didn't have to suffer from the horrible lunch at work and not to disrespect the lunch lady there, but the food they are serving their are so limited and so small. Yes it's delicious but the portion is so small your stomach would be asking for more. So having a packed lunch from someone isn't just a good reason to avoid the cafeteria at work but it also means that someone cares for you.
And immediately that thought made you smile a little and blush as you couldn't believe your own thoughts.
"Gosh what are you doing to me Danielle."
As you look at the packed lunch you saw a sticky note on the top of the cover that says
"You need a lot of vitamin ME"
Which made you chuckle in amusement by her Witty jokes and it was the perfect quote to start the day ahead of you. And this continued on as Danielle continued to make you lunch every morning with witty jokes which are subtle hints of her feelings for you such as the quotes like:
"I am yours, No refund"
"You must be a camera because you make me smile"
"You know it's hard to find a girl who's so smart, cute, preety and top it all, an aussie. So don't Lose me got it mate?"
And there is one quote which really was your favorite of them all as it says:
"Don't you look away, don't pass me by Anything you want, babe, tell me what do you need"
Danielle knew that sending that quote was risky but she was ready to risk it all for you and when you read that quote your heart raced and a huge blush appear on your face. You usually sit away from the crowd in the cafeteria since you got lunch from Danielle and you didn't want to make any rumors about your life and you didn't want anyone to know about Danielle. Except for one guy.
"Gotcha you bastard. Who packed you lunch huh?"
Sunoo finally caught gist of you as you usually spend lunch with him so when you started to isolate from him, he began to raise an eyebrow and this only made him more believe that your doing something fishy which he believes is related to your relationship status. And he could be right.
"Wh-what are you talking about?"
"Don't lie, you can't cook shit. So who made you lunch? Your girlfriend?"
"I don't have a-"
"Or perhaps your dating someone?"
"I don't-"
"You like her don't you?"
"I…. I….. Yeah.. I think I have fallen for Danielle"
"Wait.. Wait so you DO have someone?!"
Sunoo couldn't believe it. His theory was proven right and your walls just crumbled and it was all Danielle's fault. She broke that protective wall of yours that you kept away from romance yet Danielle, pushed through and got it broken down. Her efforts didn't go in vain because you noticed it upon yourself too.
"So the reason you work so hard and happy was because of her dude?"
"Am I really showing happiness at work?"
"Duh. You have been more brighter for the past few weeks compared to the last few months or even when you started here. You were so non chalant and bland yet now, you seem to be shining brightly."
Danielle's bright personality has finally rubbed into you as you couldn't believe the postive impact she has brought upon you and to others.
"But what if she hates me or-"
"Dude, she made you lunch just once?"
"No she's been making me lunch for the past few weeks."
"Fucking marry her and don't ever let her go dipshit."
Sunoo shook you as he said this and you decided to take his words once again. Danielle has nothing but sweet and a ball of sunshine for you. Your usual cycle of repeating boring process has come to an end with Danielle now in that mix. Everyday seems so enjoyable now and you look forward to it more than before.
But are you really ready to take that risk to love again? Will it finally clicked this time and wouldn't end in vain? This questions has been running rampant on your mind as the day goes by. The moment you clocked out of work, you saw the sunset setting and you took in all what have happened for the past few weeks and there you already found your answer.
Just as the universe seems to be setting you up, you got a messaged from Danielle that says,
"I made you dinner. I made too much earlier Lol"
The perfect scenario was upon you and a sudden hit of nostalgia rushed in your mind making you smile a little but instead of leaving in pain, you were optimistic something good was gonna happen so you rushed out of the company wearing your suit and the winds pass you by.
Danielle on the other hand was patiently waiting infront of your door with a bowl and a sticky note which was her last. Because today she was gonna do it. She had consoled Lily about today and it was the day of confession. Her heart couldn't keep it in anymore as it just screams your name everytime she sees you or everytime she makes you lunch. She needs to let her heart speak now and that last sticky note is the last one that speaks her heart.
But she didn't have to wait long as you walked up the stairs and there she stood and as if she was in a painting, the sunset behind her gave her the perfect complimentary to her beauty as ger white Capri sun dress and twin tails just makes so picture perfect. You Stared at her in Awe for a couple of seconds before walking up to her quite nervous and scared. Scared that history may repeat itself again.
"Hey Danielle. That's a huge pot."
"Oh right sorry I made too much earlier. Hehehe."
Her sweet smile really got you smiling and attracted to her and you wished this girl would be in your arms right now. But how will you pull the trigger on what you wanted to say? Anxiety was slowly beginning to creep up to you and it makes you so-
"Ah, I have one last note for you Y/N."
"Last note?"
Danielle nodded and that made you feel so sad and devastated. It felt like the ride was about to end with her and you would go back to your usual boring repetitive cycle. Danielle turned the cover of the pot with the note that says..
"Baby your my special one, cause you're the one I like"
Danielle stared right straight into your eyes not wanting you break eye contact because tonight was gonna be big for her. Her heart was racing quick and her hands were sweating but she took one deep breath as she let her heart do the talking.
"Y/N. You have been such a great person to me. You have helped me a lot of times now and I really am thankful for that. I thought I was crazy at first but I didn't expect that the person I fell in love with was within my view all this time."
You stayed silent listening to her as your heart was pounding so fast.
"We walk the same sidewalk everyday yet before I wasn't aware of you but ever since I saw you, my eyes was all locked in you. Because in that sea of people, I only have my eyes set on you."
"So before I… Before we have our… Meal.. Which I hope is not the last time we see each other because I don't want to make things awkward.. Umm.. I.. I.. I just wanna say-"
"Yeah I fell for you too Danielle. A lot."
"I love you-Wait what?"
You stunned Danielle so fast her eyes went so wide like the sunset as you chuckled at her reaction. Hearing her words was enough to confirm that your heart and her heart screamed the same song called love.
"My life has always been a repeating a cycle but I thought that was enough for me. Until you came into my life and change that. Everyday I See a reason to keep me smiling and motivated to work because you, you Danielle make my world so bright."
Danielle just stared at you with the most loving look as if she was ready to melt under your touch and you decided to do just that. You cup her cheeks and kissed her forehead and said the words that stopped Danielle.
"I love you Danielle."
As soon as those words was spoken Danielle placed the pot on the floor let and hugged you tightly and began bombarding your cheeks with kisses.
"You don't know how much I was holding myself to not kiss your cheeks. Now I can kiss you as much as I can. Hehe~"
You laughed whole heartedly as you let Danielle kiss your cheeks so much as you really felt the love coming from her. Despite having a painful memory of heartbreak, Danielle was the reminder that change is the only permanent thing in the world. But more importantly, Love wins all.
"You know my co-workers will be shocked that your in college."
"Naur they won't. Besides, My friends will be proud I have such a working adult boyfriend. Who will understand my craziness."
"Oh believe me, I have seen more crazier things Danielle."
"Prove it to me babe. Hehe~"
With a smirk, you carried Danielle, princess style making her blush and laugh as you two entered your apartment but aside from being so happy where the strings between you two has finally connected, the pot of food was left outside.
.
.
.
397 notes · View notes
lalunanymph · 8 months
Text
𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐌𝐄 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘𝐃𝐎𝐋𝐋, 𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐌𝐄 𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐄 — g. satoru
; 𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 a strange man whisks you away to safety only to disappear when you least expected it
cw sugar daddy!gojo, smut (lots of it), minors shoo, 18+, barely proofread, 5.8k+ words, based on this post
; today i offer you the sugar daddy!gojo au no one asked for tomorrow who knows
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You met Gojo Satoru on the last day of November. 
The streets were echoing with the sound of boots and winter shoes, a light layer of frost covering the sidewalks and naked branches above.
It had been a slow day at your izakaya, the patrons still enmeshed in their daily workload that you were forced to tick your eyes towards the old clock behind you to count down the minutes to happy hour. 
At least with some people around, you could dull the lonely throb in the middle of your chest; the one which hoped that someone would at least make some time to tell you about their day today.
As you muddled with your mundane task of wiping down some silverware, your eyes caught the faintest movement from the doorway. 
Tall, impossibly handsome and with a presence that would draw every eye on him, it wasn’t hard to figure out that he lavished in attention. You had deciphered his motive the second he swaggered to you, a cheeky smile on his pouting lips.
“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” 
You scoffed, wiping down the counter. Fate had thrown you a curveball where instead of a sweet patron you could chat with, you were faced with yet another customer who couldn't keep it in his pants. Strangely enough, it was way too early in the day for them to be this bold and the man before you didn’t look the slightest bit drunk. Maybe he was a special case. 
“Is that the best you can come up with?”
“Cut me some slack, sweetheart. It’s four in the afternoon.”
“Very astute. And yet here you are, trying to disturb a woman working an honest job.” 
His eyes behind those stupid sunglasses raked up and down your figure. "Honest job? Yes. Honest woman? Not much."
You stopped your motions, fixing him with an icy glare. "And what's that supposed to mean?" 
"It means I know you're messing with someone you shouldn't, little girl."
Your blood froze over, though you didn't let him get the upper hand with your perfected poker face. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
His annoying cheery smile never faltered. "Let me walk you back home."
“No thanks.”
The smile he wore was edged with a glint of something darker, a smug uptick of his jaw. “It wasn’t a request. Unless you want to wake up in another life, then be my guest!” 
He turned around, one hand in his pocket, another raised in a mockery of a wave. 
The ice in your veins solidified and you didn’t know what compelled you to falter in your resolution to trust another man when you said: “Wait.”
A soft thud of his footfall on the sticky lacquered floor seemed to echo through your blaring mind. He turned his head back slightly, and through the peek of his glasses and sharp cheekbone, you noticed how bright and blue his eyes were.
Something about the brilliant hue and the look on his face melted through the defences you held fast for the better part of your life. 
“I am… I think I am in danger. What do you know?” 
The man tilted his head to the side. It was ridiculous to trust a stranger. But, for the sake of your curiosity, you had to try. 
“Satoru,” he gave you his name with a childish wink. “Gojo Satoru. Now, about that offer to walk you home…”
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Gojo’s palm was warm on your lower back, melting through the layers of your work dress and trench coat. Every hair on your body was standing on end from his touch, your throat swallowing the dryness gathering like a eulogy waiting to be expelled into the frosty thin air. 
Silently, you snuck a glance at him, bowed down by his blatant good looks. Keeping your eyes latched onto the ground, you missed the twitch in the corner of his lip, his eyelids fluttering shut, as if he could walk with his eyes closed.
“You said I was in danger?”
Even the words were hard to solidify into the real world. You cleared your throat, forcing the hoarseness through the tight pinprick of fear which clamped around your soundless despair.
“I would say it’s more than that. You’re just caught in the wrong place at the wrong time.” 
“What do you mean?” 
“Kiyosaki Kyouta. That name ring a bell?”
In the hazy recesses of your mind, you distinctly remembered a gust of hot breath on your neck, the press of a pinstripe tie against a strip of tattooed skin. 
“Vaguely,” you hummed. “What about him?” 
“Well… you really don’t know how to pick your clients, I’ll give you that,” his attempt at humour was amusing only to himself. “But, I do understand the streets of Kyoto must be dry of bastards, and you had rent to pay… wait, where was I going with this?” 
“Kiyosaki Kyouta,” you muttered impatiently. “You said that bastard’s bad news?” 
“Ah, yes!” he snapped his long fingers, and you were drawn to the clean nail beds and neat edges. 
A man who cared about his outward appearance a little too much. “Evil man. Horrible. I have a bone to pick with him, and it kinda leads to you. Might have tipped off some important people on your location. I would apologise but this is actually good news for you!
"Anyway, what do you think about moving in with me for a week?” 
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Unpacking your bags as Tokyo’s skyline greeted you was not how you expected to spend your Wednesday morning. 
After your little confusing chat with Gojo, you reckoned it was safer to put your life in the hands of a man who knew the ins and outs of your client’s mysterious life than to risk it all in your cramped, unguarded apartment. 
Gojo had left you with a salute and a shit-eating grin to adjust yourself in one of his many penthouses. Emphasis on ‘many’. 
You had no idea he was this loaded, and truth be told, the idea of many yen signs attached to his name sounded intriguing. You wanted to know more about this mysterious Gojo Satoru. 
A quick Google image search gave nothing away, and even Facebook was no help in understanding the enigma who had invited you into his home to protect your life. 
One night he came back, after leaving you for two days to your own vices, and you had had enough.
“Well?” you asked with an arch of your brow, hands crossed over your chest. “Can I go home now?” 
Gojo’s lanky figure was a source of frustration for you when you had to crane your neck to look up at him. His effervescent grin at your expense was back. “Why? Missed your bed? Not as comfy as mine?” 
You knew he was taunting you—could feel it in your bones—but what you did next was irrational as anything that came before that. 
Your hand flew towards his chest, about to hit it when it stopped. Completely. In mid-air. No matter how hard you tried to push towards the broad expanse of muscle, it wouldn’t budge. 
“What the hell—?”
“It’s my cursed technique—sorry. Superpower. Do you believe in sorcerers?” 
Your mouth fell open in a disbelieving ‘O’. 
For the next hour or so, Gojo sat you down to explain about a world hidden from yours. A world of curses, secrets and jujutsu. Energy and manifestations. Fears and delusions. 
It all created what he called Curses and he was one of the strongest ones tasked to exorcise them. 
After he finished, you sat back, in a complete daze from what you had just heard.
“H-how does this link back to Kiyosaki Kyouta?” 
Your voice was hoarse, like you were on the verge of tears. Gojo offered no sympathy when he shrugged and snickered. “Kyouta is one of the bad sorcerers. I was sent to hunt him but somehow, his traces landed on you. Some whore or another who latches onto men for their money. Naturally, his co-workers want to find out where he disappeared to and the last place he ever visited was your shitty izakaya.” 
You blinked, and your chest caved in. 
“So, that’s why it’s dangerous for me to be in public?” 
“Technically speaking, you’re not even supposed to be alive. People like you—non sorcerers—aren’t allowed to know about our world. But, it’s fine. I won’t kill you and neither will the higher ups in my community. You’re just a would-be casualty that I have to keep out of harm’s way until the dust clears.”
Gojo grinned. “In the meantime, how about we get to know a little bit about each other? I know you take off clothes for a living—”
“Shut up,” you glowered hotly. “You have no idea what choices pushed me to be here.” 
“Ah, but it must be a horrible life you lived to push you into these ideals—”
“My family were religious nutjobs.” 
For the first time since you met him, Gojo Satoru was rendered speechless. The truth you held back for a good few years spilled from your lax lips, unburdened to this relative stranger who you knew nothing about. 
After you were done remembering a past tainted by a psychopathic mother, repentant father and a small town you were forced to escape from, Gojo slumped back onto the sofa, a telltale purse of concentration puckering his lips. 
“Shit,” he punctuated his succinct observation with a low whistle. You thought he would offer you sympathy, or at least a sneer of disbelief. Not— “You wanna have a drink?” 
Drinking with Gojo was an unexpected occurrence, but you figured that when it came to a man like Satoru, it was best to go with the flow rather than resist it. He could barely handle his liquor, and you were no better. Years in this seedy industry hadn’t hardened your resilience to alcohol as much as you wanted to believe, and when you slumped against his broad shoulder, he didn’t fight you off.
Gojo smelled good. Your hazy mind detected notes of citrus and the sea from his frosty white locks. 
“If I kissed you right now, would you fight me off?” 
His voice, low and a hum, pierced through your mind like a ringing gunshot. You sat up, trying to focus your glassy eyes on him.
Emboldened by the liquor, you mumbled, “Depends on how you kiss me.” 
His soft lips were on yours in a heartbeat. 
Kissing Gojo was a sensation you could not describe. Imagine riding a rollercoaster, but instead of freefalling, you were shooting straight up to the atmosphere. You kept on climbing higher and higher, until your lungs ached and your heartbeat stuttered behind your eyelids. 
Even his lanky, large frame pressing you onto the carpeted floor could not bring you down from hurtling head first into his devouring kisses. Gojo mouthed hungrily at your lower lip, the slip of his warm tongue gliding along the seam of your mouth, parting it easily like water does to sugar paper. 
Nothing could keep him from coaxing you to intertwine deeper with him, but the slide of that damning tongue against yours, and the messy clash of teeth was close enough to convince you. The hot press of those large palms on the small sliver of skin exposed from your shirt riding up drove you dizzy with lust, the ache between your thighs thrumming hotly. 
Gojo was steadily leading you down a path you could not come back from. There was more at stake than your safety; your future was figuratively held in those nimble, knobbly fingers that were pale like snow and long like a talented pianist. 
He could decide when you were safe. Only he was the one you would trust with your life. 
After all, he hadn’t given you reason to doubt him.
Spreading your thighs wider to accommodate him in between them, you let him grasp your hips, tugging the elastic waistband of your shorts down. Once you were fully exposed, your cheeks warmed, and a sliver of sobriety started to encroach your consciousness. 
Those icy blue eyes were alight with a fire you had never seen before. The smooth pads of his fingers glided up your ribcage, skimming the hardness of your bra cup, implicitly asking for permission. 
Despite not knowing anything about him but his name and his terrible secret, you lifted yourself up, perching on your elbows. Gojo’s dark shades slipped down the bridge of his shapely nose, and you ignored the voice in your head to be careful when you gently pinched the wireframe of the expensive Ray Bans, carefully removing it and placing it on his coffee table. 
Finally unveiled to you with no barriers, his brilliant eyes render you speechless. You had stolen glances of them behind the dark glass, but nothing could prepare you for the brilliance of looking at them without them. 
You felt like you could drown in those baby blue depths, those thick white lashes framing his beautiful eyes tickling your bare neck. His soft kisses followed next, full of a strange restricted passion you could feel thrumming from his fingertips over your ribs as they slowly ascended up the column of your neck and towards your jaw. 
Gojo hummed, the tip of his tongue tracing your jawline with precise teasing. 
Splotches of red adorned his cheeks, giving him a certain humanness you had never noticed from this sculpture of a strange man. Something about that little blip gave way to his vulnerability, and it made your heart sing. 
Strong fingers snapped your bra off, and then your panties, and finally, you had nothing to hide yourself from his piercing blue eyes. They shone with an effervescent emotion you could not name, and your heartbeat doubled when you peered down the length of your body, noticing his cheek pressed to your pelvis. 
Gojo was a large man, though you hadn’t noticed it in the beginning. Hidden by his button down shirt, you feasted on the visual carnival of muscles rippled across his nimble body, biceps pulsing and abs undulating when he scooted down to your pelvis level. A smug grin adorned his peachy lips, and you flushed with want at the sight of him kissing your hip bone softly. 
“Cat got your tongue,” he teased. 
You pursed your lips, darting your eyes to land on a painting beside you rather than the man poised in between your thighs to pleasure you. 
“Shut up.” 
“Feisty,” Gojo drawled. “But, no matter. They’re always stubborn until they’re begging for more.”
You were about to snap that you weren’t going to stoop low enough to plead for him when you felt his mouth brushing your honeyed folds. 
There was something electrifying about Gojo Satoru. 
His movements burned through you, seared your protests off your kiss-bruised lips. You could do nothing but let him have his way with you. 
Gojo sampled you like you were a foreign dessert, taking his time to memorise your taste. 
Your fingers twisted in his silky, white locks, and he moaned deeply in appreciation when you started to tug on them. The vibrations edged your core towards a release you felt welling inside of you like a violent wave. 
No man had ever taken his time to eat you out this thoroughly—like you were worth the decadent lust you were denied from a life of selfish lovers.
Gojo Satoru was anything but selfish with you. 
Every curl of his tongue and soft moan got you higher towards that sacred spot. He was leading you straight into heaven, sparks flying off behind your tightly squeezed eyes. 
You felt his hand on your hip, massaging it lightly. 
“Don’t keep me waiting… cum for me, princess.” 
That nickname and his sultry command set off a series of fireworks down your spine. You arched your back, a scream of his name released into this echoing hall of his penthouse. 
“Gojo!” 
He laced his fingers with yours, prolonging your high by sucking hard on your clit, hard enough to leave a mark behind. 
Strong arms wrapped you to his side, and Gojo laid next to you, the stretch of his toned body melting with yours. 
“Fuck,” you whispered, eyes crossing from the pleasure holding you in its thrumming hostage. “That was…” 
He hummed, lifting you to straddle his lap. The thick nudge of his cock brought you back to the ground, the pleasure singing in your veins rising to a crescendo. 
“So tight,” he whispered, more to himself. “I’m going to ruin you.” 
You hoped he did. You hoped he would keep that promise—forever. 
The expanse of his chest was the terrain which your hands ran over, memorising every dip and sharp jut from his defined collarbone to his washboard abs. You couldn’t keep your touch from roaming down the fine smattering of white hair leading straight to the throbbing length currently nudging past your tight opening. 
Once he settled in, a wince of pleasure overtook both your features. Gojo lolled his head to the side, cursing softly, his hair bleeding across the floor like the first fall of snow. 
In this position, he left the control entirely up to you—a first you would never expect from such a self-possessed man.
You moved in tandem to his controlled grinding. One thing led to another, and you were somehow pressed to the wall, legs wrapped around his slim waist. 
This close, you had no idea how blind you had been to his sheer size. Towering over you and easily hooking your thighs around his body, Gojo bounced you up and down his cock like you were a rag doll, drawing out your sweet moans which were like music to his ears. 
“That’s it,” he coaxed, his hoarse voice drawing you to the edge like a wave to the shore. “I feel you squeezing down on me.” 
Those prettiest blue eyes pinned your full attention onto him, and you couldn’t resist leaning forward, smushing your mouth with his in a messy attempt at a kiss. Gojo kissed you back with equal fervour, and the fever pitch lust he incited and you reacted to was reaching its peak. 
Both your bodies trembled from the onslaught of a release that shook your cores. 
Gojo slid to his knees with a low groan bringing you along with him—the strongest sorcerer in the world weakened by your perfect pussy squeezing down on him. 
You nuzzled his cheek, panting his name softly. “Gojo…”
“Satoru,” he mumbled, almost inaudibly. 
You felt his fingers twist the hair at the nape of your neck, feathering soft caresses on the sensitive strip of skin with the pad of his thumb. 
“Call me Satoru.” 
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Your relationship with Gojo Satoru was strange, to say the least.
After rocking your entire world that night, he disappeared the morning after. No calls, no notes.
All he left behind was his black card, and later during the afternoon, an unknown number texted you: ‘Go crazy <3’ 
So, you did. 
You bought yourself clothes, makeup, and skincare which you couldn’t previously afford with your salary as a waitress. You reasoned that if you were going to live with this unknown man for an extended period of time, you were going to make your stay as comfortable as possible.
The other sugar daddies who had treated you to a taste of luxury were faint shadows in your mind. Your entire world was consumed fully by Satoru. He was easily richer than any man who had tried to woo you. It was as if his bank account was bottomless. 
Though he had never explicitly asked you to be his sugar baby, his true intention was seen when he returned three days later, bending you over the couch until you squirted all over his picture-perfect abs. 
Later, he left yet another credit card on his flawless mahogany dining table, and this time, you had no qualms in getting yourself sets of lingerie, which you sent to that unknown number in hopes that he would see it. 
You never expected him to turn up at the door an hour later, an easy grin on his plush lips even as the veins were bulging in his forearm from his tightly clenched fists.
“Wrong number, sweetheart,” he chortled, removing the strange purple uniform he wore to reveal the white button down underneath. The material fell to the floor with a heavy thud. “That was Ijichi you were trying to seduce, but I’ll forgive you.” 
“Ijich—” 
You barely had time to utter another man’s name, not when your words were swallowed completely by his smothering kiss. 
Gojo guided you towards the table, and you realised a second too late what he was doing until your head was hanging from the edge, your mouth wide open and waiting. He removed his pants, and palmed your heavy tit with one hand. 
“Are you wearing it underneath this stupid shirt?” 
His voice was edged with something dark and demanding. You nodded, glassy eyes catching his blown-wide ones. 
Satoru didn’t waste time in removing the bothersome t-shirt you wore, revealing the silky white set you bought which matched his hair. 
“Like an angel,” he whispered, and gave you no time to reply, not when his cock was slowly easing down your throat.
You would’ve thought that sucking Satoru off like this would be demeaning, but Gojo never once made you feel like a whore for falling into your deeper instincts. You wanted to please him, and he wanted you to please him. 
It was an equal give and take that left you both shaking and slick with sweat. 
Satoru eyed your writhing body and thought that the world’s best art instalments would never do justice to the piece of poetry unfurling before him. He had seen Monet, DaVinci and Van Gogh in real life, but none of them could quite capture the euphoria of your flushed cheeks and swollen lips wrapping around his cock like a love offering. 
Without warning, he withdrew his length from your mouth, and you were straddling his lap in a blink of an eye. Satoru’s superpowers—as you liked to call them—made him faster and more nimble than any man you had ever slept with. 
Sinking you down on his cock, Gojo set a pace that rattled your teeth, leaving you like putty to his ministrations. His face was buried in the crook of your neck, muffled whines of “fuck… feel so good” bruising your skin like the marks he left on the same spot. 
You were growing delirious from the high, every sensory overload screaming out his name like a siren. 
Gojo had this uncanny ability to know your body better than you did, and you almost hated how easily it was for him to get you crumbling. As if your walls never existed in the first place, you fell for his lopsided grin and the tender way he cupped your face as he kissed you senseless. 
Your heart was a puddle right under your spread thighs, obvious for the world to see. 
Gojo Satoru had wormed himself under your skin, and he was never going to leave. 
You had to make sure of it.
“Stay tonight,” you whispered against his lips while he continued to piston his slick cock in and out of you. 
Gojo hoped you didn’t feel the tremble of his lower lip against yours. Prayed that the hitch in his breath would be taken as his orgasm quickly approaching and not as a nameless, terrifying feeling he was fighting hard to not succumb to. 
Your eyes were closed, like you were praying, though realistically, Gojo knew it was because of your impending orgasm about to drag you under. 
“Hmm,” he murmured in what he hoped was a noncommittal hum. 
Leaving you without an answer, Satoru chose to play with your clit as a means to distract you from his torn thoughts. He thumbed the greasy bud until you gasped and your back bowed, a look of painful reprieve overtaking your entire expression. 
“Satoru…” 
A sharp inhale and one quick tremble. Gojo felt you cum all over his cock. 
Your eyes drooped close, the hormones and oxytocin leaving you floating on a cloud of satisfaction that you didn’t feel him carrying you into his bedroom. 
The sensation of a warm blanket engulfing you filled your woozy mind with more cotton, and you briefly registered the feeling of someone sliding under the covers together with you. 
More warmth wrapped around you, and in a simple instant, you were fast asleep, completely unaware of Gojo’s tightening embrace as he held you close to his heart—like you would disappear the second he opened his eyes. 
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You never thought Satoru would leave you, but he did. 
Where you both would frequently text and exchange memes throughout the day, everything went radio silent on an unexpected note. 
The messages you sent him wouldn’t go through, green bubbles of confusion on the screen leaving you laced with nausea for his safety. On the second day of no contact, you decided to venture out on your own. 
Satoru had never explicitly kept you under lock and key, but when he was around, you found that you didn’t want to escape his clutches. 
The outside world seemed different without him. The sun was bleached of its colour, and the trees felt fake. It was like a rendered movie your eyes were not used to. 
Everywhere you went, you hoped you would stumble into him. Down a corner of the street, past a restaurant he once told you about which served the best ramen. Your heart hummed with Gojo’s name, and yet, this empty world could not answer your wishes.
Two days turned into four, and by the fifth, a man from your past reached back to you. 
You had lived long enough in this sinful life to know when someone was done with you. Gojo Satoru had probably chewed on you long enough till your presence was tasteless to him, and had left to cleanse his palette with someone else. It wouldn’t be the first time a man has done this. 
I thought he was different. 
But, he was like every other man you had been with. They all eventually got tired of you.
A dull thrum took up space where your heart once pulsed with life. You went through the motions—fucking your ex-fling, Mori, taking his money, spending it on little niceties that brightened your day for a nanosecond before it went back to grey. 
You would never have expected the call that came exactly nineteen days after you had left Gojo’s penthouse. 
It was seven in the morning, too early for you to be awake unless you had work. The weekend was today, and you were hoping to get in your much needed eight hours of sleep, but the shrill tone of your phone would not leave you alone.
You answered it in your half-grogginess. 
“Hello?” 
“Sweetheart?” 
Just like that, the colours of the world came back to life. 
Your eyes shot wide open, a thrill of excitement and disbelief forcing you from the bed.
With your heart in your throat, you uttered the shades of a name you missed the most on your tongue. 
“S-Satoru?” 
“It’s me, gorgeous. Where are you? Why’re you not home?” 
Home. The word throbbed like a tender wound in your soul. Gojo thought you belonged in his home. 
“I’m—”
Before you could speak, the man next to you yawned loudly and pawed your ass. Ignoring your tiny yelp, he rubbed his spiky cheek against your shoulder. “Who’s that, baby?” 
Loud enough for Satoru to hear from his end. 
You held your breath the moment Gojo expelled his noisily. 
“Baby?” His voice was saccharine sweet. Deceptive. “Are you with another man?” 
“I—” 
“No, no. I understand,” you could picture his glossy lips stuck in a pout and ached to kiss him thoroughly. “I left without an explanation. I’m on my way.” 
The second his call ended, you heard a loud crack coming from the foot of your bed. Mori jerked back like a dog scalded with hot water at the sight of your previous lover’s mischievous grin. 
“Aha. Knew I would find you here,” he crowed triumphantly to you. As for the man who had warmed your bed while he was gone, Satoru faked a pout. “Aw. I think you stayed way past your welcome. You should skedaddle, don’t you think?” 
“Wait,” Mori gruffly got up from the bed, his bloodshot eyes narrowed. “Who the fuck are you—”
One second, he was right next to you, and the next, he was gone.
Your scream was cut short when Gojo materialised next to you, palm over your mouth to muffle your sobs. 
“Relax,” he crooned. “I just sent him to the train station… in his underwear.” You hiccuped, fixing your wide, glossy onto his smiling face, suddenly afraid. You had no idea of the extent of Satoru’s powers and you were too scared to find out. But, he never gave you any more reason to be alarmed, his genial smile never faltering. 
“I think it’s time we both went home, don’t you?” 
He lifted you into his arms like you weighed next to nothing. You blinked and your room seemed to shimmer, a creeping heat crawling all over your body. 
“Satoru—”
You barely had time to yell out his name in warning when you opened your eyes and found yourself in his living room. 
Dumbfounded, your mind pinged around like a lost signal, unable to wrap around the fact that you had basically teleported halfway across from Tokyo. Satoru set you down on your wobbly feet, and you lurched forward, palms pressed to his sturdy chest.
“Careful, pumpkin.” 
The black tee he wore stretched gloriously over his muscles, and for a split second, you took a minute to rake your eyes up and down his broader frame. 
Did Satoru start to workout while he was gone?
His biceps were thicker, and the widened frame of his body left you tethering in shock. 
There was no way a person could get this buff in such a short time. 
The Satoru before had a good amount of muscle, but the Satoru now was practically god-like. It struck a note of fear in you, one which he noticed.
“Sweetheart?” he gently coaxed, using two fingers to tip your face up to look at him. His blue eyes—shifting like the ocean—welcomed you into his waves. “It’s still me. Don’t be scared.”
Your words lodged in the back of your throat like a cough which you could never release. They itched and ached to tell him how much you missed him, but you were so very scared he would never reciprocate those feelings.
“Where did you go?” you bleated pathetically instead. “You were gone for so long.”
“It’s quite a story,” he drawled, and those blue eyes sparkled with mischief though they were tempered by something else. A certain loss you could feel on the tips of your fingers when you caressed his cheeks. “I think I’ll tell you later—after I’m done fucking you.” 
He kept true to his word. 
Gojo spent the entire morning in between your legs, eating you out while you shook and moaned his name over and over again. The walls were starting to spin, the drool had long dried on your chin and he was still tonguing your folds with the precision of a master. 
Hazy-eyed and weak, you mewed his name, and Gojo allowed your fingers to tug on the roots of his hair. 
“Feeling good, baby?” 
You were too fucked out to speak, nodding instead. 
Gojo chuckled quietly to himself and removed the last article of his clothing—his black pants—to reveal his pale, beautiful cock already throbbing with anticipation. Your breath hitched when he circled the blushing tip against your needy clit, and your whine was pleasure personified the second he slid into your tight heat.
The man you so desperately wanted to belong to held you close to his chest while his large palms grasped your fleshy thighs, using them to guide you up and down his length. 
All the while your mouth was latched onto his, your whispers of his name melting into a deluge of more, more, more. Those whines would be the death of him—if Satoru had not perished in the Prison Realm, he was sure he would’ve lost his soul right in the lock-up of your arms. 
You were kissing him like your life depended on it, and maybe, just maybe, Satoru was deluded enough to believe you loved him.
It was worth a shot when he asked: “Are you mine?” 
Your answer was a teary little nod and a hiccup of his name. “Y-yours.” 
That was all the confirmation he needed. 
Satoru doubled down on his thrusts, trying to get you to that sacred place in between pleasure and overstimulation. Your legs trembled around him, and your whimpers fueled him to catch his breath, his eyes fluttering shut.
The both of you exploded in complete ecstasy, your bodies writhing on the large couch as pleasure burned through the late morning light. 
His arms were leadened weights around you, and your breath was caught in your throat when you came about to find him smiling down at you.
“What?” you tried to scowl. 
Satoru smirked, using the pad of his index finger to smoothen out the crinkle in between your brow. 
“Nothing.”
“It’s something.” 
“I told you—it’s nothing.”
You thinned your lips together to avoid a silly grin from spreading. “You are such a horrible liar.”
“Me?” he pretended to gasp, putting a hand on his pale, sweaty chest. “Ugh. You’re soooo wrong, sweetie.”
“Am I?” you challenged. 
Satoru’s grin was infectious, and you found yourself smiling dopily in response. 
“You know what, you may be right,” he admitted.
“About what?” you hummed, drawing his hand close to your lips and kissing his knuckles.
“That you’re mine.” 
You paused, and the morning sunlight twinkled in his ocean-blue eyes, skittering across the surface of your shocked expression like a ripple over crystal water. 
Here goes nothing. “And I’m yours.”
Your silence was nerve-wrecking and Satoru wished your cheek wasn’t pressed onto his chest where you could hear the maddening beat of his heart.
His thoughts came to a futile halt when you laughed—a sweet, chiming melody that was delicious than any treat he ever had in his life. Your wide and honest expression made something deep in his soul cave, and the next words you whispered kindled in him a flame for life he thought had long extinguished.
“I never got the chance to say this… but, welcome home, Satoru.” 
— feedback and reblogs are very much appreciated <33
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caxde · 1 year
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dark honey | steve harrington x reader
summary you're Dustin's older sister, working on the new café next to Family Video and being best friends with Steve is your day to day, until feelings start to blossom one late night. (6.1k)
warnings fem!reader, fluff, mutual pining, yearning etc, slowburn friends to lovers, idiots in love!!!, mentions of alcohol use, english is not my first language so I apologise if there’s some mistakes, not proof read! 
part 2
-
“Just remember, I can’t pick you up today” you let out, with an exhausted sigh.
“Yeah, yeah I know, don’t worry.” Your little brother beamed up at you, his hair as wild as ever, even when it’s covered by his hat. 
“‘Kay, be careful, have a good day Dust!” You scream out at the little boy running inside the old building. He just lifts his hand up, giving you a little thumbs up as he runs up to his friends. 
You smile to yourself, the scene looks as though it had been picked out of a movie, the bright sun hitting you softly, the skies are blue and clear and you’ve got all of the day ahead of you. Well, not all of it was for you, you still had to go to work and whatnot, but as luck would have it, you absolutely adored your job. 
The little coffee shop had opened up a month ago, and it’s not like you didn’t like stocking videos and spending time on Family Video, but truth be told, you could do with the change.         Granted, it was next door, and it was slow at times, but it didn’t matter. 
You parked on your usual spot, the music on your car lingering for a second as you enjoyed the last notes of the song escaping through the speakers. 
Today, you were on your own, your coworker had opened for you, and was waiting for you to arrive so they could leave. They had begged you to cover for them so they could go to The University of Indianapolis and hopefully enroll onto one of their curses. Of course you agreed, you didn’t even need to know the reason, you always helped everyone, even if it meant that you would have to do a longer shift than usual, you didn’t really care as long as you felt useful. 
So there you were now, the first rush was almost over, and the little coffee shop was settling now. Someone was enjoying a book quietly by the window, and two friends were having a catch up moment, chatting animatedly over their black coffee and croissants. 
You turned your back to the door as you took advantage to clean a bit, the counter had some spills here and there, and your fingers seemed to be stained with the smell of the beans you had to grind. 
And you knew he was there, feeling his stare on your back as he stood patiently on the other side of the counter. You felt yourself smiling before you turned to him. 
It was his routine, you noticed. When you worked together he always came late and with a coffee stain on the corner of his mouth. Now he came five minutes before he had to clock in so he could say hello to you and have his coffee there, or to go if he was in a rush. 
“Hi” You said, warmth in your voice. 
“Hey” He said back, his head nodding at you as he pursed his lips together, his hair bouncing. “You doing okay?” You smiled as you always did before nodding at his questions. His voice was still hoarse from waking up. 
You turn around, placing a to-go cup on the coffee machine, starting it as you turn back at him. 
“I haven’t told you what I want yet.” He teased, the back of his hand scratching his eye, as if to get the rest of the sleep out. 
“You always order the same.” You tell him, your cheeks burning from glee to get to see him, even for five minutes. 
“I do not…” He scoffs, trying to sound offended, but his grin gives his happiness away. 
You shake your head, turning back to finish his order, and he just stands there, fixated on the way your black shirt is tucked into your flared jeans, and how your hair falls away from your face, all falling gracefully behind you, effortless. He had once asked you how you did your hair, and when you told him that you were too lazy to do anything else that wasn’t air dry it, he was too embarrassed to tell you about his long ritual, so he lied and said he did that too. His mind was snapped away from the colourful memory as soon as he saw you smiling at him, his little to-go on your hands. 
“There you go, Harrington.” You muttered as you placed it in front of him. 
“Thanks, Henderson.” He smiled at you as he took the first sip.
You turned away, continuing to clean up, when you heard his exasperated sigh. 
“I’m not letting you pay.” You remind him, as you look him over your shoulder, acting as if you’re too busy to actually do it. 
“Someday, you’ll have to let me pay!” He insisted. 
“Maybe, not today though, you’ll be late.” You tell him, nodding at the big clock on the right wall. 
“Shit, you’re right.” He said, taking another rushed sip. “When are you getting off?” He asked, with the same grin he always had. 
“Late, closing today.” You let him know. As he starts to walk to the door, you see how his face changes to one of concern. 
“Do you want me to pick up Dustin?” You look at him, briefly before smiling at the ground in a nod, you know that he’s serious, and that he’d do it if you asked. He’d do anything really if you asked, though you didn’t know it yet. 
“If you do, call him, I told him I couldn’t.” You say, gratitude obvious in your tone, his cheeks rise as he smiles at you. 
“Yeah, I’ve got a break I can use.” He opens the door, and takes a second to look at you one more time. “Bye.” 
“Bye Steve.” You say, more to yourself than him, as you see him rushing next door, given that his shift had started 2 minutes ago. 
-
Even for April, it was unreasonably cold that night, and you were glad that your shift was coming to an end. You weren’t exhausted, but you’d lie to yourself if you said that you would do anything else that wasn’t going straight to your bed once you were home. 
And obviously, it helped tremendously that Steve had come to sit at one of the back tables as he waited for you to finish, so you could both head home at the same time, as you used to do when you worked together. 
Honestly, you didn’t work that much back then. Sure, when it was a weekend you had no time to spare, but in the weekdays you two were usually messing around, his favourite game to play with you was throwing you small crumpled up paper balls, and seeing as you failed miserably to catch most of them, and celebrating when you did. It was stupid, but it was always full of giggles. He liked the sound of your voice when he managed to make you laugh. 
But now, Steve has found a new favourite past-time. He spent his time trying to find a movie you’d like, and pitching it to you when he came over his break, or when he walked to your car. He also enjoyed what he was doing now. Sitting down, acting as if he’s deep into a book, or magazine or whatever Robin had left behind, when really he was just looking at you. It was stupid and he was aware of it, but seeing you enjoy something you actually liked doing like making people coffee and teas and giving them pastries, seeing the way your voice would pitch up whenever a kid when to the counter and asked you for anything, and you’d smile deeply at them and make them laugh… He wasn’t sure why he liked doing this so much, he just let himself enjoy it, or rather, enjoy you. 
It was empty now, except for him. The clock marked eight o’clock, so you walked over to the lights, shutting them off. He stood up and turned the little sign of the door, from we’re open to sorry! we’re closed. You gleaned at him as he rested against the door, waiting for you to finish up. One final wipe of the counter, the glass cabinet was spotless, the coffee grinder was clean and it all smelled good. You took off your apron and folded it, keeping neatly for tomorrow. 
You smiled as you relaxed your shoulders, happy to be done, you looked at him, while he opened the door for you, and he waited beside you as you closed. You started walking, as he started talking about a new movie that had just arrived, and how you will definitely like this one, you grined up at him, as you shaked up a shiver out of your body. He stopped immediately.
“You’re shivering?” He asked, looking down at you, his hands deep in the pocket of his jacket. 
“It’s alright, I’ll get in the car and I’ll warm up.” You try to brush it off, but you see how his frown appears, and you start shaking your head no, when you see him take his hands out. “Steve, my car’s right there, it’s okay.” You try to negotiate with him, to no avail, he had already made a decision on his mind. 
“You always get sick.” He says, placing his jacket on your shoulders, and playfully pushing you to continue walking. 
“Thanks.” you say, your voice quieter than usual. 
You’re unsure why, but something in you warms up by that. Is it the fact that he knows you well enough to know that you’re easily sick? Or is it how he had bent down ever so slightly and placed the jacket carefully over you? You’re not sure and you don’t care, you’re just grateful he’s there, and that you can spend some more time with him. 
Maybe that’s why you’re not really paying attention anymore. 
Maybe you’re just too focused on the review of the movie he desperately wants you to see, or maybe it's the way his profile looks with the street lights shining behind him. However, you’re glad he’s there. 
And maybe that's why you don’t realise the way your foot had bent over a rock that you hadn’t seen. Not only did you now have a sprained ankle, but you almost fell to the ground. If it weren’t for him. And the way his hand had reached out for you, and how his arm had wrapped around your waist in one smooth swoop. 
You weren’t sure if your heart was beating fast because you thought you were falling, or because Steve was holding you close. 
And he wasn’t sure either. 
He just knew that he thought you were going to hurt yourself, so he needed to make sure you didn’t, so he just grabbed you as close and as tight as he could. His hand was on your waist, and for some reason he was the one short of breath. 
His eyes looked deep into yours, as your chest raised up and down faster than before, he gave you a half smile, as he helped you to your feet again. Now you were grateful the sun was going down, since you could feel the burning on your cheeks, growing pink by the second. 
His hand lingered on the small of your back for a moment too long as he made sure you could stand up okay on your own. 
“Are you okay?” He said, his voice hardly above a whisper, still looking attentively at you.
You can’t help but laugh a bit, maybe nervously, maybe because you don’t really know what to say. 
“Yeah, yeah I’m good.” You say, tucking your hair behind your ear, looking up at him, his brown eyes looking at you, you can see the worry wash away from them as you smile at him. “Good catch.” 
That makes him laugh and you know that everything is fine now. 
But you still don’t understand why his touch has left your skin burning, or why you can’t seem to fall asleep once you're on your bed, why every time you close your eyes you see his eyes looking deeply into yours, and you remember his touch.  
-
“You’ll pick me up today?” Dustin asked, sitting on the passenger sit, with his usual up-beat tone. 
“Mmh, yeah.” You replayed lazily, sleep still present on you. 
“You shouldn’t be driving if you’re still asleep.” He remarked, at witch you scoffed, head tilting a bit as you focused on the red light. 
“You’re not driving.” You glanced at him, his mischievous grin on his face made you laugh at his direction. 
“Soon enough.” He chirped. You notice how his eyes focus up for a second, as a thought seems to worry him. 
“Spit it out Dustin.” You tell him, as the light changes from red to green. 
“Can my friends come today?” YOu scrunch your eyebrows in response, not really understanding why he was asking you. 
“Did you ask mom?” 
“Mom’s going away with Hank.” You chuckle at him, and the aversion he seemed to have with the older man. 
“Hot Hank?” You tease him, as you see his face scrunching up at your words. 
“Eww. You’re disgusting!” 
“Come on! Mom’s got a hot boyfriend” You tell him, closing distance with the school now.
“Gross.” He mutters as he hears you laugh, your right hand brushing your hair away from your face. “Do you have a boyfriend?” 
“What?”
“What?” His eyebrows lifted as he looked at you, fear and curiosity on his face. 
“Dusty, I do not.” You tell him, as you fail to park your car for the first time. 
“But you like someone?” He kept pushing for an answer, and if you were honest, your rosy cheeks didn’t exactly help you right now. 
“Oh yes, his name is David, he’s a singer from britain…” you begin to mock him, in an attempt to distract him. 
“Okay, okay… So can they come?” He asks you, his eyes looking at you through his baseball cap. 
“Yeah, sure. Do you need anything from the store?” You ask as you celebrate that you have finally parked the car successfully. 
“Just some snacks and stuff like that.” 
“Okay kid, am I taking anyone else home later?” 
“Oh, I dunno.” You nodded at him, as he opened the door, running away as he does every morning, leaving you with an upside down smile.
-
When Dustin had asked if his friends could come over, you expected four high schoolers squatting on your couch. What you didn’t really expect was a party of seven boys invading your living room, pulling chairs together, surrounding the dining table with papers scattered, dice, figurines, and everything that had the word nerd written all over them. Eddie had mouthed a sorry at you as soon as he had crossed the door, seeing you shocked at the amount of people that were now in your home, completely ruining your plan to just sit on your couch and enjoy your free afternoon, catching in some of the movies that Steve had insisted that you watch. 
However, you were grateful you had bought snacks and everything Dustin had suggested. You weren’t aware of just how hungry they get. 
You decided that hiding in the kitchen might be your best shot, if you wanted some peace and quiet. You were bored out of your mind, and didn’t really know what to do, so you did what you always did, you scavenged around your cabinets to see what you could find, some activity that would distract you long enough. 
You're unaware of your surroundings once you’ve decided to start baking. You had some leftover flour, some brown sugar and a little packet of yeast, you knew you could make something with that. You walked to your fridge, where some eggs, vanilla extract and chocolate was there. Okay then, you think to yourself, chocolate cookies it is. 
You were so deep in thought that you jumped when you saw him there all of a sudden. Bouncing a bit once you find him there, resting on the side of your kitchen door. 
“Shit.” You mutter, looking at the ground, and being relieved that you didn’t drop the egg. 
“Sorry.” Steve said in a soft-spoken voice, raising his hands in an apologetic movement. 
“It’s okay, I just wasn’t expecting you here.” You let him know, closing distance with the counter, dropping the rest of the ingredients. 
“Well if I’m not welcome I’ll just go” You know he’s teasing you, that Steve Harrington smirk gave him away, and your soft smile made his shoulders drop. 
“I didn’t know you were in Hellfire.” You tell him, as you search for the measuring cup, avoiding his eye contact. 
“I’m not”
“Oh, then… What are you doing here?” 
What was he doing here? If he was honest with himself, he just wanted to come over and spend time with you, he missed you. He kept telling himself that you're his friend, and that that’s all there is, but deep down, he knew that his fingertips still burned every time he thought about how close you two were a week ago, and how he had held you tight and close.  
“You weren’t working, so I guessed you uh… Where home?” He seemed to ask it more to himself than you, as you look over at him, you see how he’s scratching the back of his neck nervously. You knew him well enough, but refrained from telling him anything else, nodding at him with a soft smile. 
“Well I’m here so…” You pointed at the little chair you had laying about, so he could sit beside you. Making him shorter once he sat down, so he was the one looking up at you now. 
“So, what are we baking?” He chirped, which made you giggle. 
“You’re banned from baking Harrington.” You teased him, as you pointed at him with the empty measuring cup, the flour and sugar already in the bowl. 
“I only burned one cake!” He tried to argue, his eyebrows raised. 
“And that’s one too many!” You rebutted, laughing animatedly. He seemed to melt, as he hid his head behind his hands, stifling his own laugh. “You can be my sous chef.” 
“Deal.” 
You nod as you start biting the inside of your cheek. You hadn’t been this close with Steve since the failed fall, and you could feel how the hairs of your arms raised every time his body came a bit too close. 
And it was confusing. 
You had him chopping up some of the chocolate bar, and when his body pressed into yours to dunk the small pieces into the sweet mixture, you felt it again, that shortness of breath, that electricity, and that tingling, it was there, contaminating the air. 
Steve felt it too, but in his defense, he had never been able to see your eyes from that distance, and he had not appreciated enough how your hands were delicate and skilled at everything they did. 
The cookies were now formed and in the oven, and you felt a new sense of achievement. You smiled deeply at him. Steve looked down at you with his eyes deeply focused on the way your lips curved, he raised his hand and you high fived it instinctively, what he did later however you didn’t mind or were going to stop it. 
Even Steve didn’t know why his fingers decided to tangle with yours, or why his eyes were locked into them, feeling how soft your skin was, and enjoying your touch, the softness of it. They fitted, he taught, like a puzzle that had just been completed. He also liked that your thumb had begun a short pattern on the back of his hand, caressing him a bit. And if he wasn’t so focused on looking at your intertwined hands, he might have noticed how your cheeks were now warm and pinkish now. 
“Sweetheart?” You heard Eddie’s voice coming into the kitchen, and you both let go all of a sudden, both embarrassed at the moment you had just shared. 
“Hey, M” you replayed, your voice shaking ever so slightly, just enough for Steve to notice and for him to grin at the ground. “What’s up?” 
“Um-” He took a moment, a second really to let his eyes wander between the both of you, as you nervously scratched your forehead with your index finger. “We’re almost done with the campaign.” He lets you know. “And we’re playing tonight at the Hideout, wondering if you wanted to come?” 
“Oh sure Eddie, I’ll be ready.” You blurb out, trying to get him to leave, not really thinking of the boy next to you, nor registering the way he was now biting the inside of his cheek trying not to blurt out a very loud what?
“Great.” He smirks, as he taps away at the door frame, his rings clinging at the touch. “Oh, the cookies smell great by the way.” He says as he rushes back to the living room. 
“Thank you, M.” 
“Guess I’ll go now.” Steve mutters, and you squint at him, not understanding why he sounds hurt. 
“What-Why?” You're even more confused now, seeing that he also looks hurt. 
“I don’t feel like going to The Hideout, and seeing you looking at Eddie all night long.” He scoffs, you immediately roll your eyes, and shake your head ever so slightly. 
“What are you on about Steve?” You’re starting to get upset at him, not really following him. 
“Nothing, I just rather stay home tonight, okay?” He’s cold now, and you’re in shock. Not really understanding or following what’s going on. 
“Oh, uhm… okay?” You half ask as you see him head to the door. Staying hopeful. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” 
“Yeah. See you tomorrow.” 
-
It’s not that you were mad. Or confused. 
Honestly, you were just uncomfortable. 
You hadn’t taken time to process anything that had happened in such a short time, though you suppose it hadn’t been that short. 
You had known Steve ever since you started middle school. You had been close friends, best friends even for as long as you can remember, and maybe it’s the alcohol running through your veins, or the way he had left all of a sudden after holding your hand so softly, but something was clear in your head now, you were sure you liked him. 
To make matters worse, Eddie had pointed it out on the ride here. 
He told you that he didn’t know Steve for that long, but that he was pretty sure he hadn’t seen him so shy around anyone but you. You scoffed it off, and told him to fuck off. 
But now that you were four beers deep, you couldn’t stop thinking about him, and his stupid eyes, and his stupid smile. You had been sitting down at the bar for some time, and the friendly bartender was keeping you company, he had told you that Corroded Coffin was running late, and that they wouldn't probably play for another hour. 
You weren’t sure you could wait that long, but then again, Eddie had been your ride. 
“Hey…” Eddie’s voice was coming from behind you, and you turned around slowly, in a faze. 
“Eddie” You chirped, looking at him, you realised that the alcohol had finally taken over your body, so you were more giggly than usual. 
“I’m sorry” He muttered, his head slightly tilted so his bangs were out of the way. “I think we’ll play later than we thought.” 
“S’fine” You blabbered, as you moved your hand at him, bumping his chest in a playful manner. “Maybe I’ll go home, that’s fine?” He nodded, with a laugh. 
“You’ll be hungover tomorrow.” He joked, nudging you back. 
“Mmh, you bet.” You jumped from your stool until you reached the ground. “Bye Edds!” you said, heading for the exit. 
“Wait, you’ve got someone to drive you home?” You shook your head no. “It’s raining, like a lot, and you live so far away…” He tried to explain to you, slowly, knowing that your brain was working slower than usual. 
“I’ll take a call, just second.” You turn around, the friendly bartender already pointing you at the direction of the little telephone post on the beat up wall. “Aw, thanks.” 
Once you had the handset on your hand, and you were dialing the number, you began biting the inside of your cheek, you were half ashamed that his number had popped out so fast into your mind. You hoped he didn’t mind. 
“He-Hello?” He sounded half asleep, his voice croaky and soft. 
“ ‘m sorry.” You let out. 
“Shit, are you okay?” You could feel the panic in his voice, you didn’t want him to worry. 
“Yeah, I just, I don’t wanna be here anymore, and I… yours’s the only number I remember.” You were slurring your words together now.
“Are you still in The Hideout?” He asked, trying to remain calm. 
“Mmmh.” You muttered, his voice seemed to belong there, right by your ear. 
“I’ll be there in no time ‘kay?” 
“I’m sorry.” You say, your voice now beginning to break, feeling remorse and anxious for making him worry, for having called him. “I just..-” 
“I know, just stay there, I’m coming to get you okay, honey?” Honey
“M’kay.” 
You could only hear the cut out line now through the receiver, but it still rang on your ears. honey honey honey. 
-
As soon as he had heard your voice on the receiver his heart had stopped for a second, worry leaked into his body. Maybe it was irrational, because he knew you were safe regardless. But for some reason, knowing wasn’t enough, he needed to make sure, he needed to see you and see that you weren’t too far gone. 
Maybe that’s why he doesn’t realise that he has sprinted out of his house with his old checkered pajama pants, and his faded out Hawkins High shirt. That he has mismatched socks and his shoes aren’t all the way in, with his heel out. He only realises the state that he’s in once he tries to open the car, his keys jingling on his hands, and his socks now damp from the wet pavement that the pouring rain has left, he doesn’t care that his hair is wet, or that his shirt is colder now. Your voice is the only thing he’s got on his mind, how you sounded shy and uncomfortable, how you mumbled out words in your most sincere tone. 
How he had to cut you off before you told him something you didn’t mean. 
How he hated that he wanted to tell you something he might regret. 
It was hopeless.
 As soon as he arrived at The Hideout, and saw you out against the wall, covered from the rain he knew, deep down, that his feelings for you had changed. His jaw unclentched, his shoulders relaxed, and his breathing was back to normal. He was calm once he saw you, and your eyes seemed brighter once you realise he was there. 
With his brown hair wet, sticking to his face, but the kindest look in the way he looked at you, you rushed inside the car, relived that he camed, and thankful for the warmth that escaped the ventilation system from his BMW. 
-
Your cheeks have been hurting for a while. Warmth in them. 
Steve had drove you home, and then back to his when you told him you didn’t want to go back home tonight. 
You hadn’t said anything, and he already had some old spare gym shorts and a sweatshirt out for you.
“Here.” You’re unsure you’ve ever heard his voice that soft. 
Your hand travels up to meet his, that same electricity growing bigger between you, from the tip of his finger that touched the back of your hand, to your whole entire body as you looked at him through your eyelashes. His eyes seemed bigger, and his lips pinker. 
“Uh, I-”
“You can take a shower… I’ll uh…” He’s lost once again, his heart beating faster than ever before. 
You find yourself not really speaking. You nod at him with some confusion in your mind. The hot shower helps in a way. 
Your body is relaxed at last, but your mind still feels like it needs to be ironed out. You’re pretty sure you know why this is happening, but you’re scared to even think of it, because if it is true you’ll just complicate it all. If you really think that your skin tingles every time he brushes it, you’ll have to admit to yourself it is because you really want him to hold you tightly, and that you’re curious as to the way his chest looks under his shirt, and that you wonder how his lips would feel against your own skin. 
It all smelled like him. The expensive shampoo he had made your hair feel softer, and you find yourself daydreaming about how it would feel to run your fingers through his, as you brush yours out. His sweatshirt, his towels, it made you dizzy for the first time. 
But coming back to the kitchen and seeing him cooking up something for you, while he hummed some song you didn’t quite understand, almost took your breath away. You could feel how your lips curled upwards, and how your cheeks started to warm up again. 
You're back in a daze, and it might be him coming to pick you up, or maybe it’s him taking care of you, or actually it’s what you’ve come to realise. You’re falling for him.  
It doesn’t really matter, because you can always blame the alcohol, so you just approach him, and hug him tightly from behind. 
Your hands around his waist, your chest pressed against his back, your face buried into him, breathing him in. 
His heart skips a beat as soon as he feels your hands around him. He’s beaming, and his smile deepens when he feels your thumb rubbing his stomach in a soft motion. It gets worse when he feels the way you nuzzle your face into his back, a small chuckle escaped his lips. 
“Hey” He whispered, afraid that if he moved you’d pull away. 
“Hi” You answered, speaking just as softly as he did. “What’re you doing?” You mumbled against his skin, moving a bit so he could actually hear you. 
“Oh- Uhm… I just, I thought that you’d be kinnda hungry so…” You can’t help yourself from giggling, your head poking out, arms still around him. 
“Mac and Cheese?” You ask, your voice higher in pitch, once you see the empty Kraft dinner box laying on the counter. 
“Well, I’m not that good at cooking, but this is easy enough to make.” He tries to convince you as he keeps stirring the pot. 
He finally turns around, his head looking down at you. The dim light of the kitchen makes his eyes have the colour of dark honey, and you’re close enough to him to count his beauty marks if you wanted to. You realise you’re still holding him, you don’t want to pull away, and he doesn’t want you to either. Your breath shortens when you see his hand approaching your face, placing a strand of damp hair behind your ear, you can’t help yourself. 
“You’re pretty.” You tell him, voice barely above a whisper. Your eyes look up at him with pure adoration, and he seems to forget that he’s supposed to keep stirring the pot for a second. 
He knows you’re not lying. But it doesn’t stop him from not believing you. 
“You’re drunk.” He replies, hiding a nervous laugh. But it stays with him. pretty. 
“And you’re still pretty.” You let out in a short laugh. He shakes his head with a soft smile, turning back to the stove as he finishes what he was doing. 
You had realised it before, but he really is beautiful. Sure, handsome could also be used, but the word pretty seemed to fit him better. Steve’s soft  and kind, and warm. Boys that are handsome are always cold and rough and mean. 
“Eat up, Honey.” He whispers as he hands you a hot plate, his hand brushing yours as you grab it. 
There it was again, honey. 
Every time this word leaves his lips it sounds sweet, and calming, and full of care for you. 
“You should have some too, s’good.” You let out as soon as you try it. He just giggles and nods, serving a plate for himself. 
You eat quietly, stealing glances from time to time. Smiling when you catch the other staring, and giggling while asking a soft what. It didn’t matter, and it didn’t need to be said, but it was clear that both of you were starting to change, Steve had it clear in his mind. He has absolutely fallen for you. 
You, on the other hand, didn’t feel drunk anymore, the beers had washed away a long time ago, and you felt in an absolute daze every time you look over at him, you know that this feeling in your chest of vertigo and excitement was just a sign, a warning one, a i could love you if you let me kind of feeling that you weren’t sure you could verbalize. 
It comes out when you have to go to sleep. 
You had slept in his bed a hundred times before, countless sleepovers with and without Robin where you shared that space, but for some reason, both of you knew this was different. 
You always ask him to hug you until you fall asleep, but you had never felt your chest about to burst before asking. And even if your voice shakes a little, you manage to ask him, softly. 
“Stevie?” 
“Yeah?” 
“Can you hug me?” He nods as soon as he hears your question. 
He pulls his body closer to yours, opening his arms so you’ll rest your head on his chest. He waits for your leg to land above his waist, pulling him in as you always have done, so he can pull you in. Only this time, every caress, every touch that your skin makes with his seem to ignite another part of his body, goosebumps appearing. His hands get buried in your hair, and your fingers get stuck doodling something on his chest. 
“Did you use my shampoo?” He lets out with a soft laugh as soon as the familiar scent hits his nose. 
“Yeah, fabregé… Didn’t know you were this fancy.” You tease him, feeling how his heart beats, a soft lullaby.
“Yeah well… You haven’t seen the Farrah Fawcet hair spray.” He mumbles, playing with your hair. He knew that would make you chuckle, and he smiles when he hears the noise escaping from your lips, wondering how you sound in other circumstances. 
“Farrah Fawcet?” You move your head up to look at him, a soft grin on his lips. 
“Yeah.” He nods as he says. The hand that was in your hair is now holding your face, his thumb stroking your jawline softly, playing with your bottom lip when it comes into contact. 
You feel how fast his heart is beating, which can only mean that he can tell how loud yours is. He's lost in your eyes, you're lost in his lips.
“Steve?” 
“Yes?” 
You need a second longer to take him in for a second, he looked angelic with the street lights that creeped from his window. And you’re sure your heart had just skipped a beat. 
“I really want to kiss you.” You tell him. 
“I really want to kiss you too.” He reassures you, his eyes twinkling with sincerity. “But you’re drunk.” 
“ ‘m not.” You try to plea, but deep down, you know he’s right. 
You feel his hand pulling you closer to him, and his lips leave a soft kiss on your forehead. He stays like that, enjoying you, taking it all in, trying to talk even with a knot in his throat. 
“If you wake up tomorrow and you still want me to kiss you, I will.” He whispers. 
You nod, pulling away enough so you could look at him. You’re unsure as to why he’s being so careful around you. 
“Steve?” A calm sleepy tone left your voice. 
“Honey?” He asked as you rested your head in his chest again, his hand still on the crook of your neck.
“Will you kiss me tomorrow?” 
“I’ll kiss you anytime you ask me to.” 
-
if you enjoyed it please leave a comment or reblog. i promise it makes a huge difference <3 part 2
1K notes · View notes
alwritey-aphrodite · 7 months
Text
head first, fearless
Pairing: Jamie Tartt x single mom!reader
Warnings: swearing, motherhood
Word Count: 5.5k
Author’s Note: here she is!! I also have ideas for a little follow up if anyone’s interested! And a very big thank you to @sokkigarden for being so lovely and helping me so much with this one
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Some days you’re convinced Keeley Jones was put on this Earth simply to make your life better. When you’d moved next door to her five years ago, you never would have thought that the brightly dressed, brightly smiling woman would become one of your closest friends and your go-to babysitter.
It didn’t matter if it was a Wednesday or a Saturday, twelve in the afternoon or twelve at night, Keeley would take five-year-old Stella into her home with open arms and a bright smile.
“Anything you need, babes, I’m always here,” she’d told you the very first time you’d asked her to babysit at the last minute with tears in your eyes, and you’ve come to learn that she meant it.
So today, when you received a call from your boss at nine in the morning on a Saturday, you didn’t think twice before bringing Stella next door. Stella was settled on your hip, chattering away about how excited she is to see Keeley and all the fun things they’ll do together while you knocked on the door.
“You aren’t Keeley,” you say, confusion clouding your face at the man in front of you. He seems vaguely familiar to you, like you’d met in passing before, but you couldn’t place him.
“Jesus, Jamie,” you hear a voice from behind the man and he moves out of the way to reveal Keeley rushing towards the door, “sorry about him, he doesn’t know not to answer the door at other people’s houses,” she tells you as she rolls her eyes before reaching out for Stella with a bright smile.
Stella wriggles out of your arms and rushes towards Keeley’s plush couch with barely any time for you to plant a kiss on her forehead. You sigh with a mixture of relief and exhaustion, gathering yourself mentally before you head into the disaster zone that is your job.
“She’s been doing this thing where literally all she eats is strawberries,” you tell Keeley before you rush off, “but I’m sure you could get her to eat anything.”
“I’ll try my best,” she tells you with a wink before she all but shoves you away, “now don’t you worry about us, we’ll be just fine.” You smile at her one last time before you rush off to work, knowing Stella will be safe and happy for the whole day.
“Who was that?” Jamie asks, trying to seem nonchalant as he watches Keeley pour juice into a sippy cup as the little girl uses her chubby little fingers to turn on her favorite show.
“Oh that’s my neighbor, she’s a single mum and her boss is a total dickhead so I watch Stella whenever I can,” Keeley explains, leaning against the counter as she levels Jamie with a knowing stare, “she’s real fucking fit and I wouldn’t mind watching Stella while she does something actually enjoyable, like go on a date.”
Jamie’s a little embarrassed about how easy Keeley is able to read him, able to clock the way Jamie looked at you as he lingered in the doorway. You seemed magnetic, drawing Jamie towards you even as you rushed away and left him with nothing but the desire to know you better. Keeley stares for a few more seconds, long enough for Jamie to squirm under her gaze, before heading over to give Stella her breakfast with a giant smile.
Unsurprisingly, you were right, and Stella eats anything that Keeley makes for her, even the broccoli she had screamed at the night before. She ate it all with a smile, and Jamie was a little terrified at how quickly the little girl was taking over his heart. He’d always loved kids, loved getting to spend time with them and listen to the nonsensical way they talked, but something about Stella seemed different. She had been apprehensive about him at first, but by the time nap time rolls around, she falls asleep in his lap, her little head nestled against his shoulder.
This is how you find them when you rush home before dinner, not even bothering to knock or wait for Keeley to let you in. There’s still a Disney movie playing softly on the TV, and Keeley and Jamie are talking quietly so they won’t disturb Stella, even though you’re sure that girl could sleep through anything.
“Hi, babe!” Keeley greets you with a grin as she pats the couch next to her, and you’re so exhausted you don’t even think twice about sitting down, “Wanna stay for dinner?” She always tries to get you to stay for dinner, tries to get you to let someone take care of you for a change, but you’ve never once accepted her offer.
Today, though, you’re tired to your bones, and even the thought of ordering takeout seems like too much work, so you just nod. Keeley squeals before she looks over at Stella in mortification, but she’s still fast asleep against the man who opened the door that morning. Keeley must catch you looking because she sends you a wink before introducing the two of you, “That’s Jamie, Stella really seems to love him,” and then scurrying off to the kitchen.
At that, Jamie seems embarrassed, his cheeks tinged pink as he glances down at Stella, “I can try to hand her to you, if ya want?”
“Oh, no, I can never get her to nap this long,” you reassure him, and it almost feels like a swarm of butterflies are let loose in your stomach when he smiles at you.
The two of you talk quietly, Keeley joining in whenever she has something to add, and before long Stella is up and happily watching cartoons again. When it comes time for dinner, she demands to sit next to Jamie, practically vibrating with excitement at the idea of spending more time with her new friend.
Watching the two of them interact throughout the meal creates a pit in your stomach and an aching in your chest, as Jamie kindly helps Stella cut up her food and shoots her a wink when he steals a bite off of her plate and Stella just giggles and grins her way through the meal. As much as you’d like to stick around and catch up with Keeley and thank her properly for all of her help, you’re feeling the need to run so you help clean up in the kitchen before dragging Stella back home.
She’d been more than reluctant to leave and seemed on the verge of tears until you promised her ice cream before her bath and now she’s happily eating her dessert while recounting her entire day from the moment you dropped her off to the second you walked through the door.
“Jamie’s really nice and he let me do his hair and taught me to play football and Auntie Keeley said he thinks you’re pretty and…” you zone out after that, and even though you know Keeley was probably just teasing her friend, the thought sends you into a tailspin.
Sure, Jamie was obviously attractive and he was clearly great with Stella, but you barely knew each other and Stella could be lying to you because she’d recently started doing it just for fun. Knowing Keeley, though, she’s always trying to play matchmaker, and you wouldn’t put it past her to try and set up two of her single friends, regardless of if they’re compatible or not.
Still, you decide to spend some quality time searching for Jamie online after Stella goes to sleep.
What you don’t know, though, is that as you spend hours scrolling through all of Jamie’s socials, Keeley and Jamie are having a very similar conversation next door.
“Please just ask her out!” Keeley pleads for the thousandth time, pouring a glass of wine as Jamie pulls up the most recent episode of their favorite reality show.
“Keeley, I don’t know her at all.”
“I know, but I know her! And I know you, and I know the two of you would have a great time. Please, Jamie, the two of you deserve to have a good time and I want to babysit for something other than her boss being shitty.”
Jamie seems to be contemplating it, and Keeley knows she has him.
“I’ll give you her number, maybe invite her and Stella to a game, and then you can ask her out to dinner?” Keeley’s been toying with the idea of setting the two of you up, and now that you’ve actually met it seems like the most perfect idea and she knows you’ll be perfect together.
Keeley doesn’t wait for confirmation, going ahead and sending Jamie your contact information as he turns up the volume on the TV, as if to drown her out.
“And I’ll know if you don’t ask her,” she adds as she sits down next to him, feeling the need for one last push.
“Watch the show, Keeley,” Jamie says as turns his attention to the drama unfolding as if his heart isn’t racing at the idea of seeing you again, at the idea of taking you out for dinner.
It takes him a while to gather his courage, and he couldn’t even begin to count the amount of times he’s typed a message to you before quickly deleting it. He’d briefly considered asking his teammates for help, but that would mean explaining the whole situation and he remembers how intensely involved everyone was with Sam’s Bantr girl and he has no desire to be on the receiving end of that.
Instead, Keeley’s endless messages of Text. Her. push him over the edge until he types a text and hits send instead of delete.
Hey, it’s Jamie from Keeley’s house. Do you and Stella want to come to the game on Saturday? The seats are next to Keeley.
He couldn’t help the way he checked his phone every five minutes after hitting send, or the way his stomach swooped once you sent a reply.
Stella would love that, thank you :) she hasn’t stopped talking about you or football
Jamie needs to tamper down his smile when he reads that because he knows if any of his teammates catch him smiling at his phone, he’d never hear the end of it. Instead, he tells you that Keeley will have the tickets for you and he goes about the rest of his day as if his stomach isn’t full of butterflies at the idea of seeing you again or getting another text from you.
Saturday can’t come soon enough, with Stella bouncing off the walls at the idea of seeing her new friend again and, even though you’d never admit it to anyone, you’re looking forward to seeing Jamie too. Even though your conversation was brief, it was clear that Stella loved him and you’d gotten to know him a little better through texting, where he made you promise to come down to the dressing room after the match so he could say hello to Stella.
Unsurprisingly, it’s a struggle to get Stella into her little Richmond jersey, an old hand-me-down of Keeley’s niece with Kent plastered on the back; she begs you to wear it all the time, but the one day she’s supposed to, it's like the fabric is made of knives. By the time you stumble out to Keeley’s car, you’re sweaty and aggravated and looking forward to spending the afternoon with your best friend.
What you weren’t expecting, though, was to be led up to the owner’s box, where you were greeted by Keeley’s friend Rebecca, who was intimidatingly beautiful and the owner of AFC Richmond. You’d met a few times, but seeing her in her element while you wrangled a kindergartener made you feel like a fish out of water.
“And you must be Stella,” she says, looking down with a smile at your daughter who’s trying to escape your grip on her hand.
“Normally she has manners,” you respond as you smooth a hand over the girl’s hair, trying to get her to calm down for just a moment, knowing all the excitement of the match is going to make it impossible for her to sleep as it is.
Rebecca just chuckles, her brilliant smile never leaving her face.
“I completely understand, my Jelka sometimes acts like she’s never left the house.”
“I didn’t know you had a daughter?” Your statement comes out more like a question, racking your brain for any memory of Rebecca mentioning a child before.
“It’s a recent development,” Keeley adds with a wink to you as she squeezes Rebecca’s arm, and the taller woman just scoffs.
The four of you make your way out to your seats, Stella insisting on standing up on your legs, blocking everyone behind you. You turn to apologize, but the man sitting behind you just brushes it off.
“Children are strong willed,” he tells you with a reassuring smile, “I couldn’t even get my boys to wear pants when they were her age.”
It’s hard to ignore the urge to apologize for everything you or Stella did, but knowing you were surrounded by parents who understood the struggles of a strong willed child helped calm your nerves. It wasn’t that Stella misbehaved or that you let her run wild, but sometimes people who weren’t parents didn’t understand and expected her to sit quietly and still, as if she was a little adult and not a five year old child. Luckily, as the match started, everyone seemed to get as rambunctious and energetic as her.
Watching the game, you can’t help the way your eyes keep drifting to Jamie, even when he doesn’t have the ball. There’s just something about him that continues to draw your eyes to the large number nine on his back as he runs across the pitch. He scores right before halftime, and no one in that stadium is half as excited as Stella, who’s jumping up and down and screaming as if you just told her you’re taking a trip to Disney.
Richmond scores two more times, winning the game without much of a fight.
“Come on, let’s go see the boys!” Keeley stands and wiggles her fingers at Stella, who clambers out of her seat and eagerly grabs her hand, leaving you no choice but to follow. Keeley all but runs down the stairs with you and Rebecca trailing behind, exchanging information to get your girls together some time.
When you make it to the dressing room, you’re hit in the face with noise and warmth and the smell of sweat, but Stella is so excited you can barely focus on anything other than keeping your grip on her little hand. Keeley knocks and lets herself in with you and Rebecca following and you can’t help the way you immediately feel like there are 27 pairs of eyes on you.
“Jamie!” Stella slips out of your grip and makes a beeline for the striker and your heart stutters at the easy way she jumps into his grip, at the way he smiles at the little girl.
“We’ve gotta get you a better fucking kit,” Jamie tells her when he sees the large Kent plastered on her back, leading to stares and shushes from the rest of the team. Jamie, realizing what he’s said, looks to you with eyes wide with fear and remorse.
“It’s nothing she hasn’t heard before,” you tell him with a smile, and the room erupts into noise again, the team swarming your daughter and asking her opinions on the match, considering everything she says with genuine concern. You keep watch out of the corner of your eye, but from what you’ve heard from Keeley and what you know about Jamie, you’re sure Stella will be fine, but it’s hard to turn off the mom instincts.
Isaac is marching Stella around the room on his shoulders to “give her a better view” when Jamie comes over to where you’re standing with Keeley, Rebecca, and the coaches.
“Can I talk to you for a minute?”
“Yeah, sure, of course,” you shoot a glance back at Keeley, but she just winks at you as Jamie leads you out into the hallway.
It’s silent for a few moments, Jamie fiddling with the front of his kit, before he finally says, “Did Stella have a good time?”
“She loved it, probably the best day of her life so far,” you grin at him, hearing your daughter’s happy giggles through the dressing room door.
“Good, good,” he falls silent again, shoving his hands into the front of his kit.
You’re about to head back into the dressing room, even though you’re certain that wasn’t what Jamie wanted to ask you, when a question tumbles out of his mouth so quickly you’re certain you’ve misunderstood him.
“Wanna grab dinner sometime?” He expels a breath as if this is the most difficult thing he’s had to do today.
“What?” You ask in response, confused and surprised and sure you just didn’t hear him right.
“Would you like to get dinner sometime?” He asks again, slower, “Like, as a date?”
“That sounds nice,” and with the way he beams at you, you’re sure you’d agree to whatever he asks you.
“Cool.” You stand in the hallway for a few moments longer, just smiling at each other, before the laughter of your daughter snaps you out of your stupor and you head back into the dressing room. You can tell by the look on Keeley’s face that she knew exactly what Jamie had asked you, and was probably the one who pushed him to do it.
“Need a babysitter Friday night?” she asks as you approach, and you just roll your eyes at her, turning your attention back to Stella and the group of footballers that seem so enamored with her and her opinions.
The celebration starts to die down, even though you’re certain the party’s going to pick up at some exclusive club or bar in a few hours, and Rebecca walks with you and Keeley out into the car park.
“How long has that been a thing?” She asks, jutting her head back towards the building with a knowing little smirk as you buckle Stella into her seat.
“There is no thing,” you fix Keeley with a look, knowing that she’s probably been planning that for months, before you’d even met Jamie, and Rebecca has been in on it the whole time.
Still, you promise to message Rebecca with the dates that you and Stella are free for a playdate before buckling yourself into the driver’s seat, all the excitement of the day starting to wear you down. Hopefully, Stella’s so worn out from excitement she goes right to sleep when you get home, but you know the more likely scenario is that she stays up all night because she’s wound up.
The universe must be on your side, though, because Stella falls asleep before you’re even home and you need Keeley’s help to open your front door.
“God, this was so much easier to do when she was smaller,” you whisper with a grin, thinking of all the times Keeley needed to help you into your house when your arms were full of a sleeping Stella and groceries and your work bag. Keeley grins back, placing a kiss on Stella’s forehead before scampering off to her own house, waving goodbye before she closes the door.
Tell me when Jamie gives you a day + time, I’ll come over to help you get ready ;)
Even though you roll your eyes when you see the message, sent before you could even get Stella into bed, you really do appreciate her offer. You can’t even remember the last time you’d been out on a date, and you’ve certainly never been out with a professional footballer. Jamie’s clearly a nice guy, and you’ve enjoyed the few times you’d talked in person, but you’re already beyond nervous for the date that’s still days away.
Those nerves only grow as the week goes on, as you and Jamie settle on Friday at seven at an upscale restaurant you’d never even heard of, and as Keeley lets herself into your house with her spare key at four o’clock on Friday, your nerves reach their peak.
“Well, I’d totally fuck you,” Keeley says after she zips up the back of your dress, looping her arms around your waist and looking into your eyes through the mirror with a grin.
“Thanks, Keels, I’ll be sure to let him know that,” you reply with a giggle, finally starting to feel a little giddy at the thought of your date, even though your anxiety was pulsing just below the surface. The doorbell rings then, and you’re almost certain your heart is going to stop.
“I’ll get it,” Keeley gently pushes you aside as she makes her way out of the bathroom, “grab a purse before you come down, and not the big one! He won’t need snacks before dinner to stop him from crying!” She gives you a wink and then she’s gone, and you can just barely hear her greet Jamie at the door, followed by Stella making a run for him.
Breathing deeply, you make your way back into your bedroom to stuff all of your belongings into a tiny purse, leaving your trusty, large tote sitting on the bed, overflowing with snacks and toys to keep Stella entertained whenever you go out. As much as you’d love to, you know you can’t hide out in your room forever, so you snap your purse closed and make your way downstairs.
Walking down your steps makes you feel like you’re a teenager again, your prom date eagerly waiting at the door after getting grilled by your father, except this time it’s Jamie getting grilled by Keeley and your daughter. When she sees you, Stella is already reaching for you, attempting to wriggled herself out of the arms of a slack-jawed Jamie.
“C’mon, babe,” Keeley intercepts Stella instead, knowing you’ll never leave otherwise, “let’s go find a movie to watch.” Now, it’s just you and Jamie standing by your front door in silence, Stella’s happy jabbering filtering in from the living room the only noise.
“You look nice,” you finally break the silence, feeling awkward and unsure of yourself and certain you sound lame, like you haven’t been on a date in the last six years.
“So do you,” Jamie responds, gently trailing his eyes up and down your form despite the blush on the tips of his ears, “ready?”
You just nod, still needing time to process the fact that you’re going on a date with Jamie Tartt, who looks nothing less than perfect in dark slacks and a button up, and it’s clear that he had attempted to style his hair but the way he continually runs his hands through it has ruined whatever styling there was before. Hopefully the shock of going out with someone so gorgeous will wear off soon so you can actually participate in conversations.
Luckily, by the time you make it to the restaurant Keeley had recommended to Jamie, you’re able to talk about anything and everything, swapping stories about your childhoods and work and Stella, stories that Jamie seems genuinely interested in.
“I hadn’t put together any of her nursery furniture and she would not stop crying so I couldn’t put her down,” you tell him over dessert, explaining the beginning to your friendship with Keeley, “and then there was a knock on the door and I was ready to scream at whoever was on the other side, but it was Keeley and she took Stella right out of my arms and of course she stopped crying then.” You smile, reminiscing on how essential Keeley was during those first few months where you were convinced you’d made a mistake and you’d never survive.
“And then she sat with me while I put together the rest of Stella’s furniture, and she put her in the crib, turned on the baby monitor, and made me dinner.” Keeley had shown you that you weren’t alone, that you’d be able to handle whatever life throws at you because you had her by your side, and if anyone could understand that feeling it was Jamie. “She sat with me and came over every night, just to hang out, and when I went back to work, she watched Stella for me and I didn’t even need to ask.”
“Yeah, she’s magical like that, making you realize things about yourself, believing in you and shit,” Jamie adds, even as his cursing catches the attention of the tables around you.
“She insisted on being Stella’s fairy godmother,” you add with a giggle, delighting in the way Jamie smiles at you.
“I ordered Stella a Tartt kit, by the way,” as soon as the thought crosses your mind the words are out of your mouth, and it’s worth it when Jamie looks at you like this is the best news he’s ever heard.
“She’ll have to wear it to our next match, then,” and you’d agree to anything he says when he says it with that soft look in his eyes, like he might actually love you.
It’s too soon for any of that, but the thought doesn’t scare you the way it normally does. You think you’d enjoy being in love with Jamie, making breakfast together on the weekends and falling asleep next to each other every night of the week. Stella already adores him, so you’d never need to worry about that, and it seems like he cares for Stella the way you and Keeley do, and you know she needs all the love and support she can get.
Jamie glances at his phone, letting out a sigh as he notices the time.
“This is the best night I’ve had a in a while,” he says and you brace yourself for the finishing blow, “but grandad makes me get up at 4 AM for training. Maybe I can bring you coffee tomorrow?” He looks so hopeful, even if you weren’t already foaming at the mouth at the idea of spending more time with him, you’d say yes.
He walks you to your door, and you have to pretend that you don’t know that Keeley is watching from behind the curtains when you press a kiss to his cheek and he squeezes your hand in a way that makes you want to invite him in, even though you both know that would never happen. He waits until you’re safely inside before driving away, and as soon as the door shuts behind you, Keeley is attacking you for details.
Seated on the couch, legs tucked underneath you and junk food spread out on the coffee table, you recount your whole night, telling her how wonderful he was and how great he made you feel and Keeley looks happy enough to burst. Whether her joy comes from the fact that her two friends are happy or because she set the two of you up, you’ll never be sure.
After she leaves, you find yourself texting Jamie, thanking him for such a great night and wishing him luck with training before throwing yourself into bed, happy and exhausted and ready to sleep forever. You dream of Jamie and Stella and a dog, and when you wake up, you’re a little disappointed that it wasn’t real, though you’d never admit that to anyone.
Jamie brings coffee in the morning, and almost every morning after that. When you tell him to stop going out of his way, he tells you his house is right down the road, but Keeley confirms your suspicions that he’s lying. You just laugh when she tells you he’s wrong, too delighted that someone would go out of their way for you every morning to bring it up with him again.
It’s a little terrifying, how seamlessly Jamie fits into your life. You and Stella find yourself in the owner’s box of most Richmond home games, and Jamie brings over takeout every Friday night. If you’re ever working late or stuck at the office, Jamie always jumps at the chance to pick Stella up from school, sometimes grabbing Phoebe as well so the two girls can play together.
Sometimes you wonder if he does that solely to bother Roy, but you don’t mind as long as the girls get home safely.
Jamie is wonderful with Stella, and that was what scared you the most, because while you were used to dealing with heartbreak and disappointment, your daughter wasn’t. Every time you see them kicking a football around in your backyard or catch Stella asleep in Jamie’s lap during a movie, your heart constricts and your breath catches in your throat because you don’t know how you’re supposed to explain it to her if Jamie decides to leave, decides that a fit young footballer doesn’t need to be tied down by a kindergartener and her workaholic mother.
One night, a few months after that very first dinner, the two of you are sitting on the couch with Stella safely asleep in her bed and you’re so happy it scares you a little. This is everything you’ve always wanted, a loving partner who cares for your daughter like she’s his own, but you need to resist the urge to self-destruct.
“Jamie,” you start, reaching for his hand and pulling his attention away from the movie and hating how much this sounds like you’re about to break up with him, “I love you.” It’s a miracle you’re able to keep your voice steady with the terror you feel, but it all evaporates in a second when Jamie smiles at you, beaming from ear to ear as if he’s scored a game winning goal.
“I love you, too,” and he kisses you so softly it hurts you a little, hurts the part inside your brain that was wishing your life could have always been like this, wishing you could have always been this happy. You kiss him back, though, and the movie sits forgotten for the rest of the night.
“I got pregnant at nineteen,” you tell him later, wrapped up in your sheets and his arms, “and Stella’s dad isn’t a bad guy or anything, he just… wasn’t ready, which is fine, it was my choice in the end, but sometimes it really fucking sucked.” You sniffle, hating yourself a little for ruining such a lovely night but Jamie just pulls you close, presses a kiss to the crown of your head and traces nonsensical shapes on your arm.
“But then I found Keeley, and now I have you, and Stella’s perfect and everything turned out okay but I just wanted you to know,” you finish, breathing deeply for the first time since you started talking. It wasn’t like it was a secret that you had Stella young or that you were a single mom, but sometimes revealing all the details felt too intense, like no one needed or wanted to hear how you got to this point.
“Me mum was only twenty when I was born,” Jamie tells you, continuing his tracing on your arm and it’s then that you realize he’s been drawing hearts, “and my dad’s a real piece of a shit, so she basically raised me all on her own. And then she found Simon when I was a teenager and he’s a good guy, likes baking and shit. I think they’d both like you a lot, you and Stella.”
“Well, your mom must be pretty great, putting up with you all on her own,” you smile, bursting into laughter when Jamie squeezes your side, both of you feeling lighter and falling asleep after sharing more giggle-filled kisses.
Life continues on, leaving you giddy to see what the next day will hold. Jamie continues to bring coffee every morning, stopping by while Stella eats breakfast in front of the TV and you pack up three lunches. If there isn’t a game, Jamie stays over on the weekend and the two of you make breakfast together, swaying gently in the kitchen in your pajamas, basking in the sun and his presence until Stella stomps her way downstairs, hair ruffled and her grumpy little frown blooming into a smile the second she smells the pancake batter.
Stella started playing football on the same team as Phoebe, and you and Keeley get equally as excited as you do at Richmond matches. Whenever he’s available, Jamie will join Roy as an assistant coach, and even though he tells you it’s to spend time with Stella, you’re sure seeing the annoyed look on Roy’s face whenever he shows up is a nice bonus. The four of you will take the girls out to lunch after, and you’re reminded of all the wonderful people you’ve had in your corner, some longer than others but all equally as important to you.
Your life might not have gone the way you expected, but what you have now is better than anything you ever could have dreamed.
Tags: @whimsical-roasting @hopefulromances @onceuponaoneshot @jamietarttdodo @scaramou @ickydollysstuff @drizzyreese @amieinghigh @ilymoonie @better-things-to-do @yepyeahuhhuh @zazima @guccilongboard @shineforever19 @tortilla-maria1 @shakespeareanwannabe @lilweirdgal @flashyourgreeneyesatme @aiyaiy @just35yrsandtrying @chrissy1986 @emmy2811
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navstuffs · 11 months
Text
Wonderful Surprise
Pairing: Husband!Leon Kennedy x GN!Reader
Summary: After a horrible day at work, you find a surprise at your job's doorstep.
Warnings: comforting leon, self indulgent, cute fluff, domestic!leon
Author's Notes: can you imagine just leaving work and seeing leon waiting on you outside???? 😭 to have dinner at your favorite restaurant?? gimme gimme please!! hope you enjoy your reading!
my leon masterlist
You look at the clock, frustrated. Time couldn't be passing any slower. It had been such an exhausting day, and you couldn't wait to get home, unwind on the sofa, watch your favorite tv shows, and eat a warmed-up old pizza. Alone, you thought. No call or text from Leon, your husband, in two days. 
You knew Leon was busy with whatever he had to do in those secret missions of his, and you didn't want him to worry about you, so you didn't disturb him, for more than you missed him. Leon did warn in the last message he could go M.I.A. Since then, something heavy has installed itself in your chest. 
It was always like that, anyway. You became useless at work, at home. You tried to use Leon's shirts to sleep or watch the silly videos he recorded for you in case you missed him.
It wasn't enough. It would never be enough. 
When it is finally time to leave, you walk toward the exit, checking your phone: Still no text messages. You sigh, typing that you would be leaving work and going home. That you loved him and couldn't wait to see him. For him to stay safe.
When you exit through the main doors, you first notice the sky. It is the start of the twilight, and it looks so pretty. You sigh, taking a picture. You may send that one to Leon. At least walking until the bus stop won't be so bad. If you want to get home soon, you must hurry.
You finally notice the man leaning against the building wall, eyes closed, hands in his pocket. Golden locks in front of his serene face, wearing his famous leather jacket. Standing there like an illusion.  
"Leon?" You whisper, mortified. As if he would disappear or it was just your imagination going crazy.
Leon opens his eyes at the sound of your voice, giving a smile, the first one in days. You wait until he walks closer to you and hugs you, a sigh coming from his mouth. 
"Hey, sweetheart," Leon whispers. Work had been horrible for him, and being unable to communicate with you made it much worse. Being close to you and feeling your heartbeat and presence instantly wiped all worries away. You are still frozen, not believing your husband is back. It takes you a couple of seconds before holding him back. Innahiling his smell and presence, all of him, "I missed you."
How much you missed his arms around you. His voice. His touch. You hide your face on Leon, not caring if you are outside work right now and anyone could see you. You can feel the tears forming in the corner of your eyes, and you hug Leon even more tightly. Leon wipes some of your tears when you separate, his eyes full of love.
"Wh-when did you come back?" You wonder as he checks your face, analyzing and admiring simultaneously. 
"About an hour ago?"
"Fuck Leon, I have been worried sick about you. Why didn't you message me?"
"I wish I could have. My phone is gone, sweetie. It was just - fucked up this time, I guess."
You let out a sigh, feeling guilty. Leon looks fine physically: no visible bruises, no cuts. But you know, the inside must be a turmoil. You could see the pain in your husband's eyes, a pain you recognize well. You don't overthink that now, just glad he is home, placing a hand on his chest, another one to rub his cheek. 
"I am sorry. Can we just leave?" You request, and Leon nods, holding your hand.
"Yeap. Just give me your car's keys, I will drive today."
"Wellllllll."
"What is it?"
"I didn't come to work by car. I came by bus," You admit, embarrassed to look at this face.
"Is something wrong with your car?"
"No. It is just...it makes the ride home longer. I tend to do that when you aren't here," You confess, feeling ridiculous. Then you quickly add, to not sound so desperate, "Also, it helps the planet, fewer cars in the streets, pollution, all of that!"
"My car is nearby, don't worry," Leon replies, his voice calm. 
"There is also something else," You add before you can start walking. Leon stares back at you, his expression going a little worried. "We might need to get dinner on the way."
You don't look at Leon for his reaction, worried he might be disappointed with you. And he has all the right to be since you had promised him you would do your best to take care of yourself when he was away.
"I see. Your favorite, then?" Leon simply asks, maintaining the same calm tone from before.
You look at him, grateful and nodding. You are just happy you can have him in yours arms again.
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my-own-walker · 9 months
Note
requesting kit with younger reader, where he picks her up from college and takes her for a milkshake but then they have sex in his car and after he has to drop her down the street because her parents don’t approve of him
Oh! You Pretty Things
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note: this is cuteeeeee. thanks for the spicy kit request. i was getting bored of writing inside-the-asylum kit hehe
warnings: sm*t, p in v, oral m receiving, teasing, cursing, kinda overstim, not really tho
+++
The second hand moved so slowly on the clock, I thought it might be broken. Class always went slower when I knew I’d be seeing Kit afterward. Thursdays were our day.
My parents didn’t know. They hated the idea of me being distracted from my studies by some silly boy. I was, in fact, sticking my neck out by going to college as a woman, so I had to succeed. But, the new decade called for liberation for us women. I was proving a point by being able to date and do well in school.
I digress. I met Kit after my father's car got a flat. He showed up in his tow truck to save the day.
'Scummy, those mechanics,' my father quipped as we drove away.
I walked to the gas station Kit said he worked at the next day, set on getting him to ask me on a date.
We'd been secretly meeting up for dates ever since. He'd come to pick me up after my last class of the day every Thursday and take me out somewhere. I could, at times, sneak away to see Kit on other days of the week, but Thursdays were a set date. My mother and father had no idea. They thought I would stay late to study.
In my daydreaming daze, I almost didn't notice my classmates getting up to leave. I gathered my things hastily and rushed out of the room and into the bright daylight of the afternoon. The sun's light on the pavement was nearly blinding. I shaded my eyes with my hand as I walked to the curb, looking desperately for Kit's car.
Within seconds, his shiny black car came slowly up to the side of the street.
'Hey, pretty thing! You goin' my way, doll?' he called out of his window, acting as if he were a creepy stranger. I giggled and got into the passenger's side.
'You have no idea how nice it feels to do this,' I sighed, kicking my shoes off as Kit drove off.
'Rough day, beautiful?' He wore his work uniform. Some jeans, a white undershirt, and his button-up with his name on it. His hair was perfectly tousled, and the shirt was unbuttoned so that part of the white undergarment was showing. He looked soft and warm, and his smile lit up his eyes.
'Just a very long one, and I'm starving.'' I said, drawing out the word 'very.' I flipped down the visor and slid open the mirror, smoothing my hair and fixing the line of my lipstick while regarding my reflection. I pulled the tube of peach lipstick out of my bag and touched up my pout, making faces at myself all the while.
'Havin' fun over there?' Kit laughed.
'I'm beginning to think this shade is old hat,' I sighed. 'Maybe I should try red like Marilyn.'
'I don't care what color they are so long as I get to kiss 'em,' he smirked, taking one hand off the steering wheel and placing it on my upper thigh. I didn't even notice how far my dress had ridden up my leg since getting in the car.
I blushed and giggled, tucking the front pieces of my hair behind my ears. I will admit, I was still in the lavender haze with him.
He pulled into the parking lot of the small roadside diner in our town. It was quaint, tucked away in some trees, filled with truckers from out-of-state and old ladies meeting for lunch. It was a stone's throw from Kit's job, and the perfect place to hide away. Somewhere neither of my parents would dare go.
We sat at the tall counter in the center of the place. This was part of our little Thursday routine. I would always come out of class absolutely ravenous. We'd pick far-away or unknown places to eat before truly spending time together.
'You want somethin', my pretty thing?' Kit asked as the waitress stood in front of us.
'Honestly, a milkshake would be a gas,' I smiled up at the waitress. 'Strawberry.'
'That's all you want?' Kit asked as she walked away. 'Are you sure?'
'Yeah, Kit, I'm alright,' I replied, feeling around in my bag for a light for my cigarette. 'Shit, I must have dropped my lighter somewhere. It's not here.'
'Don’t worry doll, I got you,' he drawled, flicking his own open and holding it under the cigarette clenched in my teeth. I took a long drag and exhaled. The waitress returned and placed my drink in front of me, and Kit's meal in front of him.
I looked over at Kit and caught him taking me in. He looked me up and down and chuckled softly.
'My, you are a dream,' he cooed, placing a hand on my chin to bring me in for a kiss. I went in for a peck and was alarmed to find that Kit wanted more.
'Baby, not here,' I said through gritted teeth, pulling away quickly. I looked around to make sure no one saw. 'You're an animal.' I laughed and he returned the smile.
'I just can't control myself around you, pretty.'
'Well then hurry up and finish your food so we can peel out,' I giggled, pushing his shoulder playfully.
+
There was an old abandoned schoolhouse in town 5 minutes away from my house. Kit and I would find ourselves in the back parking lot frequently. Tucked away from the public eye in his car.
As soon as Kit parked the car, he dragged me into the back seat with him. We made out furiously, like two caged animals that were finally set free. It was a small space, but we sure made it work.
I took over, immediately pushing Kit's back up against the door, placing my hands on his chest to hold him down. His white undershirt was soft against my palms. I could feel his heart pounding furiously beneath my fingertips. A pace that signaled to me just how much he wanted this.
We kissed for only a short time before clothes started getting removed. First, I aided him in removing his work shirt. Then, I worked to undo his belt and unbutton his jeans. He slid them off quickly. I took that time to remove my panties, throwing them hastily to the front seat.
His erection was noticeable through his white briefs. My hand immediately reached to touch it, only for it to be held back.
'Not yet, sweetheart,' he smiled. He pushed me back into the door on my side and continued making out with me. His hands groped all over my body, paying particular attention to my breasts. 'Oh this dress just won't do,' he muttered.
My high-necked smock dress was fit for school, yes, but not for this. He reached behind me and unzipped the fabric smoothly. He tugged the material and it slid down to expose my bra. Kit smiled as he looked into my eyes, then turned his attention back to my chest. He peppered kisses all over my sensitive skin, making goosebumps raise all over my body.
First, he slid my left bra strap off my shoulder, creating a bit more slack and revealing more of my skin. He took his time to kiss all of the areas of skin he hadn't before, going agonizingly slow so that I would get hot and bothered. He loved when I was hot and bothered.
Next was the right bra strap. The ceremony continued. His ritualistic dance of adorning love to every inch of my body made every horrible minute spent without him worth it. His mouth inched closer and closer to the very edge of my bra. Eventually, I gave in to the teasing and reached back to unhook the damn thing myself.
Deciding I'd had enough, though, I pushed Kit back again. This time, all the way down so that he was laying across the back seat. My hand reached for his bulge and stroked it. He whimpered in pleasure. I took the waistband of his briefs in my fingers and tugged, making his dick spring loose.
I lined myself up with him and slid his throbbing erection into my slick middle, feeling every inch of it go deeper and deeper into me. I cried out involuntarily and began bouncing on it, feeling our two bodies connect naturally. My walls tightened around it. He moaned softly.
'Oh baby, yeah,' he spat through gritted teeth as I continued to ride him. I stooped down and kissed him passionately, still keeping a rhythm. His shaking hands reached up to grope my breasts again, this time more firmly. He slid his hands down to my waist and held it, almost as if he were trying to feel some sort of control over me.
I continued moving my hips atop his dick. His length went so deep within me, I thought I'd scream. I put both of my palms on either side of his chest to steady myself. His breathing got more ragged, and I could feel his heart racing still.
'Fuck,' Kit grunted, trying not to come so easily. He gathered what strength he had a lifted me off of his erection by my waist. I sat back and slid down to a laying position as he rose to position himself above me, both of us maintaining eye contact as we went. He wanted a turn on top.
I didn't even get a chance to settle before his large cock was inside me again. I yelped and screwed my eyes closed, existing at that moment at his very will. He held my wrists, which were resting just next to my head, down so that I couldn't move. I whined in protest but was silenced by his lips on mine.
Sweat formed on his brow. I could feel myself succumbing to the waves of orgasm. But, neither of us wanted to be the first to give in. I breathed heavily to steel myself, but it was to no avail. I came first, crying out and moaning loudly. He slid out of me and stroked my hair as the fits of pleasure overtook me.
Kit sat back against the door on his side of the car once again, breathing heavily. I regained my composure and sat up, sitting back on my heels. I stooped down and took his pre-cum covered dick in my mouth. I flicked my tongue over the tip and reveled in the whimpers and cries Kit was letting out. He grabbed and pulled my hair gently as I continued to suck him off.
'I-I'm gonna come,' he mustered, trying to warn me in case I wanted to stop. Instead, I let him blow his load directly into my mouth. I ignored the warmth and bitter taste as I swallowed. He moaned and threw his head back, eventually relaxing into his position. I wiped my mouth and sat back as well.
Recovered from his orgasm, Kit leaned forward and laid half-beside and half-on me, resting his head on my chest. I sighed in contentment.
'God, you're good at that,' Kit whispered, laughing softly. I laughed too. He grabbed my hand and brought it up to his lips to kiss it. He kissed the back of each finger as well to emphasize his gratefulness. He nestled closer into me. I nearly fell asleep listening to his breathing even out.
I gasped suddenly when I looked out the window and saw the sun setting. 'Shit, Kit, we have to get me home!'
We both worked quickly to redress. He helped me with the tough job of zipping up the back of my dress. I scrambled out of the back door and into the passenger door, slamming it shut and bringing the visor down to once again look at myself in the mirror. Kit clambered up to the front from the back seat and settled himself in.
He turned the key in the ignition and started the car up. He paused, though, before going. I looked away from fixing my lipstick for a moment to see what was the matter. Kit shifted in his seat and reached for something that was under him. In his hand was my panties.
'I uh, think you're gonna need these,' he chuckled, blushing. I smacked his arm and snatched them from his grip.
'Oh, hush! Stop! It's not funny,' I protested, half-laughing as well. I shoved them into my handbag demonstratively. 'Now hurry up and drive!'
+
The ride home was quick enough. The sun was still setting as Kit got to the end of my street. He had to drop me there to avoid my parents seeing anything.
'Are you sure you're gonna be okay walking over there this late? I don't need anyone snatching my girl,' Kit spoke.
'I'll be fine, Kit. No one really walks my street. Plus, it's not even that dark,' I assured him.
'Well okay, but I'll be parked here watching ya, okay?'
'Just don't be too obvious,' I warned.
He leaned over and grabbed my face, pulling me in for one last, passionate kiss. When I pulled away, my lipstick was all over his face. I just chuckled to myself and opened the door.
'I love you, you pretty thing,' he called after me.
'I love you too, Kit,' I smiled.
+++
Literally cannot lie I got a bit, uh, bothered myself writing this one LOL. Let me know if you liked this one!
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