#guys this was in my notes from...wait for it...MAY.

[smokysr]

I LIKE U - S. R

pairing: fubu!spencer reid x afab!reader

content warning: +18. mdni. 3.3k words. oral (reader receiving). soft dom spencer. angry sex. raw. cowgirl. praise.

synopsis: in which you find yourself falling for your fuck buddy.

author's note: first smut </3 posting this in honor of undressed reaching 100 reads on wattpad!! woohoo

You never believed in love—not the kind that lasts, anyway. You’ve seen the way it destroyed people. Your parents. Your friends. Even your own failed attempts. Love has brought you nothing but pain. So you convinced yourself that it wasn't worth the trouble—that you were better off alone. It was safer that way. And for a while, you’ve never been happier.

Until Spencer Reid came along.

It was just harmless fun—or so you thought. You were bored, and this guy who wouldn't stop rambling off fun facts was really cute. The way his lips parted when he talked, the glasses that rested on the tip of his nose, and not to mention his eyes—the kind you could drown in without even realizing.

Just a taste. That’s all you needed from him.

Then another. And another. And another—until it became a routine.

Spencer knocking on your door, tangling himself in your sheets at least twice a week. Always leaving something that belonged to him—may it be his watch, his book, his hoodie, sometimes, even his glasses. And it was infuriating, the way he could just sweep you off your feet with a single look, mark you like a promise, and then disappear before you even woke up.

You don't even know when it started—the way your heart raced when you were together, or how you’d wait for a message from him, only to feel that familiar pang of disappointment when the notification wasn't from him.

And then it hit you.

You were falling for him. Hard.

It wasn't supposed to happen—it shouldn't have happened—but there you were, wanting more than what you bargained for.

Fuck.

Fuck.

But just like you, Spencer had his own walls. The reason this whole thing kept going was because neither of you believed in love. That was the unspoken rule. But the sex was good—too good, even. Raw. Hungry. Intimate. But always fleeting. As if he kept one foot out the door, ready to run the second things get too real.

Your eyes fluttered open when the sunlight peeked through the curtains. You reached for him, only to be greeted by the empty space on his side of the bed. Spencer was gone—only the imprint of where he slept remained, and the faint scent of his cologne lingered.

This was your set up. You should be used to it by now, but you couldn't deny the heavy feeling that settled on your chest every time you woke up to an empty bed.

You got out of bed and made your way down to the kitchen—where your eyes landed on a book on the counter.

Spencer’s, you thought. No one else in this apartment liked to read, unless your cat somehow learned how to.

As if fate were playing tricks on you, your phone buzzed.

A notification from Spencer.

Work called, I had to leave early. I left my book there when I was in a rush. I’ll pick it up later.

Your brows furrowed as you read his message, not even bothering to type out a reply. What were you going to say, anyway? He had your address memorized—he’d show up when he could.

─────────────────────────────

The sun started to set.

Spencer stood outside of your apartment, knocking on your door. Once. Twice. When it finally swung open, his eyes met yours. You stood there, unmoved. A moment of silence hung between you two.

“Hey,” his voice was softer than usual.

You held his gaze, “hey.”

Another pause.

“Can I come in?” He gestured inside as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Oh right—sorry,” you moved aside, waiting for him to step in.

Spencer didn't say anything else. He just looked around as if he hadn't already memorized every detail of your place.

“You got my text?” Spencer asked, trying to sound casual. “Mhm. Your book’s on the counter,” you hummed.

Your eyes met his—just for a second—before you looked away. “Thanks,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair.

The air was thick with unspoken tension.

Spencer walked over to the counter and picked up the book. He stared at it for a moment before slipping it into his bag.

“That’s all you came here for, right?” you said, not meaning for it to come out so bitter—but it did.

His gaze snapped to you. “What's that supposed to mean?”

You scoffed, turning away. “Nothing, forget about it.”

“No,” he said, voice firmer now. “Say it.”

You turned back to him. “I just think it's funny. Every time you show up, you leave something behind, send a one-line text, and suddenly that's enough.”

Spencer’s brows furrowed. “I didn't realize I needed to give you a full explanation every time I leave.”

“You don’t!” you snapped. “That’s the thing. You don’t. And yet—I still fucking wait for it.”

“This was supposed to be simple,” he hissed back.

“Then stop doing things to make it not simple, Spencer!” your voice broke, sharp. “Stop leaving your stuff here, stop calling me in the middle of the night, stop looking at me like—”

“Like what?”

A pause. Too long.

“Like I mean something to you!”

“I never asked for any of that,” you continued, voice not louder than a whisper. “I didn't ask to feel like this. You did that. You made me feel something and then acted like it meant nothing.”

Spencer stepped closer, something flickering in his eyes—anger, pain, and something that's been buried for too long.

“And what about you?” he shot back. “You think I don't notice? The way you push and pull like it’s a game and I’m supposed to—”

“Because I didn't know what else to do!”

Your chests were heaving now, breathing uneven and heavy.

“I don't know how to deal with this,” you whispered. “With you, with the way I—”

“Feel?” he said, almost mocking. “Say it.”

You shot him a glare. “You first.”

His fists clenched at his sides.

“Fuck it,” he cursed.

Then suddenly—his hand closed around your wrist, and he pulled you into him. His lips crashed onto yours—hot, angry, desperate. You gasped but he swallowed the sound.

The kiss wasn't soft. It was messy, intense, hungry. Like he’d spent months biting his tongue, and now the dam had broken. His free hand tangled in your hair, fingers curling tight as he pulled you closer. You could feel the tension under his skin—like he was afraid to let go.

He kissed you like he was drowning—and you were the only thing keeping him alive.

“I love you,” he murmured in between kisses—still rough, still sloppy, like he didn't know how to stop—not like he wanted to. “I fucking love you—”

His hands gripped your waist, lifting you and setting you on the counter like he needed you closer.

“And you have no idea.” He panted, forehead resting against yours, eyes burning into you—his voice low and ragged.

You didn't respond—not with words. You grabbed him by the collar and pulled him back onto you, lips colliding with his, aggressive and unrelenting. Spencer deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding against yours, tasting you like he’d been starving. The air was thick with desperation, the pretense falling away with every graze, every breathless moan between kisses.

His hands roamed—your thighs, your hips, your waist—as if he was trying to memorize every inch of you through his fingertips. And your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging softly, then harder when he bit your bottom lip.

His hands slipped under your shirt, trailing fire with every touch. He dragged the fabric up slowly, then pulled back just long enough to yank it over your head. His eyes roamed your body like he couldn't believe you were real.

“You drive me insane,” he whispered against your throat. His lips brushed your skin before he sucked hard enough to make you gasp, then scraped his teeth gently, making your breath hitch. “You always have.”

You tugged at his belt, fingers fumbling with urgency. “Then shut up and do something about it.”

A low growl rumbled from his chest—deep, primal—and he kissed you again, harder this time. His hands slid up your bare back, holding you like he didn't know how to let go.

He didn't bother taking off his shirt. He was too far gone. You were too much.

His hips ground into yours, and you felt him—hard, hot, and aching—through the soft fabric, the friction dizzying.

“I need you,” he rasped against your lips, each word laced with desperation. “Right now. Tell me I can.”

You pulled back just enough to look him in the eye. “Yes,” you whispered. “God—yes.”

Spencer crashed his lips back onto yours, chasing the taste of you like a man undone. His hands gripped your hips tighter, like he was afraid you’d vanish if he let go—even for a second.

Your fingers toyed with the hem of his shirt before slipping underneath, sliding the fabric over his head. You tossed it somewhere behind you, not caring where it landed.

Your touch trailed down his chest—slow, deliberate—until your hand cupped him through his slacks.

He grunted, brows furrowing, hips twitching at the contact.

You pressed your palm just enough to make him throb beneath the fabric, moving your hand in slow, torturous strokes.

“Don’t—” he gasped, voice breaking into a whimper. “Don’t tease.”

His hips bucked into your hand, seeking more.

Spencer reached down and wrapped his hand around your wrist—not rough, but firm. His eyes were dark and blown wide with need.

“Please,” he whimpered, breath ragged. “Don't make me wait anymore, baby.”

He guided your hand away, replacing it with his own touch between your thighs, fingers brushing you through your underwear. You gasped, hips bucking, and he groaned—like the sound had been punched from his chest. “God, you’re already wet,” he muttered, more to himself than to you. “You’ve been holding back too, haven’t you?”

You nodded, dizzy, but he shook his head gently.

“Words, sweetheart.”

“Yes,” you breathed. “Fuck—yes.”

His mouth was back on yours, slower now but just as hungry. His hands moved with purpose—tugging your underwear down, lips trailing heat down your neck as he pushed your legs apart.

“I’ve thought about this,” he confessed against your skin, voice breaking. “Every night. Every time I left.”

He looked up at you like he was on the edge of something. And then—

“Let me take care of you.”

He dropped to his knees in front of you without a word.

His hands rested on your thighs—warm, shaking slightly, but firm. He looked up at you, eyes dark and hungry, hair falling into his face.

“You okay?” he asked softly, even as he tugged your underwear down your legs. “Tell me if you want me to stop.”

You shook your head, breath already catching. “Please don’t.”

He smiled—just barely—before leaning forward and kissing the inside of your thigh. Slow. Reverent. Like worship. His hands spread your legs wider, his breath ghosting over where you needed him most.

“Good,” he murmured. “Because I’ve missed you.”

And then—his mouth was on you.

Hot. Wet. Unrelenting.

His tongue licked a slow stripe up your folds before circling your clit, light at first, teasing. You gasped, one hand flying to grip the edge of the counter, the other threading into his hair.

Spencer groaned the moment you pulled on it.

“You’re so sensitive,” he whispered, voice muffled between your thighs. “So fucking sweet.”

He sucked on your clit gently, then flicked it with his tongue, fingers digging into your hips to hold you still as your body jerked in response.

“You sound so pretty like this,” he breathed, pausing just long enough to kiss you again, slower now, savoring you. “Don’t hold back. I want to hear you.”

You moaned—louder this time—and he took it as permission to go deeper. He licked into you, slow and precise, like he was trying to learn everything that made you fall apart. His nose brushed your clit with every stroke of his tongue, and the pressure built fast—your thighs shaking, your breaths ragged, the coil in your stomach winding tighter and tighter.

“Spence—fuck—I’m gonna—”

He hummed against you, sending vibrations through your core.

“Go on, baby,” he murmured. “I’ve got you.”

You were close—so close—the tension rising like a tidal wave, seconds away from crashing. Your hand threaded into his curls, pushing his head down, pulling him closer to your core. Your hips bucked against his mouth as the pleasure overtook you—back arching, head tilting back, breath catching in your throat.

Spencer’s name tumbled from your lips like a prayer as you fell apart on his tongue.

“Cum for me, baby,” he whispered, lifting his eyes to meet yours. “Come on. You can do it.”

You came on his tongue, and he didn’t let up—groaning like he’d been starving for it.

“Sh—shit Spence—”

You pulsed around nothing, legs trembling uncontrollably as he held you through it. Still, he kept going—lazily lapping at your clit while your body trembled from the aftershocks.

Then he slowed. Softened. Kissed the inside of your thigh with lips that lingered.

“There you go,” he murmured, voice low and wrecked. “Atta girl.”

“Fucking hell, Spence.” You gasped, chest heaving, reaching down to fist your hand in his hair and tug him up to face you.

And fuck—he was beautiful.

His curls were a mess, ears flushed pink, lips parted and glistening with your wetness. His eyes—dark, blown wide, starving—held nothing back. Just need. Raw and unfiltered.

You were still gasping when Spencer pulled you into another kiss—desperate like he hadn't just made your legs shake on the counter. His slender hands found their way around your waist, easily lifting you off the cold marble as legs instinctively wrapped around his waist.

“Couch,” he grunted in your mouth. “I need—fuck—I need more.”

“Spence—” you started, but he was already moving.

You kissed him again to steady both of you, arms around his neck as he stumbled blindly toward the couch—shoulder bumping the wall, breath catching in your ear when he almost lost balance.

“I’ve got you,” he panted. “Promise.”

And he did—because the moment his knees hit the cushions, he dropped down with you in his lap, your bodies still tangled, your mouth still on his. You were already grinding against him, feeling him hard beneath you, and he cursed under his breath like the sound had been clawed out of his chest.

His hand found your ass, squeezing roughly as he guided your hips. Your hand tugged on the waistband of his boxers, dragging them down—just enough to free his cock, throbbing and flushed, precum already dripping at the tip.

You’d be lying if you said you weren't salivating at the sight of him all worked up. And it's all for you.

“Shit, Spence,” you breathed, running your thumb over the head, spreading the wetness just to watch him twitch.

He groaned—head thrown back, jaw clenched, hands twitching on your hips like he was holding on for dear life.

“You ready?” you whispered, already positioning yourself above him. Teasing the tip against your entrance.

He looked up at you like he was watching a goddess descend from the heavens.

“Please.”

Without saying another word, you sank down on him slowly—inch by inch—your nails digging into his shoulder as you clung to him for support.

“That’s it, pretty girl,” he huffed, jaw clenched. “Keep going. You're doing so good for me.”

And god, as much as it hurt, you couldn't stop—not when he was whispering sweet praise into your skin like he meant every word.

“Sh-shit—” you gasped, breath stuttering. His eyes were locked into yours, dark and hazy with lust—watching you take all of him.

How you fit perfectly around his cock—like your sweet cunt was made just for him.

Spencer laced his fingers with yours, brought your hand to his lips, and kissed your knuckles softly.

“You okay?” he murmured—gentle, breathless.

You nodded, breathless. “I’m okay,” you whispered. “Just—don't look away.”

He didn't. He couldn't.

You started to move—slow, tentative at first. Testing the stretch. The burn. The way he filled you—thick, twitching, reaching parts of you that left your thighs trembling. Spencer’s hand slid down to your ass, squeezing gently, guiding your hips as he let you set the pace.

“That’s it,” he murmured, voice wrecked. “You’re doing so good for me, angel.”

You moved your hips again—this time deeper, slower. The sounds of skin meeting skin echoed through the room, sticky and wet. His name left your lips in broken gasps every time your clit grazed against the base of him.

You found your rhythm—rolling your hips in tight circles that made his head fall back with a guttering groan. His hands gripped harder, jaw clenched, thighs tensing beneath you.

“F-fuck—just like that,” he panted.

You clenched around him.

He lost it.

Your nails raked up his chest, hands clutching his shoulders for balance as you bounced on his cock, chasing that sweet friction. That high he started the second he touched you on the counter.

Spencer’s lips met your throat, kisses growing messy—open-mouthed, greedy, uncoordinated. Then he sucked, hard, right beneath your jaw. You whimpered, head tilting back as the heat in your core swelled.

“Mine,” he whispered, dragging his tongue over the mark he made.

Spencer doesn’t believe in God. But he knows one thing—this must be what heaven feels like. No—this is heaven.

His eyes filled with lust, devouring you from beneath. The way your brows knit when you hit that one spot. The bounce of your tits. The broken, breathless moans spilling from your mouth like a prayer just for him.

“You drive me fucking crazy,” he muttered, voice hot against your neck. “Watching you ride me like that—fuck.”

Then he started thrusting up into you—harder. Deeper. His hips snapping up in time with yours, no longer letting you set the pace.

“Spence—” you gasped, nails digging into his back.

He fucked up into you again, and again—your body jolting with every thrust. You tried to keep up, but his thrusts had you cockdrunk—blissed out and trembling under every snap of his hips.

“Go on, baby,” he groaned, forehead against yours. “Take it—fuck, take all of it.”

Your moans were incoherent now, every drag of his cock inside you pulling another cry from you. His name left your lips like a prayer.

“Feels so good ‘round me,” he grunted. “So tight—so fucking wet. And it's all for me.”

You were so close—you could feel your whole body tightening, clenching around him, thighs shaking. He felt it.

“Gonna cum for me, angel?” he panted, voice hoarse.

“Spence—I—”

“Come on, baby. I’ve got you,” he whispered in your ear, one final thrust hitting just right.

You shattered—moaning his name, thighs shaking, body jerking in his arms as your orgasm hit hard and fast. The way you clenched around him pushed him right over the edge.

“Shit—fuck—fuck, I’m—”

He came with a deep groan, hips grinding up into yours as he filled you, arms locked around your waist like you’d vanish if he let go.

Neither of you moved—forehead touching, breathing heavy, still wrapped around each other. The smell of sex and something more filled the room.

“I meant it,” Spencer held your face, eyes boring into yours. “I love you.”

His mouth crashed into yours with a gentle kiss, a contrast from his earlier roughness.

“You haven't even asked me out properly yet,” you pulled away.

Spencer let out a laugh, voice hoarse. Finding your little comment endearing.

“Then,” his voice trailed. “May I take you out on a date?”

“Only if you say please.”

He looked at you with doe eyes, “please?”

You leaned in, giving him a quick peck. “I love you,” you whispered—like it was a secret only he deserved to know.

Spencer looked stunned, “I—you—”

“You didn't give me the chance to say it earlier,” you said, melting into his arms, resting your forehead against his. “But I do. I really do.”

His lips curled into a smile. And for the first time in a long time—everything just felt right.

Like maybe, just maybe, love was worth the risk after all.

[kdh-tally]

Hello!! Love your posts about Kpop Demon Hunters and you made me release my full fangirling, you saved me from feeling empty tbh. Can I request Huntrix and Saja boys meeting their future children while Baby being the Godfather of the all the ships children. Abby x Mira x Romance had 3 kids, two boys and 1 girl, same thing as Mystery x Zoey but their boys are twins. While Jinu x Rumi have one girl and one boy. Thank you!!

Prompt : Huntr/x and the Saja Boys meet their kids from the future...

Author's Note : I really enjoyed writing this one!!! I made a whole chart with names and ages and personalities and everything. Hope you enjoyed!

The group was lounging in the practice room. Bobby, who was also temporarily managing the Saja Boys till they found a proper manager, had forced both groups to take a break. He was fully encouraging of their eagerness to perform, some more than others, but wanted them to relax.

Zoey and Romance were lounging on Derpy, the tiger, as they watched Mira and Baby play an oddly competitive game of uno, something Baby had gotten increasingly good at. Abby sat beside Mira, telling her what colours to place down and Mystery laid half-asleep on the couch. 

Rumi sat cuddled into Jinu’s chest as they watched some silly youtube compilation off his phone. All was peaceful, until Jinu tensed and shot up. Everyone now looked up to him.

“Something is wrong,” he muttered as he looked up to the ceiling. 

Baby raised an eyebrow. “You sure you’re not just being paranoid dude?”

Jinu didn’t even get the chance to answer before a rip opened in the ceilings. With unexplainable speed, the girls had summoned their weapons, eyes strictly focused on the mysterious–and possibly galactical–tear. The boys had also activated their powers, fingers sharp and eyes glowing as they waited.

Suddenly, a huge group of people dropped through the tear, it closed up right after. “What the-” Mira whispered as they surrounded the group of… kids?

The kids scrambled upright, shrieking and elbowing one another as they tried to get out of the pile.

“GET OFF MY FOOT!!”

“WHO TOUCHED MY HAIR?!”

“Did we just fall out of a portal?”

A girl who looked a little too much like Zoey blinked around the room, eyes wide, she quickly summoned two glassy but obviously durable metal hand held fans. The boy next to her, one of a pair of twins, suddenly pointed at Mystery. “Okay. Okay. That guy looks like dad but more emo.”

“You say that like it helps us understand the situation,” the other twin muttered, he was kinda hiding behind his older sister.

Everyone just stared. No one moved. Then the Mira-look alike stepped forward, arms crossed as her eyes assessed the room. “This is not the penthouse.” Her eyes narrowed at the group of adults in fighting stances. She summoned her own weapon, an iridescent coloured staff, in case a fight broke out.

“Tell us something we don’t know,” said the other pink haired child, summoning glassy red boxing gloves around his hands. A deadpanned look on his face.

Zoey finally blinked, breaking the silence. “Okay. Who dropped eight random children here and why can they make hunter weapons?” She glared specifically at the ‘retired’ demon boys.

“Don’t look at us,” Romance said, hands up before pointing right at Jinu. “He was the most powerful one out of us four.”

Baby stood up, retracting his claws and casually grabbing his juice box (it was a new chili flavour specifically made for him). “Quick question. Who here thinks they may have possibly created life in the future and now it’s come back to haunt them?”

Silence.

Another girl, one with short purple hair and an oversized hoodie, groaned in annoyance, “We were finally having a sleep over…” she pulled out the dual katanas that formed behind her back.

The boy next to Abby narrowed his eyes. “Wait. You look like one of my—” His voice trailed off as he pointed between Abby and Romance. “Oh my god. Wait. That’s them.” He pointed at Mira. “And her.”

“What do you mean, them?” the other pink haired boy asked, dropping his fists, the gloves dissipating into a bunch of familiar string waves as he moved closer to the look-alike. 

“Yea what do you mean us?” Romance echoed, voice pitching high. “OH WAIT YOU MEAN ALL THREE OF US-” he dropped to the ground, jaw dropped as it clicked.

The girl rolled her eyes, realizing there was no danger and releasing her staff back into the air. “Well yeah, obviously. You three argue like co-parents.”

Abby swore he was going to faint.

—

They tried to regroup. Tried.

Huntr/x and the Saja boys sat on one side of the practice room while the kids remained on the other. Derpy nuzzled closer to the group of small humans as happy as could be. He especially took a liking to the purple haired duo that sat on the floor.

The kids weren’t panicking, but they were wide-eyed and stressed. Everyone except the twins. One of them had already sat down next to Zoey without asking, playing with her glass blades (and comparing them with his) as she fussed over them in worry. The other had cornered Mystery (who was still half-asleep), simply staring at him in silence while his sister played with his hair happily.

“Okay,” Rumi said slowly, dragging a stool into the middle of the room like a teacher mid-breakdown. “Does anyone know what could have happened?”

“Last thing I remember,” the girl with Rumi’s eyes spoke, weapon still in hand as she was a bit untrusting, “Noa and I were in our parent’s penthouse. The kids were in the living room and I left to grab something from my room then everything kinda glitched and I fell on a bunch of legs.”

“Yep,” the Abby-looking boy said. “I thought Elio and Noa were just lagging out of reality. But now I think it was the universe.” He said as he sat beside his siblings. His twin must have been Elio and sister was Noa.

Romance raised his hand, only speaking when Rumi pointed at him. “So none of you time travelled on purpose?”

“No!” the kids chorused.

Jinu looked to Rumi. “Nothing changed with the Honmoon right? No crazy new magic?” She shook her head, confirming that nothing had changed. "So what's going on?"

“Someone did something stupid and didn’t tell me,” Baby groaned, pulling out a clipboard from who knows where. “Now, until we figure this out, we treat this like a quarantine. No touching anything magical or trying to fix it yourself. And for the hatred of Gwi-ma don’t trauma bond.”

“Too late,” muttered one of the twins, already curled up beside Mystery like a house cat. Mystery looked like he was actively trying to dissolve into the couch. He was going to have kids with ZOEY??.

Zoey touched her daughter's hair, just lightly, and her hands trembled as the teenage girl leaned into her touch. “This is real,” she whispered. “She’s gonna be real.”

“And so are the stress lines forming on your forehead,” Baby interrupted. Zoey didn’t even have the heart to insult him back. He strutted to the center of the room, pushing Rumi away and into Jinu’s arms.

“Children, all of you get in line and share your names. That will hopefully make this less confusing,” Baby mumbled as he tried to rub the ache out of his head.

The children, funny enough, quickly obeyed. The pink trio stood at the front of everyone. “I think it’s kind of obvious whose kids we are,” the younger of the two boys, Elio, said.

His sister nodded before pointing at each of them. “This is Kai, he’s 14,” to the Abby-lookalike, “this one’s Elio, he’s 11,” to the younger boy who looked exactly like Romance (the one with the boxing gloves), “and I’m Noa, their older sister and the oldest kid here.” She had her arms crossed over her chest as she stood protectively before all the kids. She obviously took Mira’s protective spirit.

"Only by 10 minutes" Zoey's daughter pouted from where she stood by her twin brothers. Romance looked as though he could cry, a wobbly smile on his face as he sat between Mira and Abby.

The next three, who basically had to be dragged away from their parents, stepped in front of her. “I’m Riven. 14.” One of the twins, the more affectionate but calm one introduced.

“Sora,” The girl beamed, clearly taking after her mom. “I’m 17 and the second oldest.”

“Vince. Also 14.” The silent one waved, hand gripping deadly onto his older twin-brother’s.

“That’s our mom,” Sora smiled as she pointed right at Zoey. "And that's our Dad," she pointed right at mystery who was still in shock.

The last two finally stood. The older one, a girl with short purple hair took in a nervous breath. “I’m Linae, Rumi and Jinu’s kid. And this is-”

“Asa!!!!!” the young toddler yelled loudly. The group winced, covering their ears as his magically powered voice rang through the room. That was Rumi and Jinu’s kid alright. 

“Yea, this is Asa. He’s 3,” Linae laughed softly before picking her baby brother up and placing him on her waist. “I’m 17, third oldest by like 20 minutes,” she nodded to both Sora and Noa.

“He takes after you,” Rumi said immediately to Jinu who looked offended. The group couldn’t help but stare at their apparent children from the future. All proof that they shared something deeper than just crushes. 

“Damn,” Baby laughed. He thought he got away, could be free to chill and travel on his own. Suddenly, all 8 kids turned to him, with Asa running up to cling onto his pants leg. 

“Uncle Baby,” the child cooed, signaling for the man to pick him up. Baby looked to Rumi, the child's mom, and she just shrugged. “I can’t believe this.” He mumbled before picking the child up.

“Okay!” Mira clapped her hands once, the sound echoing a little too loudly across the tension-filled practice room. “We’re gonna go have a private adult meeting. Don’t touch anything, don’t summon your weapons and don’t summon any more children.”

“Do we look like we can summon children?” Kai sassed.

“You don’t talk to your mom like that-” Abby scoffed as he eyed the small child.

“Are you and Kai gonna fight again Uncle Abby?…” Vince said flatly, already poking through Mystery’s phone without permission. He knew the password after watching his dad do it multiple times.

Zoey ripped it out of his hands. “Okay—NO.” She looked around at the rest of the kids, eyes remaining longer on her kids before sighing. “We’ll just be gone for a minute.”

Baby unwillingly handed the small child back to his sister. Rumi turned to Linae and Asa. “Watch your brother.”

“I always do mom,” Linae gave her a reassuring smile before immediately picking Asa up and sitting him on top of Derpy.

“We’ll be fine,” Noa said, arms crossed. “Go panic. It’s fine.”

And panic they did.

—

The hallway outside the practice room was dimly lit, lined with water bottles, yoga mats and benches. All eight members of Huntr/x and Saja Boys stood in a loose, silent circle. Well, all except Baby, who sat cross-legged on the floor like he was watching a comedy.

Nobody said anything.

Abby kept glancing at Mira. Romance was fidgeting with the drawstrings of his hoodie like they were a stress toy. Mystery, finally fully awake, was staring into an empty abyss. Zoey had her head in her hands. 

Jinu was blinking at the wall. He was going to have children. Two absolutely beautiful children with Rumi. And Rumi? Rumi looked calm, which made everyone else more nervous.

“Okay,” Baby said at last. “Who’s gonna be brave and say what we’re all thinking?”

“...This shouldn't be possible,” Zoey whispered, eyes wide and still. “I—I mean. We should’ve been busy. There’s been demon hunting, schedules, concerts. When did we even… do the thing?”

Romance coughed loudly. “Technically you don’t need that much time—”

Mira smacked him on the head.

“I think I’m having a stroke,” Abby muttered. “I have a mini me.”

"And he's just as stuck up," Romance snickered.

“Guys,” Jinu finally said, very slowly. “We have children. Named children.”

“One of mine had katanas,” Rumi smirked somewhat proudly.

“You mean one of ours,” Jinu corrected her, a light blush on his face.

Mystery finally spoke. “It was like looking into a three way mirror.” He thought of the twin boys and how they looked exactly like him, Vince copying his hairstyle as well. He thought of Sora, the energetic bundle of sunshine that almost rivaled Zoey’s excitement.

“I didn’t even know you wanted children,” Zoey mumbled before looking right at him. “Do you want kids?”

“Of course he does, you guys have three,” Baby deadpanned.

“Shut UP,” everyone shouted in unison. He took a sip of his juice box, smug.

Rumi leaned closer to Jinu, hands intertwining. “It’s not like it’s the worst thing. I mean, clearly we’re alive in the future. We’re together. We all did something right.”

“But how?” Zoey asked again. “When did we get together? I don’t even remember kissing him—”

Mystery choked.

Abby looked at her. “You kissed him???”

“I said I don’t remember—!”

“I didn’t even know I was part of a—whatever this is!” Romance shouted as he motioned between him and the other pinkettes. “I thought we were just flirtatious! I thought we were playing the long game!”

Mira crossed her arms. “If this is the long game, we lost. Badly.”

“I’m happy we lost. Have you seen our kids?” Abby scoffed.

Baby raised his hand. “In addition to Rumi’s point, you all got insanely attractive future kids with cool weapons and distinct personalities. Could’ve been worse.”

“They call you uncle,” Rumi reminded him.

“They should! I’m awesome,” Baby replied. “And I’m the only one not tweaking out right now. Just saying.” he shrugged. Everyone glared at him but Baby just smiled.

Then, silence again.

This time, it was Abby who broke it. “I think we all need to talk. Not just about those kids, but about…” He gestured vaguely in the air. “Us.”

“I’m not emotionally prepared for this conversation,” Zoey muttered, moving closer to Mystery. “I need snacks or a nap or a hug or maybe all three.”

“We’re clearly together in the future,” Jinu added carefully. “So maybe that means we stop pretending we don’t feel what we feel now.”

Mystery looked down. Romance looked away. Mira closed her eyes for a momeny too long.

Then, Baby stood up and dusted off his pants. “Well, as your emotionally well-adjusted godparent-slash-honorary single uncle, I say you should all grow up and kiss already.”

Everyone threw something at him.

—

Back inside the practice room, the kids were playing Uno. Again. Riven was winning. Elio was cheating.

Elio looked up from his cards. “Think they’re fighting in the hallway?”

“No,” Noa said confidently. “They’re just being dumb. Like usual.”

Linae nodded from where she sat on the couch, Asa snuggled on her chest as he slept. “Should we help?”

“Not until they figure it out,” Vince muttered. “They gotta suffer a little.”

Kai smirked. “Kinda like we did when we fell from a portal and none of them caught us?”

Sora giggled. “Exactly.”

Kai slapped down a +4. “Uno! I WIN”

[lxffy]

❦ one piece men as hosts !

with: ace, sabo, luffy, zoro, sanji, and gn!reader

synopsis: one piece host!au headcanons where your favorite men try their hand in stealing your heart ! ❤︎

note: instead of saying madam/sir, i just left it as [term] so you can pick for yourself!

A host club had appeared in town, and while it usually wasn’t something you’d indulge in, you couldn’t help but wonder what kind of guys you may meet…

Sometimes Ace wonders if he truly belongs in the host club, but he just can’t find it in him to leave. He certainly doesn’t hate the attention, but sometimes it just overwhelms him, that’s all.

Learning the ways of a host was challenging, but he grasped it quite quickly, and his fan base grew immensely. He had a boyish charm about him, revealing a vulnerable side of himself if prompted carefully.

If you’re too affectionate with him, you might find yourself with a blushing mess! So please do refrain from complimenting his beautiful freckles, tell him he smells nice, or look at him too lovingly or he might combust!

“You’re too sweet to me, [name]…”

But all in all, he’s an amazing host. If you have a request, he’s quick to set a plan in action, ushering you around with a respectful arm around your waist. When he’s not trying to die from all the affection you give him, he’s quite confident and that playful smirk never leaves his lips.

He’s bold and suave, and makes grand gestures a part of brand. He spins you around, gifts you flowers, compliments your beauty and gives you an unforgettable experience.

Sabo is probably one of the smoothest hosts that this club has ever seen. He has a way with words that have his clients dropping to their knees, and he ends up with racks and envelopes of confessions from every client imaginable.

But you, on the other hand, are certainly his favorite. Even when he first met you, with the mannerisms of a prince, he took your hand and spun you around until you fell in his arms.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, my beautiful flower.”

His smile was deadly and he made sure to use it right, often after a little teasing so you’d forgive him for playing with you so much. He often smelled of citrus and leather, and every time you left him his scent lingered on your clothes. He has no problem being a little handsy once you give him the green light.

If you're interested in someone you'll struggle to keep up with, Luffy is your best choice. Some may wonder why he's a host, but his playful and inquisitive manner makes him a natural in some eyes.

The moment you step foot into the hall, he greets you with an all consuming hug.

"[Name]! You made it!"

You're smothered with his scent as he pulls you into a welcoming embrace. He's genuinely eager to meet you, but someone in the background quickly reminds him to address you correctly, and he certainly does try going forward.

He quite honestly takes you for a ride! He has so many things he wants to do and he wants to do them all with you. If he wasn’t confined to the host clubs premises, the two of you would probably explore the entire city! But please tell him if you’d like to slow down—he may be energetic but he refuses to neglect your needs.

For starters, Zoro doesn't know how he ended up as a host. Rumor has it he lost a bet or was challenged by a fellow host sanji and went along with it. But he is the hardest host to book with—if it wasn't for the weekly quota he had to make he probably would've found a way out by now.

He may be a bit gruff, but he certainly is intentional. When you arrive to the club, Zoro is already waiting for you, his back on the wall. When he looks up to see you, only a faint blush is noticeable on his ears. His hair was partially combed back, but stubborn strands littered his stoic face.

"I've been waiting for you, [term]..."

Zoro tenderly reached for your hand and bent down with his eyes closed to place a delicate kiss on your fingers. Your senses were suddenly invaded with the scent of sandalwood and musk, strands of hair falling to cover his sincere expression.

When he looked up at you with hooded eyes, you almost had a heart attack. His gaze was intense—you’d think he was trying to seduce you if this club was meant for other purposes, but the faint blush that dusted his expression revealed he was just as shy as you were.

Unlike the rest, Sanji had the most experience when it came to hosting since it’s simply in his nature to treat his interests like royalty. His beguiling smile and sweet words have many head over heels for him.

Every time he spoke, a string of saccharine compliments followed—you’d think he was a poet the way he his each compliment effortlessly rolled off his tongue.

“I could give up my dreams for you, but something tells me you’re the dream I was meant to chase, mon chéri.”

He was quick to serve you by pulling out a chair, twirling around you to compliment your style and your absolute beauty. His treats and tea were his speciality—he made sure to ask in advance if you had any allergies or preferences.

[kaysfanficcorner]

The Camgirl and the Millionaire, Part 3

Pairing: Harry Castillo x Camgirl Reader

Summary: Things get more complicated.

Author's Note: Well here we are. I had so much fun writing this chapter and I am incredibly proud of it. These two have captured my heart and I cannot wait to see this little story through to the end. Harry and his camgirl have been the highlight of my summer so far. Thank you for being along for the ride, and please enjoy one of the most explicit things I've written to date.

New note, 6/25: Also, I went back and made one small edit to part 2. In it, Harry said it was June. For the outline I have planned I needed to move things up two months to August, so now I just made Harry make a vague reference to it being summer. You’ll understand when part 4 comes out!

Warnings: Alcohol consumption; Mentions of THC consumption; Cursing; Flirting; Lying, which I assure you hurts to write just as much as it hurts to read; Angst; Fluff; SMUT in the form of unprotected sex, oral, cum eating, anal; A lot of feelings; Reader is thic; Reader is sort of goth; Reader has pierced nipples; Reader is a sex worker; I gave Harry an appendix scar, don't ask me why

18+, Minors DNI

Ao3

*****

Harry can’t quite believe himself, feeling legitimately nervous as he waits for you near the entrance, but still inside the events venue. Women don’t tend to make him nervous, not at this stage of his life at least. Somehow, someway, you make him incredibly nervous. Perhaps it’s because you’re nothing like anyone he’s ever felt attracted to before. With you everything feels strangely different. So different that he let himself go during the concert, not giving a single damn if anyone who he may know was paying any attention to him or not. But now, after coming down from his multiple highs, Harry’s sure he’d overdone it and he’s sure people will be talking come Monday morning. The question is, though, should he really care all that much?

Shortly after you both agreed to get food together, you declared that you needed to use the restroom and grab your things from the employee area in the back. You explained how you and Vanessa were able to get into the event in the first place with the help of that guy, Charles was it? The venue’s owner, evidently. Apparently Vanessa is usually at these events as an employee, which is in all honesty not much of a surprise. It all makes sense. As he stands there thinking about it, the puzzle pieces of how his evening ended up going in this direction have started clicking together. You’re not from this walk of life and you certainly would have never attended this event without the promise of the musical guest. Harry was only able to meet you due to some wild stroke of fate. Or luck. He’s not sure which. 

Harry himself doesn’t care, but your lack of status makes things even more scandalous when he really thinks about it. He knows that his brow must be riddled with worry as you’re approaching him once again, looking much more casual than you had when you walked away. When he really sees you, though, the worry in him fades away. 

 You’ve lost about three inches to the tasteful black Jimmy Choos you’d been wearing, which you’ve now replaced with short ankle-high black socks and a pair of black and white checkered Vans. The classic slip ons, a shoe Harry hasn’t noticed anyone wearing in a long while. He supposes that they are still popular if you’re wearing them, but most of the people he interacts with on a regular basis would not go for skateboarding shoes even in the most dire of circumstances. It’s an intriguing choice, much like the rest of you.

Your hair is back to being drawn up from your neck and shoulders, though the look is much messier than the bun Harry had ruined in the heat of the moment. You’ve got a black sweater slung over your forearm, and the straps of the heels are looped through your index and middle fingers on that same hand. Your free hand comes to rest on his arm as you move in beside him. Somehow being shorter makes you even more adorable to Harry, and he’s once again thanking himself for taking the plunge to enhance his own appearance. Your height difference is exactly what he imagined for himself when the surgery was possibly just a disastrous idea. At his true height the two of you would be nearly eye to eye.

“There you are,” you say with a little grin. “I bid farewell to the lovers back there so I’m good to go when you are. Van says you better not murder me or kidnap me, or she’s gonna come after you. I told her I’d be fine with the latter and she better not try to save me and ruin our good time.”

Harry nearly chokes at the suggestion, the very notion of it shocking, but your giggle at his reaction is enough to calm him. “You really aren’t like other girls,” he says, at a loss for more to say than that. 

“The highest compliment a girl can receive,” you agree, leaning into him slightly.

Harry looks around the room, noticing a few eyes on them, and he’s suddenly wildly ready to leave. His driver should be pulling up any minute, but he hasn’t heard the ding of a text or felt the vibration of a notification in his pocket yet. His eyes narrow a little as he regards you seriously.

“Listen, I want you to know that I don’t normally behave like that when I’ve only just met someone. I don’t know if I’ve ever behaved like that, actually. I apologize if I came on too strong on dancing with you, or singing those crass lyrics.” Harry says this with a self conscious little pit in his stomach. 

A moment ago he felt very confident that dancing with you in such an erotic way had been the right call, but suddenly he’s not so sure. It’s not enough to throw him off his game completely, but thinking back on how sultry the last hour and a half of his life has been, in a very public place, a wave of true embarrassment surges through him. People like Harry aren’t supposed to act like that, at a charity event no less. He finishes the water in another large gulp, mostly as a way to avoid looking at you directly while you respond. He could really use the next liquid he consumes to have an alcohol content. 

The look you send him is clearly one of gratitude. “Harry, you were great. You are great. I appreciate your concern for me, but I truly had the time of my life with you out there. I wouldn’t be standing here right now if you made me uncomfortable. No apology needed.”

What a relief washes over him. “As long as you felt safe and respected,” Harry adds, nodding once.

You’re nodding in return, smiling unfalteringly. “I felt very safe and very respected. A little worshiped, even. Singing those lyrics was absolutely the right call and at your handsiest you were still very respectful. Thank you for being a gentleman. That’s rarer than you may think these days.”

“Mhm, I’m aware that men in general suck,” he agrees, looking around the room nervously again. 

Now that his integrity has been cleared up with you, he’s not so sure it will be for anyone else who was paying attention to him tonight. As Harry glances around, he catches the gaze of a haughty looking blonde woman whom he knows he went out with once, but can’t possibly recall the name of. Cynthia? Cheryl? Something with a C? Harry remembers thinking it was a fitting letter because she’d certainly been a bit of a cunt, the way she’d spoken down to their waitress being enough evidence of that. Someone like her is the antithesis of what Harry wants in a life long partner. 

The unpleasant woman notices Harry looking and frowns deeply at him, clearly still scorned by his rejection. Then she sees you, how closely you’re pressed to him, and she gives you a once over which suggests exactly what she thinks of you. Her eyes land on your worn pair of streetwear shoes for a long moment, and her upper lip curls in an ugly sneer. 

“Some women suck too, though,” he says with distaste, frowning a little. “Wait, that sounds sexist. What I mean to say is: I think most people suck.”

“Sucking as a person encompasses all genders,” you agree.

Your gaze follows his to the woman across the room, and Harry watches your brow raise, but then to his great surprise you blow the woman a kiss and lean into Harry even more as you lift up on your tiptoes to place a chaste peck to his neatly trimmed jaw. He’s certain it was one of his gray patches, and his chest swells a little. Normally he’d be horrified that you just did that, but seeing the other woman huff and walk off strikes a chord within him and that warmth he felt spreading through him earlier on in the evening comes back. 

What a curious feeling. 

Once you’ve clearly had your fun you ignore the woman completely, looking back at Harry with a sugary sweet smile on your lips as you rub your bare shoulder into his upper arm. “I may have some money compared to most but I’m not one of these stuffy broads. Maybe I’m wrong with this read, but I don’t think you would be hanging out with me if I was.”

“You’re not wrong,” Harry breathes, pleased to know that you’re actually seeing him. That feels new for some reason. “I have a feeling that people like her are going to talk, because we definitely gave them something to talk about…” he trails off, a smile creeping onto his lips as he remembers how your body fit against his so well. 

“See, that’s the spirit! We had fun, so fuck those other people. And your reputation is safe with me. I’m not going to run off and tell the ‘who’s who’ that Harry Castillo is an incredibly sexy dancer. Or that his hands were all over me and it was the most amazing I've felt in another’s company since I can’t remember when. Or that his lips are addictive. I won’t even say that he’s quite handsome. Very bite-able.” 

As you say that last bit, you’re leaning over to gently nibble at his shoulder through the white dress shirt. Harry could care less that you probably just stained it red with rouge. He’s never met a girl who wants to openly gnaw on him before, and his stomach flutters in response to it. 

Harry’s shaking his head, wanting to reassure you that he wasn’t thinking about you like that. “It’s not you I’m worried about when it comes to my reputation, it’s the rest of these sharks. I’m sure at least one of them caught a whiff of blood in the water.”

You grin widely, laughing. “Yeah, well, my favorite character in Jaws is Captain Quint, so let the bastards try and take a chomp at you while I’m around.”

His left brow raises curiously. “Doesn’t the captain get eaten by the shark at the end of that movie?”

“That’s neither here nor there, but if it would make you feel better I’ll change my favorite to Sheriff Brody,” you giggle, then you change the subject. “Is our ride here yet?”

At that moment, Harry feels a vibration against his right thigh a barely audible ding goes off. “Actually, I think it is.”

*****

Harry links arms with you as the two of you descend the stairs leading down to the sidewalk, and the feeling of guilt slowly eating away at your gut gets a little worse. You really like this guy, and starting things out with a lie feels like it’s suddenly a huge mistake. But what if you come clean and he ends the night before you’re ready for it to end? Isn’t it best to see the rest of this night through and then see where things go with him after that? There’s still a good chance that he’ll disappear from your life after tonight and then you will have embarrassed yourself for no reason. And, again, it’s not that you’re embarrassed about your profession, but you’re starting to feel embarrassed for being a liar and a coward. That stings a lot, especially when the spark you’re experiencing with Harry feels like it's not nothing. 

Apparently you got so lost feeling guilty and anxious just now, that you completely missed the fact that you and Harry have made it down to the crowded curb. As well as the fact that your favorite musician is no less than twenty feet away as he gets ready to climb into his limo, surely off to some club or afterparty. You also hadn’t realized that you've been staring directly at the handsome celebrity, or that you’re wearing a displeased look on your face, until Harry looks at you with an expression of worry on his own.

What Harry doesn’t realize is that you’re deeply displeased with yourself at this moment, but he must think it has something to do with him. He seems a little self conscious as he looks over at the famous man climbing into the white stretch, frowning as his chocolate eyes meet yours once more. “You know, I can probably find out what party he’s going to.”

Your eyes widen, shocked that he thinks you’re worried about that . “I didn’t even notice him, Harry. I was distracted by something else.” 

“What is it? You seem upset all of the sudden.”

This is it. Your chance to tell the truth. Do it, do it, do i-

“The heels killed my feet,” you lie, adding a wince for effect, though your feet really do ache.

  Apparently lying is just your fucking thing now, you think, shame filling you for a moment. Coward.

“ Oh ,” he looks utterly relieved, and you can’t help but wonder how he can be so confident at one moment and almost vulnerable at the next. It makes you wonder if he’s been a little deprived of certain things emotionally in his life, thinking that makes two of you if it’s an accurate read. 

Just then a sleek black car pulls up behind the leaving limo, and Harry’s opening the door to the back seat for you. “Let’s keep those feet off the ground, then”

“Are you planning to sweep me off of them, Harry?” You flirt effortlessly, feeling a sense of calm wash over you again when he grins handsomely in response, fingers slipping in between yours. That’s it, just get your groove back.

“If you’ll let me,” Harry says, the air of if completely honest. 

As he guides you down into the leather seat, your hands remain joined. He leans down to kiss your knuckles once before letting your hand fall down into your lap. Then the door shuts, and a moment later the door on the other side opens. You’re grinning at him as he slides in beside you. Literally right beside you, not just in the other seat. He’s even using that weird middle seatbelt that no one likes, body pressed closely to yours as you buckle yourself in too. 

*****

Soon the two of you are instead seated across from one another in a twenty-four seven diner splitting a whole cheesesteak and a couple of cheap beers. Both of you remark that neither of you really eats food like this anymore, and that you’ll both regret it when you feel like shit the next day. But damn does it taste amazing. It also helps that you both took some generous hits on the dab pen again before entering the restaurant, making the greasy subs all the more alluring. 

You’re grinning at him between bites and sips, practically moaning. “I’m so glad that they put cheese wiz on this the real Philly way. Fuck, I’m in heaven.”

He nods in agreement, chewing a hefty chomp of his own. “This is very delicious, which means it could definitely kill me. Are you from the Philadelphia area, then?”

“No, the Baltimore area. A dinky town outside of the city. Close enough to Philly, though. I still know a good cheesesteak when I taste one. I just know a good crabcake better.”

“I knew your accent was from one of the two. Philly didn’t feel right though.” 

You smirk, “It’s the weird ‘o’ thing we do, isn’t it? I’ve never been able to shake that.”

Harry shrugs into another bite of his sandwich. “I think it’s cute.”

Downing the rest of your beer, you’re blushing as you tell him, “Well I like your voice a lot. It’s handsome and smooth, like rich caramel in my ears.”

Harry snorts into his own beer, shaking his head with a cartoonish grimace. “Caramel in your ears doesn’t sound pleasant. Come on, Miss author . Is that the sexiest thing you could come up with?” 

“It sounded like a good phrase in my head,” you’re forcing yourself to laugh, ignoring the sick jolt of anxiety he just caused. There are a few bites of cheesesteak left on your plate, but your appetite is long gone.

Harry seems to notice how fake it sounds, frowning. “You know what? I’m going to quit teasing you about that. We don’t have to talk about your writing unless you bring it up. That was rude of me. Shit . I’m not doing a very good job of earning that trust we talked about, am I?”

Deflect, deflect, deflect. Be fucking cool about it. “It’s okay. I’m not that upset. I’ll admit that wasn’t one of my better turns of phrase, but I can’t help it that amber is the color of your energy, Harry.” Joking as an attempt to re-lighten the mood, you’re grinning when he makes a scrunched face at the reference. But then that lovely face of his morphs into a relieved smile, and your anxiety settles.

“You’re too funny,” he chuckles. “I like your sense of humor. It’s refreshing.”

With a fake scoff, you’re feigning surprise. “You mean to tell me that blondie from the venue back there wasn’t a funny person? I never would have guessed.”

“Shocking, I know,” he agrees, grin handsome as ever. 

A wave of emotion rolls over you when you take a moment to really look at his face, at how beautiful he is and how lucky you feel to be here with him in this moment. The need to speak from the heart strikes you, and you let yourself go a little. “I’m having a really good time with you tonight, Harry. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think meeting you is the thing I’ll cherish more than the actual concert.”

“I feel similarly,” Harry says, reaching a hand across the table for you. You slip yours into his easily, and he gives a gentle squeeze. “Do you want me to take you home to your place after this?” Harry asks, eyes darkening a little as he waits for your answer. He looks both nervous and hopeful.

You reply honestly, “If I say no, that I’d like to go home with you instead, will you think I’m an easy slut? I don’t make a habit of going home with strange men, usually.”

Harry shakes his head fervently, laughing. “If anything I’m worried that you think I’m an easy slut. I typically go on a couple of dates before I bring someone home. I’m not twenty-five anymore.”

“Me neither. I can’t explain it, but this feels different for me. You feel different. You keep saying I’m not like most girls, but you’re not like most guys. Do things feel different for you tonight, Harry?”

He nods, “They do. You’re more than welcome to come home with me, if it’s truly what you want.”

“It’s what I want,” you say honestly, scared of what telling the truth in this regard means considering how much you’ve lied about everything else. Every time you’ve had the opportunity to come clean before it’s too late, fear has halted your mouth. Nothing’s stopping your wicked, traitorous tongue this time around, though.

“I like you a lot, Harry.” Confessing this with real emotion behind your words, you’re willingly making this more complicated. It’s as if you’re suddenly uncaring of the consequences you may eventually face for it, stepping blindly into a situation that simply can’t end well because you have to see where it goes regardless. You desperately need Harry Castillo to know exactly what he does to you, and for you to understand what you do to him. You need it more than you need to breathe. 

“I like you too,” Harry agrees, smiling at you genuinely as he wipes his hands and discards with his napkin on the empty plate. He downs the rest of his beer, eyes darkening as the slice of lime slides down the neck of the bottle with the final drops of golden liquid. The way he looks at you feels almost predatory for a moment, like he’s deciding when to pounce. 

“Now, tell me,” he says your name, letting it melt ever so slowly on his stupidly alluring tongue, “if this were one of your stories, what would happen next when we finally establish that the two main characters like each other?"

*****

Harry’s tongue is buried so deeply in your cunt that the end of his broad nose is simultaneously and unceremoniously kneading into the sensitive, swollen nub begging for attention just above your wanting slit. It occurs to you that you very well could get off from his nose if he keeps this up any longer but just when you think that, his appendages disappear, and the airy chill on your soaked mound is enough to sober you up a little. You’ve half a mind to complain that he stopped, beginning to prop yourself up on your elbows to look down at him. 

But then there’s a swift, nonpainful swat to your inner left thigh.

“Lay back down,” Harry commands, growling in a voice dripping with a dominating tone that could send you off to the other side if you let it. “Nowhere near done tasting you yet.” 

 You’re on the kitchen island in Harry’s insanely lavish apartment, the skirt of your red dress pushed up over your waist to expose the lower half of you. Your black thong is hanging from the faucet on the kitchen sink, where it landed perfectly when Harry threw it behind his head without looking. You’d wanted to laugh at the bullseye, but Harry’s determination to get between your legs stopped you from being silly. Instead, you let him spread you, wailing and moaning as he proceeded to eat you out better than you’ve ever had it in your entire life. That you can confidently say, and you’ve had a handful of mouths bring pleasure to your body over the years.

Harry’s a pro beyond pros, knowing every little nuance to a woman’s most sacred of needs. 

He proves that when you follow his orders, laying back down to give him full access. His tongue runs from the base of your slit slowly up to your aching clit, stopping to swirl around it a few times before suckling lightly. Then he stops abruptly, repeating the entire pattern all over again. Each time he shows extra attention to your engorged nub, your body heats up even more and the cries of elation spewing from your wanton mouth echo through the apartment’s high ceilings.

Harry Castillo is secretly a madman, you’re sure of it, and his sexual vigor is right up your alley. The man is still fully dressed. You have no idea what his dick looks like, or the rest of that surely inviting body, and he hasn’t even seen your tits yet. They are still firmly secured in the bodice of your dress. 

Upon entering the apartment, Harry told you that if he didn’t get a taste of your pussy before the two of you did anything else, then he was liable to explode. 

Hearing him say that as he effortlessly lifted your ass up onto the gorgeously finished wood countertop? That made you start to fall for Harry Castillo before he ever put his mouth to your flesh. 

“Been thinking about this all night, sweetheart. Ever since we danced,” Harry says into your folds, hot breath and facial hair causing your back to arch in anticipation. He’s practically nuzzling your vagina with his entire face, spreading your wetness and his own saliva all over himself. You keep yourself neatly trimmed and waxed at all times thanks to your secret profession, and Harry seems to appreciate this immensely. “It’s even better than I imagined. So pretty and soft and wet for me, aren’t you?”

“All for you,” you breathe, pushing your hips forward to try and coax his mouth back onto you. “ Please , Harry,” you’re begging, voice husky and needy, “I was about to cum before you stopped.”

The chuckle Harry lets out is low and handsome, nearly sending you over the edge with the very sound of it. You feel his hands grip your thighs, spreading them even more. Then his tongue starts trailing each of your labia majora, one after the other. 

“I’m well aware of that, sweetheart. I just wasn’t ready for you to cum yet.” A kiss to your inner thigh. “Soon, though, I promise. Just be patient for a little longer.” A kiss to the opposite thigh. “Let me take care of you how you deserve to be taken care of.”

Then, without warning, two of his thick fingers enter you at once. They wiggle about a few times, getting fully coated in your fluids, and then he’s pumping slowly.

Wide-eyed, your head tilts up so you can look to where he’s seated between your legs on the footstool he’d pulled up when this encounter began. “ Harry ,” you breathe.

“Yes?” He asks, grinning devilishly up at you.

“You’re amazing,” you say dreamily, grinning widely to yourself as your head lay back down. 

Soon your orgasm is steadily building again, core tingling from the combination of his fingers curling sharply into your g-spot, and the darting flicks from left to right of Harry’s expert tongue. This time he doesn’t deny you, boring into your clit with more intensity as a third finger finds your entrance.

“Let go for me, sweetheart. Show me what you can do,” Harry coos lasciviously, then digs into his meal with a ferocity which finally tips you all the way over the edge.

Grunting and shaking, your body convulses with your hands braced against the countertop. It’s as if you’re trying to push all of yourself into Harry as the orgasm rocks through you, and then suddenly everything feels too sensitive and you’re hissing at him to lay off a little bit. 

He does, and as you breathe heavily in the aftermath of your bliss, he trails kisses all over your stomach before laying his head down on your belly button. Hands shakily prying themselves from the wood, you snake them into Harry’s soft brown hair and begin to comb your fingers through it. 

“You were so lovely,” he remarks, voice almost dreamy. “You came so beautifully for me, sweetheart.”

Your own voice sounds throaty, almost foreign to yourself. This isn’t like the fake voice you put on for work, this is real sexual tranquility. “Thank you, Harry. That might be my best orgasm to date. Not joking. I’ve received oral from a handful of people and I’ve never felt anything remotely close to what you just did."

“Well I will always try to ensure that your next one is still your best to date, then.” 

Fuck. He’s talking like this isn’t going to be a one night thing. And after the tonguing of a lifetime, you know you don’t want it to be either. You’re so royally fucked, and he hasn’t even actually fucked you yet.

Realizing this, you begin to sit up a little, causing Harry to lift up from your belly and look at you curiously. So you quickly explain, “I need you, Harry. All of you.” 

Harry stands, lifting you to sit up more with your ass sliding off the edge of the counter. He’ll have to clean that massive wet spot in the morning, but you pay that little mind as your bare feet touch the cool ground. Your knees begin to give out as your skirt falls to rest below them. Harry catches you easily as you wobble into him with a soft moan, and then without a word he’s sweeping you up into his arms bridal style. You’re a little nervous, given that you’re a few jean sizes up from someone like Vanessa, but he’s kissing you on the forehead as he easily carries you from the kitchen to the master bedroom with little strain.

There he lays you down on a bed of white satin, a bed so ridiculously huge that you can’t help but giggle at how tiny you feel laying in the center of it. 

Harry’s unbuttoning his shirt, smiling down at you fondly. “What’s funny?”

You’re shaking your head, laughing. “This bed is ginormous, Harry, and I haven’t called something ginormous since I was a kid. But it’s an appropriate adjective, this thing is cartoonishly big.”

“Is that such a bad thing?” He asks, smirking. His shirt is gone, now his undershirt. The body hidden beneath is one well maintained with diet and exercise, defined lean muscle tone showing you as much. Naturally tan, with dark body hair and an appendix scar, he looks so utterly beautiful to you. His hands are going for his belt, and suddenly you’re up on your knees, scooting forward towards the edge of the mattress. “Wait, please let me,” you ask sweetly, hands already reaching for the black leather strap and silver buckle as Harry’s hands instead move to find the zipper leading down the right side of your red dress. 

As you unbuckle him and slide the belt from its loops, discarding the thing to the side, Harry is simultaneously unzipping you. He lifts the fabric, tugging upwards, and your arms lift to accommodate the rising garment as it’s peeled from your body. Harry, aware of how nice the dress is, gently hangs it over the back of the stylish black accent chair across the room. As he turns to really take in your fully nude appearance, a warm smile so sweet crosses his features. There’s lust in the expression, sure, but his eyes wash over you several times and each time it looks as if he’s almost overwhelmed by what he sees. 

“I’ve never seen pierced nipples in real life before,” he remarks, mesmerized by them as he leans forward to cup both breasts in his hands. The pad of each thumb runs gently over the black barbells, stimulating the raised nubs of flesh nestled between. 

For a moment you’re self-conscious about them, frowning a little. “Are they too much? Ex-goth girl, remember? They’re a relic of the past, but I loved them too much to get rid of them. The lip and the eyebrow had to go, though.”

Shaking his head, Harry frowns a little too. “Please don’t be embarrassed. I love them. It’s just a little new for me, that’s all. Will I hurt you if I play with them?”

Relieved, you smile at him with a shake of the head. “No, as long as you’re careful not to yank too hard, obviously.”

Harry takes that as permission to dive in, and both his hands and his mouth spend a good few moments ravishing your ample breasts. Squeezing, pinching, licking, biting. 

“You’re so lovely,” Harry says your name, “what a prize you are. Though, I don’t entirely know what I did to win.” 

“As if you’re not a prize too,” you say, rolling your eyes a little as finally he moves his crotch back within reach. You make quick work of undoing his trousers, and then he helps you yank them down his legs, stepping out of them. Gripping the elastic waistband of his black boxer briefs, your movements are slow and deliberate as you pull down and forward. The trail of dark hair below his belly button is growing wider and thicker by the inch, trimmed neatly but still prominent. Slowly the base of him becomes visible, and then in one swift move his erection is springing free. 

A little gasp escapes your lips at the sight of him, not only pleased to see his foreskin still intact but truly shocked by his size. You’re not entirely sure how long he is, certainly long enough, but the massive girth of him is really what makes your mouth water. The anticipation of that thing stretching your walls is enough to make your core heat up again, ready for round two. 

“You like him?” Harry asks, smiling down at you as one of his hands strokes your hair. 

“I love him,” you agree, licking your lips as you lean forward to take him into your hand. Harry moans, hips bucking slightly. Having worked with an uncircumcised cock before, you know how to grip him and gently pull downwards, unveiling his swollen head and the delicious little bud of precum waiting for you. “Now this is a prize. You even get to unwrap it,” you say with a flirtatious giggle, adding, “and dare I say it's ginormous . There I go using that word twice in one night.”

When your tongue flicks out to lick that offered drop, Harry’s whole being seems to melt into you a little. Grinning, you widen and slowly take him into your mouth. Adding a little bit of pressure and suction, you slowly begin to work him in and out as the hand gripping him continues its rhythmic pumping. The little whimpers he’s making for you are music to your ears. 

“Oh shit , sweetheart, you’re doing great, keep going,” Harry’s encouraging, both hands in your hair now as his eyes slip closed and he throws his head back a little. “ Fuck .”

You’re gagging, trying your best to fit all of him down your throat as a bit of drool dribbles down your chin, when suddenly he’s stopping you. He’s pulled out and he’s trying to push you to lay down. He even leans down to lick at one of your pierced nipples, his hand resting between your breasts as he pushes. 

“Wait, I wasn’t done yet,” you pout, reaching for him again. 

Harry growls, a primal noise from a refined man such as he, and he’s urging you backwards onto the white bed more. As you lay out below him and the gorgeous man is crawling between your legs, they instinctively bend and come to wrap around his hips a little. Your hands come to rest in the middle of his back, fingers gripping in anticipation of what’s to come. Then you feel the tip of his cock pressing into your entrance and, still slick from Harry’s treatment of you in the kitchen, your cunt welcomes him into your body easily. 

A great cry escapes you as the width of his cock stretches you out considerably, the line of pain and pleasure blurred as your walls clench and squeeze, half trying to accommodate him and half trying to expel the painful intrusion. 

Three slow, gentle pumps are all it takes for Harry to enter you all the way to the hilt, and when his tip presses painfully into your cervix, the moan you let out is quite guttural. 

Then his lips are on yours, and your legs are hooking behind him at the ankles as he really begins to pound into you. His hands come to your ass, sliding below each cheek. With the leverage this gives him, Harry lifts your hips from the mattress completely. Thrust after thrust he’s relentless, and another orgasm is already starting to build deep within your needy core. 

“You’re going to make me cum again,” you whine between heavy breaths. Head lifting up to bite into his bicep, the need to cling to him for dear life has taken over completely. The only thing you have left to grab him with is your teeth, and so you do.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” Harry’s mouth is against your ear saying, “taking me so well like a good girl. I was right when I sang that to you earlier; Little pussy fits my dick so perfectly.” He pulls your ear lobe into his mouth, nibbling on the soft flesh as you writhe and whine for him. “You’re going to cum again, this time with my cock buried all the way inside you, sweetheart. Need to feel you contract around me. Then, if you’ll let me, I’m going to fill you up with mine.” 

Fearful, you practically start to push him off of you, terrified of the consequences if he were to cum in you. “I’m not on the pill! Or anything!” 

He stops thrusting for a moment, looking down at you seriously as he brushes hair from your eyes and kisses your forehead. “I had a vasectomy a few years ago. It was my forty-fifth birthday present to myself when I decided I definitely don’t want kids.” After he says that, he begins to slowly gyrate his hips into yours again, and you’re lifting to meet his movements in tandem. 

Then you kiss him with everything you’ve got. 

“ Fuck, Harry ,” you moan, “I think you might actually be fucking perfect for me.”

And with that, he fucks you until you’re practically braindead, completely stupified by his cock. You ride him a little, and then he’s on his knees taking you from behind off the edge of the bed. For a moment he migrates things to the bathroom, where he props you up on the sink and pounds into you standing up. 

Then it's back to the bed with your legs straight up his body, crossed ankles resting on his right shoulder. He’s holding them in place with his right hand, and his left is gripping into your thigh so hard you’re sure to have five small bruises where his fingers are indented into your smooth, damp skin. Harry’s done an expert job of edging you once more, changing positions each time you start to get close, his own stamina and restraint a marvel. It’s starting up again, though, and this time he’s not stopping to switch things around. 

“Close again, Harry,” you spout out through thick moans, a small part of you wanting him to prolong this more even though the rest of you is screaming in agony for release. 

“Go ahead,” he says sweetly, smiling as he kisses your calf and looks you right in the eyes. “Let me see that face while you cum for me. You look so beautiful stuffed with my cock, sweetheart. Show me .” 

Then he bites down on the same spot he just kissed, and your second orgasm overcomes you. Your muscles clench around him so hard, clinging to the very thing causing them to do so. Harry lets out a gorgeous sounding moan, leaning more of his weight into your legs as the pleasure of it seems to take hold of him. 

He’s parting your legs as you come down, twitching against him as he readjusts into a more basic missionary position. Your arms come to wrap around his neck, just as your legs move to wrap around his waist. Shortly after that, Harry’s own grunting cries of culminating ecstasy are ringing throughout the high ceilings of the bedroom. He’s convulsing against you and you’re instinctively cradling his head, peppering his cheeks and forehead with little kisses to guide him through it. A few more gentle pumps and he’s eventually sliding out of you with a great sigh. There’s almost instantly a distinct leaking sensation running down the crack of your ass. 

He’s kissing your forehead, then looking right into your eyes as he gets comfortable beside you. “You okay?”

“I’m great. How are you?

“I’m perfect, sweetheart. Just perfect.”

“Your body felt so good, Harry,” you’re sputtering out, grunting as your own body is again twitching in a brief aftershock of sexual bliss. “Everything felt so good.” 

Harry is nodding in agreement, looking up at the ceiling with this handsome little grin playing at the corner of his mouth. Shaking his head, his eyes are filled with wonder as if looking up at a star splattered night sky. He looks so youthful to you at that moment, de-aged ten years for a split second. “I haven’t had sex that great in- Fuck . I don’t know if I’ve ever had sex that great, and I thought I was having great sex pretty regularly. You’ve single handedly and irrevocably changed my life tonight. I hope you know that.”

You’re also looking up at the ceiling, deep breaths causing your breasts to rise and fall. What Harry just said is so true that it almost hurts to realize it. Things have changed, feeling suddenly like so much more than the one night stand you’d been anticipating. It doesn’t seem like the high endorphins is making you think this way, though. You’re well aware of what that feels like. Something about this night with Harry Castillo feels real. More real than anything you’ve ever felt with another. “Same goes for you, handsome. Ruined all other men for me in a single night together. It’s practically criminal.”

As you look over at Harry, his hair mussed and face flushed, a blush creeps into your cheeks at the notion that the wetness you feel running down you is actually him . Allowing him to finish inside was a genuinely new experience for you, and the thrill if it is so unlike what you were expecting. If anything you assumed it was going to feel gross. Cum always equalled babies in your book, so you never thought it would ever feel this amazing to know some of it is buried deep inside you and the rest of it is dripping onto the bed below. To know it’s the cum of this man in particular? That adds an extra layer to the feeling. 

It felt so different to embrace your lover in the heat of his orgasm, being so used to the empty, cold sensation of a pull-out and the inevitable warm spray to some other part of your body. There’s always been this sudden disconnect right before the moment of a man’s climax, but with Harry you got to ride it out with him, completely connected all the way up until the end. Connected in a way you never have been before, not even with a female partner. The notion of this stirs something deep within you, and your heart swells for the man placing kisses to your shoulder while he’s catching his breath. 

The most satisfying peacefulness washes over you as you tell him, “I’ve never let anyone cum inside me before.”

His brown eyes darken slightly, and Harry looks both surprised and a little pleased with himself. “Really?”

“Really,” you’re grinning, “I don’t want kids, so that shit was always very off limits. I’m not sure how to explain it in a way that you would understand, but that was very special for me. Thank you, Harry.” 

He leans over, grinning like a madman before kissing you passionately. “It was an honor to fill you up, sweetheart. I’d do that every single day if you’d let me.” 

*****

You and Harry ended up spending the entire weekend together against your better judgement. The longer time you spent in his company, the more the stupid fucking lie was hanging over your head. But your weekend with Harry proved to be downright magical, and the more the two of you got to know each other, the less easy it started to feel to come clean. You thought about doing it so many times, and each time your anxiety would stop you. What if he truly hates you after he learns the truth? He might not, you never know. But even after so many long talks and lovely sex and shared laughter, the truth is inevitably going to change the way he looks at you. The very thought of that sends your nervous system into an overload, and strikes a deep crack through your already straining heart.

Harry Castillo makes you feel the way the romantic novels that you most certainly do not write make you feel, and your greedy ass wasn’t about to go and fuck up what was turning out to be the best seventy-two hours of your life thus far. Morally gray as it may be, Harry could know the truth after your beautiful weekend together. You felt that you deserved at least that before you light the fuse that will blow this situation to hell whether you want it to or not. 

It’s as if you’re using your budding feelings for Harry to bargain with yourself for victory, but either way you’re liable to lose and deep down you know that.

The charity concert was on a Friday, so when the two of you woke up late into the morning on Saturday, Harry asked you if you wanted to stay for a while. He’d already taken the liberty of having his assistant drive over with a few different outfit options for you, and one swimsuit. All correct sizes, and all something you would have picked out for yourself, which gained Harry even more points in your book.  

‘A while’ started with french pressed coffee and a hearty breakfast of scrambled eggs and avocado toast, all made by Harry himself. Then ‘a while’ progressed into having sex again, this time on the living room couch, then once more on top of his washing machine after he’d started a load of laundry. You’d joked about how you could use another load too, and Harry ran with it. He ate his own cum out you while the machine whirled to life under your body, just before filling you up with even more of him. 

After that, the two of you went down to the lavish pool in Harry’s building. An over the top extravagant amenity with a gorgeous view of the city, and probably the nicest pool you’ve ever had the pleasure of swimming in. Once the two of you started to horseplay, however, things very quickly took a turn for the sexual once again. Harry’s finger had slipped inside of your tastefully high-waisted bathing suit under the water, and when his hidden erection pressed up against your bare leg, the pool was a thing of the past. 

That time he fucked you in his shower, bent over at the waist as hot water cascaded around your already enflamed body. When you begged him to take your ass in lue of your pussy, the man in question had moaned into your shoulder, “you’re a dream come true, sweetheart,” and he delivered what you asked for beautifully.

His assistant also brought you a small handful of basic beauty products to choose from. As you were later lathering on a serum nicer than any brand you’ve ever bought, even with your recently raised standards, it dawned on you that Harry probably spent at least five or six hundred dollars, if not more, on all of these things for you. That kind of casual spending, on you no less, made your head spin a little. 

You may pamper yourself all the time, but it’s wildly different when a man like Harry Castillo is the one doing the pampering.

In the evening Harry ordered takeout from his favorite place in Chinatown, and given that the both of you didn’t have a single bodily fluid left to give, the night was filled with conversation, snuggles, and soft touches. He let you pick out a movie, and the two of you fell asleep spooning on his couch (also ginormous, by the way) halfway through Bram Stoker’s Dracula from 1993.

On Sunday, after breakfast and one more go around in the oversized bed, Harry took you to the Central Park Zoo. His almost boyish energy around all of the animals was so endearing to you, especially when he lit up for you around the bats. Given that the winged animals played an integral role in the events which led to your dalliance with Harry, he felt the need to commemorate the weekend by purchasing you a stuffed one from the gift shop. You never even saw him go for the register, preoccupied by a rack of silly t-shirts. So when he presented it to you upon exiting, you’d thrown your arms around his neck and kissed him right there in the middle of central park. All the while your mind was screaming at you to tell him the truth, but you listened to your body instead. 

From there he took you to a ridiculously nice Italian restaurant, where he confessed to you over pasta that he’s never been in love and he’s scared that he never will be. That confession had shocked you, even more so when he quickly followed it up with a warning that if you said yes to what he was about to ask, then you were taking on the risk that he’s incapable of the feeling all together. The notion of him being incapable seemed silly, considering how affectionate he’d been with you thus far, but you kept that thought to yourself. 

Then Harry reached across the table, and the next confession came pouring out of him. He told you that he wanted to try to feel love, and he felt something with you that he honestly hadn’t before. Not love, not when you barely know each other, but that spark that they talk about in the movies. One little spark, but enough to grab his attention and hold it fast. 

After making your head spin with his honesty, he proceeded to say that the last couple of days truly meant a lot to him and, with the deepest sincerity in his chocolate eyes, Harry Castillo asked if you would let him see you again. Seriously, and exclusively. 

Your answer was the easiest one to give in the world, and yet instead of shining bright like the sun as it should have been, your heart suddenly felt much more like the moon hanging ominously over the city. While the front facing side of your heart swelled a bright, glorious red for the possibility of a relationship with this man, the side cast in shadow was already starting to shrivel and turn gray with guilt. 

*****

As you finish frantically pacing the floor and vividly telling a couch faring Vanessa everything about your weekend with Harry, sparing her the gorier sexual details, your stomach lurches and your heart sinks. While you’ve been wildly wrapping up the story, a great, ugly scowl has been slowly encompassing her normally beautiful features. There’s no hiding from your best friend, that’s just a fact. 

“Listen, I know what you’re going to say,” you try to diffuse, hands up.

“Listen my ass ,” she says your name sharply, stabbing you right where she wants to. 

You wince .

“I’m glad that got your attention, bitch.” With that, Vanessa pats the cushion beside her. “Sit down, your energy is stressing me the fuck out .”

“Sorry,” you say, complying.

“We are both grown-ups here, so I’m going to speak plainly.” Vanessa bores into you with her dark eyes, making your throat seize up. “You know what you need to do, or you’re going to fuck up what is potentially the best thing that’s ever happened to you.”

“I know,” you breathe, frowning. “I’m going to have to finish one of my novels and get it published."

Vanessa groans ferociously, hands clawing over her face. Then she whacks you in the head with a pink throw pillow. “No, you stupid slut! Tell him the fucking truth! If you let this go on too long the damage will be too severe to repair.”

“Yeah, I know that,” you say, hanging your head. You’re going to have to hit the bong several times in order to sleep tonight, the horrid pit in your stomach will make sure of that. “Fuck, Van. I really am stupid aren’t I?”

“You are. But I love you, and maybe if you handle this situation correctly then Daddy Warbucks will love you too,” she says, grinning a little as she uses the silly nickname. You can already tell she’s going to drive that into the grave with over-use. 

Her change in mood warms you, and the anxiety melts away a little. Feeling more like yourself, you send her one of your signature, Vanessa exclusive eyerolls. “Are we really going to call him that?”

“If you’re really going to date him I am,” Vanessa giggles. 

“What if he really can’t feel love, Van?” You ask her, frowning. 

Vanessa shrugs. “If that’s even a real thing. Sounds to me like he just hasn’t been in real love yet, not that he simply can’t feel it. But if it is true, then at least he was an interesting chapter of your life and a good lay. Date him for a few weeks before you worry about that, anyway. What if you’re the one who doesn’t end up loving him?”

As she says this, your phone buzzes against the coffee table. Reaching over to grab it, your eyes bulge a little at the name associated with the text notification. He just dropped you off a few hours ago, surely you’d assumed it would be a few days before you heard from him again. But here he is, making your heart flutter from the other side of the city. 

Harry Castillo: Two nights with you beside me and I’m spoiled rotten. You were right. This bed is ginormous. Sleep well, sweetheart. 

“I think he’s going to make not loving him incredibly difficult, Vanessa.”

*****

Monday morning Harry’s seated in his office doing the complete opposite of working. He’s on his phone, which makes him a hypocrite considering he recently instructed the management team to start cracking down on that with the associate employees. 

He simply can’t help it. You’re literally all he can think about, to the point that he’s a little worried that something is wrong with him. You’d responded to his text last night, but you haven’t said anything to him since and he’s fixating on whether or not it’s appropriate to text you again so soon if you haven’t texted him first.

Fucking cellphones, Harry thinks bitterly, chiding himself for behaving like a teenager as he sits the phone face down on the glass top protecting his cherry desk. He looks at his computer, opens an email, reads the first three words of the subject line, and then he’s picking up his phone again to check it despite the fact that he knows it hasn't gone off.

Nothing. He groans, feeling like an idiot as he reaches for a sip of coffee. He doesn’t put the phone back down, though, instead he pulls up his camera roll and the couple of photos of you he snuck over the weekend. 

The first is of you, in nothing but one of his black t-shirts and a lacy black thong, your back mostly to the camera as you sip on a mug of creamy coffee. You’re looking contently at the view from Harry’s kitchen window, sunlight streaming all over you. He loves your profile in that one, and the way the light accentuates your features. 

The next is a photo of your naked silhouette in the frosted glass of his shower. 

The third photo is of you at the zoo, happily captivated by the animals and paying no mind to the fact that Harry just had to capture how beautiful and carefree you looked in that moment. 

He’s never taken candid photos of a lover before, nor has he obsessed over receiving a text from one. He certainly never paid this much mind to when Lucy would or would not contact him, and he’d been prepared to marry the woman for Christ’s sake. 

Harry also never once called Lucy ‘sweetheart.’ Or any pet names, now that he thinks about it. Never a ‘baby,’ or a ‘honey.’ Not once. He would always greet her with a simple, somewhat awkward ‘hey you’, and he mostly just called her by her name. 

You come into his life and suddenly he’s throwing around the term of endearment like his life depends on it, and somehow not hearing from you yet is driving him mad with anxious energy. Harry Castillo is a man who is very rarely anxious. 

What is wrong with him? 

There were a lot of people at the charity event, and at the zoo. Maybe he’s coming down with something. Yes, surely he’s getting sick and that’s why his head’s not on straight.

Then the phone vibrates in his hands, and your name flashes just above the image of your grinning face. His heart leaps from his chest, breath hitching. He taps it before it can swoosh away with the rest of his notifications, and a feeling of calm washes over him as he reads the message.

You: Missing your avocado toast this morning. :(

It shows that you’re typing, and then a second message pops up. This one is a photo, however. In it, you’re wearing a black graphic t-shirt advertising what he’s certain is the band Type-O Negative . Your hair looks insane, adorably so, and you’re pouting cutely over a sad looking cup of yogurt.

Harry’s got half a mind to cancel his meeting and take you out for brunch, but before he can even think of a response to text you back with, his younger brother is barging into his office without knocking. He’s the only person besides their mother who can get away with that .

“What, Peter? I’m busy,” Harry says, not looking up from his phone. 

“You don’t seem very busy to me. Is that her you’re texting?” His brother’s voice is saying. 

Harry looks up sharply, glaring. Words aren’t necessary.

Peter grins, plopping himself into the chair across from Harry’s desk. He takes a long sip of his own black coffee, eyeing Harry the entire time. “I originally came in here to complain that I missed the surprise Bad Bunny show, which I’m very upset about. Charlotte being pregnant is ruining all my fun, but don’t you dare tell her I said that. Anyway, then I heard a rumor that you found yourself a new woman at the show, and that the two of you got to know each other very well on the dance floor. I just had to come hear all about it.”

Harry’s eyes narrow even more at his annoyance of a sibling. He loves him, but he could also strangle him at any given moment. “Get out of my office, Peter. I need to prep for the meeting at eleven.”

“Yeah cause you were doing that so dutifully before I walked in,” Peter laughs, taking another generous sip. “So is that her you’re texting, then? What’s she look like?”

Harry groans, “Yes, it’s her.” Then his eyes flick back down to the open text thread, and when they land on the adorable photo of you with your pathetic yogurt, the joyful little smile which creeps onto his lips simply can’t be helped. 

Peter’s jaw drops, “ Oh . Oh fuck , Harry. This is a wild development. I wasn’t expecting this today.”

Harry’s gaze moves back to his brother, eyebrow raising at the look on his face. “What on Earth are you talking about?”

Peter’s sharp laugh is one of disbelief. “She’s the one, man! I’m calling it. You’ve never looked like this before. Not once in my entire life have I seen that fucking look on your face. It’s the only explanation!”

“Bullshit, Peter,” Harry scoffs, looking away but not back down at your image. He has to consciously make himself not, knowing Peter would notice and use the impulse against him. “You know my opinion on that.”

“Whatever, big brother. Suit yourself. As the one of us who has fallen in love, I think I know what I’m talking about. But I’ll let you figure that shit out for yourself. Wait until Charlotte finds out, she’s going to go nuts.” As he says this, Peter is already getting up to leave. “See you in the conference room. Please actually prep for this though. I need you out there. Text her back and then think about her later. Trust me, it gets easier the more you get used to it. Love is fucking weird, man.”

“I am not in love with her,” Harry argues, shaking his head. If anything, what he’s feeling is infatuation more than anything else, right? 

“Keep telling yourself that, bro. And for the love of Christ, get your shit together for this meeting.” And with that, Peter is gone as quickly as he came. 

Harry looks around his large office, at his view of the city below, and wonders if there’s any validity to what his brother just said. Another vibration goes off in his hand, and the excitement he feels is like a jolt of caffeine straight to his heart. 

Only, it’s just his calendar reminder letting him know that his next meeting is in fifteen minutes. The deep disappointment he feels leads him to conclude that Peter doesn’t need to get Harry’s hopes up like that, but there’s a nonzero chance that his baby brother actually knows what he’s talking about for once.

*****

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Taglist: @cheyxfu @notahappystan

[nogutsnogloria]

summary: robby hasn’t had a proper conversation with you since you started on his shift. a small encounter makes him want to change that.

michael robinavich x reader

warning: medical inaccuracies, reader is shy, smoking and drinking mentioned

a/n: medical case may or may not be based on a true story of my life.

robby didn’t know much about the new nurse, all he knew was anything he learned from dana and even then the information was “sweet girl, good nurse, keeps to herself otherwise.” boy did you ever keep to yourself. robby thinks he’s maybe heard you say ten words to him total since he met you months ago, nine of them clinical.

you had just finished up a triggering case for you and dana knew it so she stops you right before you’re about to hop into something else and tells you to go get some air. you nod and head out through the ambulance bay. not expecting anyone else but when you turn the corner you see robby there lighting up a cigarette.

“do you want a cigarette?” he asks looking at you. “oh, um no thank you. i don’t smoke.” he huffs out a bit of a chuckle at that. “good. never start.” you smile at him “you got it boss.”

he looks you over and he can see that you’re a bit shaken by something. “you okay?” you look at him like a deer being caught in the headlights. “yeah, yeah um that cva we just had hit kind of close to home.” you end it there because you don’t want your first real conversation with your hot senior attending to be a trauma dump of sorts. you exhale out a breath “well i have patients i need to check on. better get back in there.” you turn on your heel and walk back in.

robby finishes his cigarette and heads in immediately going to find dana. she can sense something is up just by the look on his face. “what’s up cap, you look like you need to ask me something.” he’s watching you. “she told me the cva hit close to home, but shes as collected as can be running his follow-up vitals right now” he says to dana pointing his chin in her direction. “yeah robby she’s a real nurse, she can keep it professional. i don’t think i could pull her off that case if i tried. especially with that guys daughters right there worried about him.” he looks at dana with a quizzical look. “look robby i already said too much, i am sure she’d tell you if you asked her.” she leaves him at the desk with that.

robby is trying to look casual after shift waiting outside the woman’s locker room. your busy finding your headphones in your bag you don’t see him sneaking up on you. “i know you said you don’t smoke, but i was wondering if i could buy you a beer.” you clearly weren’t expecting him and jump at his words. hand over your heart you turn to him. “jesus dr. robby! you can’t sneak up on a girl like that. i spook easily.” you smile at him to let him know that you weren’t really afraid of him, just startled. you think about his offer. “i could go for a beer.” and you follow him out of the hospital to the pub down the street.

the two of you find a place to sit and the waitress comes to take your order. robby can’t help to notice how polite you are to the waitress, even outside of work you are making sure people feel comfortable in your presence. “you know i think you and i have doubled our word count to each other today.” he says with an amused smile on his face. “yeah, well my motto has been speak when spoken to, the last hospital i worked in we were basically only allowed to talk to the doctors if it was involving a patients care. it’s a hard thing to unlearn.” robby nods and makes a note to figure out where you came from before working at the pitt.

the waitress comes back with your drinks and placed them on the table. you take a sip out of yours and put it down on the table in front of you, pulling at the label of the bottle. robby can’t not ask it’s really the whole reason he’s sitting in the bar with you, at least that’s what he’s telling himself. “so you said that cva today hit close to home. i just wanted to make sure you were okay after that. i didn’t really have a chance to check in on you, that’s a part of my job.” you continue to peal at the label on your beer. chancing a look up at his face you decide to tell him the truth.

“my dad had a stroke about three weeks ago. my mom was out of town visiting her sisters so i went over and we had dinner. i was just about to leave and when he was saying goodbye to me he wasn’t making sense, mumbling and slurring his words. i didn’t even run an assessment like i maybe should have i just called 9-1-1. and when i told him an ambulance was coming he yelled at me. the words came out clear as day and i thought i maybe made a mistake.” you smile at robby and he just blinks at you. “having seen this situation so many times before i couldn’t believe how i just froze, not that there was much i could do from home but…” you trail off. robby rests a hand on top of your arm of the hand that has now basically peeled the whole label off your bottle. “hey there’s a reason we aren’t supposed to be a part of a loved ones care when they’re in the hospital. worrying is a completely normal response you saw something wasn’t right and called an ambulance, i would say that he had pretty good care right off the bat.” you nod at that. “is your dad alright now? any thing long term?”

you shake your head with a smile. “we got really lucky. his doctor suspects that the time between first symptoms and clot buster administered was about forty-five minutes, he had full speech back by 11:30 that night and was discharged two days later. now he’s just grumpy because he can’t drive for a couple more weeks. my poor mom needs a vacation when he gets the okay to be behind a wheel again.” robby nods at that with a smile. “and you? anything long term with you?” you take another drink from your bottle. “i think im doing fine and then a case like today comes in. that guy was definitely in worse shape than my dad was, but then my mind starts racing and asking questions like what if i didn’t go there for dinner, what if i picked up a shift that night. sorry i shouldn’t dump this all on you. i have a therapist for that.” you look up apologetic with a forced exhale. “don’t worry about it please, im enjoying learning about what makes you, you” you meet his eyes with a small smile. “i am enjoying this too.” you meet his eyes.

“this hospital isn’t like your old one. the doctors here appreciate the nurses input, we welcome it. or if you just want to ask how our weekend was is good too. we like to make sure everyone feels apart of the team, no weird power dynamics if i can help it. i for one would enjoy hearing your voice a lot more.” you blush at that. “i will try. but like i said im usually a speak when spoken to type of girl.” robby leans in resting his head on his palm. “then i guess you’re going to be sick of me asking how you are”

[lookismaddict]

Lookism: Rendezvous 🔞 (Ch. XIII) || Gun Park x Fem! Reader ♡ [Discontinued]

Author’s Note: This is the unfinished/discontinued chapter, and since you guys have been asking for it for a year, here’s what I wrote so far. (I haven’t touched this for a year. 😅)

Any of you guys are welcome to continue this story, and keep this chapter as your own. Just copy and paste it, if you want to Archive it, for your own leisure. As long as you credit me, if you do decide to post it.

Thank you again for the amazing support, this is my last gift. 🖤

NSFW Warning: Strong language/cursing, sexual language, some sexual content (teasing, grinding, and nudity).

Story Summary: You traveled abroad to help support your mother who is sick, back home in Japan. However, once you reached Korea, everything went downhill until you met a stranger who offered you a deal that could benefit you. But who knew that this special encounter would turn your whole life around…

The warm bathwater that was surrounding you and your lover, Jong Gun Park, was the nicest feeling in the world. Buff arms around your figure locked you within his space. Lips that felt like a calm summer’s breeze, peppered you down with damp kisses from your lower jaw all the way to your clavicle. Soft sighs of pining dispersed through your gentle lips, which attained a playful chuckle out of Gun each time he saw you jolt in his arms. Despite of how sweet this scenario was to anyone who’d see this view from afar, one wouldn’t realize how cruel it was until they’ve witnessed it from up close. This scene didn’t only present his infatuation for you, since there was a hidden meaning to his tender actions. If one really knew him as much as you do, then they would’ve already scoped out what his real motives were. Which was…

Erk, this is… torture…

Indeed it was. Experimental as it may be, Gun loved every minute of it. He wanted to try this new method of punishment on you. Steadily making you yearn for more of him, gave him sweet gratification. His breathy whisper that cooed, “My sweet woman~ You know how much I ‘love’ you so, right?”, into your ear would typically translate to, “How much more can you possibly take before you snap?” His contradicting saying made you grit your teeth in frustration. This twisted asshat… I bet he’s enjoying himself with this. Aware of his intentions, you decided to pull him closer to you, with your arms positioned around his neck. As you got on top of him and sat yourself onto his lap, you started to grind your private onto his own sex which made him grunt out of the blue, in surprise. “Hah, Yuzuru~ I love you so much…” In the back of your mind, however, you were cackling wickedly knowing that you were playing along with his teasing and you were just waiting for the perfect time to turn the tables. If this was the game that he wants me to play, then fine! I’ll play by your rules until you break them yourself. As his arms carefully unfolded from your anatomy, you felt his hand rake down your spine from underneath your long soaked hair, emanating a shiver from his touch. His lips landed on the right side of your neck, kissing you on that location lightly until they grew deeper and harsher, to the extent of ultimately sucking on that spot. Reacting to his stamping, you let out a cry of pleasure, as he allowed himself to mark your skin, like so. 

As you continued to grind onto him, his lips departed from your neck. Looking down at the blemish he produced on your neck, he grazed it lightly with his fingers, admiring his own bruised creation. “Your skin is so delicate to taint, that even a few suctions from me would manufacture such a beautiful mark…”  With his other hand, you felt it travel up the back of your head to hold your scalp from behind. Commencing you to look into his eyes directly, the both of you gazed at one another with a zealous drive. Yet, resistance was what kept you two sane for now. It made you wonder, how many times has it been that Gun tried to provoke you like this? How does this man always manages to win every single time he challenges you, and why? It wasn’t fair. To top it all off, his ego builds up every time he wins you over. It annoys you that he mostly gets the right to determine how things turn out, while you let him string you around like a puppet for his own pleasure. This made you conclude… 

That does it. It’s time to humble this guy, once again.

Gun’s face was starting to loom towards yours, carrying the thought of wanting to taste your delicious lips once more. However, you decided to avoid his lips on purpose and kiss him on different parts of his face. You placed sensual pecks on his forehead, his scarred nose bridge, the tip of his nose, both of his cheeks, his lips, the sides of his sharp jawline, and the bottom of his chin. You heard him moan in satisfaction from your shower of love for him, hearing him relish your displays of affection.

Time to take it up a notch.

As you continued to cause friction onto his erogenous organ while panting raunchily, you felt his prong develop from underneath the sudsy water. In addition to his ramrod reacting to you, his grasp on the back of your head and his hand that remained stationary on your back, both glided down south to grab onto your ass cheeks, full of greed. Aware of how he’s feeling currently, you called him out intentionally in a taunting manner, “Do you like it when I’m loving you like this, Yuzuru? Ahhh~ You’ve stiffen, haven’t you? Mmm~ If you were to make love to me right here and now, you wouldn’t want to dirty the water now, would you?” 

Gun groaned lasciviously, basking in the rebellious care that you’ve granted him for the past thirty minutes or so. Scornfully, he noted, “Every instance that we do this, I’ve taken notice that you’ve gotten a bit confident. Haven’t you, (Y/N)? Is this your way of retaliating?”

You thought about it for a minute before snidely clarifying, “I wouldn’t call it ‘retaliating’. More like… ‘punishing’. I did learn from my best partner, after all.” 

Finally, you closed the gap between your lips and his to silence him from questioning you any further. You generously gave him what he had been craving for, which was the tasty sensation of your lips blending with his. There was no hesitation in your amour for each other, as both of your mouths opened immediately to grant access to one another. Groaning and heavy breathing was what rang through yours and Gun’s ears. The grinding, the rough French-kissing, the obscene sounds that were exchanged through your mouths, and the lustful eye contact that was directed at him caused Gun to become feral in mind and in body. It was obvious to him that you wanted this as much as he did too, which made him convinced that he should give up this game between you and him and just savor this moment with you.

When your hands rested on his sturdy shoulders, that was when he decided to detach his lips from yours, releasing his hold on your tongue from his altogether. You heaved for oxygen to surge back into your lungs again, which allowed him to speak to you about his next move. “(Y/N), I’ve decided to end this scheme all at once. Let’s put our own farce off to the side, and just-” Ignoring him, you instantly held onto his shoulders then got up from his lap to help yourself up to stand back onto your two feet again. Walking towards the faucet of the tub, you left Gun stunned from where he was sitting at, unable to demand an explanation regarding what happened just now. To think that you’d leave him there with blue balls and in a state of mixed confusion and humiliation like that caused him to remember something. Something that was mentioned by someone last night…

"You really raised one terrifying woman, Gun."

Goo’s words echoed in Gun’s mind, which caused him to scrunch his eyebrows in irritation. No matter what Gun has to say against Goo, he can’t deny the fact that he was right. He even agreed to him at that, while they were at the bar together. But one thing is for certain... He indeed, created another monster. On the outside, you may seem like a heavenly goddess but on the inside, he was aware that you were as cunning as a seductive succubus.

Kneeling back down onto the tub, your body was now engulfed by water, up to the line where your breasts were submerged in it. As Gun distantly scrutinized your every movement, you took the bottle of shampoo near the faucet and held it in your hand. Without having to turn back you called out to Gun for him to, “Come wash my hair for me, my love~”

Incredible, he thought. To think that one flirty command would woo him so easily, even when your main intention was to tease him back. The tables have surely turned in this situation, as he was at a loss for words. Sighing deeply, he didn’t want to accept defeat for the first time and yet here he was, following your instruction. While getting up speechlessly and moving towards you discreetly, Gun contemplated about what had occurred. This loss may not be a physical fight, but it sure was a challenge that only you were capable of withstanding against him. He was surely confident that he’d have you surrender to him in no time, but… when did you become so provocatively assertive? The way you got him wrapped around your little finger resulted in him to feel challenged and turned on at the same time. You could even imagine how aroused he must be right now without having to turn around and lay your eyes on him. But THE Shiro Oni… intimidated by a woman? That’s absurd. If his whole clan was there to witness what went down, then they wouldn’t even believe it themselves, even if the evidence was right there in front of them to witness. The idea of how he’d definitely become a laughing stock behind his underlings’ backs, infuriated him more than it should have. How insulting.

Finally, Gun positioned himself behind you as he kneeled behind your nudity. He quickly snatched the shampoo bottle out of your hand in loathing then opened it to gather some into his hand. Rubbing it into both of his palms, he proceeded to coat the shampoo all over your head. Starting from the upper part of your scalp, he dug his fingers through your hair then began to gently massage your head, in which he obtained a pleasant hum from you due to how nice he’s scrubbing you.

Deriding testily, he marked, “You’re quite the charmer, aren’t you? I see that will of yours has gotten stronger the more that you’ve learned how to adapt to these types of situations.”

Smirking back at him, you berated, “And I see that little plan of yours totally backfired, thanks to my ‘womanly charms’.” You flipped your wet locks back slyly, giggling to yourself in pride which caused him to scowl because of the impact of your hair on the water had created a light splash onto his face. “Would this be considered as foreshadowing, for when I win in that little bet of ours in the future?”

Gun mocked while wiping his own face with the back of his forearm, sneering, “‘Womanly charms’? Don’t make me laugh. Luck must’ve finally been sent down to a klutz like you for once, since you’re always damned in misfortune whenever you get preyed on by me. As for your luck, I highly doubt that the duration of it would last you long until then. They’re both independent events, since the present and the future are separate time frames that do not occur simultaneously for a reason. Shouldn’t you be aware of that by now?” 

Scoffing, you countered back vexedly, “‘Klutz’? What are you trying to say? That I’m ditzy to you?! And for your information, you may have the upper hand most of the time, but at least I’m starting to get used to your little tricks because shit’s getting TOO old. So you better step up your game, Gun.”

“Oh, you don’t have to worry with that pretty little head of yours… for now. If my tricks is what you’re worried about, then you should be even more concerned about what toys I have in store for you when it’s time for you to fully submit to me.” While massaging your lathered head, you raised an eyebrow to yourself inquisitively.

“Toys”? What is he talking about, and what the hell did he mean by that…?

Lost in your own analyzation of those words, you were set free from your thoughts when he suddenly asked, “Do you still have contact with those you’ve left behind in Japan?” 

You were taken by surprise from the question he just randomly threw at you, since it was unlike him to ask something so personal. Compliantly, you answered, “Um, yes. I still do. Sometimes I check up on my mom through the nurse who’s been taking care of her, back at the hospital where she’s staying at.”

“I see. Have you talked to her recently?” Gun was clearly baffled by his own words, since it wasn’t normal of him to question people’s personal history or business. However, just listening to you talk was enough for him to feel at ease. Since you also rarely talk about your life back in Japan, he was curious to learn more about you. In this case, it was an opportunity for him to find out more information about yourself. 

“No, I have not. Actually, the last time that we’ve talked was when I was still in Japan. That was even the last time that I got to hear her voice…” 

There was a hint of loneliness in your voice that Gun caught, when your voice started to fade off into a contemplative silence. To break the gloomy atmosphere radiating from you, he suddenly added, “I assume that you have a good relationship with your mother.”

Cleared from your depressing memories of your mother, you eagerly agreed. “Oh yes, you’re right about that! I just… miss her a lot. Haha, I remembered when she’d used to cook and I’d help her out almost every time! We’d sing together while cooking too, mostly those old Japanese eighties pop songs, because she said that era was ‘THE BEST’ and I agree! Speaking about her cooking, she can cook the best Japanese Curry, EVER. I wish you could try it. Well, she DID teach me how to cook it though. I can kind of replicate it, but I don’t think the taste would be the same as hers. However, she didn’t just taught how to make curry though. I learned how to cook Hibachi Fried Rice, Omurice, any kind of Donburi, Okonomiyaki, Yakisoba, Unagi no Kabayaki, Gyoza, Tonkatsu, Karaage, Tempura, Onigiri, Ramen, Udon- OH, WAIT. There’s this one recipe that I made that you’ve GOT to try! It’s my own take of Udon, but it isn’t your typical traditional Japanese Udon though. It’s Udon Carbonara. Japanese Udon though. I was experimenting in the kitchen one day, and I wondered what would happen if I mixed Japanese and Italian cuisine together? So, I came up with a dish called ‘Udon Carbonara’! I swear, it’s really good. You should try it some time, Gun. I bet you’ll like it…”

Hearing you chatting casually with Gun gave him a great sense of comfort. While he continued to froth up your hair by trailing his digits through your tresses all the way down to its tips, he chuckled at your spontaneity, revering how upbeat you were in talking to him. “Udon Carbonara had already been invented, idiot. I know that for a fact, since I’ve seen it on a menu before. Do you have anything else that’s considered to be ‘original’?”

As he smoothed out loose strands of your hair behind your ears, he noticed how they’ve turned a shade of light pink. Gun leered, knowing how his response must’ve induced an embarrassed countenance on your face. Flustered at how disconcerting you felt, you blundered unsurely. “W-well… I may have… something else. Erm, h-how about… Curry Fillet? No wait- That sounds like something that has been made before. Um… Tamago… Yaki… Onigiri? Uh… that doesn’t sound right. How about… Yakisoba… Pan? Crap, that’s been made too. What am I even saying? Okay, okay. I think I got it! Listen to this… Kakuni Ramen! Ah- wait… That’s just… Urgh, dammit! Hold on, let me redeem myself…”

No matter how much you babble on and on to him, he truly does appreciate how lively you are when you’re around him. Generally, whenever Gun is present around other people, his desire to have them shut up over whatever nonsense they’d be spouting, would be undeniably high. Especially when that certain person is Joon Goo Kim himself. Although, whenever you’re near his vicinity, Gun believed that you were a different case. Weirdly enough, your speech was tolerable and he found it intriguing whenever you have something to say. Whether it be unnecessary censure, curious inquisition, or leisure talk, he really grew a fond of your voice. In fact, he wouldn’t allow himself to turn his back on you, even if you have something to voice out to him. Nothing would bypass his ears if any word came out of your mouth. 

Entertained by your frustration, Gun penetrated his fingers deeply beneath the back of your head, properly getting every spot on your scalp with soap. He then proposed derisively, “Give up?”

You shook your head slightly, determined to still brainstorm for an original dish. “Shut up and let me think, dammit! I got this… OH! How about, (Y/N)’s Bento? Hopefully you have a bento box at home.”

Sighing in reluctance, he stated, “I suppose that works… and yes, I do. Well, whatever it may be, I’d be willing to try your cooking at least once. Therefore, you better do a fantastic job for it to taste decent. You should know that my tastes are much more refined than the usual dishes that others have tried before. So, make sure you cook it thoroughly. Don’t let it become too undercooked or overcooked, or else I won’t eat a single bite of it.”

Rolling your eyes at his nagging, you retorted, “Yeah, yeah, whatever Gordon Ramsay. I’ll make sure that you don’t get poisoned by salmonella.” 

Gun was finishing up in covering your whole head with shampoo. After a while, he reached over from behind you to turn on the faucet in preparation of rinsing your head. At last, his hands slowly withdrew from within your hair as he briefed, “Turn around and face me.” 

Following his order, you teetered yourself around to confront him. Immediately, your eyes fixated back on his darksome ones, awaiting his next command for you. Subsequently, he directed you to, “Alright. Now carefully, bring yourself closer to the faucet. Don’t worry about accidentally bumping into it, since I’ll be the one to guide you.” Perceptively, you nodded, entrusting him to lean closer to you to grasp your head from behind before you moved. From beside you, he followed your every move, making sure that you didn’t bump yourself onto any edge. Inch by inch, you scooted yourself backwards near the faucet until Gun told you to, “Stop.” Once you sat right in front of the faucet, he then told you to , “Slowly, lean backwards.” While doing so, you felt his arm hold you from behind your back as your head tilted back cautiously until your head is leveled with the tall faucet above you. Beneath the faucet, you felt the water stream down onto the top of your head. Gun still had one of his hands gripping your head, swishing through your hair back and forth, trying to help you rinse out the shampoo lingering in your hair. 

You beamed at him, clearly enjoying the feeling of having his hand delicately handling you, as you notably deemed, “I didn’t know that you’d be THIS good at washing a person’s head.”

Gun’s facial expression remained unfazed, but focused on the task at hand when he replied with, “I’ve done this before, so it’s nothing new.”

Staring up at him in wonder, you asked, “You’ve done this before? Since when?”

“One day that dumbass, Goo, insisted that I should dye his hair for him. At that time, he already did me a favor so in return, I had no choice but to comply. He should’ve had it done by a professional hair stylist instead of me. That idiot completely wasted his favor…”

“What? Why would he insist on you dying his hair for him though?”

“His reasoning was, ‘It’ll be fun.’ To this very day, I still do not understand what that imbecile meant by that. He would’ve gotten bleach poisoning if I hadn’t carefully read the instructions before he snatched the dye box out of my hands to throw it away.” 

“Really? Wow, you guys seem to be good friends with each other. If he trusted you entirely to dye his hair for him, then it must be true. You guys really are ‘besties’…”

Gun grunted in disapproval, now evoking an intense scowl on his visage. The corner of your mouth curved slightly, assuming that he might be pleased by your interpretation of his relationship with Goo on the inside, even though his outer expression may not be presenting how honestly felt about it. It’s ironic to think how this man told me to “be honest” with him, yet he’s the one who wasn’t being honest with me currently. How cute. If only Goo was here to witness this… 

“I don’t believe that I’ve mentioned this either. However, you also washed my head moderately well. Have you once, perhaps, had experience in that matter?”

Your attention drew back towards him, as you paused to think about it. “Moderately well”? Not even highly? “Yes, I have. Actually, my mom used to wash my head a lot when I was little. She’d do it even when she’s tired from working, so I got used to it.” 

“That explains it.”

“Oh, and uh… there’s more to it, actually…” 

“Go on.”

“Back then, I used to do errands for my neighbors and some of them actually owned dogs. They asked me to dog-sit for them, so I took care of them by feeding them, walking them, and cleaning them.”

For some reason, whatever you just said made Gun slightly bitter.

“So you’re saying… that the reason for your skills… was because of some… mutts…?”

“Since you put it that way, I guess-”

“You must’ve pictured me as a mutt while washing my head, then. How unappealing…”

“Huh? Wait- no, no, no!! That’s not what happened!!!”

“How degrading. To believe that I’ve shared your hands along with some mongrels…”

“Gun, wait-“

Sneering viciously while his hands were still rinsing your hair along with the water distilling onto your head, he instigated, “What? Are you going to feed me some dog food as well?”

Scrunching your eyebrows at him in frustration, you suddenly raised your voice in defense saying, “Now, WAIT A DAMN MINUTE-“

The two of you ended up arguing with each other, with the usual banter. It lasted for about thirty whole minutes.

. . .

After a while of bickering in the bath together, you and Gun managed to get out of the bathtub. While he held onto your hand and guided you out of the bath tub, you slowly lifted your left leg then your right, as you finally stood right outside of the tub.

"I won't have you slipping due to your own clumsiness and that sharp tongue of yours.”

Was I supposed to be grateful for that?

You grumbled a resentful, “Thanks.” after Gun’s grasp on your hand loosened. A cold shiver ran up your spine as you stood there, trying to find a clean towel so you could dry yourself. However, Gun beat you to it as he obtained a towel from underneath the bathroom sink, where extra supplies of it were stored. As he made his way over to you, your eyes followed his every movement as he unraveled the towel from its original fold, then started to pat you dry. His hands were oddly gentle, yet comforting in a manner that only you could view for your eyes alone. Of course, he wouldn’t let anyone see himself care for someone else. But as the two of you were enclosed within the confinement of these marbled bathroom walls, it is safe to say that he was willing to relax and show how much he actually cared about you… for now.

You allowed Gun to dry every inch of your naked frame, while you awkwardly stood still and watched his hands freely wipe every wet crevice of your body. The muted breaths from him as he silently dried you, caused you to stay still without even moving an inch. You felt his darkened optics roam all over your body, admiring every detail of your perfect form. 

You were his perfect specimen. Those slick droplets of water running down your voluptuous  that silky smooth skin of yours, and the way your curves brought out your alluring femininity without even trying, made Gun’s mind race with all sorts of wonders. His greedy eyes just couldn’t get enough of you, and his grip on the towel he was holding grew tighter. It completely dawned on him that the boundaries that the two of you had, had ultimately sufficed. Now, you are officially his. The way you felt the denting of his hands from over the soft creases of the towel, made you quiver from his careful touch. It almost made you wonder when did Gun start to show signs of his transitions from a stoic soul, to an affectionate gentleman whose heart starts to finally melt over his cold constitution. Almost equivalent to the stages of a harsh winter that slowly shifts towards the blossoming of a bright mellow spring. 

A frozen sakura blossom, whose ice starts to defrost and reveal its true radiant beauty from within its honest budding. 

An evolution of another sense of self-maturity, for the man who everyone shoulders with contempt.

One of Gun’s hands released the towel for a brief moment, as his hand placement fell upon one of your thighs. Your breath faltered for only a mere second, and had gotten heavier. His fingertips grazed towards the gap in between your thighs, which almost made you elicit a soft moan. Such soothing gestures, but with such a rough calloused hand that traced over the soft skin of your inner thighs. As his hand crept higher and higher towards your sensitive area, Gun’s face loomed over yours. With his hot breath fanning over your ear, he whispered with that husky voice of his. “Spread your legs for me, (Y/N). It’s required of me to dry that part of you too. Now, don’t deny me.”

Damn…

You gulped warily, then nodded as you murmured a compliant, “Okay.” When you granted him permission, you simultaneously parted your legs while your hands rest upon his strong broad shoulders for support. A satisfied nod was given by him, which signaled him to proceed with the drying of your body. His bare hand grabbed onto your right inner thigh, slightly levering your legs to spread wider for him. The hand with the towel in his possession, drew closer towards your womanhood as he pressed the towel upon your entrance. Provoking a responsive jolt from you, Gun chuckled in amusement as he start to wipe your wet folds to properly rid you of any excess water from your gorgeous body. Closing your eyes while the clenching of your hands deepened on his shoulders, your spine tensed up while trying to keep still. He decided to tease you, as he raised the towel towards the front of your cleft. Circling the towel around that area of your sweet bundle of nerves, Gun’s eyes inclined from his hand rubbing that bud, then back up towards your caricature that was flushed in heat. Your eyes closed shut, which displayed signs of resistance, made it all too irresistible for Gun to not tease you. Those ragged breaths, trying to hold back those soft moans of yours, only fueled Gun’s mischievous behavior. 

The corner of his lips creased upward into a sly smirk. His lips neared closer to your ear once more while whispering devilishly, “You’re enjoying this. Aren’t you, (Y/N)? How did such a simple act of kindness, turn into something so erotic, hm? I can sense your arousal building up, just by the way you’re trembling under my possession. By now, you must be secretly wishing that the towel was gone from my hand... Yes?” The pressure from his provocative caressing was becoming unbearable for you now, as you bit the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from even giving him any minuscule signs of satisfaction from a simple moan. Gun could only hear your erratic respiration, which only made his smirk grow wider. 

“Oh? You’re putting up quite the fight. I know how much you want to call my name right now. Go on, (Y/N). Let go of yourself, and let me hear those beautiful moans of yours.”

A hushed whimper escaped from your quivering lips, as they slightly disconnect from their tightly knitted crease. His tempting words weren’t helping your case at all, as you moaned out to him.

“Gun, s-stop… teasing me…”

A snicker, along with an exhale of air shot from his nostrils in entertainment when he heard your feeble attempt to resist him still.

“‘Stop’, you say? Mmmm, I know how honest your body is for me. Yet, your words won’t fool me. So, don’t lie to me, (Y/N). Let your desires take over your mind and your heart. I swear, it will be much more enjoyable if that were the case…”

A gasp ejected from your mouth and your eyes shot wide open when you felt the pressure and the pace of his veiled hand accelerating with ease upon your clit. Your head tilted downwards to stare at his hand pushing the towel upon your pleasure button, grinding it against that area which issued your legs to wobble uncontrollably. You had no choice but to wrap your arms tightly around his shoulders for support. As you pressed your exposed form upon Gun’s muscled physique, soft moans were now being liberated from deep within your vocal cords. A dark chuckle rumbled from Gun, and you felt his chest vibrate powerfully with that deep voice of his. 

“That’s it, (Y/N). You really are my woman. Aren’t you? You should be honored, for receiving such caring treatment from me. I’ve never washed a woman, and dried her off before. And from listening to how much you’re moaning for me right now, I can tell that you need some more ‘drying’ if you’re just going to become even wetter for me.”

The fiddling of his fingers which added friction upon your swollen clit by using the towel beneath your soaked, was driving you insane. The more Gun added pressure and stroked that particular area, the more your entire body quaked with such intensity that your hold on Gun clamped around him. While your stubborn defiance starts to slip away, you vocalized in a needy manner by whispering shakily, “Gun, please…”

Almost as if Gun’s eyes perked up with pure excitement, he presented a smug grin that somehow started to manifest more vibrantly upon his profile. His raspy voice sent chills down your spine when he said in a low growl, “Desperate already, (Y/N)? What happened to your resistance? Don’t tell me you’ve succumbed to your pleasure, so soon. I thought you’d put up a longer fight than that.”

Faster with extra force, his hand moved with such fervor that was really driving you towards the edge. The volume of your moans increased, while you so desperately fastened yourself against his masculine bod. The grating of the towel on your love node was starting to become intense and overwhelming. The extreme stimulation was starting to lead your sanity astray, as you continue to mewl in ecstasy when you whined, “Nghhh, Gun… I-I’m close…” 

A snigger was uttered from his throat when he cooed right into your ear saying,  “Oh, are you now?”

Without any given warning, Gun withdrew the towel from your stimulated button, which left you stunned during the contractions of your inner walls. The pleasure that’s been coursing through your body left you shivering while you panted in sexual frustration from his denial of  your own climax. You knitted your eyebrows at him and you dangerously whispered to him with a combination of confusion and displeasure. 

“Why? Why did you stop?”

Altogether, Gun retracted his hands by removing any sensations of his touch on your body. As if marked and imprinted by his pleasing stimulation, he took a step back away from you to revel in your shuddery state of unfulfilled pleasure. With a wicked sneer, he murmured, “Naughty girl. Have you forgotten already? I was only toweling your body after I bathed you. And right now, I’m trying to discipline you, through my reprimanding. Also, I won’t make you come from such a simple act. You deserve more than just my hand. Besides…” Your eyes continue to follow him as he threw the used towel off to the side. His playful expression on his face hasn’t ceased when he pointed out, “You should be dry by now, after all that pleasure you’ve been experiencing. That even includes myself as well. So, take it as a beneficial act of service, from the man who you decided to love. You’re welcome.” 

Before you could retort an insult or a curse back at him, Gun gave you a crafty smirk before he turned around to head towards the bathroom door, leaving you there completely speechless and enraged. With an aggravated huff, the only words that left your mouth were, “I hate him so much.”

. . .

For a while, you returned back to the bedroom and sat at the dining table while eating room service breakfast, that’s been ordered by Gun. Silently while still holding resentment from his teasing from earlier in the bathroom, you scrolled through your phone while wearing a bathroom robe that you found in the luxurious hotel room. Gun insisted that you should wear something that isn’t your old and worn-out clothing from last night, since he claimed that he didn’t want to have to wash you again, just for you to become dirty once more. Gun did have a point about that. And reluctantly, you obeyed him. In the meantime, Gun was also scrolling through his phone as he ordered some new temporary clothes online for the both of you. Specifically, from the expensive branded stores within the hotel’s mall. It still amazes you how this grand extravagant building, offers high-class hotel room service. Even if that meant ordering from various branded stores, and having them personally delivered to your hotel room from only a few levels down from the mall.

Korea really is something.

After obtaining all of the shopping bags that Gun had during his online shopping spree from the hotel’s service boy, he simply handed you your new clothes and gave his usual stern order by saying, “Go change.” With a hint of loathing to follow his simple command, you grabbed onto two of the huge shopping bags then head towards the bathroom to change. Locking yourself into the bathroom, you dumped the shopping bags onto the tile floor then rummaged through the bags. You wondered what this rich shopping freak of a man got you, and your eyes widened at the abundance of brand new clothing he bought. You slowly pulled out all of the items from the bags that were labeled “Kate Spade” and “Chanel” then gently rest them onto the bathroom counter, spreading them all out to gawk at each piece of clothing and accessory.

Astonished as you were, your eyes were restless as you scanned the beautiful sundress that first caught your eye. Its fabric was so thin and delicate to the touch, with its sakura floral print scattered along its white laced embroidery, down to its hem. From its upper torso, it was tightly stitched with small gold buttons buttoned down at its center, right above where your cleavage was. However, that part was modestly covered. A complete contrast from your bold and stunning dress from last night. The material of your dress, however, was no smooth silk. Rather, it was stitched with just merely… cotton.

Huh…

You expected the clothing to be much more extravagant, or provocative in fashion, with its fancy satin or chiffon type of fabric. However, this was more mellow, modest, and radiant in color. It was unlike anything that Gun has ever gotten you before. But, you appreciate this new, airy yet casual-like clothing. With its long flowing skirt that reaches all the way to your ankles, and its light texture that should barely graze the soft skin of your legs was just the cherry on top. This dress was like a warm summer’s breeze, that gave you the freedom of that fresh breath of life without feeling suffocated at all by the restraints of having to succumb to the typical feminine standards of men. And you adored it. It was a wonderful and liberating feeling, to finally wear something so graceful, but casual.

The dress was still beautiful, no doubt about it. It was just a brand new presentation, that was more breezy and soothing to have the honor to wear. You wondered if Gun purposely ordered this dress for you, due to how he was always forcing you to wear the types of dresses that he believed to be more suitable for you. Those dresses that were dark, sexy, and mature to his tastes. And this simple gesture that you assumed was from the bottom of his once, stone cold heart, made your own heart patter. The corner of your lips couldn’t help but manifest a tiny smile upon your face that was shaded with a touch of soft pink.

So he can be thoughtful, after all.

Giggling to yourself, you simply took the price tag that was attached to the dress which was labeled, “Kate Spade's Spring Collection,” then flipped it over to see what the cost was for this dress. Once you did so, you felt the muscles on your face tensed up right when your eyes met with such an outrageous price, once again. The amount of 0’s on each item that Gun has bought for you, never ceases to shock you. Not in a very pleasant way. But in a rather… ghastly manner.

After admiring the new sundress he got you, you checked to see what else Gun bought for you. Among the other clothes he got you, was a brand new matching set of undergarments. A bra with a white lace decorated upon its padded cups, and that thin white underwear that was…

What the fuck?

You had to squint your eyes, as you brought it right up close to your face, thinking if your eyes were seeing this right. You might be wondering, what type of underwear were you looking at? Well, this special type of undergarment was none other than some… White laced crotchless panties. 

Jong Gun Park, what the hell is this?!

Your eyes still couldn’t believe what you were holding in your hands, as you dangled it right in front of your perplexed face. You took two of your fingers and spread the two flaps apart from the bottom of your new underwear, and you felt the blood rush into your cheeks, which made you become all jittery inside. For some reason, it made you remember those times when he would take his fingers and-

Suddenly, you threw the underwear back onto the bathroom counter right next to the sink, with a horrified gasp. Now with a frantic state of mind, you paced back and forth in the bathroom, not knowing what to do. Mumbling to yourself, you whispered while going around in circles. “What the hell was he thinking, buying me something like that? There’s no way I’ll even wear that THING in the first place! I don’t even have any leggings or shorts to even cover that bottom part up! Well, I guess the dress would still be able to cover it. But still-”

As if on cue, you gasped when you suddenly heard a few loud knocks from behind the bathroom door. Your head spun around, for your eyes to instantly fixate onto the door.

“Hey, (Y/N). What the hell is taking you so long in there just to get dressed?! I strictly advised you to change about half an hour ago, and you’re still in there?”

Of course, it had to be Gun on the other side of the door. The cold looking man, was already dressed in his new clothes that he had treated himself to, with his new black Valentino leather Jacket, with front flaps that extend from his shoulders towards the center of his chest in a V-like formation. His pants had a small gold chain hanging onto one of the straps on his dark pants. Instead of wearing those black leather dress shoes from last night’s event, his shoes were strapped with brand new black Timberland leather boots. This man always outdoes himself, by spending money on his appearance. If he can afford it, then why not indulge in such luxuries? 

From outside of the door, you heard Gun sighed heavily with impatience. You could already imagine how he was crossing his arms from behind the door., with his typical crossed face. “Well, hurry up in there. Don’t keep me waiting. I already put your dirty clothes in one of the shopping bags for you. So, you might as well just prim yourself to perfection, so we can be on our merry little way.” 

You groaned with slight irritation, listening to his bossy, sarcastic tone again. He had to provoke an eye roll from you, just now. Currently rushing to get changed, you disentangled the bathrobe’s strap around you to free yourself from its clutch around you. Throwing it aside, you snatched your questionable underwear to slip it on from underneath your legs and over your exposed gap. Allowing the garter of your new panties to smack against your hips, you yelled out in a hurriedly annoyed voice, “Alright, alright! Just wait in the bedroom or something! I’ll be out in five.”Still with that display of distaste on his face, he vocalized an authoritarian, “Fine. Be ready by then,” then left you in the bathroom to finally leave you in peace.

***

With whatever excessive makeup and jewelry that Gun acquired for you, this routine of pampering yourself became effortless. Almost as if you’ve prepared yourself in a spontaneous way. While taking a glance at the vanity mirror that you were gazing upon in front of you, your head tilted in different angles, studying your features and your gorgeously pristine appearance. The Chanel makeup that you used to retouch your face with, wasn’t too heavy and was not bold at all. It was more of a natural exhibition of lighter shades of pink, which paired with the florescent patterns on the dress’s lengthy skirt and its lax drapery. Your eyeshadow had a peachy shimmery pigment upon your eyelids. The blush that was barely faint upon your cheeks were patted with rose pink. Along with the orchid colored lip tint smudged upon your inner lips from top to bottom, which was rubbed and lip-smacked into flawless brilliance. While your eyes scanned your face, you tucked a lock of your hair from behind your ear, to visibly admire your dangling earrings. These earrings that Gun afforded, had a small crystal clear gemstone, individually hanged by a small gold strand in this matching set per ear. Your pink orchid tainted lips altered into a fulfilled smile in front of your reflection that was looking back at you, with those eyes, that were clearly tickled pink with euphoric triumph. Double entendre or not, you were an absolute darling to the eye with such balmy beauty. A mien of tranquility. A spring favored dream, adorned with vitality and spirit.

While stepping back in front of the bathroom mirror to give yourself a finishing ‘turn-around’, you grinned to yourself then nodded in approval. Not bad, (Y/N). Not bad at all! I’m getting really good at this ‘feminine display’ of mine. You know, with the makeup and all. I guess, I can thank Gun for that. Now, let’s look for those shoes… You still haven’t forgotten the fact that you were barefoot still. As you returned to the shopping bags, your hands extended over to them to scavenge through the remaining contents. Raising an eyebrow with pure confusion in your eyes, you murmured to yourself, “No shoes? I thought he’d buy me new shoes. Huh, don’t tell me he’s putting himself on a budget now. I don’t mind if I have to wear those shoes from last night again. Even though it won’t match with my entire outfit, at least the dress will cover it since it’s pretty long anyways.” Finally, you stuffed all of the makeup and the rest of the garbage such as the price tags and the extra packaging material for the clothing and accessories you got, back into the shopping bags before you head out of the bathroom. 

With the silent traversing of your naked feet, you strolled back to the bedroom where Gun was waiting for you. You noticed that there was a slit that was partially opened to the bedroom, as the door was left slightly opened. Slowly walking towards the door, you could hear Gun’s voice from inside of the room, like he was having a conversation with someone. Your hand froze and hovered over the door knob, which made you halt in your tracks. With a peek of your eye through the crack of the door, you caught him standing by huge window that overlooked the skyline of Seoul’s gloriously bright cityscape. The sun was out, and Gun had his fancy shades on to block out the sunshine from hitting his eyes. He was holding his phone up to his right ear while speaking in an assertive tone. As he towered over the picturesque scenery of populated buildings and the Han River that stretched for miles, he was exchanging overbearing words to that certain someone on the phone. The words that you heard from him went as followed…

“So, did you get the money? I sent it to you, kid. Gun’s eyes stared off into the distance of the vast landscape in front of him. “You did say to wire the money to you via KakaoBank within twenty-four hours. Did you not?” His eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean you didn’t get it? According to my current bank statements, the transactions have been committed successfully.”He clicked his tongue with irritation. “Are you seriously claiming, that you had no idea what happened? Don’t you dare lie to me.”A deafening silence filled the room for a moment. The veins on the side of Gun’s temples started to protrude visibly, displaying the foul scowl that was now plastered onto his face. Clenching his phone with a stronger grip, he dangerously emphasized in a threatening tone slowly, “Don’t you dare lie to me, Kouji. Send me your transaction record, NOW. I will reconsider on rewiring you another five hundred thousand won, if that’s the case. But if I find out that you somehow managed to hack into KakaoBank to make it seem like the transaction failed, or have tampered with its database somehow, then you won’t be receiving such generosity from hereon out. Consider this your final exception, kid.” The call instantly cut off right there, as you saw Gun’s hand pulling his phone away from his ear while ending the call abruptly with one tap of his thumb. 

You could tell that he seemed rather tense at this very moment, even when his hand dropped to his side with his phone still in his hard clutch. The way Gun’s hand was silently shaking with fury while holding onto his phone, made you a bit nervous that he might break his phone by accident. But whatever you got from his conversation with Kouji, you had a feeling that Kouji might be playing with fire. Definitely, not in a good way. A flashback from last night’s confrontation between Gun and that loan shark creep came to mind, and you remembered Gun calling Kouji during that ruckus, to help him gather valid information against that criminal. Just remembering Gun threatening that man, brought a chill up your spine. Before getting lost in your own memories regarding that matter, you shook your head then continued to stare at Gun who was quietly deep in thought. What should I do? Should I walk in while he’s still like that? Gulping, you gathered the courage needed to break Gun from his reserved rage, as you gave the bedroom door a few knocks and asked in a soft speech. “Gun? Can I come in?” With a responsive perk of his head, he cleared his throat then said in his direct intonation, “Yes. Come in.” 

With a deep breath, you gently pushed the door even wider than it was at its original post, before you entered the room. While walking towards Gun, you stopped and stood before him with his back still turned towards you. His stance made you a bit uneasy so you asked him with a hint of concern. “Gun? Is everything alright?” You heard him took a deep breath, before he could relax and compose himself. “Yes, everything is fine and in order.” As Gun rotated himself to properly face you, his head tilted a bit downwards to meet your gaze. Even from behind his dark sunglasses, you could feel his eyes roaming up and down your body, taking in this new display of fashion from you. Your eyes did the same as well, now that you got a good look at him with his leisured yet fashionable exterior. The leap of your heart was not helping at all, while your eyes seemed to be visibly checking him out. That leather jacket and that gold chain strapped onto his dark pants, with those leather boots on his feet, really did capture his inner ruggedness. His dark hair which was pompadoured into such a charming display, made your legs all wobbly. He certainly had that ‘bad boy’ look, that any woman would drop onto their knees for. This revelation, however, made you question yourself… How can I even call this man, mine?

Gun could tell that his current appearance was to your liking. Just from the way your eyes darted from one part of his body to another, gave him a light chuckle. A smug smirk manifested onto his face, which made him put his phone back into his pants pocket before he took a step forward and leaned closer to your face. He whispered with such tease, “What is it, (Y/N)? Have I managed to take your breath away, once more? It’s quite obvious, isn’t it? That your eyes tend to look at me with such admiration and desire, that you cannot help it…” That same hand from his pocket emerged as it approached that stray strand of hair that fell upon your face. He caught it so openly with his eyes, in which he believed that such a small and mere outlier could ruin your lovely features. As he pushed that strand of hair back behind your ear with such delicacy, your heartbeat wavered for only a second. The quiet breath that you emitted had faltered, and he sensed that too. It only excited Gun, to the point of wanting to tease you more. 

He brought his lips towards your exposed ear, that was decorated with that eye-catching earring that Gun simply bought for you. With a seductive, but subtle tone, he continue to whisper into your ear with that deep breathy voice of his. “Whenever you look at me like that, you always ignite something within me. And not just that… How could I have forgotten to compliment such a beautiful woman right before my very eyes? You’re absolutely stunning, (Y/N). I knew that dress would suit you. It may be simpler than the previous dresses that I bought you. But, I had a feeling that you could wear something much more… ‘lighter’. And for that reason, I wanted to see for myself if such a difference could be worth investing my money on. And… per usual, I was correct.” That arrogant smirk on his face reverted to a confident grin, as one of his arms snaked its way around your waist while he pulls you closer to keep you within his close vicinity. His flirtatious whispers though, weren’t done yet. There was more that he wanted to get out of you, and he was willing to see those irresistible reactions of yours. Gun’s lips were barely pressed against your exposed ear, and his other free hand went towards your earring as he starts to pick and playfully inspect that piece of crystal in between his fingers. 

Murmuring in that husky pitch of his, Gun said while twirling a finger around that gold strand of your earring in a playful way,  “So, as of now, I would like to clarify something. To put it into simple terms, I chose the clothes you wear and the small trinkets that came along with them, carefully. Not just because of my contractual obligation to look after you. But because of how I truly believe that you are a woman who’s worth being with me. Surely, you thought so too. We established that matter between us in the bathroom earlier. Did we not?” The bathroom… Just reminiscing about that experience with him, and the spark to your mutual understanding regarding both of your feelings for each other, had prompted your cheeks to radiate into a much brighter shade of pink that deepens the coloring of your application of that pigmented blush. A titter escaped his lips, as he continued to speak with such smoothness. “I never spend money on just any woman, (Y/N). This dress you’re wearing, and these earrings that I used my own money on, was all for you. Hence, the obvious conclusion that you are now officially mine.”

Gun lowered his lips down from your ear then towards your cheek while carefully letting go of that earring he was observing. His hand transferred to your chin, now holding onto your chin firmly while inclining your face upwards in order to meet his eyes. As he veered his own lips onto yours with barely an inch between you, his countenance was now in front of yours. His own orbs from beneath his dark glasses were currently fixated onto yours with such attentiveness. By brushing his own thumb across your chin back and forth, your heart couldn’t sit still at all. This man was very up close, and was invading the personal space that you once had, like he was about to devour you whole. The air around him felt heated, which induced a trickle of sweat down the back of your neck due to the tension that was being driven by his own superiority. 

. . .

[Unfinished]

Any of you guys can finish the story. I give you guys permission to do so. Have fun with it. Thank you! 🫡

[d1nkyduck]

The Shadow's Resolve

The Shadow’s Resolve. - Neglect. Verb. … To give little attention or respect to; to disregard. To leave undone or unattended to, especially through carelessness. To fail to do something due to thoughtlessness or carelessness. Lack of due care or attention; negligence. Introduction/Synopsis: In which instead of raising just yourself you have to raise Bruce’s “charity case”. Now look where it’s gotten you, stuck trying to get your “family” out your hair, multiverse shenanigans, and having to Scooby-Doo this shit. Oh Wait! Time travel too!? A/n- English is my first language so this writing and grammar is going to be ass. This is beta read and has been beta read so much it is now burned into my skull. Enjoy! (Please let me know if you see any mistakes, all will be updated and fixed as soon as possible.)

Your Reading: Prologue 7/7 This floor is the quietest, but unfortunately, there aren't any good and spacious bedrooms here. You head up to the third floor, where you finally hear some sound. Yelling. Is it Tim? He sounds upset about something. You hear more voices, Damian, Jason, maybe Dick and Stephanie. As the argument intensifies, you decide to leave the floor. It’s better not to introduce yourself while they’re all riled up. No matter how much you miss them, you are still a stranger to them. Moving on to the third floor, you notice a few rooms slightly open. It seems that many residents are on this floor. You walk down the corridor and close all the doors after glancing inside. You see Damian's room since Titus is there. He looks up and sniffs before coming over to you. You stay still as he assesses you. You hope he doesn’t bark. Luckily, he just licks your hand, and you scratch his head. When you hear footsteps approaching, you quickly make your escape. The fourth floor? Yeah, don’t even think about it—that’s Bruce’s territory. If you head up to the fifth floor, you’ll find tons of libraries and offices. Seriously, there’s even a few ballrooms up there, but not a single bedroom. So, you decide to go higher. The sixth floor is super quiet, but just a heads up, if you pick this one, you might lose your mind during one of those fancy galas they throw at the manor. Now, onto the top floor. As you step onto this seemingly deserted level, you observe LED lights illuminating the area. The hallway is adorned with inviting decorations. A soft glow emanates from beneath the doors of three separate rooms. You find yourself unable to recall who may inhabit this floor. Intrigued, you knock. There is a brief pause with no response, but before you can knock again, voices can be heard calling from within the room. “Come In! Alfred is that you?”

You gently open the door and respond. “No. Sorry. I’m new and just looking for a room.” Upon entering the expansive chamber, one is able to identify the source of the fatigued voice. Reclining within the room is a diminutive figure, whose frail condition is evident, accentuated by the array of medical apparatus encircling the front of his bed. The most prominent of these devices is a heart monitor, emitting a rhythmic beep with each pulse of the stranger's heart. “Oh! New company. Sorry I didn’t clean up. I wasn’t expecting guests.”

The youthful individual articulates his words while sitting upright with evident frailty. He appears to be approximately sixteen or seventeen years of age. Resting in his lap is a laptop, accompanied by a cygnet adorned with sunglasses. This is quite peculiar. You think it’s a good idea to say hi. “Oh no, it's fine. I don’t want to make you overexert yourself.” The sickly boy smiles and fully turns to you. “I’m Uno. Uno Nazo Revekka-” Holy Shit! He's the guy you're supposed to be looking for! He’s the one who left the notes. This is the guy! “And I have been expecting you Y/n (M/n) L/n.”

Masterlist

A/n: Took so long to separate every part since it's all eleven pages. Thanks for reading and I hope to see you all in Chapter one!

[charmac]

5x01 | 16x05

Mac and Dennis + Aggression

[residentialsinyomakai]

Its so funny thinking about the different things people know me as in the yokai watch fandom. That one person who loves Babblong. The Roughraff guy. The one who drew way too much Casanuva at one point. The one with the goofy aus. One of the three (3) McKraken fans. Or when I used to be a Zote Hollow Knight/Captain Charlie Pikmin account (if you know me from those days DAMN)

[viaviavie]

OPERATION CINDERELLA-SABOTAGE [HEARTSLABYUL]

in which he rescues you from your very short-lived wedding.

SUMMARY: due to a massive misunderstanding, a prince from royal sword academy is set to wed you at sunset. thankfully, your un-princely crush is here to save the day and crash this lovely wedding.

PAIRINGS: everyone x fem reader (separately)

WARNINGS: they're being a bit dramatic, characters are 18+, makeout (cater)

NOTES: this is echoes the ghost bride event, but listening to this prompted me to write out this scenario instead. i made this for shits and giggles, so have fun with this!

HEARTSLABYUL | SAVANACLAW | OCTANIVELLE | SCARABIA | POMEFIORE | IGNIHYDE | DIASOMNIA

There was no way you would be able to say 'no' now, not when there were hundreds of Royal Sword Academy students and even more members of a random royal family whose last names you cannot recall waiting outside that door. Aside from a completely oblivious Neige and Che'nya who was nowhere to be found, there was no one you could really ask for help to get you out of this mess.

You turn to your supposed betrothed with frantic eyes, shaking your head wildly. "I already told you, I'm not the one you danced with at the ball!" Your hisses fell on deaf ears. That damned prince from Royal Sword Academy was too busy making the 'goo-goo' eyes at you to even register what you were saying.

"I just happened to have the same shoe-size!"

Damn it, why did you have to agree to fitting some missing girl's shoe?!

Pierce Charmant, possibly the most delusional guy you have ever met in Twisted Wonderland, clung onto your calf with a stubborn expression. He had no intentions of letting you go, and neither did his five other guards that had blocked your way.

"You have to be her!"

"You don't even know my name!"

You were really counting on Grim to get someone, anyone, to stop this wedding. Yet, as you are walked down the aisle by the fair Neige, you are already planning out a divorce settlement plan. Based on the number of guests here, who had filled this entire venue from top to bottom, you would have guessed that this prince was rather rich. If it was to be an unhappy marriage, at least your wallet would be more than compensated.

You managed to convince this prince to send invitations to Night Raven College, but that didn't matter. He was so excited and in a hurry to marry, that your friends barely had any time to rescue you! There must have been so much traffic with the mirrors that they couldn't even use them! There was just no way that they'd make it in time now.

And so you consign yourself to readying some divorce papers within the next few weeks, and planning out how to avoid any more interactions with this guy while you were married.

You stood at the chapel's base, your expression exasperated than ever as you kept darting your gaze to the door. You've already tripped over the aisle a few times, fumbled the scripted vows, and even called for a bathroom break or two to stall.

And now comes the big moment that you were so desperately trying to avoid.

"Would you, Pierce Charmant, take the Ramshackle Dorm Prefect, as your lawfully wedded wife?"

The prince smiles so sickly sweet, and its the look of a man who won't change his mind.

"I do."

You grimace as the officiant faces you, just as blind to your annoyed expression.

"Would you, the Ramshackle Dorm Prefect, take Pierce Charmant as you lawfully wedded husband?" They didn't even use your name!

You pause, the image of your crush flashing before your eyes.

You would never see him again if you let yourself get married. Defiance returns to your face as you suck in a deep breath, ready to deal with the consequences of rejecting this delusional prince in front of hundreds of people.

"I—"

"I object!"

RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS

"Grim, please explain to me why I received an invitation to the Prefect's wedding... I am calm, Trey. I would just prefer to know the details before I go and fetch her myself... and may I ask one more thing? Yes, hoW IN THE WORLD DID THE PREFECT GET KIDNAPPED LIKE THIS?! DON'T YOU DARE TRY TO CALM ME DOWN, CATER. I AM PERFECTLY CALM."

Riddle calmly asked about your whereabouts, and it does not take him long to immediately get to work. As one of the better respected housewardens among the roster, it was easier to ask for a few favors that could get him to that damned cathedral fast. However, as the traffic did pile up to get to this accursed wedding, Riddle finds himself on horseback.

He does have this awful crush on you, but it never really crosses his mind. Even as he holds certain feelings for you, it's at the back of his mind. Riddle values your autonomy, and this marriage was a massive red flag. Surely, you cannot have possibly agreed to such a thing. It was just not in your nature. You would have protested, and the fact that you are not back in campus means that something is preventing you from speaking your mind. Riddle really respects you in this aspect!

Still, the idea of you marrying some prince who barely knew it was absolutely absurd. Riddle won't allow it, he absolutely won't!

The doors were flung open with a loud thud, revealing a red-head in a suit. Much to your surprise, Riddle isn't burning red with a fiery rage and threatening to have everyone's head off. He's stomping towards you and your supposed groom, fist clenched as he throws out an arm out of anger. He doesn't seem too angry, but determined.

"ENOUGH! SHE WILL BE COMING BACK TO NIGHT RAVEN COLLEGE WITH ME NOW."

Okay, maybe you were wrong about him not being angry.

His voice echoes throughout the entire cathedral, followed by several flinches at his sheer volume. Immediately, the crowd by the rows inch back a bit further as he continues to march forward, ignoring the guards that seemed to hesitate to approach him. Pierce raises a brow, almost annoyed rather than fearful of this disturbance.

"There seems to be a misunderstanding. You see, the Prefect is going to be married to me. You can sort out your affairs after the ceremony is over." Well, that didn't seem to help one bit, judging by how Riddle seemed to fume even further at this statement.

The housewarden comes to a halt, sucking in a sharp breath to calm his temper. The last thing he wanted to do right now was to frighten you.

He breathes out your name, sending a stutter through your heart.

"Do you truly want to marry this man?"

It almost makes you swoon, the way Riddle looks at you so earnestly as he asks for some affirmation. Had it been any other scenario, you would've taken your time to bore your eyes into his and study his expression. Instead, you shake your head wildly, racing down the aisle until you have hidden yourself behind him.

Riddle has the nerve to smirk at the shocked Prince. "And here, I thought princes had a code of conduct when it came to their ladies." He turned back to you with an assuring look. "I'll take you home, Prefect."

Truly, Riddle had no intentions of playing around. He had only one objective, to get you out of here. Just as he turns around to escort you out of the cathedral, a pair of guards had blocked the exit.

"No, I cannot let you leave!" Pierce cried out, ready to give chase. "Prefect, please! Give me a chance. You cannot possibly be ready to leave me for... this guy!"

Riddle's eye twitches as he cranes himself to look at the prince. "You have some nerve!" He clicks out, clenching his fists once more. Everyone feels the cathedral heat up, those closer to the aisles feeling beads of sweat form upon their temples. Even as you looked at Riddle so gently, a part of you was somewhat grateful that he was sticking up for you.

Just as his top was about to blow, you muster the will to tug on Riddle's sleeve. As quickly as his reddened face came, it disappears when he glances back at your soft expression. Huffing out a heavy sigh, Riddle clicks his tongue and marches towards the exit.

"Let's be on our way, Prefect. We shouldn't waste our precious time on these trifles."

Needless to say, no one really wanted to test the housewarden's patience as he escorted you out of that Cathedral. Riddle certainly doesn't waste time hoisting you onto his horse and galloping away, not giving the prince a second to try and retrieve you.

He grumbles about the entire ordeal, mostly questioning the absolute ridicule of the marriage. What kind of prince thinks he can get away with it? Riddle is certain to send a complain to Royal Sword Academy regarding their lessons on conduct if no one tries to stop him.

You could easily see Night Raven College from afar as you peeked from behind his tuft of red hair. Riddle is still rambling, a preferable alternative to losing his temper entirely. "That ruffian dares to marry you and has yet to learn your name! How uncouth!" He spat in absolute distaste, and he finds comfort in the way you giggle in agreement.

Riddle doesn't seem to take note of the way your arms are crossed around his middle, or maybe he does, and just chooses not to let his blush show. He cleared his throat, gripping the reigns a bit tighter. "You will find better suitors, Prefect. Just promise me that he wouldn't be so impulsive as that Prince."

TREY CLOVER

"Can you drive any faster, Deuce? No, I don't think we're late. Better safe than sorry! ... Suit, check. Speech, check. Myself, check. I've got everything in order, but... hah, I'd expect to do this type of thing a few years down the line, let alone object at a wedding at all. At least, it's the Prefect's wedding... That's such a weird thing to conceptualize at this point in time."

He really didn't have to be so dramatic about the entire thing, but Trey is really going all-out for this objection. Really, all he's done is seen movies where someone objects at a wedding and while he knows its entirely fictional, our boy here has to drive the point home; no one is marrying the Prefect today.

So that explains why he even bothered to dress up and rehearse a speech throughout the entire ride to the cathedral. He has Heartslabyul helping him out to secure an escape for you in case things went awry. Sure, Trey's Unique Magic won't come in handy but he's good with his words, and is relatively charismatic. He's earned that title of Vice Housewarden, after all.

All that preparation flies out the window when he sees you down the aisle, however.

"Trey?"

He's blinking profusely, almost flustered himself by how radiant you looked in that wedding dress. For a moment, Trey swears that he's had some sort of tunnel vision when all he seems to see is you. It strikes some envy in him when he reminds himself that this wasn't his wedding, and this wouldn't be yours either.

"Prefect..." Trey breathed out, struggling to recall the damn script he was supposed to follow. They are lost, just as he found himself lost in your sparkling gaze.

Screw the script, he was just going to have to wing this one.

He narrows his eyes onto the shocked prince, taking steps down that long carpet. "I've come to bring you back to Night Raven College."

Pierce raises a brow, glancing back at you and the intruder with suspicion. "On what grounds?" He questions snidely, uncertain of what to make of this new character. "If it is for anything trivial, then you may bother the Prefect later. You are obstructing a ceremony here, sir."

You recognize that dangerous glint behind Trey's eyes, and it only serves to make your heart race. Trey simply smirks, hiding away his hesitant exterior with a haughty farce. "I am afraid it cannot wait. I cannot allow the Prefect to be married without saying my piece."

He doesn't exactly know where all his bravado was coming from, but if he had to confess his feelings to you now, then so be it.

Trey looks at you, flashing a gentle yet sheepish smile. "Prefect, I fell for you. Hook, line, and sinker." You let out a dramatic gasp along with the onlookers, allowing a hand to fly to your parted lips. "I have harbored those feelings for a long time now, and I cannot bring myself to see you married without letting my heart be known."

Swallowing to himself, Trey's expression falters slightly, falling into one of softness. "Prefect, it is your happiness that I desire. No matter what happens, I will support your choice."

He didn't exactly have to tell you twice, not when you hurry yourself over to his side and latch onto his arm. You didn't have to feed his ego like that, but it isn't as if Trey had any room to complain.

Pierce is angered by the sight, glaring daggers at Trey with such envy and animosity. "Prefect, are you really leaving me on the altar?" As if to subtly annoy the prince even further, Trey hooks an arm around your waist and pivots you to turn. "It seems to be so, Prince Pierce. I fear that your beautiful bride will be stolen on this lovely afternoon."

You do not miss the way Trey smirks at your flustered expression. Just as he continues to walk you to the exit, you gritted your teeth at him. "Don't say such things!" You tell him as the heat rises to your cheeks. You hear him hum at your ear, followed by the slight press of his fingers on your hip.

"Why shouldn't I? You look beautiful in this dress," Trey murmurs in your ear, pushing the cathedral door open with his hand. "And I suppose that the prince hasn't coaxed this expression out of you. I almost feel sorry for him, that he never got the chance to see how lovely you are when you are putty in my hands."

Trey doesn't stop teasing you, even once you are back in Night Raven College. He wouldn't stop complimenting you either, aiming to have you as red as possible. He just can't help it. It's probably the high he got from confessing his feelings to you, or maybe it's the part where you're unsure if he was being sincere or not. Regardless, it was fun seeing you get all flustered because of him.

You are seated by the Heartslabyul's kitchen counter, snacking on some quick treats that Trey had prepared for you. He claims that it was a consolation for the fact you never got to taste your own wedding cake. Still clad in your grand wedding dress, you couldn't exactly care any less about the crumbs soiling the skirts. "You're no prince charming, Trey." You mentioned mid-bite, eyes glancing at the vice-housewarden who was seated across from you.

"What makes you say that?" He asks you with a slight smile, resting his chin on his palm as he shamelessly bored his gaze into yours.

You snort, rolling your eyes at his seemingly sweet disposition. "Prince Charmings don't tease the girls that they like until they're as red as Riddle." You huffed, digging your fork into the pastry. "You cruel man! You haven't stopped ever since you stole me from the prince!"

Trey chuckles, and you cannot keep yourself from gulping as he leaves his seat, sauntering towards you like a lion would his prey. "Oh? I suppose that I am no Prince Charming. I'm not a pure white knight either. If you think I am being cruel, I won't stop you, sweetheart."

Your heart stutters as he slides a finger underneath your chin, tilting your head so that your forced to look his way. Trey smiles at you, eyes twinkling with absolute mischief. "I highly doubt Prince Charmings steal kisses from their crushes either. For you, I will be kind. May I, sweetheart? I do not need your shoe size to know my feelings for you, at least."

CATER DIAMOND

"Gah, it just refreshed! They've just gotten past the walking part! Deuce, shortcut on your left! Sorry, I'm switching tabs between maps and the livestream! Prefect looks is such a cutie in that dress, it makes me so envious of the prince! Oh well, she really looks like she doesn't wanna be there anyways. I'm coming Prefect! I'll save you!"

There's just this image of Cater clinging onto Deuce on a blastcycle, raising his phone up for a signal as they attempt to maneuver their way through the streets. Everything just happened in such a rush, and Cater's scrambling to get to you. He isn't like Trey who bothers to prepare, but if anything, Cater will ramp up the dramatics to the maximum.

His real goal is just to get you out by any means necessary, and more preferably, without violence. So Cater will do what he does best; make a grand spectacle of the entire thing until the prince is forced to abdicate. Worst case scenario, he's going to drag you out the door and shove you onto the damn blastcycle.

If he has to play the part of your real paramour, then he hopes you'll forgive him. He's got the suit and the desperate look on his face ready to go!

Your jaw goes slack at the way Cater makes a dramatic run for the aisle, somewhat unused to that stricken expression on his face. You're almost concerned for him with the way he grips his knees, attempting to keep his balance as his eyes zone in onto yours.

"Prefect, you can't marry him!" It's too out of character of Cater, and you know better than to think he'd ever be this undone in public. "Is this what you really want?!" Before you could even reply, Pierce cuts in with a slight glare.

"And who are you to talk to my bride like that?" It is then when you catch wind of that mischievous glint in Cater's eye as he throws out his arm dramatically.

"I am the Prefect's sweetheart! Who are you to take my girlfriend like that?"

You have never heard the cathedral go so silent. You are utterly speechless, lips parted with absolute surprise. Clearly, judging by the way sweat had begun to form on the side of Cater's temple, you cannot help but think that this was all improv on his half.

Pierce turns to look at you, almost stricken by the ginger's declaration. "Prefect, is that true?" His voice trembles with fear. "Is that truly your... sweetheart?"

A part of you feels a bit sorry for what you were about to do, but you had to remind yourself that you had been dragged into a wedding on the same day you met this prince.

You are running now, sprinting to Cater's side as you clutch his hand in your own. Turning back to the scandalized prince, you nod firmly, playing along with the farce. "We've been dating for a long time now! And I'm in love with him!" You declare, sending gasps throughout the entire cathedral.

You glance up at Cater, mustering a smile across your features. "You came to save me!" He's almost surprised by the way you cling onto him even harder, but it only serves to sell the act even further. Cater smiles in return, holding you closely. "I'd never let you go, cutie. I love you too much to let you leap into the arms of another man."

Maybe the act is too good, too calculated. That is exactly what goes through your head as Pierce raises a brow in suspicion, narrowing his eyes onto the pair as if attempting to spot a mistake. "Is that so?" He murmurs until he crosses his arms, disbelief on his skeptical expression.

"Prove it."

Cater and you freeze up simultaneously, heads turning to glance at one another. He looked so caught off guard by Pierce's demand, and there's so many eyes on you both.

"You're both longtime sweethearts, right? I wouldn't want to split apart such a happy couple..."

Cater is staring at you, attempting to read your expression. It's difficult, especially when you look at him as your gaze gets even more glossy. He wouldn't want to do anything you didn't want to, and he's already readying himself to sprint out the door with you in tow.

"Prefect, you don't have to—mmph!"

You wasted no time in snaking your arms around his neck, pressing your lips against him with such boldness. He could feel you pour all your wants and longings into the kiss, the plush of your soft lips melding into his own. How could he not deny you his own affections, not as he cups your cheeks with his slender fingers and presses back against you.

He dares to go even further, pulling back for a slight gasp of air before diving back into you. Much to his delight, you aren't pulling away either, choosing to even entangle your fingers into his hair for leverage.

Then you hear a groan from the prince, followed by his pleas for you two to stop this display. It seems that he got the point now, at least.

Even as both of you exit the cathedral, Cater still maintains the image that he was your boyfriend. You don't exactly protest, and even then, it didn't seem to different to the way Cater had been treating you as a friend. He is still as clingy as ever, closing the physical proximities by having you hang onto his arm.

And you best believe he's snapping as much photos of you to commemorate the event. He's already updating his MagiCam account on his success, not to mention the pretty girl on his arm.

"Cater, what are you doing?" You asked, unable to hide the grin on your face as Cater sets up his camera against the tire of the blastcycle. You could see yourselves on the reflection of the device, followed by the grand beauty of the cathedral behind you both. He grins at you as he shifts at your side.

"What? It isn't everyday a cutie like you gets to look like a bride. We got the perfect backdrop!" He sings, sliding an arm around your waist as he strikes for a pose. You follow his lead, matching his energy with each shot.

"Careful! People are going to think we're dating for real!"

Cater smirks at you, leaning in closely to your ear with a sickeningly sweet tease. "Wanna make it official then, cutie? Can't have any random princes asking for your hand, not when you're dating me." He is not stranger to the way you blush, letting out a chuckle at the sight.

"Aw, cutie! Are you still thinking about the kiss? I didn't think you would be so bold about it." Pressing a quick peck on the cheek, he rests his chin on your head as he prepares for another pose. "Don't worry. CayCay's gonna initiate it next time!"

DEUCE SPADE

"Grim, which way?! I can't see the GPS! ... Don't I just have to go in there and yell 'I object'? It looks easy! I'll say it then drag Prefect out of there... Ha?! I need to prove that I have a good reason to get her out? Fine! I don't care, the Prefect needs me!"

Possibly the closest we will get to a legit Prince Charming. Perhaps Deuce is a bit on the rugged side, but he's possibly one of the most earnest and noble students from Night Raven College. He cares about you more than he cares about getting his feelings across, but that is not to say he won't be honest about it either in this confrontation.

He's not exactly sure on how to break up the ceremony. Grim and Ace are coaching him through what to say, and admittedly, the process seems too complicated. All he knows is that he has to run through those doors and convince the prince to not marry the Prefect by any means necessary.

"Deuce!"

He is the one to always come running at the sound of your name. Deuce had been someone you trusted during your stay here in Twisted Wonderland, and you never seemed to stop and think about just how attached that boy was to you. Sure, you held him closely as a friend and held affections for him, but the way he sprinted towards you was a testament to how much he cared.

"Prefect!" You are racing to meet him halfway, launching yourself into his chest. He catches you barreling into his suit, immediately wrapping his arms around you in a protective manner. Then he takes you by the soldiers, looking down at you with such concern and worry. "Are you hurt? Are you okay?" He fusses, earning a shy smile from you.

"I'm okay, Deuce. I'm okay."

"And what is the meaning of this?"

Catching sight of the infuriated prince, Deuce beckons you to stand behind him. Cerulean eyes narrow onto the groom with animosity, accompanied by the way his hands are itching towards his wand. "I can't let you marry her. The Prefect will be returning to Night Raven College with me." You can sense the nervousness in his tone, but Deuce remains firm in his words.

Pierce's eye twitches, and he scoffed in disbelief at Deuce's protective display. "I am afraid that cannot be possible. I am marrying the Prefect, and that is final." Clicking his tongue, Pierce rolls his eyes and holds out his hand for you to take. "Come, darling. I am not surprised that you have garnered the affections of an admirer, but I fancy you more than this one ever could."

Something in Deuce snaps as he lets out a cry.

"But I love her!"

You stiffen against his back, taken by surprise by Deuce's sudden confession. And the boy glares, and it almost so painful for Pierce to keep his stare, not when there was so much conviction and certainty behind Deuce's voice.

"I've loved her longer than you have, and known her much longer than that!" His voice cracks underneath the emotional turmoil bubbling within him. "Did you even stop to consider what she wants? Did you wonder if this wedding would make her happy in the first place?!"

You take note of how Deuce's fists are clenched pale, how his breaths had suddenly grown haggard. With a soft expression, you curl yourself onto his back, arms hugging him from behind in an attempt to placate him. His body stiffens against your hold, but he reaches to clasp your hands onto his own.

He is just thankful that you aren't seeing the way his eyes had begun to water at the thought of losing you entirely. "So please," He chokes out, expression twisted with a sort of agony.

"Please don't force her to marry you. She deserves so much more than that."

Thanks to the waterworks that Deuce had caused, the wedding was called off. There was just no way that the prince could marry you after Deuce poured his heart out to deter him from wedding you.

It's almost sweet, the way that Deuce lifts you onto the blastcycle and fixes the helmet onto your head. He encourages you to hold onto him tightly as he speeds away from the cathedral, all the more determined to settle you back into NRC.

By the time he's dropped you off at the Ramshackle Dorm, only then does he take the time to bask in how radiant you appeared in a wedding dress. Thinking about his crush in a wedding dress had never crossed Deuce's mind before, but this definitely gave him something to ponder about for the next couple of nights.

You are handing him the helmet, a shy smile surfacing across your features. "Thank you for saving me from that awful wedding." Deuce clears his throat, shifting his gaze as he takes the helmet from your grasp. "I didn't want you to do something you weren't willing to. It just isn't right."

He doesn't realize just how dry his throat as gotten when he cannot bring himself to keep his thoughts to himself. "I love you. I really do, and I wish I said it at a better time." He swallows to himself, letting the embarrassment burn into the back of his head as he recalls his declaration. It was only natural that 'like' would turn into 'love' after being your close confidant for this long, pining quietly during the months spent with you.

You cannot exactly blame him either, not when his feelings were entirely reciprocated. You shift on the balls of your heel, biting onto your lower lip.

And in a swift motion, you lean in to press a chaste kiss against Deuce's warm cheek. You pull away to bask upon the stunned expression on his face, only to give him a shy smile of your own.

"Would you be down to try confessing again tomorrow?"

ACE TRAPPOLA

"BAHAHAHAHA! THERE'S NO WAY THE PREFECT IS GETTING MARRIED. WHO WOULD EVER WANNA MARRY THE PREFECT? PFFFFT, GRIM, YOU'RE SERIOUSLY PULLING MY LEG HERE. YOU EVEN BROUGHT ME A FAKE INVITATION! AIN'T NO WAY THAT SHE— Oh... Wait, really? The wedding is happening right now? ... Oh."

Ace thought you were just messing him again for that one time he said that no one would ever be interested in you. He simply said that to discourage you from trying to pursue a relationship with anyone else, but he didn't mean for you to prove him wrong like that! He never believes Grim until Deuce, Riddle, and the rest of Heartslabyul receive invitations to a wedding that was meant to start in 3 hours.

This is the absolute worst time to be in denial about his feelings. The Prefect wearing a wedding gown is one thing, but another is the fact that the groom is some pompous prince from Royal Sword Academy. Does that guy seriously think he was your type? No way! Ace knows you better than anyone on this campus, so this guy can buzz off!

A part of him did think that you were serious about marrying this stranger. In all fairness, Crowley's allowance pales in comparison to whatever Mr. Money-Bags had over there. He wouldn't blame you if you were marrying the guy for money.

Still, the last thing he wants is for you to be whisked away to who knows where. Ace would never see you again, and as embarrassing as it sounds, he did get very attached to you. Yes, a part of him wants to keep you to himself, but he also values your autonomy here. And if he knew you that well, he knows that you wouldn't want to be married off like this.

"Prefect, I'm here to pick you up."

You are actually surprised by how princely Ace looked in that moment. Dressed in a suit befitting a groom, you could help but feel your breath stolen away once his scarlet eyes were pinned onto yours. You could have been fooled then, and perhaps, Ace did turn into a prince as he marched down the aisle with his arm outstretched for you to take.

Ace never realizes the way a victorious smile creeps onto his face when you break out into a grin, taking the skirt of your dress as you make run for it. The crowd gasps as you crashed into Ace's chest, and he does not hesitate to take a protective stance in front of you. With a haughty laugh, he smirks at the baffled prince. "Who are you?!"

The redhead's arm wraps around your waist, pressing your body closer to his own. "Sorry about that, but I'll be taking your bride indefinitely! Trust me, you'll be severely disappointed after spending one good day with her!" He snickered, much to your horrified expression. You lightly smack at his chest, glaring at him with that pout that he adores so much.

"Hey!" You whine, and Ace simply beams at the prince who hesitantly steps forward. The redhead snorts, rolling his eyes at the crowd that are offended at his immature display. "I'm doing you a great favor here! If you kissed those lips, she'll turn into an ugly green ogre by sunset!"

"HEY!"

Pierce's eyebrows are furrowed as he looks at you, as if pleading for you to return to his arms. "You'd best return her, boy. We can settle this maturely." Ace does not like the way that these bodyguards are eyeing him, shifting closer and closer as he backed you both towards the venue entrance. He never falters, and neither does that shit-eating grin on his face.

"Sorry, buddy. The clock's struck midnight and all your magic tricks are fading!" He barks. Now, he knows that an escape must be made. The last thing he wants is to have another Eliza-episode. He looks down at you with a wide grin, clasping you arm with a firm squeeze.

Ace sneaks into his pocket, still looking at you. "You know something, Charmant? Maybe not all the magic has gone yet." His hand reveals the Ace of Cards, and it is immediately thrown up into the air.

As the card reached its peak in height, a burst of smoke filled the air, obscuring the magician and yourself from view.

You don't exactly need a signal to start running when your feet began moving on their own, dashing towards the door followed by the Ace's laugh and the prince's demand for guards.

Ace has no white horse, but he has Deuce with his blastcycle! Who knows how the three of you managed to fit on that bike, but you made it work! The guards couldn't exactly catch up in their cars, not when Deuce was dodging vehicles left and right to make this escape. Ace did take one final look back, sticking his tongue out at the defeated prince before you all disappeared around the corner.

Ace gives you his shoes, despite how oversized they may be. You complained about those glass shoes on you, and to 'shut you up', he's given you his runners.

When you make it back to Night Raven College and all the adrenaline has died down, Ace stays by your side the entire time when you explain the entire situation to Crewel and Crowley. He acts so nonchalant about things, even as you both walk all over the campus like groom and bride.

It's a rather odd sight; you in your wedding gown, and Ace right next to you as you both sit on the bench by the Great Seven's statues. Students wandering about at night had given both of you puzzled stares, but no one is ever surprised when they realize it's you and Ace, however.

"Wow, Prefect. Not even a thank you?" He glances at your slightly annoyed expression, throwing his hands up defensively in response. "I was kidding about the ogre stuff! Really!"

You could only roll your eyes at his words, huffing as you crossed your arms across your chest. When you refuse to speak, Ace sticks out his lower lip into a pout as he leans his head onto your shoulder. "Come on, don't be like that. Are you actually that upset about it?"

There is no response from you, not even a glance as your nose is turned away from him. Then Ace sighs, practically clambering over your lap just so that you are forced to look at him. "Prefeeeect, I said I was sorry! What? Do I have to kiss you to make me apology authentic?"

Only then do you look back at him with a raised brow, almost expectant. Ace blinks with surprise, a slight blush creeping to his ears. "For real? You're serious?" He exclaimed, much to your agitation. You sigh even louder as you shove him off your lap, hastily getting up to your feet to leave him behind.

"Wait! Prefect, I said wait!" You feel a hand on your wrist, twirling you back to face the redhead. Ace bites onto his lower lip, unable to keep the red from flooding his cheeks. "I really just said all that mean stuff to get the prince off your back, you know? I didn't think you'd take it so seriously."

And when he sees that smirk creeping up onto your features, he groans as he leans in closely into your space.

"Now look at what you've done! You had me all panicked over what?" You feel his breath tickling your lips, followed by the way his hands crawl up your neck to cradle your jaw.

"If you just wanted a kiss, you could've asked..."

[greatandholypangolin]

so whenever DDVAU comes out I screenshot everything that makes my brain itch and then send it to my friends with an explanation of why the particular bit makes me happy and I was looking through my scrumped list and I was like “oh wait, artists (@kitsuneisi and @xmaruu11 in this case) actually like knowing what people think and like about your art especially specific details maybe possible perhaps” so I’m being brave and pasting exactly what I said to my friends into here with no rewriting for the sake of keeping them as my raw thoughts. Let the post go where it does I guess (all art is from DDVAU if that wasn’t obvious)

Favourite faces collection (impeccable art style that I will never stop complimenting oh my god I love all of the lil fellas)

I like the little pinky/yellow tones or tint or smth it all seems so peaceful and domestic and a little warm and it’ll be absolutely fine and lovely and sweet slice of life for the whole comic right? right? right? right? right? right?

Already said I love how they’ve designed speaking over. It’s just so effortless and clear idk. Also little note of appreciation for grian’s hand, that’s a shitfuckery perspective and a very well drawn hand. Also really realistic and fluid pose?? They’re just incredibly believable characters and movements, sometimes I genuinely forget they’re still frames and not an animation when I think about it. Do you think they actually pose and use that as a reference or do they just know exactly who their blorbos are and how they present themselves without actually acting it out???? Geniuses. Geni-i. Like octopi but. ok I’ll leave I know when I’m not wanted

Look at this happy and relaxed guy with his cousin he’s so himself and at ease. Seeing grian happy and human and totally himself means so much to me (favourite faces collection)

Favourite faces collection

HI CORNER GEM I HOPE YOU FEEL LOVED (me) (I’m the one) (ily corner gem) (and centre gem presumably idk she’s not here)

I know it’s tango. You know its tango. I don’t even need to say it. Camptain ombvious. however I am very happy they included ranchers thank you doody and maru sending you angels wherever you may be

Oh he could be a father so good I don’t usually see things and go “they’re parental potential”, not because they wouldn’t, it just isn’t something that crosses my mind. He, however, would make a great father and this frame made that thought fizz into my head

Thoroughly enjoyable section, made me smile

Love love LOVE how the thing grips the actual corner of his comic panel as it drags itself forwards

I’ve never not been in awe of this comic, but this is one of those times I’m especially in awe. Hi. Hello. Hi.

Love how the room zoom out was used, he looks so isolated and quietly afraid even though you don’t see his face, especially with the speech bubbles drifting around like that. Very well designed top tier 10/10

[dilf-docs]

Atta Girl

old jackson!joel miller x younger fem!reader

summary: joel miller discovers the world, yes, the same world that has gone (been for a while) to shit, can still have surprises. like you, his sweet naive unexperienced girlfriend, being everything but that.

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap (old joel miller my GILF!), smut, sighs this is pwp who am i lying to, inexperienced!reader (yet for some reason she's a pro sucker lmao i'm a virgin don't come at me besides this is a fanfic who gives af if it's realistic or not), dirty talk, fingering, breast play, pussy pronouns, oral (m. receiving) (need that geriartric cock inside my mouth), some fluff bc we gotta balance this thing or i'm going to hell (okay he's not mean i baited y'all. mean jackson joel miller piece is still in draft dungeon)

word count: 4,722 words

side note: hell-fucking-o????? 2K CITIZENSHIPS APPROVED!?! ,, ok gonna be honest when i started writing in here and my first fic (an old man logan one, do u guys see a pattern?) flopped, i never thought i'd make it this far and it's all thanks to you my lovely citizens :,) you may think this is silly but your support means a lot to me (especially comments n' rb I'M A WHORE FOR THEM). now, yapping aside, as promised, this won the poll for the celebratory piece, so here you go !!! ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧

Joel Miller is a man hard to surprise.

Years of weariness, trust and spirit broken by things that would kill anyone else, and overall, just surviving, you'd think that a man that was hardened by a rough past and of his age had seen it all.

Joel liked to think he was prepared for whatever life threw at him. Enter Ellie: how she had managed to break his shell, from cargo to soothing balm to heal old open wounds he refused to even speak of. But he was ready to burn the world for her, picking guns and taking lives to bring her to a home. His home. He settled, filial terms silent but felt, ready to take the second chance life had given him. Until the bond that united them turned fragile, loose ends tensing the silver string of found family.

He fell down the path of a familiar ache he hadn't felt in a long time, dormant, waiting for him to fuck up to show again with it's dull and hollow torment. He always did. So now he's spending too much time at the Tipsy Bison nursing a glass that could have his name by now, all to avoid going to a eerily quiet home where the room at the end of the hallway lies empty.

And then life decides to startle his track, albeit destructive, with a third chance: you.

Just thinking about you brings a certain tingle that an old rugged man like him should be embarrased about. One he shouldn't even feel.

But Joel loves you, he thinks. From the moment you showed up on his front door, rambling about some reparations at the school, were you volunteered.

"They were all scared of you" your sweet voice had said, some of that unreasonable fear laced within it, "so I came"

He scoffed at Jackson's ridiculous antics. Rumors spread fast in the small town, and suddenly, the hanging threat of who he was followed him everywhere like a shadow, which, given the dark nature of his now put to rest violence, seemed a proper description.

"They sent 'cha?"

You were clearly intimidated, given your shaky frame despite spring and the light tremble in your tone. But you were still here, gaze set on him as a determined child who wants to win the best prize.

"No. I chose to come"

His stomach does a flip at the stillness of your words, security etched in the statement as if you hadn't been in the verge of stuttering seconds ago.

Like you wanted to show him this is what it is, and whatever that was, you weren't running. But he testes the water, skin prickling intensely.

"And you ain't scared, kid?"

He laughed, the type of laugh that shakes your body with unease, but the one that shot across you didn't come from a place of distress, rather a more hidden one, between a pulsing press between your ribs, like it'd swallow you whole if you kept thinking about it too much.

"I am" you answered truthfully.

Something about your quiet admission made him falter the tiniest bit. Maybe it was how you had no problem voicing out loud any of your thoughts, or how you weren't afraid to be seen for what you were, the quiet of your answer out of a gentle place and not dread.

"Then why are ya' still here?"

Brows furrowed, like he, for some reason, expected you to yell at him for all the sins that colored his calloused hands red. Instead, you had looked at him as if he had all the answers in the world, big sparkling eyes staring deep into his tainted soul.

"Because I need you"

Yet, when you said it, Joel felt you weren't talking about the creaky drawers and old stairs anymore, but of the anchor you just found for yourself in the shape of Jackson's most respected and troubled resident, unknowing that, in that moment, he had chosen you too.

So, Joel may have forgotten about what feelings that feel too before world-ly feel like, but the quiet steady beat of his heart, mingling into a peaceful symphony with each soft breath past your rosy lips, head laying over his rising and falling chest, warm, feels exactly like love is.

He knew from the very first time you were his. Yeah, he loves you.

Joel just wants to give you the world, his world: the quiet afternoons, his rough limbs and aching joints, his face covered by spots and sun kisses that compliment his wrinkles, hair that gets curlier and softer and greyer, every figure he makes in his little shop and, of course, his bed.

Your Joel isn't exactly a pleaser, used of doing what he deems best without asking, yet, the moment you uttered those three words, he knew it was because he hadn't met you.

"Be my first"

He remembers the surprise on his face, how it grew red as the silence stretched on. The door bursting open, bed creaking under combined weight and your giggles. He too remembers the sweet cries past your lips, your taut muscles, the little strained breath you let out when he slipped inside of you. It all belonged to him because you let him, and that day, Joel Miller became the luckiest man in the world.

And yet, he still hadn't been as surprised as he was today.

The routine was the same from the past year: pick you up from the school after he was done at the office, taking some minutes to watch you with the toddlers, making voices as the same tender hands you used to jerk him off booped noses and carried children who made him think of getting one of your own, one with your grace and beauty, getting him painfully hard at images of filling you silly and your body changing to carry his seed. Fuck. He was a psychopath for such lewd thoughts on a place destined for education and infancy innocence, and here he was, cock uncomfortable inside his pants.

But then your mouth gets too greedy when your sickenly honeyed voice whispers his name, robbing him of air and only pulling away when his lips get swollen and his face a little flustered.

"Need help down there?"

There's always that problem and you're always the solution.

"Let's go home, sugar. Then ya' can help 'tis ol' man fix it"

Walking back home is always a hassle, hands intertwined, Jackson seeing a cute couple. But you're both aware of the throb that settles in between you like the tension, nobody noticing how hard you're trying to not just fuck on the middle of the street like two eager bunnies.

It's his fault, he thinks as you push the door of his house open, for making you like this.

The truth is, after taking your virginity, Joel's taught you things your unexperienced mind couldn't even imagine, and this past six months, you've complied with that sweet disposition that clung to you like the floral of the soap you used. And Joel loved that: how, despite having his dick stretching your tight pussy, you looked at him with those big eyes from the very first night, still round and innocent, like a doe and not a siren.

Which was surprising, because Joel, in a way, had corrupted you. Tainted the naive angel. And still, it was like he couldn't get rid of quiet shy you. Worst of it all was, instead of filling him with shame from robbing pieces and pieces of your integrity everyday, the older man felt some wicked sense of satisfaction and pride, to see how, despite his age and your soft nature, he was yours as you were his, and that he had taught you exactly how to enjoy that.

He knows you like the palm of his hand and the littered scars across his chest. The pattern you call stars, holding into a beauty only you see in the ugly marks, yet make him feel with each delicate trace, making such blunt and rough marks a galaxy; exorbitant. The same ones he thinks hide behind your adoring warm eyes. Joel just knows you, so even when things go the same way they have for a while, he's aware something is different when your fingers fiddle with his belt, trembling hands now struggling to free his aching cock.

He knows better than to think it's your arousal and impatience. No, this is something else.

"Sweetheart..." he warns. "Somethin' wrong?"

You shake your head, hands ready to take his underwear down.

"I'm fine"

He won't take that clipped sentence for an answer. Instead, his hands slowly remove yours from his hips before going to grab you by your chin, fingers pressing not enough to bruise but to make a point. His thumb presses lightly over your mouth, your bottom lip tugged down, parting your lips. You let out a little sigh, closing your eyes, eyelashes kissing your cheekbones. What a damn sight, he thinks.

"Talk to me"

"I want to suck your cock"

He almost chokes on nothing. Joel coughs a little, red painting his cheeks as a surge of lust and desire crashes through him. His eyes go wide at your bold and eager request, because one: it wasn't like you to talk like this, and two, you had never done it before.

Sure, you had jerked him off so many times he's lost count, but your lips wrapped around his length, mouth swallowing his aching cock? Just the image of it going past your pretty lips, the sensation of your spit mixed with his liquids... He already has a special place in hell, the blood rushing to his already hard member.

"Fuck, sugar. You wanna have this dick 'nside y'r mouth so bad? That eager and needy y'are?" he asked, voice reduced to a low rumble.

You nod, a little too excited as he sits in the edge of your shared bed, letting out a huff of effort. Old man sounds, you would tease. But not today, it seems, when your eyes are too busy looking at the pulsating silhouette under the grey cloth. He smirks, removing the layer, and he swears you begin to salivate like a starving dog.

"Y' think y' can take it?" his hand wrapped around his sensitive cock, giving it a few slow pumps as he watches you with a drowsy gaze. "Ain't it too much for a pretty lil' thing like y'rself?"

Wordlessly, you fall to your knees, looking up to him with those eyes of yours that drove him crazy. You caress his thigh, and despite being the one in control, Joel's eyelids feel heavy, fluttering at your soft and tender touches on his thick muscle, every hair rising at the reverence of your every move. You leave a little kiss in his inner thigh, making his heart skip a beat, breath a little ragged.

"I can" sounding so sure. Oh, his little angel.

"You gon' be a good girl then?" he whispers, voice hoarse and thick, looking down at you.

You nod, slowly.

"Let me taste it" you murmur, voice soft and breathy.

Your tongue darts out, licking a slow stripe up his shaft. You savor the salty taste of his arousal, moaning softly at the flavor. Joel's brown eyes darken in seconds.

"Quit 'da teasin'. 'M too damn old for that"

You smile a bit. "Impatient"

"Minx" he replies, voice thick.

It is indeed big, especially now that it was hard, and you do wonder for a second if you're biting more than you can chew.

"Y'asked for 'tis" like he can read your mind, "don't grow shy on me, doll"

He groans when your hand wraps around his length, stroking him slowly, teasingly as you always do. He feels the heat building in his gut as you work him over, letting out a little groan.

"F-feels so good, sugar" he voices out, strained. "But I need'a know if y'r made fo' 'tis. C'mon, princess. Show me what'a good lil' cock slut y'are"

You lean in, warm breath ghosting over the sensitive head of his big cock, making him shudder.

"Let's see what y'r pretty mouth can do" while tracing your lips, idly.

For the first time ever, the warmth of your mouth takes him. He can see it dissapear past your lips, stretching around his girth. Joel can only watch with a breath he forgets to take how every inch of his thick cock is gone past your lips. Entranced, like this was a magic trick of some sorts.

"S' that all?" he lets out a tense chuckle. You narrow your eyes, feeling a bit of a gag and spit drool past your lips. "Don't worry, princess. I can be of help on that"

He moves a bit, groin almost on your face as he's dangerously close to fucking your face. Instead, you feel how it reaches the back of your throat, making you pause at the feeling of your eyes watering slightly as you adjust to the intrusion.

"S'okay, sweet girl. I know ya' can take it deeper" he encourages, one hand coming up to tangle in your hair. "Relax, baby. You're doing so good-" his voice cuts off with a strained grunt. Then, he voices out in a more huskier tone. "Use y'r throat and take my cock like'a good girl"

You push forward, taking him deeper until Joel feels the head of his cock bump the back of your throat. He throws his head back, curls combed slicked now starting to dampen and fall disheveled, drops of sweat sliding down his forehead, muscles of his thighs taut with trepidation.

You gag slightly yet quickly recover as if to prove something.

"That's right. Why did we wait s' long to do 'tis? Fuck, baby, ya' were born for 'tis. Keep goin'. Y' mouth's drivin' me crazy"

Joel groans as you take him deep, nose pressing against his groin, his fingers tightening in your hair. Your throat constricts around him all while you fight your gag reflex. Then slowly, you pull back, lips sliding along his shaft until just the tip remained in your warm mouth.

"Don't be such'a tease" his voice reduced to a hoarse rasp. You just give him what appears to be a shrug and an apologetic smile, right before diving back in, taking him to the hilt once more. His hips rock involuntarily at the feel, your head bobbing. A guttural moan cuts through his throat, the only other sound in the room aside the wet sounds of your suckling. "S' real bad girl, hun. Wouldn't think a docile lil' doll like ya' would be s' mean"

But he watches you with such adoration in his eyes, completely captivated as you work him over, that you know his words carry no malice behind them. Without a word, he takes your hands, guiding them to pump what you couldn't fit in your mouth.

"Let's give 'em somethin' to do, don't 'cha think?"

Suddenly, the pressure ties his stomach in knots, his belly strained under his flannel shirt, slightly protruding in the middle, buttons as tense as his muscles. Joel feels his legs become shaky, chest heaving as he catches his breath. He looks down at you, taking in the sight of your sweet disposition. If he wasn't one lucky man.

"Y/n" he gasps your name in a choked breath, followed by a strangled grunt, his release building fast as he doesn't dare to . "I'm gonna..."

Joel tries to pull off, thinking having you wrapped around his shaft is enough sin for the day, but then your hands find their way to his legs, keeping him grounded. His eyes widen slightly at the insistent glaze in your determined eyes.

"God damn, doll. What're ya'-"

He doesn't get to finish, his words dissolving into a low, animalistic growl as his orgasm crashes over him. His cock jerks and pulses in your waiting mouth, spilling thick ropes of hot, salty cum down your eager throat, painting its back white.

"Baby, don't" Joel says through a worn down rasp, trying to pull out, but you, his sweet little girlfriend, grips his thighs with an unknown force, keeping him buried deep as you greedily work to milk every last bit of his cum.

"'S 'tis what ya' want, huh? You dirty dirty girl" his voice grows lower, a filthy snarl as his eyes darken a bit more. "Swallow it, then. Take all ma' fucken seed"

He holds your head in place, fingers tangled in your damp hair as he rides out the intense waves of his release. Joel's so inside of you, he can feel your throat working, gulping down every drop he had to give.

Finally, as the last spurts of his climax taper off, he releases you, his chest heaving with exertion. You pull back, a strand of saliva and cum connecting your bottom lip to the tip of his spent cock.

"Like that, dirty girl?" he grabs you by your chin, thumb wiping some of your saliva and his cum off. "Did ya' like the taste f' ma' cum?"

You lick your lips, savoring the taste of him. "I did"

"'S that right? What happened to my angel?"

You laugh, the sound tired and hoarse. "I'm still here"

He pats his thigh, so you sit in there, wrapping your arms around his neck. With a free hand, you remove some curls that have fallen over his worn face.

"Hard'a believe"

You click your tongue. "You were never a believer, Miller"

He lets out an exhausted chuckle. "I believe in you"

Joel revels in the delicate pink hues coating your cheeks. He's so weak for you.

"Now, doll. Be honest with y'r ol' man" he brushes a stray strand off your face, tucking it behind your ear with a delicacy so contrary to the roughness of his hands. "I know when ma' girl's goin' through somethin'"

You seem to grow shy all of the sudden. "You'd be right"

Needless to say, he's intrigued now.

"Care to tell?"

You hide your face on his shoulder, inhaling his sweat and natural odor, even the faint traces of soap. He combs through your hair, lazily.

"Promise you won't laugh" you say as you pull back, to face him.

He raises a hand, expression curious.

"I'd never make fun of 'cha, doll"

"I want you to cum inside me"

The room grows quiet for a minute, an by each second of silence that stretches so is the red across your face. Joel blinks slowly. Once and twice. By the third time, the crease between his brows has become prominent.

"What?"

Your face grows hot as you try to run away, but he stops you.

"Woah, hey. Where ya' goin'?"

"I told you you'd laugh" you pout your lips, flustered.

"I ain't even let out a goddam laugh" he defends himself. "'M just tryna process in here"

You huff. "What's so hard to understand?"

Joel looks at you like you've grown a second head. "Y' really gon' ask me that?"

"Maybe I want to try different things" you play with your fingers, avoiding his gaze.

He obligues you to look by taking you by your chin, gently. A small warm smile adorns his face.

"Different's good"

You reciprocate his smile. Maybe it's that or the fact he can still see his cum glistening your lips, or the thrill of his seed seeping out of your tight walls. Either way, Joel surrenders.

"Ya' know I'll give 'cha anythin' you want" he says, voice low. "Just say da' word"

You gulp. "Yes"

Joel lets out a low, animalistic growl at your breathy acceptance. It was all the permission he needed. He crashes his lips against yours in a hungry, desperate kiss, pouring every ounce of his pent-up desire as he grabs you by your hair, right at the nape of your neck, pulling you closer and tighter. His other hand roams your body greedily, slipping under your shirt to caress the smooth, warm skin beneath.

"We gotta take 'tis out"

He shoves the fabric up and off, breaking the kiss just long enough to pull it over your head and toss it aside.

"It's my shirt"

"It's a nuissance"

He pauses for a moment, drinking in the sight of your naked torso, the swell of your breasts rising and falling with each anticipating breath.

"Told ya'" he murmurs, voice rough with desire. "'S fuckin' perfect to be hidin' all that"

Joel leans down, capturing one rosy peak in his mouth. He swirls his tongue around the sensitive bud, suckling and teasing until it pebbles under his touch. You let out a breathy choked moan, loving the wet of his tongue against your warm skin. Then, his hot breath ghosts over as he utters a simple word that has your core clenching at nothing.

"Mine"

His hand slide down your stomach, slipping under the waistband of your jeans. Joel can feel the heat of you, the damp patch that had formed on the fabric of your panties. He groans against your breast, his fingers sliding lower, brushing against your clothed sex.

"Can tell she missed me. That ya' weren't lyin', baby. She's fucken wet" he rasps, his voice muffled against your skin.

Joel's fingers slip under the fabric of your panties, feeling the slick heat of your arousal coating his fingertips. He groans, his cock hard again, throbbing almost painfully against the confines of his jeans.

"Fuck, sugar" he mutte4red, his voice rough and low. "S' ready for me already"

He circles your clit with the pad of his thumb, feeling it swell under his touch.

"Ain't she know me s' goddam well..."

Then, he dips a finger inside your tight, clutching heat, groaning at the way your walls flutter around the intrusion.

"God, you feel s' good" Joel says, voice strained. "S' fucking tight and perfect. I can't wait to feel ya' wrapped 'round my cock, doll. Can't wait any damn longer fo' y'r sweet lil' cunt"

He pumps his finger in and out, thumb still circling your clit. He can feel you getting closer, your hips starting to buck against his hand.

"That's it, baby" he encourages, his voice a low, filthy rumble. "Fuck yourself on ma' fingers. Show me how much ya' want it"

He adds a second finger, then a third, making you yelp as he stretches you open.

"Relax, doll. We've done 'tis before. 'M just preparing her to take ma' dick. You gon' be a good girl and stop fucken squirmin'?"

You nod, pliant, your body starting to tense.

"'Tis ya' reward. Come on ma' fingers like a good girl, and then I'll give 'cha what ya' really want. I'm gon' fill 'tis greedy cunt with my cum an' pump 'cha s' full of it 'til 's drippin' outta ya'"

Joel curls his fingers inside you, rubbing that all too well spot that brings you to tears. He feels you clench down hard, crying out as you come undone. Your orgasm crashes over, body convulsing as your pussy clenches rhythmically around his fingers. When he pulls his fingers out, he's bringing them to his lips, sucking off your essence from the digits, groaning at the taste of you.

"'S sweet as always"

After that, Joel is quick to shed what's left of his clothing, nearly tearing the old flannel in his haste. He lays you down on the bed, covering your body with his own, his tummy pressing lightly over your abdomen, his weight sinking you down on the mattress.

He then looks down at you, taking in the sight of your flushed cheeks, glistening parted kiss-swollen lips, and heaving chest.

"I love ya', sweet girl" Joel blurts out, eyes are dark and intense.

He settles between your thighs, the thick head of his cock nudging against your slick entrance.

"Say y'are mine" voice a low, demanding growl. "Say ya' belong to me, y/n, baby. Say it"

He pushes forward slightly, just the tip of him slipping inside your tight heat. He groans at the feel of you, at how your walls stretch to accommodate him. You let out a small whimper, yet still unable to form coherent sentences.

"I want to hear you say it, angel" Joel presses nonetheless, his voice strained.

He rocks his hips slowly, pushing a little more of his thick length inside you with each thrust. He can feel you getting wetter, core glistening as if your body yielded to his.

"Please, y/n" he begs, voice rough and desperate. "Please, baby... say it. That 'am your first an' last. The only man who ever fucks 'tis sweet cunt"

"I'm yours, Joel" you choke out. "Only yours"

With a final, hard thrust, he buries himself to the hilt, his eyes nearly rolling back in his head at the feel of you, letting out a long low groan.

"Fuck, doll" he gasps, hips starting to move, pistoning in and out of you. "She's just made f'me, ain't she? Gon' make ya' feel good. Give ya' what y'asked for. Lemme take care of it. I like to take care of's mine"

He hooks your legs over his shoulders, nearly bending you in half as he pounds into you. The bed creaks under you, headboard slamming against the wall with each thrust.

"Take it, sugar. Just like ya' wanted. 'Tis dirty mouth n' greedy pussy" Joel growls. "Take ma' cock like a good little girl. Fuck, y' were made f'r 'tis. Made't be fucked hard and deep and full of my cum"

He feels the tight coil of heat in his gut winding tighter and tighter; knows he won't last long.

"Please, Joel" you mewl, desperately clinging to him.

Joel lets out a feral growl at your plea, hips snapping forward with renewed vigor. He can feel you clenching down around him, body trembling as another orgasm builds deep inside you.

"Ya' want my cum, baby?" he snarls. "Want me t' fill her 'til it's drippin' down y'r legs?"

You nod, too eager.

"Look at that" he chuckles, pounding harder into you, forgetting for a moment he's sixty one. "Such a slut, beggin' for me to flood 'tis sweet pussy with ma' load. 'M gon' give ya' s' much you'll be leakin' for days. Gon' fill her up nicely. I know you gon' make sure not'a single drop goes to waste"

Joel reaches down, his thumb finding your clit, rubbing the sensitive nub in tight circles.

"Come with me, doll" he demands, growling. "Come on my cock like a good girl n' milk every last drop 'f cum. Show me just how much ya' want it"

With a final, brutal thrust, Joel buries himself balls deep inside you. He throws his head back, a guttural roar tearing from his throat as his orgasm rips through him.

"Take it, baby. Let me make ya' mine" His cock jerks and pulses inside you, spurt after spurt of hot, thick cum painting your insides. "Atta girl"

He collapses against you, hips still rocking slightly as the aftershocks of his release roll through him. He can feel you coming around him, pussy clenching and milking his spent cock, trying to pull every last drop of his seed deep inside you, just like you asked for.

Joel's chest heaves as he struggles to catch his breath, heart pounding against yours as he cradles you close.

"Not so bad for an old man"

He snickers, rolling onto his side, pulling you with him until you're tucked against his chest, head pillowed on his arm.

"Brat"

He wraps his other arm around your waist, holding you close as he nuzzles into your hair, traces of lavender up his nose.

"But you love me"

Joel sighs softly, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead, then temple and finally shell of your ear. In that moment, he knows he'll never let you go.

"That I do"

You softly comb his hair, his eyelids fluttering.

"I love you too, Joel"

A beat of silence goes by.

"So..."

"So?"

Joel offers a tired smile, glint of mischief laced somewhere.

"Any other ideas ya' wanna say outloud?"

cr: divider @kodaswrld / gif @iamasaddie

[firingstars]

match made [one-shot]

congressman!bucky x matchmaker!reader

summary: as a politician, bucky can no longer be caught swiping around on dating apps. sam decides to sign up his romantically stunted friend for a more sophisticated service instead.

warnings: 18+, mdni, smut, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), you get backshots B), soft dom (?) bucky, slight sub reader, language, no use of y/n, alcohol consumption, bucky doesn't understand how dating works in the 21st century, you get jealoussss and end up pissing bucky off momentarily

word count: 12.7k

a/n: so this is obviously inspired by the movie materialists LOL but there aren't any spoilers for the movie in here... i just have been thinking about the movie nonstop since i saw it and i will actually be rewatching it with my mother soon a/n pt2: due to popular demand there's a sequel to this fic!

masterlist | locked in (sequel)

You’re used to meeting in more inconspicuous locations for your clients. Those with higher profiles often don’t want to be seen in public at coffee shops or cafes, and you don’t mind it. You weren't surprised when your newest client requested for you to meet at a restaurant. You checked in with the hostess under the reservation of James B. and surprise was still nowhere to be found when you were led into a private room away from prying eyes.

It didn't matter where the first meeting with your client took place anyway. This was a consultation, and your company normally picks up the first bill. It’s to make your client feel less pressured about the fact they’re paying you to find them a life partner.

You check yourself over in the small compact mirror in your hand. There’s no lipstick in your teeth. The mascara you’re wearing hasn’t smudged and your eyeliner hasn’t shifted out of place. Your hair is tamed and will continue to be as long as you had a say in it. You know your posture is impeccable, and you’re dressed professionally, but still chic enough to turn heads.

You had your purse hanging on your seat, phone face down on the table and already set to record so you could take notes later on for your conversation to pick up anything else that you may have missed, and you waited. You were early, but it was your job to be early. 

The door to the private room opened sooner than you thought. You stood, turning to meet your client– pausing when you saw two men walk into the room. Two men that you recognized from news channels, articles you skimmed over, and from your own clients describing their ideal physical types.

You kept the shock off of your face as you held out a hand to introduce yourself.

“It’s nice to meet you,” you smiled. “I’m your matchmaker from Ador. I’ll be taking good care of you from this point forth.”

“Bucky,” he introduced himself, his voice stiff as he shook your hand. You take a quick glance at him, eyes scanning his figure as your mind runs numbers over his entire physique. He doesn’t even need to tell you, but you already know.

Six feet or taller. He had pretty, white teeth that you briefly saw when he spoke. His eyes were piercing, but they carried the weight of something that you couldn’t imagine holding yourself. His dark brown hair was carefully done, not a single hair out of place. He wore a suit that only seemed to accentuate the broadness of his shoulders and chest, and didn’t hide the muscular build of his body. Your eyes caught the dark metal hand that rested by his side.

You turned to the other man, who shook your hand with a lot more enthusiasm. He returned your smile, giving you a toothy grin.

“I’m Sam. Don’t mind him– He’s always like that. Just a grumpy old guy,” he said, patting Bucky’s back to push him further into the room and towards the table. “His age shouldn’t be an issue, right?”

“He’s a very attractive man, I’m sure there are a lot of women in New York that wouldn’t mind,” you replied smoothly, watching Sam let out a breath of relief. 

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell him, but I’m glad the words came from the professionals’ mouth!” Sam exclaimed, clapping a hand over Bucky’s shoulder.

The three of you sat down together, a waiter coming over to bring over a bottle of wine, pouring glasses for the three of you as you all looked over the menu.

“Thank you for making time out of your schedule to come meet with this guy,” Sam continued, clearing his throat. “I actually signed him up for your service. Spoke to your boss and asked for the best of the best at your company, and she said that you were booked and busy, but– I really appreciate you being able to fit him into your clientele.”

You give Sam a well trained smile– one that you have perfected over the years of staring at yourself in the mirror. “Of course. I’m always happy to help someone meet their destined partner.”

Bucky lets out a scoff beside Sam, who elbows his side roughly. The man doesn’t even flinch at the contact. Your smile doesn’t falter at his obvious disapproval of your honeyed words.

“Between you and me,” Sam said, looking back at you, “The reason I got him on this program is because I’m really trying to get this guy on a date. And he’s a Congressman now, you know? He can’t really be swiping on Tinder anymore. It’s not a good look for someone trying to pass government bills.”

“I get it,” you nodded, agreeing with him. “I have a lot of clients that are in the same boat. Many of those who are in more sensitive occupations that can’t be seen in the more… open areas of society. I hold no judgement at all. After all, I’m simply here for him.”

Sam looked satisfied with your answer, and the waiter came back to take your orders. 

This consultation was unlike anything you had before– in your entire five years of matchmaking. Bucky didn’t say a single word, even when you tried to speak to him. He kept his eyes on you, which was slightly unnerving since he refused to speak. 

Sam had to keep swooping in to respond your questions, but you still barely got any answers. You had nothing to work with. No ideal type. Nothing that he was looking forward to in the future. 

You left the restaurant with another handshake to both men, and a promise to call Bucky to meet up with him again to discuss his potential options. 

You even listened to that damn recording over and over again, but you couldn’t even find a single thing that indicated what Congressman James Barnes would want in a woman or man. You looked through the files and consent forms that were submitted to you – that he signed– and found only the vaguest of answers.

Name: James Buchanan Barnes DOB: 1917, March 10 Occupation: Ex-Assassin, Current Congressman

What are your strengths and weaknesses? Left arm is strong. Right arm is slightly less strong.

Does your social media accounts accurately represent you? Please include your handles! Don’t have accounts.

How do you handle conflict? Fists and/or guns.

What does your ideal partner look like? Not part of The Big Three.

What characteristics do you hope to find in a partner? Human.

How do you spend your free time? Work.

What are your core beliefs? Loyalty. 

What are your expectations for a long term relationship? Peace.

Are you seeking marriage, a serious partnership, or something casual? ?

Do you have any deal breakers? Liars.

Why did your last relationship end? I was drafted into WWII and didn’t come home.

You want to slam your head into your desk. You usually received essay answers from your clients. You were beginning to understand why your boss handed you this client without regard for your current workload– she saw the responses he submitted. There was no one in this company that would be able to handle the shit that Bucky gave you to work with. You weren’t even sure that you would be able to work with this. 

You did your research on the congressman in between work of your other clients to try and get a hold of his personality because he wasn’t answering your calls. You wanted to pretend that he was a busy man working to pass bills in the government, but deep down you know that he’s trying to avoid you all together. 

He was a mysterious man– that was for sure. He had enough controversy to put a celebrity to shame, but with his looks and his financial state, you were certain that there were enough bachelor women in New York that would be more than willing to throw that behind them. There was also the benefit that he was a soldier. Lots of women enjoyed having a protector in the home, especially in the tough times of impending doom that was constantly looming over the city you lived in.

Bucky was almost the ideal man that everyone was looking for. Handsome. Smart. Strong. He had an edgy vibe to him that was alluring– almost like the bad boy type that girls would chase in high school. He also had the politician’s salary that would definitely make panties drop. He thankfully did not have the politician’s shady background, either. 

You’re still thinking about him when you’re sitting across from your next client, Mel, who’s telling you about her last date. 

“It was okay,” she said with a deep sigh. You know that look on her face. She’s detached. You’ve seen it painted on her features more than once before, and you don’t allow the dread to show up on your own face. 

“I hear a but coming on,” you said, fixing a smile on your face.

“It’s just difficult to date these days,” she admitted, slouching a bit in her seat as her hands clasped over her cup of coffee. “I had to cancel on him three times before we finally went on that date the other day. And it was nice, it really was, but I just… I don’t know. I feel bad.”

“Is it because of work?” you guessed, reaching over the table to place your hand over hers. “I know it’s hard working for the government. Really. I get it. It’s demanding, and you’re the personal assistant to someone that just wants you on your feet twenty-five hours of the day.”

She gives you a sad smile, and nods at your words. “He asked me to go on another date tomorrow night. And I want to, but– there’s this charity gala tomorrow that my boss is throwing. I have to go.”

“You can’t invite him as a plus one?” you offered as a solution.

“God, I wish,” she groaned. “Working for the government like I do– I could explain it to you, but it would be so much easier if I could just show you–”

Mel cut herself off, straightening in her seat as she locked eyes with you. She adjusted both her hands to hold yours in hers. 

“Mel?” you asked, still smiling at her.

“Are you free tomorrow night?” she asked, serious. “Can I ask you to be my plus one? Maybe you’ll be able to see the life I live– and it’ll help you figure out the kind of man that will be suitable for the life I live. Trust me, Daniel is great. Amazing guy. He’s just too… free spirited. Too spontaneous. I need structure and plans and I need you to see my life in order to really grasp it.”

You let out a sigh as you weighed the pros and cons. 

This sounded like a bad idea. Getting too involved with a client was never a good thing. In fact, it crossed a lot of boundaries and raised a lot of alarm bells in your head. You may have gone to your client’s weddings– the weddings of matches that you put together– but that was another form of networking. This was a charity gala for a government event. You would be completely out of your own element. 

However, you really didn’t have anything to do tomorrow. You had no appointments with your clients in the evening. You did have enough dresses in your closet that you could go through– and Mel was your favorite client. You had set her up on more than a few dates since she had enlisted your service, and she had turned down more than enough men for you to know that she was struggling. She wasn’t old by any means, but she was still a hopeless romantic that just needed some assistance, and you really wanted to help her out.

“Please?” Mel tried again, pulling you out of your own thoughts.

“Okay,” you relented, letting out a small sigh through your nose as you did.

She squealed, excited. “I will text you the details. I’ll let the staff know your name so you don’t have to worry about a single thing. Just show up pretty like you always do!” 

You gave her a smile, one more genuine than the ones that you normally show your clients.

You step up the stairs of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, thankful that there aren’t any photographers trying to stop you for a quick photo. Around you, you recognize several celebrities here for the charity event along with politicians of varying levels of influence. Your eyes fall on the banners, seeing the past heroes of the Avengers staring right back at you.

A small sense of nostalgia flows through you as you continue your way to the doors, only stopping momentarily to check in with the doormen. 

As you move towards the second floor to get a better view of the entire floor, a server comes by with a tray, offering you a flute of champagne that you gratefully take. You take a small sip as you move through the museum, eyes flitting over the different people in the gala. You rest your elbows against the railing, scanning over the entire crowd. Your eyes can’t help but run numbers over every single person that you see. 

You see the brand of their suits and dresses scream at you. The wear of their purses and shoes let you know exactly how disposable their income is. How tall they hold their head gives you insight on how insecure they are. You watch how each woman communicates with each man. Every gentle touch, flutter of eyelashes, subtle drop of eye contact from the eyes to the lips. 

You can easily tell who is single, who is taken, who is pretending to be single, and who wishes they were anything but single. 

“You made it!” a cheery voice calls your name from behind you. 

You straighten your spine as you turn around, a smile fitting over your lips. Then, you raise an eyebrow at Mel. She’s wearing a blazer and skirt, holding a tablet in hand with her hair pulled back in a low ponytail.

“You texted me that this was a formal event, Mel. What are you wearing?” you teased lightly, looking her up and down. “My plan was to find you a date tonight.”

“I’m working right now,” she chuckled, shaking her head. “I saw you from downstairs, so I slipped away to say hello real quick. You look great, by the way. Not that you don’t look amazing usually.”

You let out a small laugh, looking down at yourself briefly. Your dress was simple, a strapless black evening gown that clung effortlessly to you, with a cascading, sheer, flowing hem that moved with each step that you took. You paired it with a simple golden necklace matched with a timeless gold wristwatch. The purse that hung off your shoulder finished off the look, adding to the overall sophistication to the look. 

You didn’t deny her compliment, smile widening at her. “Would’ve loved to see you in something similar.”

“Maybe next time,” she smiled back, moving to loop your arm through hers. “We’ll be starting the dinner service soon, so let’s find your seat.”

You allowed her to lead you away, noticing the crowd was also moving towards the banquet hall now. Mel dropped you off at a round table towards the end of the room, though you didn’t necessarily mind. There was a placard with your name on the charge plate. You allowed your purse to hang from the seat as you took your phone out, allowing yourself to rest for a few moments.

Others were still filtering in, finding their seats at the seating chart at the front. You lost sight of Mel the second she left your side. It was becoming increasingly clear that she needed to be matched with someone as busy as her. You let out a sigh as you pulled up profiles on your phone, removing some men that you thought would work with her. 

You didn’t even look up as someone took a seat beside you. 

“I don’t answer your calls, so you come directly to where I work?”

You paused at the voice, looking up. Bucky is sitting beside you, champagne in hand as he flicks away a placard that is definitely not his own. He replaces it with his as you watch the random name get discarded somewhere on the floor behind him. 

You blink at him– it somehow didn’t even cross your mind that he would be here tonight. You curse yourself slightly. For a man that you thought about constantly, you completely missed the mark with this one. Why wouldn’t he be here? 

“I was invited,” you said, placing your phone faced down on the table. You cross one leg over the other, shifting your body to face his. “Though, I am hurt that you don’t answer my calls.”

A sigh escapes his lips as he shakes his head. You watch as his fingers play with the folded piece of paper with his name written with perfect calligraphy– hands that are slightly calloused from the years of war and battles that he’s fought.

“What business does a matchmaker have at a government charity event?” he finally asked, stormy eyes meeting yours. 

“You would be surprised to find there are many highly influential and single government workers that are looking for my company’s services,” you said, giving him a small shrug. “Call it networking.”

He watched you for a few moments, eyes scanning your figure. If he was anyone else, if you didn’t do prior research to know that he was a former assassin and spy, you would have thought he was checking you out. No– he wasn’t. He was searching for something. 

You didn’t give him any answers. 

When Bucky’s eyes finally settled on your face again, you gave him a polite smile. His eyebrows twitched as his eyes narrowed at you.

“Is something the matter, Congressman Barnes?” you asked, folding your hands in your lap. 

“I don’t need your services. Take me off the list,” he said, his voice gruff and low.

“Unfortunately, Mr. Wilson has paid in advance for us to serve you. The contract extends until you have found a match,” you reminded him. “You signed the consent form to allow us to give Mr. Wilson updates on how your dates go as well. We have to continue to at least try to reach out to you, even if you ignore my calls.”

“I will sue your office for harassment,” he threatened.

“You signed consent forms allowing for me to call, text, and email your direct lines of contact as per agreement,” you repeated, smiling at him as you tilted your head. “It would make things so much easier for both of us if we met regularly so I can get you on at least one date a week, Congressman.”

Bucky drags his metal hand down his face as he fights back groaning out loud. You can only keep your smile trained on your face as you watch him. 

“Can I perhaps order you a drink, Congressman? You strike me as a whiskey kind of guy,”  you hummed, raising a hand towards the waiter that was walking by.

“Make it neat,” he muttered beside you, completely defeated as you ordered drinks for the two of you.

Dinner service goes by without another hiccup. The two of you don’t discuss the nature of your relationship as others join your table. You don’t recognize the others at the table, but they recognize Bucky. That’s enough for you to pretend that you don’t know Bucky like that.

However, you do take the chance to spread your business card around the table with a pretty smile and a flutter of your lashes as you give your well rehearsed spiel.

“And you’re responsible for… how many marriages between your matches?” one of the women at your table asks, surprised.

“Goodness..” you sigh dramatically for effect, placing a hand over your chest. “I would say– about eight now? They are all lovely people that I have taken time to connect with. Amazing friends that I have grown to love, and I’m happy to have been able to bring them together for life.”

“Then you’re an expert,” Bucky suddenly said beside you as he picked up his whiskey glass. “What do you think makes a perfect partner?”

“Of course, that depends from person to person,” you respond, smiling at him before looking at the rest of the table. “I’m not here to build a person out of thin air for you. I am here to show you that love exists, and that you are worthy of it. Even if you don’t believe that there is someone out there for you, I believe it. There’s someone out there for everyone.”

The women were captivated by your sugared words, sliding over their own business cards to you, asking you to call them on the next business day. You grin as you take each card, sliding them into your purse. You ignore Bucky’s eyes on the side of your face as you continue to chat with everyone else. 

You tune out during the speeches that Mel’s boss has. You don’t necessarily care for it, though you do your best to look like you’re paying attention. You’ll read some reverbed version of this long winded monologue tomorrow morning, and Mel will definitely let you know how she feels about it later. 

When the talking is over and the music turns on, you find yourself being dragged by the other women at your table to be introduced to some other single women attending the gala. At the very least, you didn’t end up lying to Bucky. You ended up doing networking here after all. 

By the time you managed to get out of the hands of single men and women trying to enlist your services, your purse was stuffed to the brim with business cards that weren’t yours, and you would need to order some more cards of your own on Monday. 

You managed to slip out to a secluded hallway, away from the music and festivities. You kept walking, running a hand through your hair as you sighed. You found an open balcony, the cool New York air blowing through it and a bench calling your name.

You rested your aching feet, and decided to look through the cards you got– trying to organize who you would delegate to some of your coworkers and who you would take on as your own from the short conversations that you had. Your workload was already heavy as it was, and you still had a certain man that wasn’t making your life any easier for you. 

“Can I pay you to get me off your list?”

Speak of the devil.

“Maybe if you say please,” you respond, still shuffling the cards into two separate stacks.

The devil doesn’t respond to you. You let out a deep sigh.

You looked up, finding him leaning against the doorframe of the balcony door. His hands are tucked in his pocket, looking at you. You close your purse, resting your hands on the cement bench as you let your eyes scan him up and down.

“I have a great match for you. She works in the government as well. She’s a personal assistant, so she understands the kind of work that you do as a Congressman. Just as busy as you are. She has her ideal type as someone taller than 5’10’’. Doesn’t have a preference for age, but has told me that she wants someone with an old soul. She’s cute. Somewhat of a busy-body, but that means that she’s pretty low maintenance, and you don’t have to worry that much about dates,” you said. 

His eyes narrowed at you. “Are you setting me up on a date or selling me a product?”

“Depends on the angle that you look at it,” you shrugged. 

Bucky sighed, closing his eyes tight. “If I go on this one date, will you leave me alone?” 

“If it goes well on your end and hers, then yes,” you nodded. “However, the company does assist in setting up the first, second, and third date. From there, it is up to you and her to decide if you two will be an official couple. If you do, you both are obligated to report it to the company. I will then check up on you during the milestones of your relationship.”

“Milestones?” he asked, frowning at you.

“You know, your anniversaries. First month. Six months. One year. If you even need help proposing to her one day, then we can definitely help you with that as well– Mr. Wilson paid for the full Ador Matchmaking Package, so it’s included,” you informed him. 

Bucky stared at you like you had two heads and six pairs of eyes on each head. You continued to smile at him, and moved to stand in front of him. 

“I am not here to make your life difficult, Congressman. In fact, I think that finding you a partner can be a wonderful thing. I find that being able to share your life with someone– share your struggles with someone– can relieve a lot of the stress that you may have,” you said, locking eyes with him.

“Are you speaking from your own experience?” he asked, clenching his jaw tight. Your smile faltered for the first time. You quickly fixed it back into place. 

“I have seen and matched many successful couples,” you answered, ignoring the true intentions of his question. “Just trust me.”

Bucky let out a deep sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose as he looked to be contemplating his options here.

“I’m not ready for a date. I have my own issues that I just… I have issues,” he admitted to you, lowering his hand. “You left me a voicemail– saying you wanted to discuss more of my… desires with a partner. Let’s start with that.”

“Of course,” you said, trying to hide the giddiness in your chest. Finally. You were getting somewhere with him. “We’ll take this at your pace.”

On your first meeting with him, you had to explain the dating in this century. Bucky still continues to stare at you like you were insane, and you can only sigh as you try to break down the new lingo of the year for him.

"What do you mean by that?"

"By what?"

"Talking stage. Situationship. What is that?"

"Just because you go on dates with someone, doesn't mean that you are dating them, Congressman. Same thing with talking. You can be talking with them, but are you talking with them? It's all in the nuances. Situationships are a bit more... sensual."

Bucky still doesn't get it, and you're worried about sending him off on dates with women- some of your older clients even know about these phrases. You're afraid Bucky might think he's going steady with someone who isn't serious about him at all.

The second meeting included texting etiquette and dating terms. Bucky couldn't wrap his head around why people sent emoticons to each other- he hated phone calls already. He despised having to send those cute emojis to express his emotions over text.

"Ghosting?" he deadpanned at you. "Did you ask me if I have ever been ghosted before?"

"It's a general question, Congressman-"

"No- I don't know what that means," he cut you off. "Did someone fucking die?"

You stare at him like he's crazy, but you clearly slip your mask back into place and remind yourself that he was born in the late 1910s.

"It's when someone that you were previously talking to just randomly disappears. Remember we were talking about the talking stage during our last meeting? Say you thought your date went really well, and you're looking forward to your next date, and you try meeting up with her again, but she just- poof! Disappears. Gone without a trace."

"You can search her up in the database and find her easily."

You almost want to cry at how serious he looks and sounds at this moment.

"Not everyone is an ex-assassin, Congressman."

Your next meeting has you handing in your resignation on the spot. You never thought you would have to explain what a thirst trap is to someone over the age of thirteen, but here you were. It came up during the topic of dating apps, and how he despised every single moment that he was on them.

"I saw girls in tiger outfits," he told you.

"Like... full fur suits?" you asked.

"No, like bikinis."

"Oh. Like a costume?"

"Yeah. Why do they do that?" he asked, frowning at you.

"To look sexy," you shrugged at him. "Some people are attracted to that."

"People are attracted to tigers?"

"No, Congressman. They are attracted to the girl showing the wildly inappropriate amount of skin," you said, fighting back the laugh bubbling up in your throat. He looked utterly disgusted right now.

"Why would anyone put that shit on?"

"Some people enjoy it as a kink," you said, clearing your throat to hide your laughter. "Some see it as an acts of service kind of thing. You know, love languages."

Bucky looked like he was about to combust in his seat. "Love languages? Since when the hell did love have a language?"

"Words of affirmation, quality time, physical touch- just to name a few," you said, nodding at him.

"Isn't that the basics of romance? All of that, combined?" he asked, eyebrows furrowed at you. He almost sounded scandalized.

You gave Bucky a wide grin-- one that wasn't your practiced smile. "That's what I like to hear. Keep that in mind while I try to find you a match, okay?"

It's on your fourth meeting when you officially dub Bucky as your most stubborn client that you've ever had. You are losing patience, and you thought you had an astounding amount of it. You didn’t think that he could be worse than the questionnaire that he filled out.

Bucky spoke a lot, but he didn’t say anything in his words. He talked in circles that had your mind running. 

Over four meetings, you could barely managed to figure out that he wanted a partner that would be able to keep up with his busy schedule, and not get upset with him for being closed off. You could work with that– someone understanding. That was basic level, but that should have been something that he could have said within the first minute of speaking to you. Not over the eighteen hours that you have sat down with him and talked.

You know Bucky is also getting increasingly frustrated as your meetings go along, too. You’re questioning him in different ways that he’s not used to– he’s not used to being on the opposite end of an interrogation, especially not about his desires in a woman.

“I still don’t understand why we have to meet like this,” Bucky said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I told you– the questionnaire that you submitted to us was damn near empty, Congressman,” you stressed. “I have nothing to work with here. I can’t find you a partner if you put a question mark as an answer!’

“I think it’s pretty straight forward,” he grunted in his seat.

“You have to have a physical type that you’re attracted to, at least,” you finally said, exasperated as you dropped rubbed circles into your temples. 

Your notebook was filled with scribbles that you would try to make sense of later, but you knew there was nothing substantial from this latest meeting with your stubborn client. This is your fifth meeting with him and you still have nothing. 

“I… I don’t. Not really,” he answered, looking down at his desk.

 Bucky’s leg was bouncing up and down under his desk, an anxious habit you observed he did when he was over the meeting and you knew that it was time for you to wrap it up for the day.

“James,” you said, exasperated. “Everyone has a type. Someone that they see on the street that their eyes linger on just a little more than the next person. Nothing comes to mind? Not even just one feature?”

He stopped bouncing for a moment, then lifted his gaze to meet yours. Your breath caught in your throat at the unexpected contact, and you held it. You watched him just as intently as he watched you, waiting for him to speak as your heart began to uncharacteristically thump in your chest.

“Eyes,” he finally said, never breaking those stormy orbs away from you. “You can tell a lot about a person by looking them in the eyes. I like a person’s eyes.”

You swallowed thickly, swiping your tongue over your bottom lip as you cleared your throat. You tore your eyes away from him to look down at your notes, scribbling the word down, and circling it twice.

“Thank you. That’s progress. Not a lot for me to work off of, but I can find someone with pretty eyes for you,” you replied, giving him a smile of relief. 

“Add smiles to your notes. Pretty smiles are good, too.”

 You pause at his words, eyes narrowing at him for a moment. He smiled back at you before you went ahead and wrote down the word next to ‘eyes.’

“Do you really think there is someone out there that is willing to date an ex-assassin that committed several war crimes?” he asked, leaning back in his seat. “Not to mention, I’m old enough to be a lot of these people’s grandfather’s.”

“Great grandfather’s,” you corrected him.

“Wow,” he scoffed, but a smile fit over his face.

“I think you need to give yourself a little more credit. You deserve it,” you said, closing your notebook. You shoved it into your tote purse, and stood up to straighten your blazer. Bucky’s eyes followed your figure as you moved. “You may have done things that you’re not proud of, but haven’t we all? What matters now is that you’re doing your best to rectify the things that you didn’t even have control over.”

“It was still me that did it,” he said, sucking in a breath.

“And the man in front of me is a great match for a lot of women out there, if he just allows me to set him up with someone,” you replied. You watched as his eyes fell on your face again, and you smiled at him. “I promise, Congressman. There’s someone for everyone. Including you. Someone that accepts your past, and looks forward to the future that you envision– that you won’t even share with me even though it’s my job to try and find someone that fits that future.”

A chuckle falls from his lips as he shakes his head. He straightens in his seat, busying his hands with organizing the manila folders on his desk. 

“I still don’t think I’m ready to just get out there and meet people, sweetheart. That’s not… I haven’t dated in a long time.”

You stared at him for a few moments. He’s avoiding looking at you right now– there’s a sheepish tone in his voice. He’s trying to glide over the vulnerability of his confession by organizing pens that are already color coded, and a calendar that is properly filled. 

“Go on a date with me,” you said before you could stop yourself.

His metal hand closes over a pen, and stops. “What?”

“A trial date,” you clarified, squaring your shoulders off to hide the embarrassment creeping up your neck. “You haven’t been on a date in a long time, and I’m the one trying to get you on dates. Let’s see how you are on dates, and once it’s over then I can give you a few pointers. Tell you if there’s anything that you need to work on– or let you know that you’re simply overthinking this whole thing.”

“Is this part of the service Sam bought?”

“No,” you answered honestly. “But it’s my job to help you, and you’re not confident in yourself. I need to build your confidence so you can meet some of my clients. No woman likes an insecure man.”

Bucky’s searching your figure again– doing that same thing he did at the gala. Searching for something in you. Hesitation maybe? Regret, you guess. Maybe he thinks you’ll take back your words. You stare right back at him, unwavering. 

You’re breaking a lot of your own personal rules, and boundaries these days, but you don’t say that out loud. You’re doing a lot to help your clients– starting with Mel’s charity gala, and now offering to do a test run with Bucky. It seems that you just can’t help yourself. 

“When’s your next free night, Congressman?” you asked, taking your phone out from your purse to pull up your calendar. “I’ll clear my evening for you.”

You met him at an upscale restaurant of your choosing, telling him that you would plan the date as is normal by Ador standards when it comes to the matchmaking dates. All he needed to do was show up and look nice. You thought you would be early, just like last time. You’re pleasantly surprised to find him opening the door to your Uber, a bouquet of flowers in hand.

“Hi there,” you smiled at him.

“Hi,” Bucky replied, a bit stiff. You kept your laugh to yourself as he took a few steps back to allow you to get out of the car, and then he shut it behind you. “This is– uh– for you.”

He holds out the bouquet– one that you can tell is on the pricier end of the market. The scent is strong, the buds are young, and the colors are vivid. The bow wrapped tight around it is pristine and sharp as well. Your smile only seemed to grow a bit wider as you took it from his hands, brushing your fingertips against his as you did. 

“They’re beautiful. I love them, thank you,” you told him, truthful.

“Thank God,” he muttered, leading you towards the restaurant. “Sam said something about women in this era not enjoying flowers. I almost didn’t get you any.”

“Women still like flowers,” you said, eyebrows raising at him.

“That’s what I told him, and I’m glad that you agree. I’ll have to tell him that the professional sides with me,” Bucky chuckled, his shoulders relaxing slightly as he held the door open for you to enter first. 

You felt his hand rest on the small of your back as he joined behind you, and you made the mental note in your head– he really wasn’t all that closed off. In just a few moments, he proved to be extremely charming. What was his issue with dating?

The two of you were shown to a quieter table towards the back of the restaurant, with Bucky pulling out your seat. You’re getting more impressed by the second here. Maybe it’s the fact he was around during the prime time of men being chivalrous, but you were certain that this would have a lot of your clients sinking their claws into him and never letting him go. You just had to find him someone that he didn’t want to let go of.

The dinner was a set course that you both ate quietly save for small comments on how the fish was cooked perfectly. Otherwise, you didn’t say much until the table was cleared and more wine was poured into your glasses. You both thank the waiter before turning your attention back to each other.

“So, Congressman. Was the last date you really had back in the forties?” you asked, resting your chin in your palm as you stared at him.

He lets out a small laugh, shaking his head. “Bucky– Just… Bucky is fine for right now. And no. I went on a date a year or so ago.”

“Okay, Bucky,” you said, testing the name on your tongue. You watched as the corners of his lips curled slightly. “How did that date go?”

“Ran out on her,” he recalled, and you furrowed your eyebrows at him. He let out a deep sigh. “Not my best moment, but she said something that kind of… triggered me, I guess. Couldn’t really stay for much longer without having a panic attack.”

You keep your eyes on him for a few moments before you decide to reach for your wine glass and take a slow sip, digesting his words as the liquid runs down your throat. You let out a small hum. 

“Well, you can’t run from me,” you smiled at him, “I already know your past. There’s nothing that you need to hide from me that I’ll be scared of.”

“I’m sure you’ll show up at my office if I run away from you,” he chuckled with a shake of his head. 

“I will. You are notorious for not answering your phone,” you reminded him.

“I honestly hate that thing,” he said with a deep sigh. “I preferred when people sent each other letters. They were much more personal. You could see people’s handwriting, and how they felt with each stroke of their pen.”

You raised your eyebrows, surprised. You didn’t expect this. However, it made sense. Bucky did strike you as a guy that would prefer sentimental gifts over expensive, over the top trinkets.

“If I send you a letter or write you a sticky note, will you be more inclined to meet with me again?” you asked.

Bucky can’t help but laugh at your question. “Sure, sweetheart. I’ll meet with you again if you send me a heartfelt letter.”

“I’ll spray my perfume and add a kiss mark next to my signature, just for you,” you teased. “Send it straight to your door.”

He shakes his head at your antics, though his smile never falters. His fingers play with the stem of the wine glass, twirling the glass in his flesh hand for a few moments as a comfortable silence fills the air between you two. The live pianist in the restaurant fills in the gaps between your conversation, allowing the two of you a moment of peace as you watch over each other. 

Bucky looks handsome tonight. He’s ditched the usual tie that he wears with his suits, and a couple of the buttons are undone at the top of his shirt. You can see the shining necklace of what you assume is his dog tags hiding against his chest. His blazer is hung at his chair, the material matching the slacks he wears. His hair, which is normally gelled back, is slightly out of place from the day. A few strands are framing his face and you find that you like it better this way. It looks a little fluffy. His beard is well maintained as per usual, a little shorter than you remember seeing it last week. 

He’s scanning you the same way you’re scanning him. This time, you know that he’s not searching your body for answers like he had done previously. You feel oddly exposed under his gaze, but not uncomfortable. A shiver runs down your spine as his eyes continue to drag up and down your figure.

“I’m surprised your boyfriend is alright with you going on dates like this,” he finally said, your eyes meeting his. “Even if this is supposed to be something that is meant to help a client of yours.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, finger circling the rim of your wine glass. You wet your lips as you suck in a small breath, preparing for the questions to come after you respond to his statement.

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” you told him.

It’s Bucky’s turn to raise an eyebrow at you. He rested his arms on the table, leaning in closer to you. “You’re telling me that my matchmaker that’s supposed to find me a girlfriend isn’t taken? This sounds like a scam, sweetheart.”

You roll your eyes at his blatant sarcasm, sighing deeply. “I don’t have to be in a relationship to know how relationships work, Bucky.”

“Then, why? What’s the reason that the professional relationship maker doesn’t want to be in a relationship?” he asked.

You bit the inside of your cheek, the question weighing heavy on your mind. Out of your coworkers, you are the only one that is without a partner. They are all going strong with someone– on the path of getting engaged, or already married. You are the only one alone, and you’re the best employee in the company. You look down at the table for a moment before lifting your eyes to meet his. 

The truth is- you're afraid. You fear allowing someone into your heart, seeing the vulnerability of everything that you are. It's such a small reason that everyone holds close to their heart, a reason that you have coerced others out of their shells... but you still can't seem to get out of your own.

“I haven’t found the right match,” you answered. 

“Who’s the right match for you?”

You sighed, leaning back in your seat for a moment. “I have a deal breaker. I need to watch the guy climb a fence. If they look fucking stupid while doing it, then I’m out.”

“What?” Bucky whispered, staring at you in disbelief.

You smiled at him- a pretty smile that you knew he liked.

“I like athletic guys. Ones that can preferably pick me up like I don’t weigh anything. And that can carry all the groceries into the house in one trip, or all the bags when I go shopping. I make enough money to sustain myself, and I’ll continue working even after I get married to keep my own income separate from a joint account. A guy that will let me do whatever I want without questioning me or my decisions because he trusts me. I’m not really a homemaker, if you understand what I’m saying. So, it’s a little difficult. My preferences in the bedroom differ from what I enjoy in reality, so the men I seek don’t want to date all of me. They want someone submissive 24/7, and that’s not typically who I am.”

You’re more than certain you gave Bucky more than he asked you for, but you don’t really care. You’re trying to gain his trust so that he opens up to you, tells you more about what he wants in a partner, so that you can find someone for him.

“So,” you continued, picking up your wine glass again. “What are your preferences in the bedroom– or have you not done anything since the forties?”

Bucky’s lips parted, then shut. His mind looked to be short circuiting in real time, still processing your words. Then, he cleared his throat.

“Are all women as forward as you while on dates in this time period?” he finally asked.

“Not all,” you chuckled, taking a sip of the wine. You can’t help but tease him, “I just find myself comfortable enough to speak with you like this. What about you, Congressman? I feel like we’ve known each other long enough for you to talk to me about this kind of thing.”

Bucky downs the rest of the wine in his glass, surprising you with his actions. His eyes are dark when they lock onto yours, and his voice is low. The gravely tone makes goosebumps rise on your skin, and you instinctively straighten in your seat at the commanding presence he’s giving off. You don’t dare look away from him.

“I don’t prefer to talk about my preferences in the bedroom. I'd rather just show you.”

Bucky’s hand is cradling the back of your head, a soft barrier to keep your head safe as he pushes you back against the wall. Your lips are still connected to his, head angled upwards to deepen the kiss with him. Your purse is sliding down your arm, about to hit the floor with a soft thud when he parts from you to grab it, securing it over his own shoulder before returning back to your lips.

He really is a gentleman at heart.

Your moans are swallowed greedily into his throat as if the two of you didn’t just have a five course meal an hour ago, and his hands are moving to your thighs, bunching up your dress to your hips. Once he feels your skin against him, he groans against your lips, a tingle racing down your spine and going straight to your core. 

He tastes like wine, but faintly of cinnamon, too. With him so close to you, you’re overwhelmed and wrapped by the scent of smoke and wood, and you don’t hate it. There’s cologne somewhere in the mix here– something that you can’t detect since it’s so late in the night, but you can smell the smell of him on his neck.

“Bucky,” you whimpered, his fingertips digging into the flesh of your thighs.

“I got you,” he muttered in response, hands moving to the underside of your thighs to scoop you up. 

Bucky easily shifted to have your legs wrap around his hips, and tilted his head upwards to trail kisses down your jaw and neck. You let out a soft sigh, angling your neck to the side to let him have more space to play.

“This is what you wanted, right?” he grunted before nipping at the soft skin at your neck. You let out a soft moan, gripping at the lapels of his blazer.

“What?” you whispered back as his tongue moved to soothe the wound.

“You said you wanted a man that could pick you up like you weigh nothing. I’m right here, sweetheart.”

You barely have time to process his words before you’re being pulled off the wall. He still has you in his arms, and your lips are caught in his again. Bucky moves through his apartment without having to see anything, going straight to his bedroom. He opens the door, holding you with only one arm as he carries you to bed. 

Sitting down, you’re straddling his lap. 

You grab his face in your hands, hungry for him. You can’t get enough. 

“You’re so handsome,” you whispered between kisses. 

“Not too insecure for you?” he chuckled softly.

“Don’t ruin the moment,” you huffed, biting his bottom lip softly. 

Bucky’s hands fall to your hips once more before moving to your back, finding the zipper of your dress. He unzips the piece without hesitation, and you briefly part from him to allow him to pull it off of your body. 

“God,” he groaned, taking a moment to look at you. His hands are on your waist, and your body shivered involuntarily at the cool touch of his metal hand. “You were hiding all of this from me, sweetheart?”

You weren’t wearing a bra. You couldn’t– not with the strappy dress that you were wearing. Of course, you had a jacket on earlier, and the material of your dress had one of those built in bras. You didn’t feel the need to explain it to him, not when Bucky was already taking a nipple in his mouth and kneading the other breast in his hand.

A moan fell from your lips as you arched your back into him– his free arm going to your back to support you and pull you even closer. You grabbed onto his shoulder, his hair, grounding your hips into his as he hummed into your chest.

You locked eyes with him, watched him as he swirled his tongue over the stiff peak of your nipple. Shit– this man was so hot. There was no way he was real. You couldn’t understand why this man was still single– age or lack of confidence aside. You didn’t get it. 

“Sit on my face,” he ordered you, your eyes widening slightly. 

You’re not certain you heard him right. 

“What–”

“Don’t make me repeat myself,” he clicked his tongue, already moving the two of you deeper into his bed. He’s still fully dressed, laid back on the pillows, and you’re still sitting on his lap. He has his metal hand under his head, staring at you as he waits.

“My underwear–” you tried to start, lifting your hips to remove the last garment between what he wanted you to do. 

Bucky’s hands move faster than you can swing your leg over his body. A resounding rip fills the air, and you see the fabric of your underwear get thrown off to the side of his bed. His hands settle over your hips, and you are once again being effortlessly lifted towards him– heart thundering in your chest.

You didn’t have any mental preparation before his tongue met your heat. His arms locked around your thighs, holding you in place so you couldn’t even attempt to hover over him. No, he had the full weight of you on him, and he was moaning into you. The vibrations alone had your thighs tensing around his head, hands reaching down for his hair for some stability.

His tongue flatted against your core, licking up all the wetness that had seeped through without him touching you earlier. Bucky moaned at the taste, absolutely floored at your excitement. He angled his head just slightly, nose nudging at the sensitive bundle of nerves that made your body flinch. 

He chuckled beneath you at your reaction, pressing harder against you, nuzzling his nose deeper into you– putting more pressure on your clit as he began to piston his tongue in and out of your aching pussy.

“Bucky!” you moaned his name, like it was the only thing you could say.

He groaned in response, eyes opening just briefly to lock on yours– those same piercing eyes were dark, blown out– and you realized he enjoyed eating you out just as much as you enjoyed having his tongue lap against you. 

Bucky liked this. He enjoyed  this– got off on this. You falling apart above him, unable to run from his ministrations as he brought you closer and closer to the edge where he could watch you without any restraint. He could see everything. He could see the way your chest rose and fell erratically, the way your skin flushed, the way you bit your lip, the way your eyes were dilated as you looked down at him.

“Bucky– I’m so close,” you whimpered, tugging on his hair.

And he lifted you up and away from his mouth.

You felt a sense of loss immediately, panic rushing through your body as he chuckled beneath you. You watched as he licked his lips from your juices, and he pushed you back down to straddle him once again.

“What– why?” you whispered, damn near close to tears. 

Bucky pushed himself up to sit, unbuttoning his shirt as he did. He let out a small hum as he took off the garment, wiping off the last bits of you off of his face and beard before tossing it to the side. Then, he grabbed your face with one hand, yanking you back into a deep kiss. 

You melted into him, pliant, trembling, needy. You tasted yourself on his tongue as he licked into your mouth. The gripping hand that held your face softened, moving to stroke your cheek affectionately moments afterwards. 

“You didn’t say please, sweetheart,” he whispered against your lips. 

Your eyes widened slightly– oh. You were going to kill him when you got out of this bedroom. He chuckled against your lips, knowing that you knew what he was referencing to. However, your irritation faded away as you heard the clink of his belt against his metal hand– noting that it was being taken off and discarded to the edge of the bed.

In one swift movement, you were on your back with Bucky in between your legs, lips on yours once more. 

You sighed into his mouth, closing your eyes as you felt his bare skin against yours. You could feel the scars of his shoulder under your left hand, the muscles of his right arm– his broad chest. You felt the ripples of his abs as your hands trailed down. 

Then you felt his length slide against your folds, coating itself in your slick. 

Bucky’s head rested in the crook of your neck, both of you letting out a soft moan as the tip of his cock briefly caught on your clit. You could feel the warm bead of precum drip onto your skin, your eyes falling shut at the sensation as a shiver of anticipation rushes through your body.

“Tell me what you want,” Bucky muttered, hands running up and down your sides. 

“You,” you responded instantly, a bit breathless. 

He chuckles, shaking his head before moving to press a kiss against your hairline. Bucky’s hands stop at your breasts, and you whine as he rolls both nipples in between his pointer fingers and thumbs.

“Gotta be a little more descriptive than that, doll, because I’m right here. Where do you want me?” he hummed, rutting his hips against yours again.

“Fu–ck,” you gasped, the word coming out broken from your throat. You collect yourself briefly, opening your eyes to look at him. “God, Bucky– you. I need your cock in me– please, I wanna cum all over your cock– I need it so bad, need you so bad–”

Your words die on your lips, cut off by the feeling of being stuffed absolutely full. Bucky’s forehead rested against yours, lips parted in a noiseless moan as he slid all the way to the hilt. Neither of you can say or move or breathe for a few moments– you’re both too overwhelmed. You can feel him so deeply inside of you, you’re sure he’s at your cervix.

“It’s like you were fucking made for me,” he finally groaned before pulling out, only leaving the tip of his cock in before thrusting all the way back in, starting a punishing pace. 

You can’t keep up with him, but you don’t even have to. Bucky’s doing all the work for you, his hips snapping into yours in perfect rhythm. When your back arches off the bed from the overwhelming pleasure of him, he scoops his arm underneath you to lock you in place as his other hand grabs both of your wrists to pin overhead to keep you from scrambling away from the intensity of the thrill.

Your first orgasm crept on you without any warning– but you were already wound up, and he knew it. You were a mess beneath him, moaning his name like it was the only thing you knew, hips rising to grind up to meet his, overstimulated by his lips all over your neck and chest.

He whispered pretty praises into your ear when you came around his cock, feeling his hips stutter slightly, and listening to him moan as you clenched around him tightly. Bucky didn’t stop there, though.

You didn’t have time to even come down from your high before he was flipping you over onto your stomach, him still inside of you. 

Your face was shoved into the pillow, his hand buried into your hair as the other hand grabbed at your hips to pull back into his own. He moaned behind you– and he was hitting you at a deeper, more delicious angle that made you see stars.

“Oh– Bucky– it’s too much,” you whined into the pillow, turning your head to breathe.

“You can take it,” he chuckled, letting out a soft moan after. “Your pussy is swallowing me up, can’t you feel it? She’s so greedy for me.”

You can only moan in response, your eyes rolling to the back of your skull. You fisted the pillows beside your head for some stability, some purchase– something– and Bucky thought you looked so pretty like this. Back arched, lips parted, trying to hold on for dear life while your walls clamped onto him desperately as moans kept escaping your lips.

He wouldn’t be able to last much longer, and you could feel it with the way his thrusts grew more erratically. 

Bucky’s hand left your hair, moving to hold onto your hips in a way you were sure you would have bruises in the morning that you would admire in the mirror. You could feel pressure building once more– another orgasm as he fucked harder into you– and a moaned out your name as you felt fuller than you thought you could. Your walls spasmed around him a second time, and you heard him let out a soft laugh above you as you struggled to breathe.

His hands moved to either side of your head, lowering himself to press kisses up your spine. You could feel his cock still throbbing inside of you, both of your releases beginning to dribble out of your abused hole and drip onto the sheets beneath you by the time his kisses made its way to your shoulder blades.

“Came a second time, sweetheart?” he murmured against your skin.

“Why the fuck are you still single?” you whispered, voice hoarse.

He smiled against your skin. “Waiting for the right match.”

You need to draw the line somewhere. There needs to be a boundary, even though you’ve already crossed every single one there is. You’re certain if someone finds out, you’re fired and blacklisted from the industry without any sort of defense from your side.

You ran the hell out of Bucky’s apartment the morning after. You rejected his offer for breakfast, and his offer for a ride back to your apartment. You wouldn't allow him to do that for you, not when you were in the middle of a crisis in your own head. 

You were trying to find him a girlfriend, but you weren’t sure if you could be his girlfriend, not when you weren’t even certain of love yourself.

You skillfully filled up your calendar for two weeks, apologizing to Bucky and letting him know you had emergency clients that needed your help, and you had a destination wedding to get to. It wasn’t a total lie, but it was also something to help you get your mind off of everything– to help you clear your head. 

It was contradictory– being a matchmaker and preaching for love, but refusing to fall in love yourself. You know that, but you didn’t want to think about it. Being in love meant being vulnerable with someone. It meant showing somebody the softest parts of you. It meant giving Bucky more than what he saw of you that night you spent together, and it terrified you. 

You don’t know if you were ready to give up the façade of control you had over your life, and it was so easy for him to strip it all away from you.

However, you knew you had to face him and your own feelings. You also know yourself better than anyone else.

“Let me get this straight– you want me to go on this date with your other client. After we went on a date, and we slept together?” Bucky asked you, eyebrows raised.

“Technically, you are my client, too. It’s my job to put two clients together,” you responded, nodding.

Bucky is staring at you, and you’re trying to avoid making eye contact with the bouquet of roses that he got you. Your heart is breaking, and you’re trying not to let it show. You’re really trying to be professional here, and you already broke so many rules. You went to a charity gala that wasn’t work related. You went on a date with a client. You slept with said client. 

“So us sleeping together– is that something that you just do with all you clients?” he asked, a scoff escaping his lips.

Your eye twitches just slightly. “I don’t even offer the trial date to any of my clients, Congressman,” you said, your lips in a thin line.

“Then why me?” he demanded. “Because I certainly had a good time. Both on the date and after– or was that just me?”

You bite your lip as you take in a deep breath. You had a great time. An amazing time. In fact– you enjoy a lot of your time with Bucky, as much as you hate to admit it. When you’re not interrogating him, he’s fun to talk to. The date banter was cute. The aftercare was top tier– he drew you a bath and sat in the soapy water with you and washed your hair. 

“You are my client,” you dismissed, ignoring his question. “Mr. Wilson has paid for my services, and we went on the trial date for me to evaluate how you are on the field. You aren’t bad on dates. You’re great. I think you’re ready to meet people– like that girl I told you about at the gala.”

“We slept together,” he said again. 

“And it was nice,” you nodded.

“That’s it? Just… nice? It didn’t mean anything else to you?” he asked. He was doing it again. Searching you for an answer. You hoped that your body didn’t give it away– hoped that he didn’t explore you well enough to know all your tells.

You fixed your smile on your face. “Is there something that you’d like to say, Congressman?”

Bucky’s lips part, as he watches you, eyebrows furrowed. He’s mad, and you know it. Guilt and dread builds up in your stomach, and you, for once, feel small. You watch as he sucks in a breath, and leans back in his seat.

“Fine. Set up the date. Just send me the details,” he said, looking away from you. “I have a meeting to get to, if you’d excuse me.”

He’s lying, and you know it. The windows of time he blocks out for you are usually at least three hours long. You’ve only been here for about thirty minutes. You don’t comment.

You can only manage a tight smile before you turn away from him. You don’t take the flowers with you, as much as you want to. Those flowers did nothing to deserve your cold shoulder. You close the door on your way out, taking your phone out of your purse as you dial a number. It picks up on the third ring.

“Hey Mel. Found you a date,” you said, trying to hide the jealousy in your voice.

You give her the details of Bucky, and you hate the way she sounds so excited because you know she is– she’s a good girl, and a great match. You wouldn’t be surprised if they got along well, if you were being honest.

You can only go back to the office, set up the date, then email both of them the details after going through their schedule to find the best time for the both of them. You receive a confirmation email back from both parties within minutes, and the dread in your stomach only grows larger.

You try to busy yourself when the date night comes along, staying in your apartment with a cheap beer and shitty romance movies that make you wonder if love exists or if you’re just too stupid to really think properly.

Mel must be having a great time right now, you think. The time of her life, even. You feel ugly with jealousy at this current moment in time, and you’re trying to shove it all away with greasy take out because you like Mel. She’s sweet. Bucky is the best match you could have found for her. Out of all the men in your books– he is the best out of the best.

And you’re so green with envy that you want to scream.

You wonder what flowers he bought her. You wonder if he pulled her chair for her to sit when they got to dinner. Maybe he even draped his fucking blazer over her shoulder if she got cold and didn’t wear a jacket– fuck! You should’ve pretended to forget your jacket so you could’ve pulled that move on him on your date.

You wonder if he decided to take her home. 

You clench your jaw as you pick up your phone, finding no notifications. There are no calls from either of them– no updates on their date. Could be a bad sign, but also could be a good sign. You groan into your hands.

You don’t get any restful sleep that night, and you’re scheduled to meet Mel at a coffee shop the next morning for a debrief on her date.

She looks great, which only seems to piss you off some more. You do your best to hide it. 

“Bucky was very handsome, like you said. I think he was taller than six foot though,” Mel started off with.

You smiled at her, “Sounds like the date went well?”

“He was a gentleman,” she grinned at you. “Very sweet the entire night. Almost too sweet, I think.”

You paused at that, tilting your head slightly. “Is that… a bad thing?”

“Um… Not necessarily?” she chuckled slightly. “I don’t know. It just seemed like his mind was somewhere else most of the time. He would answer when I talked– most of his questions to me were generic, but it felt like he was just kinda talking through me, not to me.”

“First dates are generally awkward for some,” you said, mentally kicking Bucky in the shin while kissing his face at the same time. “Did you want to see him again?”

“Actually… at the end of the date, he told me there was someone that he was already interested in,” she said, giving you a small smile as she reached into her purse. “And that he discussed handwritten, sentimental letters with her. He said that you walked away from him last time, but he was certain that I would see you again, so he asked me to give this to you.”

Your eyes widened as Mel slid over the envelope over the table, your lips parting as you saw your name sprawled over the paper in his handwriting. Panic flashed over your face as you looked up at her, and her smile only grew wider.

“Like I said– he was very sweet to me, but he looked like he wanted to be anywhere else than with me last night,” Mel said. “And he apologized profusely to me for wasting my time, and told me that I didn’t have to do this if I didn’t have to– but I like you, and I think this is really cute. You don’t see guys write love letters to girls these days. However, I expect a wedding invitation if that happens.”

She leaves you in the coffee shop with the letter that takes you too long to open. When you finally do, you find several pages folded up. Behind the handwritten letter, you find the Ador Matchmaker questionnaire as well. Your eyes widened– he filled it out. Completely. To the brim, with full answers. 

You don’t know how long you spend in the café, rereading both the letter and his answers before you’re booking a ride towards his office

You stand in the hall, his handwritten letter tucked safely in your purse as you try to will your heart to calm down in your chest. The receptionist let you know that he was definitely in the building somewhere. You don't know if he’s in the middle of a meeting or an appointment, but you’re willing to wait. 

Eventually, you hear footsteps against the marble floor, and you hear the chatter of different voices echoing against the walls. Then, it slows, and the voices come to a stop. You look up, finding Bucky in the center of a crowd of other men in suits. They’re all looking at him, waiting– and he dismissed them with a nod and a mutter of a couple words. They disperse immediately.

He fixed his suit with his hands, walking past you and to his door, unlocking the office. He doesn’t say a word, but holds it open for you to step in first. Your heart squeezes at the gesture, and you move. 

Your eyes fall on the wilting roses first. He put them in a vase, in the corner of his office where he can see them from his desk. 

“Is there something I can help you with?” he asked. The door shuts as he walks in behind you, and he goes towards his chair. Bucky cleared his throat, taking a seat. 

“Yes,” you said, sitting at the chair opposite from his desk. “I’m here to follow up on your date with Mel.”

You watch as his eyebrow twitches in annoyance. “I see. This couldn’t have been a phone call? An email?”

“You are very infamous for avoiding my phone calls, Congressman. Should I send you a letter for my clients to deliver to you, too?” you asked.

Bucky stared at you for a few moments, before sighing. He relaxed in his seat, closing his eyes. 

“Is this the part where you tell me that this is unprofessional? That you can’t be in a relationship with me?” he asked, his voice quiet. “Is that why you pulled away from me so quickly after the date?”

“Because it was unprofessional,” you argued back. “It shouldn’t have happened the way it did– part of me feels like I took advantage of you.”

“You didn’t,” he immediately said, eyes snapping open to meet yours. Your breath caught in your throat. “You did not take advantage of me. I wanted you– I want you just as bad as you wanted me.”

“Your letter said that I make you feel human,” you said, letting out a shaky breath. “You mean it?”

“I rewrote that thing five times before I got the proper wording down, sweetheart,” he confessed, sighing. He dragged his hand over his face, shaking his head. “The first four drafts didn’t convey what I wanted it to.”

“And you really think that I can make you happy?” you whispered.

“You said it yourself. You find it easy to talk to me,” he said, a laugh escaping his lips. “I agree with you. You are the easiest person for me to talk to. I think I could tell you everything, and that scares me.”

You can hear your heartbeat in your ears. “It scares you– but you still want me?”

“I have lived through war upon war,” he said. “I think I know better than anyone than to let fear overtake what I want in life.”

You’re scared, and you know he can see it from the way he’s looking at you. You tried to ignore that look in bed– the way he looked at you like you were precious and gentle beneath him as you came undone. The way his eyes weren’t just full of lust, but affection, too.

“I’ll jump a fence for you,” he added, making you laugh. 

You stood up out of your chair, feeling the weight of his eyes on you as you rounded the side of his desk. You placed a hand on the back of his chair, turning it to the side so you could have full access to him.

“I am so scared of love,” you admitted to him, moving to straddle his lap. 

“I figured,” he said, resting his hands on your hips. There’s a smile on his face that you can’t help but return. “We can take this slow. At your own pace.”

“I promise I’m good at my job though,” you murmured, sliding your hands up his chest and linking your fingers behind his neck. Your lips meet his in a sweet kiss, a sigh escaping him as you finally connect.

“Mm… I beg to differ. Can I fire you now, sweetheart?” he whispered, lips barely ghosting over yours, “I don’t need your help planning a second date.”

masterlist

part two (sequel): locked in

taglist: @duacruel @natsomens @decthaxhrcv @shortandb1tchy @iyskgd @ifuckwithyouanyday @miss-chuchu @bighappypiels @snnoopyy @messrkarmaismygf13 @thebuckybarnesvault @aekzla

let me know if you would like to be added/removed to a general bucky fanfic taglist :)

[taegimood]

— my girl (c.yj) ♡

pairing: choi yeonjun x fem!reader genre: friends to lovers, non-idol au, smut, fluff rating: nsfw, mdni wc: 6.1k warnings: unprotected sex, pwp (6k but most of it is smut tbh lol), softdom!yeonjun, inexperienced!reader, dry humping, oral + fingering (f receiving), squirting, petnames (baby, princess, doll, good girl, pretty girl), daddy kink (yeonjun refers to himself as daddy), spanking, creampie, multiple orgasms, light choking but not (he doesn’t squeeze), one instance of spitting, it’s established that jun is older than reader so OPPA IS USED AS AN HONORIFIC and idc if people hate it lol as a korean speaker i’m tired of westernizing shit

a/n - pls picture temptation era hair yeonjun 😵‍💫 this is inspired by a dream i had.. dreamt every part in his room up until the actual penetration 😮‍💨 cockblocked by my own brain

masterlist

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yeonjun’s sheets are soft as you sit observing his bedroom, taking note of all the little details that his strong personality shines through, the first time you’ve seen the other side of his door — though how you even got to this point in the first place is still something you’re going over and over in your head as you wait for him to come back.

his soft smile is met with your nervous one as he enters the room with two water bottles in hand, shutting the door quietly behind him — your eyes follow his lithe fingers as he turns the lock — and you watch as he places the drinks on his nightstand before turning to you.

the air suddenly feels much warmer when he sits down on the bed beside you, so close that you’re almost touching, and that fond look on his face only serves to heighten your nerves as you remember that he knows what he’s doing, and you don’t.

well… sort of.

everything happened only a few hours before.

your best friend kai had invited you to hang out with him and his roommates, a chaotic group of guys who you’ve grown to call your friends as well; even yeonjun, who you may or may not have developed the hugest crush on ever from the minute that you’d first met him.

it’d been a few months of back-and-forth, sometimes convinced that it must be mutual and other times doubting your judgement completely — has he always been this flirty, or is it your imagination when his eyes linger just a little too long? — and it was on this fateful day at their apartment when it all fell apart.

(or should you say, all came together).

everyone knows to watch out once beomgyu’s got a couple of drinks in him, so it was only a matter of time before your unlucky day came when he’d decide that you would be his glorious first victim of the afternoon; and that was exactly where you found yourself as he took it upon himself to announce to everyone in the room that you and yeonjun needed to admit you wanna fuck each other already, or else he’d “just have to do something about it himself” (whatever that meant).

to say you wanted to crawl into a ditch and die would be the biggest understatement of the century.

your wide eyes were pinned to the floor as the room erupted into multiple reactions; soobin groaning with a smack upside beomgyu’s head as he scolded the younger not to say stuff like that, taehyun’s “damn,” as he knocked back his beer to cover a laugh, kai burying his head into his hands with a shriek — he swore he didn’t mean to spill your secret to beomgyu a few weeks ago, it just slipped out — and of course, the culprit in the center laughing his ass off unphased.

the only one who had yet to say anything was…

you steeled yourself and glanced up, meeting yeonjun’s eyes that were already watching you from across the living room.

your own widened marginally.

he didn’t look disgusted. he didn’t look put off. in fact, he looked…..

your breath caught. there was a small upturn to his lips, a confirmation, the hint of a smile that solidified as he quirked a brow as if in question. as if he was asking you,

“well? what should we do about it then?”

and everything changed from there.

~

it hadn’t taken long for beomgyu’s quick-moving attention span to be directed elsewhere thanks to some faithful effort on hyuka’s part, the others following suit to spare you from the spotlight — and it was only about an hour later when you found yourself alone in the kitchen for a breather, the sounds of your friend’s quarreling and laughter slightly less eardrum-shattering now from where you stood leaning against the sink.

a few minutes passed before the sound of someone else slipping into the room grabbed your attention.

your peace quickly morphed into apprehension.

“hi,” yeonjun whispered, a small smile on his face that read somewhere between gentle and amused.

his hands were in his pockets as he came to lean casually against the counter opposite you, head tilted slightly to the side as his eyes trailed over your expression, and you cursed your mouth for going dry at the sight of him.

his simple black tank top and sweatpants combo had you fighting to keep your eyes on his face — his face, pretty and framed so nicely by silky black hair that was grown out quite a bit longer than usual these days, and you wanted nothing more than to run your fingers through it as your thighs rubbed together subconsciously.

“…hi,” you whispered back.

he breathed out a small laugh.

“i wanted to talk to you, but i didn’t want the others to hear.. figured this was a good opportunity when i saw you get up.”

“r-right..”

why am i so awkward? what the fuck? oh god wait why is he coming closer-

your hands gripped the counter behind you as yeonjun stepped forward. his voice was low, quiet, meant only for you as he stood in front of you with a look on his face that had you melting in more ways than one.

“listen... i know that we’ve never talked about this thing between us. i didn’t wanna scare you off by being too forward, but now that beomgyu ran his mouth about it…”

with a feather-light touch, yeonjun reached up and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear.

“well, i’m not gonna deny what he said, and i’m pretty sure that i’m right when i say.. i think you want me the same way that i want you.”

you felt heat running down your entire body like a zap of electricity.

your fried brain didn’t even have the chance to fully process before you heard beomgyu shout from the living room, “hey, what’s taking so long?!” and the scent of yeonjun’s cologne was like a drug as he leaned in and whispered in your ear,

“if you feel ready to see where this goes.. stay here with me when they go out.”

and just like that he was gone, random assortment of snacks in hand to avoid suspicion as he called back to beomgyu, “i’m coming, just couldn’t decide what to eat!”

and you slumped against the counter with legs like jelly.

~

you received a chorus of groans and boos when you told the guys you were gonna go home instead of joining them elsewhere for dinner and drinks, earning brief suspicion only from taehyun as he eyed you questioningly for a moment — their focus primarily resting on yeonjun’s uncharacteristic opt-out that he’d blamed on a sudden migraine.

you felt ridiculous as you even headed down the elevator with them to the street outside, going out of your way to be believable, rounding the corner towards the subway station until they were well out of sight in the opposite direction before heading back up towards the apartment.

you’d’ve been lying if you said that you didn’t consider leaving yourself; your jittery nerves and quick-beating heart nearly convincing you, until you remembered the look in yeonjun’s eyes and the wetness between your legs returned.

yeonjun, choi yeonjun, one of the most popular and charismatic guys that you know — wants you.

and now here you are on his bed.

when you think about it, in your eyes yeonjun is a lot of things that you’re not; the way he just naturally draws people in, the way he carries himself, always making friends so easily; the fact that he’s genuinely cool, somehow good at everything he does and always looks hot doing it; he’s older than you — not by much, but still — and the number one thing on your mind right now:

he’s experienced.

now you’re no virgin, but your measly 1 past boyfriend is nothing in comparison to the fact that yeonjun’s ability to please a woman is a very well-checked box on his long list of skills (if beomgyu is correct about anything he’s blabbed about, at least. which today so far he seems to be).

and now, as he sits here so close to you with that same look on his face as before, that gentle smile and amused little twinkle in his eyes — well, you know right then that you’re a goner.

“hi,” he whispers, just like he did in the kitchen earlier, and you whisper it back with a shy smile.

this is the first time you’ve ever truly been alone with him.

he looks at you for a few moments, and you wonder if this is what amoebas feel like under a microscope until he places his hand on the bed beside you and rests his weight on it, by default leaning in even closer than before.

“i like you.” he says simply.

in panic mode, you resort to sarcasm - “y-yeah-“ you clear your throat - “um, yeah, i think we established that.”

his laugh sends tingles through you as a real smile not stricken with awkwardness finally blooms on your face, the ice slowly melting for you as you start to remember that right, okay, he’s a friend and not some unreachable deity (for the most part, at least).

“i.. like you too,” you respond sheepishly, and you bite your lip at the underlying shift in his tone as he keeps his eyes locked on yours and says,

“i know.”

the mood has suddenly deepened into something else.

his hand comes up to your cheek, thumb ghosting over your bottom lip as he murmurs, “is this okay?” and you don’t know when his face got so close to yours but your eyes are already threatening to flutter shut as you hum in response, lidded gaze glued to his full, pretty lips that you want so desperately all over your body.

“words, baby.” his voice is a whisper, breath warm against your lips, his own so close now that you can almost feel them —

“y-yes.”

and just like that, choi yeonjun is kissing you.

whatever you thought a real kiss was supposed to feel like, whatever kisses you had felt with your ex —

none of it compared to this.

you feel his smile when you quietly moan, his lips even softer than you had imagined, moving against yours slowly, deliberately, expertly, the hand that had been on your cheek sliding gently to the back of your neck as he deepens the kiss.

his tongue is warm and soft as it traces along your bottom lip, and you don’t care how eager you probably seem as you let it in immediately, trying not to moan again as he slips it past your lips to caress yours; you melt as he sucks lightly on your tongue before giving a teasing, gentle bite to your bottom lip as he pulls away.

you can’t even imagine how dazed you must look — but his knowing smile tells you enough.

you can’t explain it, but in that moment you gain a hunger-fueled confidence. you want to give yeonjun everything.

fuck, you want him bad.

you’re pulling him back to you faster than you can chicken out otherwise, and the pleased noise he makes as you connect your lips again only spurs you on further to do what you’ve been so badly wanting to:

you touch him, hands sliding from his shoulders up to his soft hair, pulling at it gently as his lips travel down your jaw to suckle at the skin of your neck; you moan, freely this time, eyes sliding shut and head tilting back to give him all the access he wants as you wrap an arm around his shoulders and keep him close.

his hand slides around your waist to your lower back as he slowly guides you down to lay against his sheets, your legs instinctively widening for him as he slots his hips between them, and you groan at the bulge now resting comfortably against your clothed core.

it doesn’t take long before he gently rocks his hips forwards.

you whimper, clutching to his tank top as he continues to kiss and suckle along your neck; your legs tighten around his hips and his lips tilt into a smirk against your skin as your body responds to his like it’s what it was made for, and so he does it again, this time continuing into a steady rocking pace.

the hardness of his cock drags deliciously against your center as he rolls his hips into it again and again, slow enough so that you feel everything, but firm enough that it makes your head spin and your thighs twitch with need.

“oppa,” you whisper, pleadingly, and you don’t even know what you’re asking for but you know that you just need more.

“hm?” he hums back, lips still sucking pretty bruises into your neck,

and it’s like he can read your mind as he asks with another smirk against your skin - “want more, baby?”

you nod quickly with a weak, “mhm,” and your heart jumps as his lips move up to your ear.

“tell oppa what you want.”

the husk of his voice sends shivers straight downwards.

he pulls away just enough for you to meet his eyes and you feel like a rabbit hunted down by a fox, but in your case, you never want to escape from his grasp.

“i.. i-i want…”

you can feel the heat blooming in your cheeks, remembering once again how much you haven’t experienced, and you want to tell him exactly where you want him to put his mouth — but instead your eyes avert from his as you mumble in admission,

“i-i’ve never been… well i’ve never been eaten out before. s-so.. um..”

in your peripheral you can see yeonjun’s brows lift to his hairline in disbelief. “what?”

a finger beneath your chin gently draws your gaze back to his and the genuine bewilderment in his eyes is enough to deepen your blush as he asks, “how could that bastard have possibly survived never tasting you?”

your body buzzes with electricity as your eyes widen; there’s a hunger and determination dancing in yeonjun’s stare that you’ve never been looked at with before.

his intensity makes you shiver in anticipation and it’s like you can taste the honey dripping from his words when he says,

“let me make you feel good, baby. let me give you everything that he should’ve.”

your head spins.

you’ve never felt so desired.

the second that you say okay, yeonjun places one last dizzying kiss to your lips before he’s moving down your body, guiding you out of your shirt as he slowly maps out your skin with his lips — you breathe out a sigh at the way his large hands caress you, intentionality in every touch.

eventually he sits up on his knees, pulling back from a kiss to your navel to reach for the hem of your panties. you shiver when his fingers ghost over your hips.

“lift for me,” he instructs softly, and you do, biting your lip as he begins to slowly pull them down, eyes glued to your cunt, and you watch the way his breath hitches in his throat at the strings of wetness that cling to the fabric.

“fuck,” he whispers, practically groans,

“can’t believe no one’s ever tasted such a pretty pussy before… gonna eat you so good, baby..”

you’re going out of your mind with need, his words alone sending another gush of arousal to your heat, your hungry eyes traveling down to trace the imprint of his rock-hard cock in his sweatpants.

teasingly you ghost your foot over it as he slides your panties from your ankles, and his eyes flicker up to yours as you stare back innocently; his gaze narrows and lips quirk up into a lopsided smirk as his warm hands slide up your legs.

“getting brave, now, are we?” he taunts, stopping at your thighs as he wraps his hands around them and spreads your legs open.

slowly he lowers himself between them, all the while keeping his eyes on yours, and your hips jump at the whisper of his breath against your aching cunt when he says,

“better be careful, doll… any game you try to play, i can play it better.”

and when his fingers spread you open and his lips kiss your clit, you already know that he’s ruined you for any other man.

how could you even dream of anyone else when the tip of yeonjun’s velvety tongue slips out to trace teasingly up and down your slit, or when the pad of his finger circles so lightly around your leaking hole that you might even be imagining it?

no, there’s no way you could be imagining this, not as the warmth of his mouth caresses you as he closes his lips around your clit and gently begins to suck, your head tipping back with a shudder as you whine at the feeling.

“eyes on me, princess,” he murmurs against your cunt, and when you manage to bring your gaze back to his, the sight before you is sinful.

his foxlike eyes dark and dangerous and twinkling as he watches you through his lashes, pretty lips forming a smirk that you can only feel and not see as he whispers “good girl,” - before the next thing you know, his tongue is flattening against you as he licks a firm stripe up your pussy, big hands keeping your jerking hips in place as he begins to ravish you, sucking, licking, kissing, groaning shamelessly at the taste of you and sending vibrations straight through your quivering core as you unravel beneath his touch.

“so fucking good,” he moans, sliding a finger inside of you with ease as he begins to pump it steadily in and out, practically making out with your pussy as you whimper, hands instinctively flying to his hair — you almost pull them away when suddenly he adds another digit, the stretch causing your fingers to tighten in his dark strands as your hips instinctively grind forwards against his mouth.

you’re about to apologize when yeonjun moans even deeper than before.

“that’s it, baby,” he grunts, “use my face. want it so bad, don’t you? go ahead and chase it, cum all over daddy’s tongue.”

something unholy snaps inside of you at that.

“f-fuck-” you cry, doing exactly as he said; you can’t help it as you grind your clit down on his warm tongue over and over and over, hands tightening in his hair as his fingers work impossibly faster, and a new sensation takes over you as the dam breaks and you reach your peak;

you don’t realize what’s happening at first as you’re carried through the most mind-blowing orgasm, until you feel the unusual amount of wetness soaking his sheets and hear yeonjun groaning “fuck, fuck, that’s it, baby, that’s it -“ and he’s three fingers deep as you realize you’re squirting.

it’s as though he can read your body like a book the way he can tell when it’s suddenly too much, his pace slowing gradually until he gently slides his fingers from your sopping hole, placing a final feather-light kiss to your clit before his lips and hands move to soothe your quivering thighs.

“you did so good, baby, holy shit..” the bottom half of his face is soaked in your juices as he mouths along your skin, hands massaging and caressing whatever his lips aren’t kissing;

you’re still bewildered, and can feel the raging blush on your cheeks as you’re quick to blurt in embarrassment, “i-i’m so sorry, i didn’t mean to-“

“y/n.” yeonjun looks up. “seriously, that was so fucking hot, you have no idea.”

you can see in his eyes that he’s telling the truth.

“r-really?”

he laughs, finally sitting up; “baby, i- fuck, like, you actually have no fucking idea how sexy you are.” he pushes his hair out of his face and it’s only then that you realize how heavy he’s breathing, the bulge straining against his pants somehow a million times more prominent than it was earlier.

“y/n, i’m so turned on right now that i can hardly think straight. please-“

you meet his eyes again quickly,

“please, i need to be inside you.”

apparently today is the day that you learn just how crazy choi yeonjun makes you, because despite your still-twitching thighs and your pussy so sensitive that you’re sure a slight breeze would send it into overdrive, your body is quick to betray you at his toe-curling words when your walls clench from the emptiness and a fresh wave of arousal gushes from your soaked heat.

“if you don’t fuck me right now i’m gonna go clinically insane.”

his brows lift only for a moment before he’s laughing, swooping down to catch your lips in a kiss. “well we can’t have that, now, can we?”

he gets off the bed, your eyes hungrily tracking his every move as he peels the tank top from his torso and casts it to the ground; “fuck,” you whisper as your gaze trails down the defined ridges of his abs; “fuck,” you groan when he hooks his thumbs around the waistband of his sweatpants and pulls them down with his boxers in one go.

his cock is long and slender and flushed pink, the prettiest thing you’ve ever seen as you imagine the weight of it in your mouth.

if it were anyone else, you’d wanna slap the shit-eating grin right off of his face, but this is yeonjun, and the fact that he knows he’s all that only makes him 10x hotter.

you can’t tear your eyes away from his length as you sit up on your elbows to watch, and he enjoys it, pumping himself in his hand and smearing the pre-cum around his tip with a satisfied hum.

but as he reaches for the condoms in his desk drawer, you surprise both him and yourself when you stop him.

“no.”

he pauses, looking over his shoulder at you with quirked brows —

“want you to fuck me raw.”

his mouth goes dry. you can see the fire dancing in his eyes as he slowly straightens, keeping himself under control as he asks carefully,

“are you sure?”

you bite your lip and quickly nod. “wanna feel you,” you breathe, and that does it for yeonjun as he’s back on top of you in an instant, his lips pressing to yours in a searing kiss as you moan around his swirling tongue.

his hand is on your throat, not squeezing, just resting there as if to say you’re mine, and you whine deep in your chest when you feel the tip of his cock sliding through your slippery folds.

“gonna fuck this pretty pussy so full of my cum that it’ll be dripping out of it for days,” he rasps as he taps the head of his cock repeatedly over your clit, the lewd noise met with your whimpers as you grasp at his bicep.

“please,” you whine, “want it, please-!”

his hand slides from your neck down to squeeze your tit as he sits up and hooks one of your legs over his shoulder with his free hand.

“so good for me,” he murmurs, eyes half-lidded and lusting as he looks down at you, dragging his shaft back and forth along your slick pussy; “such a good girl, begging for daddy.”

and when he finally pushes the head of his cock past your entrance, stretching you open as he sinks inside, stars explode behind your eyes and you nearly cum again right there on the spot.

“fuuck..” he groans in a drawn-out moan, eyes sliding shut and head tipping back as your walls suck him in, mouth falling open before he catches his plush bottom lip between his teeth and looks back down at you through hazy eyes, giving another rough squeeze to your tit in his grasp.

he slides his hand down to press against your lower belly as he bottoms out, your hips twitching as you gasp, and with his other hand he grips your leg that’s slung over his shoulder as he begins to grind his hips against yours.

you can’t breathe, can’t speak, overwhelmed by how fucking good it all feels, the head of his cock massaging places inside of you that you didn’t even know existed as he rolls his hips over and over, whispering fucked-out nothings;

how tight you are, how good you feel, how he’s gonna make you forget your own name by tomorrow.

and when he starts really moving, hips separating from yours only to connect again with a lewd slap of skin on skin each time he delivers a slow, firm thrust to your cunt, holding you in place so you don’t jolt up the bed — well, you never knew that something so delicious existed, and now that you’ve had a taste, you’re already rendered insatiable.

you paw at any part of him that you can reach, hands finding purchase on his thighs as his pace picks up into a steady rhythm, your lips moaning and pleading and begging around words that you can hardly get out of your mouth.

“look at you,” yeonjun coos breathlessly, “so drunk on my cock already.. perfect pussy made just for me, hm? taking daddy so well? good baby.”

he looks as blissed out as you feel, face wracked in pleasure as he picks up the pace, his hand so large where it still presses over your lower belly that his thumb is able to reach your clit, and the added stimulation along with the pressure of his palm sends your head lolling as you twitch and tremble underneath him.

“j-jjunie..!” you whimper, and you can’t help the nickname from slipping between your lips; you’ve never called him so intimately before, never said his name so freely, but your accidental drop of honorifics seems to stir something inside of him as he groans and fucks you harder;

“say that again,” he grunts as you gasp out from the sudden increase in pace.

“jjunie,” you keen immediately, gripping the sheets, gripping his arms, gripping anything as a muttered curse leaves his lips and his thumb circles faster around your aching clit.

“love it when you say my name, fuck,” he groans, hips slamming into yours and jolting you like a ragdoll as you cry out for him, the knot in your stomach tightening so fast that you swear it’s about to snap, and when he leans forward with your leg still gripped over his shoulder and his cock pounding into you at a far deeper angle than before, fireworks fill your vision as you cum around him harder than you’ve ever came in your life.

“yes, yes, yes, fuck, that’s it, cream on my cock, baby, fuck you’re so- s-so tight, fuck- just like that, let go for me, baby, good girl-“

yeonjun’s voice sounds far away as you spasm around him, his thrusts growing sloppier as your cunt clenches him so tight that it nearly forces him out; he lowers your leg back down to the bed and slows down a little to let you catch your breath but he doesn’t stop, and your watery whimpers are like music to his ears as you clutch onto him desperately.

“t-too much, too much-!” you hiccup, tears spilling from your eyes at all the overwhelming sensations, but you don’t actually want him to stop and he knows it too — he coos at you, hand sliding up to rest on your throat again as he leans down and licks a stripe up your neck to your ear.

“you can give me one more, baby, can’t you?”

a shiver rolls down your spine at the devilish smile in his voice, sweet like honey as he catches your earlobe between his teeth.

“one more so daddy can stuff you nice and full.”

your pussy clenches. “w-want your cum,” you whimper dumbly in response, too fucked out to think of anything else, and yeonjun smiles as he leans back and runs his hands down your body until they reach your hips and squeeze.

“i know,” his thrusts are still steady as he watches you with twinkling eyes; “and i’m gonna give it to you.”

your eyes widen in protest as he suddenly slides out of you without a warning, but the words die in your throat and are replaced with a squeak of surprise when he flips you over onto your stomach instead.

“ass up for me, pretty girl.”

you obey immediately with what strength you have left in your shaky limbs, a quiet whine escaping your throat over not being able to see or touch him anymore.

his little laugh from behind you indicates that he caught it.

“don’t worry, baby,” he soothes as his hands massage over your ass, “we have all the time in the world.”

your heart doesn’t even have time to skip a beat at the promise of his words when suddenly his tongue is on your pussy, your knees nearly buckling at the heat of his mouth as he licks from your clit up to your fluttering hole, and you gasp as he spits on it before his cock enters you fully in one single thrust.

you cry out, knees buckling for real this time as he holds you up, sheets crumpled in your fists as his hips immediately pick up into a quick, dizzying pace.

“love the way you fall apart around me,” he murmurs from behind you, squeezing your ass, “love how you take me so well…”

you want to touch him so badly, want to see the pleasure pooling in his eyes; you don’t have time to respond before he lands a smack on your ass, your surprised squeak spurring him on as he does it again, drilling into your cute little hole like it was made just for him as he breathes out a moan.

from this angle he can see the way your pussy swallows him so hungrily, and his grip on your hips tightens as he drags you back and forth on his cock.

“love.. l-love your.. love this so much… w-wanna be yours…”

he almost misses your dazed mumbling over the loud sound of his hips slapping lewdly against your ass, but he makes out what you said, heart swelling in his chest and cock simultaneously twitching inside of you as he leans forward, his palm sliding up along your spine to brush the hair from your fucked-out face as he pushes your body down against the sheets, chest pressed to your back now and breath caressing your ear as he continues rocking his hips even deeper.

“you’re mine, baby, you’re mine..” he whispers between kisses along your jaw, a reassurance, your soft whimper of a response causing him to bite back a smile as he continues,

“i’ve wanted you for so long.. can’t believe i finally get to have you.” his hand slips beneath you to toy with your throbbing clit, and your ass grinds back against him as a result as you moan wantonly into his sheets.

“i’ve been yours since the.. fuck.. since the second i s-saw you..fuck, p-please don’t stop..!”

your hips are moving with his now as he works your clit faster, mustering your strength and pushing your weight back as you desperately try to fuck yourself on his cock, on his fingers, chasing the rising wave in your belly that’s threatening to break as he meets your quickening movements with his own.

“touch yourself for me, baby,” he murmurs in your ear before removing his hand and propping himself up on his forearms, allowing for a more concentrated angle as he ruts into you, your choked moan muffled by the sheets as you immediately slide one hand down to rub rapidly at your clit, your other one weakly moving to tangle your fingers with his the best that you can;

“gonna cum, gonna cum,” you whimper, drool pooling at your lips, the scent of yeonjun’s cologne and the weight of his body on yours like pure intoxication as he fucks you harder, breaths heavy and staggering in your ear as he grunts,

“cum for me, baby, need to feel it, cum all over my fucking cock-“

and when your third orgasm washes over you, you’re too weak to do anything but let it, body going limp as it wracks over you in pure bliss, the warm feeling of your clenching walls finally sending yeonjun over the edge this time as he shoots his cum into you with a loud and drawn-out moan, voice breaking as he spews filthy words and incoherent curses; he presses his hips impossibly deep against yours before stuttering into sloppy thrusts to fuck himself through the rest of his orgasm as your fluttering pussy milks his cock of every last drop.

the room grows silent save for your heavy breaths, both of your chests heaving as his forehead slumps down to rest against your back; you didn’t realize how tightly you were holding onto his hand until you carefully untangle your fingers from his.

he hisses from the sensitivity as he slides his twitching length out of you.

you look at yeonjun as he rolls off of your back and flops exhaustedly onto his side next to you, and when he meets your eyes, there’s only a passing moment of silence before you both giggle.

his smile is fond and blooming with affection as he rubs a hand up and down your back, moving to smoothe the hair from your face and gently brushing his knuckles across your cheek before resting his hand on top of yours.

“hi,” he whispers.

you giggle again.

“hi,” you whisper back.

“so.. would this be a good time to ask you to be my girlfriend?”

your heart skips a beat and you bite back a smile. “i was worried you’d just want to stick to the sex..” you admit.

yeonjun shakes his head, lips forming into an endearing pout as he laces his fingers with yours.

“nah, you’re stuck with me now, princess,” he grins. “i meant what i said… i’ve been wanting you for so long.”

an indescribable feeling flutters in your chest as you giddily turn your head to bury your face in the sheets, yeonjun laughing as he shuffles closer, rolling you over onto your back despite your giggle-ridden, poorly-executed attempts to fight him off.

you grin up at him and he grins down at you, hovering over you now with a hand on your cheek as his endeared eyes trail over each of your features as if to memorize them.

“my girl,” he whispers, tucking your hair behind your ear.

you tilt your head up to meet his lips when he leans in and kisses you softly, your hands playing with the long hair at the nape of his neck.

“i meant what i said too,” you murmur against him.

“mine since the second you saw me, huh?” yeonjun’s cocky grin is light and teasing as you scrunch your nose at him, flicking his forehead and sending him into another pout.

“yeah, yeah. whatever, pretty boy.”

instead of responding he buries his face in your neck in a flurry of kisses as you squeal in surprise, laughing as you wiggle around underneath him;“stop, that tickles!”

“gotta make up for all the lost time when i didn’t make a move,” he reasons as his kisses move to your cheeks, your nose, your lips — you’ve never seen this side of yeonjun before, so soft and gentle and sweet; the fact that it seems reserved only for you sends butterflies fluttering through your tummy.

you spend your evening like that, wrapped in each other’s arms as you talk about your relationship, talk about the feelings that led you here, talk about this and that and everything in-between;

“does this count as our first date?” you ask quizzically. he wrinkles his nose.

“no way, i’m gonna do the most romantic shit ever for that.”

you snort. “isn’t that what this is?”

but you don’t have the chance to tease him any further when the beeping sound of his apartment passcode being entered causes you both to freeze.

you were so caught up that neither of you considered the time; nor the fact that yeonjun does indeed have 4 other roommates who would in fact be coming home at some point or another.

that some point apparently being now as the rowdy chatter of your friends erupts into the foyer until you suddenly hear soobin’s tipsy mumble. “what the… what are y/n’s shoes doing here?”

you and yeonjun turn to look at each other as your friends’ voices fall silent.

the seconds pass and you almost wonder if you’re in the clear…

but of course, no peace lasts forever with beomgyu in the house.

“OH MY GOD,” he screams.

“THEY FUCKED!”

[rin-may-1103]

Aspiring Escape Artist (part two)

Last | Master Post | Next...

"Why don't we all head inside, yes?" Mr. Wayne suggested, waving his arm in the doors general direction.

"Yes, that sounds great," Ms. Clance agreed, turning to Danny like she was debating whether or not she should drag him inside. Danny was very against that idea and glared at her. She huffed but turned and started making her way up the stairs.

The other, he can't really say kids because he's pretty sure half the people standing in front of him were over the age of eighteen, but they still lived with Mr. Wayne, apparently, so kids it was. The other kids continued to try to stealthily watch him as they made their way into the building. (He refused to call this place a house; it was bigger than Sam's manor for Ancients' sake.)

The gray-eyed girl waited for him, the not-so-happy but happy sparkle back as she watched him approach. Pausing for a moment, Danny turned and gently patted the bush closest to him, it had been practically begging for attention for the past ten minutes and Sam would have throttled him if he had just ignored it.

She treated them like demented puppies, and it's against every unspoken law (in danny's books, atleast) to ignore a puppy.

The gray-eyed girl (man, he was going to have to learn their names, Ancients, why were there so many people here?) tilted her head curiously, eyeing the plant he just patted.

"My friend has plant powers," Danny huffed, which was true. Sam still had lingering plant control and a connection to the green because of Undergrowth. Danny was just leaving out the fact that he also had plant powers. He wasn't sure why he always got new powers after beating new powerful ghosts, but it happens, and now he needs to pet the plants because they get sad if he doesn't.

(Jazz theorized once that the new powers were due to his half-a nature, but then they looked at Vlad and decided it was probably something else.) (Also, why in the world did he get ice powers and then almost immediately plant powers? like, seriously, why?)

"Close friend?" Gray asked, turning to follow Danny inside.

"One of my best friends," Danny agreed. Man, he missed them. He'd have to figure out how to get out of here soon; there was no way he was going to just not see his friends on Tucker's birthday. Which meant he had about a week to bust out of here and get back to Amity. Oh, and stay under the radar so Vlad doesn't find him.

Glancing around the entry hall, or was the term foyer? like, the place was fancier then most five star hotels he's seen (which he wants to make clear, was against his dying wishes. fuck vlad and his not hard earned money.) like, sure, it wasn't all white modern minimalist like the hotels, but he's pretty sure the vase just sitting a little too close to the edge of a table was worth more then a human heart on the black market.

"Welcome to Wayne Manor," Mr. Pennyworth started, closing the doors with a heavy thud. He didn't lock it, though, Danny noted. Probably because Ms. Clance still needed to leave.

"may I have your coats?" he asked, holding out his arm to Ms. Clance and looking over to Danny. Ms. Clance immediately started to shrug off her jacket and dropped it onto his arm without a second glance, trying to talk to Mr. Wayne about an office or something.

Danny shook his head, "No thanks. I prefer to keep my things with me." especially in a new place, who knows what they'd do to his stuff. last time he handed anything over it had been locked up and never returned. (or well, not returned until he stole it back right before leaving, but that's getting into semantics.)

"So, Daniel was it?" the older guy from the first three asked, smiling brightly and trying to act casual. He was failing.

"It's Danny," Danny huffed, glancing around to study the others.

Gray was nice, he had a feeling they'd get a long fine. she was like an open book, all her opinions and emotions right there for him to see. Though that just meant she was awear of them and could easily hide them.

The others not so much.

Eyebags looked tired but alert, watching Danny like he was a new puzzle. Which was fine, Danny could deal with that. He probably wasn't as bad as Jazz or his parents were when obsessed with new things, so he goes lower on the list but not off.

Mr. Casual over here was watching him AND the others, which meant he was probably the peacekeeper. That or he was the one who antagonized the others into acting without them noticing. Same as eyebags, then.

Blondie looked like she was planning how to prank him right then and there, but also like she was evaluating him for something. Like he thought earlier, she'll probably stick around until she gets bored. So, hmmm. Keep an eye on more than eyebags, but probably not a problem.

there was a kid maybe two-three years younger than him trying to hide on the stairs out of view, he looked pissed off and annoyed. Something was telling Danny he should stay away from him. So, definitely going to the top of his list right next to butler man.

And finally, Mr. Wayne. He was smiling and chatting with Ms. Clance like he didn't have a care in the world. And it would have been believable if it wasn't for the fact that the man was easily steering the conversation away from the stuff Ms. Clance wanted to talk about, without Danny around, before leaving. Which means Mr. Wayne wanted Danny to be part of the conversation, probably to get both sides of the story.

He was smart and knew how to manipulate situations without people catching on.

Also, top of the list, then.

"Only people who want to kill me call me Daniel," Danny added, watching as Ms. Clance tried to bring up his file and fell for another diversion.

"Really?" Eyebags asked, actually surprised for some reason.

Oh, wait, murder isn't normal. Ha, to live a normal life. It must be boring. Couldn't be him, even if he wanted it. There was nothing normal about growing up with mad scientists, and nothing normal about being half dead and a vigilante.

"Yeah, my friends and I made a chart and everything. Granted, we didn't have many people to add to the list to compare with, but it's checked out so far." Danny admitted, turning to face Eyebags.

Honestly, it was just Vlad, his parents, a few GIW agents, and those very few times his friends almost killed him. But come on, they all called him Daniel at some point. Therefore, it totally checks out.

"Huh," Mr. Casual blinked, glancing at his siblings before shaking his head. "Right, so uh, why do people want to kill you?"

"Because they're Fruit Loops," Danny grumbled, finally deciding to approach Ms. Clance. Might as well get this done and over with. The longer she stayed, the less time Danny would have to scout the place by himself later, after all the introductions.

Next (to be written)

[szatears]

Could you do a sinners story. That’s a Stack x Mary x Black!reader set now. Where they slowly fall in love with reader who’s baddie and include some jealousy.

three's trouble, stack & mary.

summary: stack had always had a thing for you. you never thought much of it because he was a huge flirt like that and also because of the other girl he was always entertaining. but maybe, just maybe, you could have a bit of fun with that?

pairings: stack x blackfem!reader, stack x mary, mary x blackfem!reader.

warnings: slight smut (one day i'll go the whole way), some descriptions of reader, mary being jealous of reader.

notes: this one is kinda long! i'm a smoke girly through and through but this request may have bumped stack up my ratings a little 😛 also by 'set now' i'm assuming you mean in today's era but if that's not what you meant then i wholeheartedly apologise 😭

It started off as a joke. When Smoke and Stack opened up their juke joint, you had originally gone there with a couple of your girls, until it became a routine place for you guys to meet up and debrief, letting loose as the night's events would take you away.

It wasn't until the fourth time you went there that you met Mary. You were on the dance floor with your girls when she almost bumped into you, turning around with an apologetic face. She hovered over her words as she spoke to you, taking in your face and that gorgeous two piece you had on you.

Something clicked in her head in that moment, it was all fuzzy, not quite connected, but she just knew she'd be seeing more of you.

And that she did.

It became a weekly thing, going to the joint. The first time you met Stack was no accident; it seems he had actually sought you out from the crowd. He wanted to know what it was about this girl that Mary kept going on about.

Mary wasn't infatuated to say, she was more... interested. There was something about you that drew her in, the way you laughed at her jokes, how effortlessly your body moved to the rhythm of the music as you both danced, the intense eye contact... It really drew her in.

Stack wasn't really what you expected. Perhaps you just thought he'd be like his brother, Smoke. Cold, tough, not interested in anything that doesn't benefit him in a way, or at least that's what you gathered from all that you heard.

But he wasn't like Smoke, at least not entirely. Stack was clearly the more chilled of the two, the one open to having a bit of fun.

The joke itself was based on how much of a liking Mary and Stack took to you. You'd be told that they didn't always tolerate people outside of their immediate circle, that there was just something special about you.

When Stack began to call you his girl, or when Mary started to affectionately show you off to anyone who would listen, you started to think there was more to your relationship with them than you suspected.

That being said, you weren't surprised when Stack greeted you with an arm thrown over your shoulders, pulling you into him every time he saw you since the say you met.

"There's my favourite girl," he'd drawl out with a huge smile, an icy pink drink in his hand waiting for you.

"Hey, Stack," you'd kiss his cheek, taking the drink from him and allowing him to take your hand in his, leading you to the section of the joint him and Smoke fixed up nice and neat for them and their special guests.

You felt the eyes on you as you walked behind him, albeit he was moving at a fast pace through bodies that parted so he could pass. He was respected like that.

"Where's Mary?" You asked when he sat you down right next to him, one of your legs resting over his lap as his arm lay low around your waist, holding you to him.

You had to lean up close to his ear to ask over the loud blues that was being played on the stage, presumably Sammie. Your new 613 styled hair tickled his face a little when he leaned closer to you to answer.

"She's around, I ain't too sure where," he waved you off, almost like it irritated him to answer. You came to the conclusion that Stack and Mary had a complicated relationship, it was pretty obvious to anyone who watched them for more than a moment.

At times you got caught up in the middle of their arguments or tiffs, where Mary would complain to you about Stack being Stack, and Stack would tell you to tell her to "ease off a lil'". It was always something with those two.

You stayed in his company like that for most of the night, mainly because Stack wouldn't exactly let you get up. You were a catch, he knew that and you did too.

He saw the eyes you'd get from every guy here and then, but none of them would make a move whilst you were with him. They'd wait until after, but even then, the fear of messing with Stack's girl would keep them away.

"Damn, Stack, save some girls for the rest of us," Melo laughed as he dapped him up. Melo was one of the guys that Smoke and Stack tolerated, for more reasons than just the fact that he was a funny guy. You thought it had something to do with the 'business' that they handled, and you were probably right.

Stack smirked, his hand subtly rubbing your ass over the skirt you wore. "Man, gone on," he gestured to Melo.

"Nah, real shit though, where Mary at?"

"I'on know, does it look like I got her on a leash? She's wherever she's at." He snapped. You frowned at that, coming to the conclusion that they had definitely gotten into it before you arrived.

Melo held his hands up in surrender, walking away to the bar. It was like he could feel you judging him, because when Stack looked down at you after reaching into his pocked for a prerolled blunt, he shook his head. "Don't you start on me too, ma" he mumbled, fumbling in his pockets for a lighter.

"Hm," was all you said. "I'm gonna go look for her."

He didn't stop you, try to make you stay. He let you go after her.

Mary was on the other side of the joint, laughing it up with some girls you'd never seen before. She spotted you just as you spotted her, her face brightening up at the sight of yours.

"Hey, there is she is right now! Look girls, this is the fine lil' lady I was talking to y'all about earlier," she held your hand as she brought you to the group. You smiled at them all, trying to fight away any awkwardness.

"You look good," Mary brought her arms to rest around your neck, intertwining them together. Yours rested loosely around her waist, the two of you almost flush together.

"Thanks, doll," you made a kissy face at her, not expecting her to actually kiss your lips. It was a short kiss, and she pulled away with a huge smile. Poor girl was gone. "What's up with you and Stack though? Y'all fighting again?"

Mary rolled her eyes, removing a hand from around your neck to pull her dress down a little. You recognised the dress, it was one you helped her pick out on the many shopping trips the two of you took together with Stack's money. It was a deep red, came up to her mid thighs and exposed her back at the behind.

"That man ain't shit," she groaned. "Talking 'bout I get on his nerves and don't know how to leave him alone. Maybe don't send mixed signals then?!"

You nodded as she ranted, her friends now dispersing across the joint to leave you two alone. This was nothing you haven't heard before, Mary and Stack always got into it about something along the same lines as their last argument.

"Maybe I should just have you be my new thing instead of him," Mary frowned, leaning her body on yours. You smiled at her words.

"I wouldn't mind that."

*

A couple days later, you assumed they'd be on good terms again but it seemed not. You were hanging around in your apartment when you heard the door open, confusing taking over your face because no one else had a key. Before you even had a chance to grab something incase you needed to defend yourself, you heard a voice call out for you.

"Where you at, baby?" Stack asked, taking his shoes off by the door.

"Elias, I told you to stop picking my damn doors," you kissed your teeth, exhaling a much needed sigh of relief after that small scare.

"Then start answering your phone," he said like it was the most obvious response. He kissed your lips briefly, mumbling a "hey" before he made his way to your kitchen, coming back to you with a bottle of water.

"What brings you here?" you asked, settling down on the sofa.

He didn't reply straight away, instead he took the time to admire you as he drank. You weren't wearing anything too special, a small, white spaghetti strapped tank top with light grey joggers that belonged to a lounge set. You looked good. You always did. Hell, you could be wearing the most basic thing ever and Stack would find you drop dead gorgeous.

A small smirk made its way to his face as his thoughts trailed off to other things, making you tilt your head at him.

"Hello?" you nudged him.

"Sorry, darling," he finally snapped out of his trance. "You got me a lil' distracted there."

You smiled, like you always did when he flirted with you. He put the cap back on his bottle, placing it down on the coffee table in front of him before his arms reached out for you, pulling you into him.

You let him guide you over his laps, straddling him with your palms resting flat against his chest. Stack's hands rubbed over your ass as he leaned further into the sofa, his eyes staring right into yours.

"You didn't answer my question," you looked back at him.

"I can't pay you a visit no more? Damn," he sighed, squeezing at your hip.

"I didn't say all that," you rolled your eyes. "You and Mary keep getting into it and then dragging me in your mess."

The day before, Mary had come over to yours. Originally she planned to convince you to come out with her, but you had had enough of partying for a couple of days. So she stayed in with you.

What started off as you two watching movies and making dinner turned into her hands caressing gently over your body, your lips on hers and a whole lotta noise.

"That ain't nothing new," He said.

"Yeah? Maybe that's a sign, I don't know..."

"A sign for what?"

"A sign that—" you were interrupted by the sound of the doorbell ringing, a puzzled expression on your face as you removed yourself from Stack's lap to answer it. There was nothing that annoyed you more than unexpected guests, but two? This was a new record now.

You opened the door, eyes widening at the sight of Mary.

"Hey, girl," she smiled at you. She looked down behind you for a brief moment, her eyes landing on Stack's shoes. She look back at you, eyes narrowed before she moved past you and inside.

"Yeah, come right in. No, I'm not too busy at the moment," you mumbled to yourself. It wasn't long before you were hearing raised voices and all sorts of cuss words being thrown.

"Really?! So you can be here, around her, but you can't be bothered to come see me?"

"Mary, calm the fuck down and watch who you talking to," Stack ran a hand down his face, his mood completely soured as he reached for a blunt in his pocket.

"No! Because you're such a fucking liar! I swear to God," she laughed bitterly, turning to face you now. "And when were you gonna tell me about this. Huh? After I slept with you again?"

Stack's brows piqued up at that, turning to you too.

"Mary, you knew Stack's been coming up here, I literally told you that—"

"What, y'all got something goin' on too?" She scoffed. It was insane to her how she was the one who introduced you two yet felt completely left out of the loop.

"I mean, shit, if you want," Stack smirked, clearly unfazed by the situation in front of him.

"Shut the hell up," you and Mary both said.

Sighing, you walked towards her. You could see the pout on her face, the crease in her brow that only appeared when she frowned. "You like him more than me or somethin'?" She asked you.

"No. I like you both. I also think you're both irritating as fuck," you spoke honestly, tucking a standing of your hair behind your ear that had fallen out of the ponytail you put it in before they both came.

Stack blew smoke out of his mouth from where he sat, watching you both. You wrapped your arms around Mary's waist, inching your face closer to hers. Her eyes flickered from your lips to your eyes, waiting for you to make the first move.

You broke your gaze away from her face to look at Stack, his eyes focused on you and what you would do next. A smile graced your lips, your attention back on Mary. You leaned in, feeling the softness of her lips welcome yours.

"Damn," Stack mumbled.

Mary kissed you back, a small moan escaping her lips as she did. When you parted your lips, her tongue didn't waste any time, exploring your mouth as you moaned shamelessly.

You broke away from the kiss, leaning your head on Mary's shoulder as you looked at Stack. "There are more ways to solve this lil' issue, you know."

Stack smiled, putting his blunt in the ashtray. You pulled away from Mary, pushing her gently towards Stack, who took her into his arms. He kissed her, slow and gentle.

"You know I love you," he mumbled against her lips.

"Yeah. I love you too," Mary sighed, glad she was finally being shown some attention by him.

They turned to look at you, Mary patting the spot on the other side of Stack. "And we love you too. Guess we'll just have to learn to share," she smirked.

You sat down, and it wasn't long before Stack's lips were on yours, his hand around your throat, pulling you closer. Mary watched on, her lip tucked in between her teeth. Why didn't she ever think of this before.

She kissed down Stack's neck, nipping and biting, letting up when you started to kiss her. Her hands grabbed at your top, breaking away from the messy kiss to pull it off of you. Stack took his top off too, his toned body on display. You almost drooled, you couldn't believe this was actually happening, or rather, that it was happening so late.

Stack leaned towards your neck, sucking and kissing wherever he could as you groaned, tilting your head back slightly. Mary was still on you, kissing you from cheek to cheek before she was back on your lips. You were overwhelmed a little, but the good type of overwhelmed.

Stack pulled away, his eyes lustful and full of want as he looked at both his girls. "I think we should take this upstairs."

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