#AO3 isn't down but it's not working right?

[separatist-apologist]

We Could Call It Even

Summary: Newly made and terrified, Elain Archeron's human fiance tells her of a creature that could turn her back and keep them together and Elain will stop at nothing to make rumor a reality.

There is no force that can undo fate. No magic that can unmake a mating bond. And Lucien Vanserra isn't about to let his mate throw herself in the path of certain death on a fools hope. Lucien will be forced, instead, to watch her love another man for eighty brutal, miserable years.

While Elain Archeron will have to contend with a life she hoped to never live…and a mate she never wanted.

Thank you @shadowisles-writes for the moodboard!!

This is not a rewrite and just barely canon compliant. The first few chapters take place during ACOWAR and the remaining take place 80 years in the future.

Read on AO3

-

They came for her in the night.

Hair unbound, in a thin night dress, the fae males came with rough hands and lewd stares. They pawed at her body and threatened to strip her naked if she made a sound. They threatened worse if she fought them. Elain Archeron was bound, gagged, and left to rot for days in a cell where she wept silent, bitter tears. Did anyone know she was missing? She’d been separated from Nesta, whom she could hear screaming day and night like a wild animal. It was a promise of what she’d do should she get free of her own restraints—Nesta would go out fighting.

But Elain had decided compliance would serve her better. Even when they returned, reeking of iron and salt, Elain was certain it was all a misunderstanding she could clear up. Feyre was fighting a war—they must have thought she and Nesta were helping. They were, of course, but Elain had concocted a pretty lie she was certain would stand up to scrutiny. They hadn’t known the full scope, had merely been welcoming their sister back home.

They were innocent—which was the truth.

It was only when she was dragged into that throne room that Elain understood she was merely collateral damage. Her life meant nothing to the fae, just like she’d always been told. She was merely a copper piece to be bartered with before she was ultimately discarded. 

She was exhausted and starved after days of nothing—not even water, which dripped into her cell but was inaccessible to her due to the gag shoved in her mouth. Four human queens watched—the same who had come to her home, who had listened to Feyre’s pleas for help. Elain tried to maintain eye contact with them, but none would look at her.

They might feel a little shame, but not enough to put a stop to what was coming. There, situated on the gleaming onyx marble floor, stood a cauldron big enough to bathe in. Smoke poured around its iron rim, warning her of what would happen should she be submerged. Elain tried, vainly, to keep herself from being shoved in. Her foot caught on the lip before Elain was tossed into the frigid water. She held her breath, intending to just pull herself out.

Hands, rough and unyielding, grabbed her limbs. She tried to scream, which only pulled water into her lungs. Elain struggled to expel it, which only caused her into inhale more water. Her lungs were on fire as panic flooded through her. Every mechanism her body had was working against her, making her an enemy of herself. Elain tried to vomit up that water, which caused her to gulp down more. Her mind was frantic, legs kicking against the hands wrapped around her ankle.

Please! She screamed in her mind, praying some long forgotten deity sympathetic to humans would emerge. Humanity had long abandoned the gods who, truthfully, had abandoned them first. They blessed the fae with superior senses, strength, and magic they could call upon at will. What had they given humanity? Nothing but suffering.Why should humans offer prayers and worship when they turned their backs on them?

Elain had never been religious, truthfully. But right then, she was desperate. Please, she begged again. There was no answer to her, only her limbs loosening and the once burning pain fizzling into an almost pleasant numbness. She’d thought the drowning would be the worst part.

Elain was wrong.

Just as her mind began to blacken around the edges, letting her slip into hazy oblivion, the hands yanked Elain further into the endless waters she drowned in. The heat and pain that had once bubbled in her lungs spread outward, burning Elain from the inside out. Her bones were ground to dust, reforged in that white flame. She could feel it pouring from her eyes, her nose, her mouth. Elain tried to scream, but more flames licked along the back of her throat, rendering her mute. 

The hands that had once dragged her down now seemed to cradle her, holding her gently as Elain’ sensitive skin scabbed and flaked away before mending itself. She felt each stitch, each pull of the invisible, immortal thread that was remaking her. 

I don’t want it. Please, Elain thought, twisting around in that boundless, endless water. She stretched out her hands trying to find the boundaries of this cruel, cold new world but there was nothing at all. Time had become meaningless, though she was certain she’d been suspended for an age. If she managed to escape, she’d find a millenia had passed.

Elain choked back a bubbling sob at the thought. A whole life lost, and for what? The obsession a few women had around immortality? One kings drive to punish her sister? Elain didn’t understand the politics at play, searching for some answer that would explain what had happened. 

And oh. Feyre must be miserable over the whole thing. A life dedicated to keeping her and Nesta alive and safe—ruined. Elain wished she could tell Feyre none of this was her fault—that she forgave her for any wrongdoings Feyre might have committed, that she didn’t blame her youngest sister for any of this. 

Nesta would be next, unaware of the horrors waiting for her. Elain was certain it would break her. Maybe it was for the best she’d gone first—perhaps whatever horrors the cauldron wanted to inflict would extend no further than Elain’s body. Perhaps Nesta would be shoved in only to find her feet touched the bottom. She wished for it, trying to will away the unbearable pain as she prayed and prayed, and prayed.

The hands that held her stroked her cheek, and all at once the pain was gone. She wasn’t dead—Elain could feel her frantic pulse beating in her chest, but nothing hurt anymore. What would happen next, she wondered? She wanted to know what would become of her—was there some afterlife she was being ushered off to? Some new horror she was moments from being subjected to?

Elain felt warmth flood through her as a reassuring presence made itself known. Pressing itself against her chest, the voice echoed through the dark, fear can’t harm you. Not anymore. Ask your questions—and receive an answer. 

Elain felt loved, felt it as surely as she felt the cold come rushing back toward her. She didn’t want to leave that reassuring embrace, but water was rushing over her, along with her need for air.

Her knees slapped against the unforgiving ground as she gasped in a breath of air. Through her soaking hair, Elain looked up to find Nesta staring back at her, eyes wide with horror. It had been years drowning in the Cauldron. She knew it had been.

But she was right back where she’d started. It was like no time at all had passed. Elain wanted to scream, but air was too precious to waste on fear. Something else was pressing against her mind, whisper that she needed to turn, to look, to see.

“Don’t just leave her on the damn floor.”

The voice was new to her and yet somehow familiar. If a voice could be a home, that deep, masculine sound certainly was. Elain felt the cloth draped over her shoulders before she dared to look, taking in the man in question.

Something clanged through her, answering a question she hadn’t known she’d been asking. It was a cruel twist of fate to feel that twang, that snap, that last, missing piece fall into place. Their eyes locked, drinking in one russet, one gold. She wanted to touch him, to bury her face in the collar of his jacket and inhale the warm, masculine scent of her. 

The world had fallen away and Elain forgot why she was on the floor or what had happened mere moments before.

I’ve found you. 

“You’re my mate,” he whispered, answering the question she’d clearly been shouting between them. He pulled on the thread between them, yanking Elain back to the present. Mate.

Oh, no. 

Pure terror clawed at her. It was a nightmare that remained unending, that she couldn’t wake from. Nesta was yelling, just as soaked as Elain was though uncovered and uncared for. No one had come to claim her. That was a relief, Elain decided. She merely remained on the floor, unwilling to go to that man.

Elain needed to go home. 

–

“Are you sure about this?” 

Feyre asked for the millionth time that day. Elain had never been more sure of anything. Feyre didn’t understand, small minded and distrustful of humans despite living nineteen years of her life as one, but Graysen would. They were a love match—he’d fought his father to propose to her, though no one thought she was good enough. She’d been impoverished and no one back home had forgotten that. Her sudden wealth had been explained thoroughly by their father receiving the missing chests on his once sunken ships.

She knew now it was the price paid for taking Feyre away. Graysen didn’t, though—he believed the lie. Still, she knew how he’d fought to make her his wife and Elain had to believe that love would hold even now.

Even after she’d become the very thing he hated. 

Wiping her sweaty palms on the skirt of her dress, Elain turned to face Feyre. “Promise you won’t hurt him.”

The look in Feyre’s eye told Elain that her sister would hurt him if she felt it was necessary. That this was a promise she could not keep. Still, Elain demanded it rather than confirm, once again, that she wanted to see him. She’d been locked up in this mountain prison for months, subjected to the tiptoeing of Feyre’s winged friends and the uneasy conversation with Lucien Vanserra. How long before he decided to stake his claim? She’d been reading about mating bonds—how they affected males, the laws that governed them, and perhaps most horribly of all, that they could not be broken.

Only rejected. 

Elain didn’t want to speak to him again. Instead, she wanted to put everything behind her and go back to a life that made sense. 

“Even if he takes you back—”

“He will,” she whispered fiercely, twisting the iron engagement band around her finger anxiously.

“Even if he does,” Feyre repeated, undeterred, “you’ll outlive him by centuries.”

“You don’t understand,” Elain heard herself say, catching the look of hurt that flitted across her younger sisters face. Feyre didn’t, though. How convenient that the male she loved also happened to be immortal and her mate. Elain often wished for that, too—that the bond would snap between her and Graysen and she’d, at least, have something to cling to. She didn’t have that, though it didn’t make the love she felt any less present. The mating bond meant nothing to her—Lucien might have some uncomfortable claim over her, but he didn’t have her heart.

And he never would, she vowed. Elain had begun to pin all her feelings of resentment on him, heaping all the hurt onto his shoulders regardless if he deserved it or not. Elain didn’t particularly care about his feelings, in part because she didn’t think he cared about hers, either. She was simply an object he was entitled to.

And everyone wanted her to give him a chance. She could see it on their faces, the pity when they mentioned him, the cajoling when she wouldn’t give him the time of day. Rhys would pointedly refer to Feyre as his mate when Elain was in earshot, as if Feyre no longer had an identity outside it. Cassian and Azriel shifted around her, eyes looking everywhere but at her. Claimed, they seemed to whisper. 

What about what she wanted? What she needed? No, Elain would go. If Graysen wanted to reject her, he could do so in person. Though, she prayed he wouldn’t. Too afraid to use her magic to see what might happen, though it whispered against her mind she only needed to ask, Elain allowed herself to be carried into the human lands. 

When they landed just outside the high, stone walls, Elain caught her sisters stiffening. She knew what they saw out here, knew they viewed this place as inferior. Beneath them. They’d gladly accept immortality if it meant they never had to return to this place. Had it truly been so terrible, Elain wondered? Had there been no joy? No happiness? 

She’d had all that. Her life hadn’t become a waking nightmare until she’d been turned. There was no joy, no happiness for her as an immortal fae. Rhysand’s palace in the mountains was overwrought and impersonal, everything dressed in neutral creams and beige. Feyre liked it that way, but Elain missed color. She missed living things, the passage of time. 

Archers on the walls pointed arrows at Elain, who trembled slightly. Everyone was watching—the eyes of the fae on her back, the humans on her front. Elain wasn’t afraid they’d hurt her—Feyre wouldn’t allow it—but she was afraid Graysen wouldn’t come out. That he’d reject her.

“Tell Graysen that his betrothed has come for him. Tell him…tell him that Elain Archeron begs for sanctuary.”

She knew her role, here. She was supposed to convince him to aid them in the upcoming war. Elain didn’t dare glance over her shoulder where Rhysand stood, afraid if she did, he might guess all her thoughts. He’d realize, too late, that she had no intention of helping them. That if it came down between leaving with Graysen and leaving the fae to fight their own wars, well…

It was horribly selfish. Terribly unkind. Elain tried to ease the roiling guilt in her stomach, sloshing around as it demanded she do as she’d been told. 

Elain wanted both, but if she had to choose, just this one time, she wanted to choose herself. 

Behind her, her sisters talked quietly though Elain wasn’t listening. All she heard was the soft crunching of boots on snow—she knew those steps, had heard them creeping over wood floors not that long ago. 

The door opened with a bang, and there he was. Wild, blue eyes scanned the space before landing on her, and a gloved hand slid through his warm brown hair. Relief shuttered over his handsome face. Elain staggered a step forward as Graysen lurched for her, stopped by his father.

Oh, no.

She hadn’t factored him in. Hadn’t thought he’d come. The elder Nolan stared at her coldly, and Elain knew he knew. Graysen might not know, but his father did. 

“What is the meaning of this?” he asked coldly, staring down that birdlike nose of his. She’d never liked him, and he’d never liked her. Perhaps he was about to get what he’d always wanted—a life free of Elain Archeron.

To her credit, Elain tried to address him. Her words failed her, terrified it was all over. That the fae had succeeded in stripping her of every last ounce of her humanity. Elain and Graysen merely stared at the other, separated by an invisible boundary neither of them could cross. He wasn’t listening.

“Elain—why are you with them?” he finally asked, unconcerned with the words they were saying.

Nesta answered for her, like she always did. Elain tried to find her voice—she managed to stammer out the plea Feyre had rehearsed with her. Give the humans sanctuary, she pleaded. Please. 

And then, he told them. Nolan, hand still on his son's shoulder, staring at her with a mix of triumph and hate. This was it—the moment Elain had been dreading. She’d wanted to tell him herself, to explain it all. It wasn’t as if she’d jumped in willingly, though perhaps to a man like Nolan, it simply didn’t matter. She ought to have died rather than become one of them. 

And here she was.

Allied with them. The fae who had never done anything to prove themselves, once again making demands. Elain could feel her resentment rising with just as much ferocity as her fear. Her alliance with her sister would cost her everything. Feyre had gave, and gave, and gave—but Elain had, too. She’d convinced Nesta to let Feyre and the fae in, had sent the servants away with gold and promises they’d be alright. Had tried to do the right thing.

And for what? 

“I would be inclined to believe you if you were not lying to me with your every breath.”

Elain fumbled for her words. “I—I am not, I—”

“Did you think that you could come to my house and deceive me with your faerie magic?”

It was Rhys who spoke, smooth and clear. “We don’t care what you believe. We only come to ask you help those who cannot defend themselves.”

Elain drowned it out, trying to silently plead with Graysen. His eyes were locked on hers, and she knew what he was seeing. The magic that made the fae so lovely—deceitfully so, because mortals often fell into their traps before they were ripped to ribbons.

Or worse. 

Feyre’s friends tried to keep the lie up, but Nolan wasn’t having it. When Mor said any weapon could harm a mortal, insinuating Elain still was one, Nolan spoke again with far more venom.

“But she isn’t a mortal, is she? No, I have it on good authority that it was Elain Archeron who was turned Fae first. And who now has a High Lord’s son as a mate.”

Elain didn’t know how she didn’t throw up right then and there. As Jurian—his likeness was painted in every schoolhouse, in every history book, and on the armor of so many soldiers—stepped out to inform everyone he had told the Nolan’s everything—Elain forced herself to breathe. Graysen’s lips had parted, his expression slack. Did he think, because she’d been assigned a mate at random, that she was done with him? She wanted to step toward him, but Feyre and Nesta were flanking her, half shielding her with their taller bodies. Jurian monologued, out of place for the scene. Elain couldn’t make sense of any of it. Why was he there? Why was he talking? 

Elain wanted to scream at them all to shut up, shut up, shut up! It was a power contest with each person attempting to one up the other at her expense. They didn’t care about her. In fact, Elain believed they were hoping for all this—the overwrought theatrics, the sneering human lord, and her eventual breakup.

What would be left? Oh, she’d grieve—she was certain they thought so—but then she’d fall into Lucien’s waiting arms like she was supposed to. Maybe they’d make her. She wasn’t clear on that front. 

“I did not mean to deceive you,” Elain whispered when a lull in the conversation allowed her to. Graysen’s emotions seemed to war over his features before settling into a flatness that scared her

“I find I have trouble believing that,” his father said.

Graysen spoke, finally, his every word a knife. “Did you think you could come back here—live with me as this…lie?”

“No. Yes. I—I don’t know what I wanted—”

“And you are bound to some…Fae male. A High Lord’s son.”

Elain was going to be sick. “His name is Lucien,” she told him, wanting to be honest. 

Graysen’s temper rose, cheeks coloring with anger or something else. She couldn’t say. “I don’t care what his name is. You are his mate. Do you even know what that means?”

“It means nothing,” she swore, hating how her voice broke. She was a crier by nature, and here, even in her anger, it seemed those tears would betray her. “It means nothing. I don’t care who decided it  or why they did—”

“You belong to him.”

There, beneath his angry words, was the same hurt pooling in her gut. Elain stumbled forward only to be shoved back by Nesta and Feyre. “I belong to no one. But my heart belongs to you.”Graysen’s eyes flicked to her sisters, to the fae warriors lingering behind her, crinkling at the corners as he made some last minute decision.

“I want to speak with her. Alone.”

A chorus of no’s erupted from everyone and Elain was pulled back further not by Rhys, but by Azriel. She shoved his hands off her, infuriated that once again, everyone else got to decide her fate. She tried to surge forward and Feyre began negotiating, ever opportunistic.

“Here is how things are going to go—”

“Let her go,” Graysen called, interrupting her sister, his hand on his sword. Cassian rose to full height, clearly seeing a challenge. It was unfair, she thought as Graysen unsheathed his blade in warning. 

“You promised!” Elain called, restrained by Azriel as she thrashed against him. “Feyre, you promised!”

“Is this the famed diplomacy faeries have to offer us?” Nolan asked, his alarm plain. Overhead, on the walls, his men pointed ash arrows at all of them. Rhys surely had noticed—what was the likelihood they’d all escape? 

“Let’s all calm ourselves,” Rhys said as if he’d read Elain’s mind. Perhaps he had, though she hadn’t felt his presence. Glancing over his shoulder, he beckoned for Azriel to bring Elain forward.

Elain shoved Azriel away from her person, smoothing out her skirts with whatever dignity remained to her.

“I want to speak to her. Alone.”

“No,” Feyre repeated, apparently willing to die on this hill. “Whatever you have to say to her, you can say to all of us.”

“I have nothing to say to you,” Graysen snapped. “Is she your prisoner, then?”

“No, of course not—”

“Then let her answer for herself,” Graysen demanded. “Lady Elain?”

“I…yes. I’ll speak with you.”

“Not alone—”

“However he likes,” Elain snapped at Nesta, frustrated they were going to try and control this whole thing.

“Ten minutes,” Graysen conceded, perhaps realizing that, otherwise, he’d have a bunch of faeries in his courtyard making demands on him. “Ten minutes and you can have your shelter.

“No wards,” his father added, still sneering down his nose. “We don’t need them.”

Rhys seemed to bristle, though he merely said, “Suit yourself.”

Graysen beckoned Elain to follow him, sandwiching her between his own body and his fathers. She marched through the doors, wondering if this wasn’t, somehow, a mistake. A trap of some sort, where she’d be slaughtered as an example.

“Ten minutes,” his father warned, stalking off with a few guards. Graysen didn’t wait, flinging his arms around her body.

“Oh, gods,” he whispered, burying his face in the crook of her neck. “I thought you must be dead.”

It only took Elain a minute to wrap her arms around him, too. Was that her shaking, or him? “They took me in the night. Held me for days, I—” a sob escaped her, silencing whatever else she said.

“Did they hurt you?” he asked, taking her face in his hands with such gentleness it threatened to ruin her. Thumbs sweeping over her cheeks, Graysen looked as if he could see her, and not the otherworldly beauty meant to make her a predator.

“They killed me,” she told him, tears streaking over his cheeks. “It hurt.”

“Tell me what you’d have me do–”

“Your father–”

“Will not interfere,” he murmured. Graysen released his hold on her face to tuck her hair behind her ears. “He promised me when I put that ring on your finger…worthless as I understand it to be.”

“I love it,” she whispered.

“I’ll help your faeries at the gate in exchange for you,” Graysen told her, “in whatever way you’ll have me.”

“Can I…can I stay here? I hate it there,” she whispered, still holding him tightly. “It’s like a beautiful prison. Every time I try and leave my room, someone is waiting at the door for me.”

Graysen’s relief filled Elain with the same. “I was hoping you’d…yes. Besides, I’ve heard rumors of a creature who might be able to unmake you.”

“Truly?” It was a dangerous thing to hope, and yet Elain couldn’t help herself.

Graysen’s smile was a beautiful thing. “Truly.”

[ivegotyourbackbuddie]

Ao3 Link because this one is a bit long <3

Buck ducks his head on his way into the station, hoping that it's one of those days where everyone else is too caught up in their own stuff to notice that he’s kind of spiraling.

It's not that he wants everyone to be going through stuff. And really, thinking that might bring it into existence, and the 118 already feels cursed enough as is. So, Buck really doesn't want anyone to be dealing with emotional baggage on the same level as what he's dealing with but-

"You alright?" Bobby asks as he turns off the stove, pulling everyone's attention toward Buck which is exactly what he doesn't need right now.

"Fine. Just thinking," Buck replies easily, ignoring the way Eddie is leveling him with an I know you're lying because you're a worse liar than Christopher look.

Before Eddie can say anything, Chimney points a piece of bacon at him and chimes in, "Uh oh. That's dangerous."

"What's more dangerous are the thoughts he isn't willing to share with the class," Hen says, eyebrows raised in an almost accusatory way. "So, what aren't you telling us?"

Buck shakes his head with a frown. "Nothing," he states, taking a place at the table and shoveling food on his plate, hoping it's the end of this conversation.

Eddie leans over and lowers his voice to ask, "You're not having nightmares again, are you?"

"No," Buck replies honestly, although after the events of last night, he just might.

"Maddie hasn't said anything, so it's not family related,'' Chimney very unhelpfully adds.

"Are you and Tommy okay?" Hen asks.

The grimace is entirely involuntary.

"Ding, ding, ding. We have a winner!" Chimney says with a laugh which dies down quickly when Bobby gives him a look.

"What happened?" Hen questions softly.

Bobby takes the opportunity to clear his throat. "Buck, you don't have to answer any of their questions if you don't want to, after all, we are all at work."

"When has that stopped anyone before?" Chimney asks, getting a swift kick in the shin by Hen in response.

The tiniest bit of relief floods his system when everyone stops pressing and moves on. Well, besides the occasional lingering glance of curiosity, they mostly move on. But the smallest part of Buck wishes they would press on because he has to tell someone, and while they are some of the nosiest people he's ever met, they're also family.

"I called Tommy the wrong name last night!" Buck blurts out.

Everyone stops mid-conversation to look at him.

"I called him the wrong name... and he left."

The amusement on Hen's face slips right off as she puts a hand over Buck's. "Oh, Buck."

Eddie swallows his food audibly before gently asking, "Left as in..."

Buck glances his way, taking in the soft sympathy in Eddie's eyes. "Left the apartment with a quick goodbye saying he needed time to think about things, and he hasn't talked to me since. It's been twelve hours."

"That's not too bad. What we really need to know is what name you called him. Then we can figure out the damage. And hey, I've had many girls call me the wrong name, and the longest I waited was maybe a day before speaking to them again," Chimney says.

"I don't think you're the best person to be giving advice about this," Bobby says with his ever-present small smile.

"Hey, I'm married now! I think I'm doing pretty great."

Bobby turns his attention back to Buck. "Hey, kid. We've all been there, okay? You're still in the early stages of this relationship, and it's natural to revert to old tendencies - including calling someone the wrong name. Hell, I've called Athena my first wife's name before; there's nothing to be ashamed of."

Buck shakes his head and stares down at the table. "But it was... really bad this time."

"This time?" Ravi asks in disbelief, only to be ignored as Buck continues.

"He didn't even look mad. He just looked... disappointed. And I thought it was something we could laugh off because really it was just a slip of the tongue! I mean, I didn't mean to call him 'Bobby!'"

An eerie silence settles in the station as everyone takes in what was said.

Buck tries to defend himself with a quick, "Uh-" But is immediately cut off by the bell going off.

On the way to the scene, everyone glances at Buck who finally says, "Okay, so Tommy has a daddy kink."

"Yeah, I could've gone my whole life without knowing that," Chimney sighs.

"And!" Buck continues, "Daddy and Bobby are... kind of similar sounding, you know? Daddy... Bobby..."

"If you say 'daddy' one more time, I will revoke Uncle Buck privileges," Chimney groans.

Hen shrugs and says, "There's nothing wrong with a daddy kink as long as everyone is consenting. Now a Bobby kink..."

There's a mixture of laughter from Hen and Chimney, an ay dios from Eddie, a mumbled what is happening from Ravi, and Bobby pointedly tries to ignore the conversation.

"We were in the kitchen and he handed me-!"

"Nope! I do not want to hear about your sex life, Buckaroo!"

Buck frowns at Chimney for a moment before his eyebrows shoot up in shock. "Oh! No! You all think I- Oh god. No. No." Buck shakes his head seriously and continues, "The kink extends outside of the bedroom. He likes it when I call him that all the time. Like when we're having dinner or when we're making dinner. Which is exactly when it happened last night. See, Bobby and I cook all the time, plus like I said Bobby and Da-"

"Alright, we're one minute out, let's wrap this conversation up please," Bobby says, as the tips of his ears turn red.

"Yes, d- Bobby. Shit," Buck mutters, ignoring the cackling around him. Who knew a minute could last so long?

Luckily, the call isn’t too bad – a car accident with the worst injury being minor airbag burns. They're able to clear the scene quickly - too quickly in Buck's opinion because none of them forget their previous conversation.

On the ride back, it takes less than a minute before Eddie asks, "So, I don't get it. You misspoke, and Tommy just... walked out?"

"If it was during sex... that would definitely be off-putting, but you would think you could just laugh it off even if it killed the mood," Hen thinks aloud, "But what exactly did you say when you called him Bobby?"

Buck shifts uncomfortably in his seat as he recalls the moment. "He just asked me to hand him the garlic powder, and I said 'Yes, Bobby' and immediately started laughing about it because I thought we could just laugh it off. But when I saw he wasn't laughing I apologized because it was an honest mistake, but he said the thing about taking time to figure things out, and he walked out."

"Maybe he didn't want to be compared to Cap because he's ancient," Chim jokes, trying to lighten the mood a bit.

Hen laughs and looks at Bobby. "You have no comeback today?"

"Don't need one if being ancient got me Athena."

There's a series of cooing, awws, and catcalls from everyone as they're quick to tease Bobby who throws a proud smile over his shoulder. Buck tries his hardest to focus on the secondhand love he feels for their relationship but notices how dim it is when compared to his tarnishing relationship. Bobby must notice it because he's quick to say, "Tommy is a good man. He'll come around."

Buck nods, lost in the thought of what if he doesn't? and too distracted by it to conceal his other thought, "Yeah, if he can get over me calling him Eddie in bed then he should be able to get over this, right?"

A weird strangled noise comes out of Chimney's mouth and Hen's jaw visibly drops. But Buck's eyes shoot to Eddie when he realizes what he just confessed.

Eddie just smiles, looking disturbingly undisturbed and a little amused and maybe… proud?

A minute of silence passes by before Ravi of all people asks, "So is no one going to question what was just said?"

Eddie shakes his head and laughs. "Come on, you guys. You said it yourself it happens to everyone. And I've had my fair share of partners who have gotten offended because they thought I said 'Buck' but 'Buck' and 'fuck' sound very similar."

"Just like 'Eddie' and 'baby' sound similar," Buck rushes to say, jaw tight, nodding quickly in agreement.

"Yeah because I'm sure that..." Chimney trails off and throws his hands up. He shoots Hen a look and asks, "Do you want to take this one?"

Hen blows out a deep breath of air and shakes her head. "They don't pay me enough to even begin to unpack this."

Eddie rolls his eyes and bumps his knee against Buck's. "This doesn't change a thing between us, okay?” He lowers his voice to say, “And between you and me, there was definitely one time I clearly said your name, so I guess we're even."

"You realize our radios are all on the same channel, right?" Bobby asks with barely veiled amusement.

Eddie's eyes widen for a second before he straightens up and fixes everyone with a flat look, almost daring them to say anything.

"Does this happen often?" Ravi asks naively.

"With these two idiots?" Hen asks.

"Yes," comes the answer from Chimney, Hen, and Bobby.

Buck crosses his arms, but he can't feel too bad when Eddie shoots him a small private smile.

Soon enough, they get back to the station, and Buck can sense something is off when he's the last to get out of the truck.

"Someone is here to see you, Buck," Bobby says, his smile tighter than usual before he squeezes Buck's arm and walks past him. Buck glances over everyone else's shoulders and finds Tommy standing there, hands in his pockets looking slightly uneasy.

"So, I'm assuming everyone knows," Tommy comments to the group who all look around uncomfortably.

"I think Cap said something about cleaning something upstairs," Ravi says before running off. He's definitely one of their smartest firefighters and probably their least nosy - maybe there's a connection there. Buck doesn't have much time to think about it as everyone rushes past him, giving him looks of encouragement and poorly concealed grimaces.

"Hi, Tommy," Buck says, purposefully saying his name to prove to both of them that he's capable of it.

"Evan," Tommy replies easily. He glances up and sighs, "Let's go somewhere a bit more private, hm?"

Buck turns and finds everyone including Bobby leaning on the railing upstairs, trying to overhear. Buck furrows his eyebrows and frowns at them, shaking his head - although he knows if the roles were reversed, he would definitely be doing the same thing.

He follows Tommy outside and takes a deep breath. "I'm sorry," he says sincerely.

Tommy nods, the ever-so-slight smile appearing on his face. "I know." He just looks out around them, glancing up at the sky as if trying to determine the impending weather. Buck nearly makes a joke about it, but Tommy beats him to speaking first. "I'm sorry that I walked out like that. I should have said what it was that was bothering me, but I truly needed the time to get my thoughts together."

"And that's okay. You can take all the time you need."

Tommy nods again before finally looking at Buck. "Evan, I think we both know what I'm about to say."

Buck's heart sinks to his stomach as he shakes his head. "No, I really don't."

Tommy glances over his face, frowning for a moment before fixing him with a look of... pity? "You really don't know, do you?"

Buck shakes his head, but he's pretty sure he can tell when someone is breaking up with him. So maybe he should nod, but this feels like something more than that.

Tommy puts his hands in his pockets and takes a step closer to him. "The reason I left like that wasn't because I was angry that you called me Bobby. And really, it was funny as hell given the situation."

"But?" Buck can't help but ask.

"But," Tommy continues, "It was your reaction that startled me." Buck shakes his head, confused as ever. Tommy just sighs. "Evan, you were genuinely startled by it and taken off guard. You immediately laughed it off, and I knew it was nothing. But that made me remember the other time when you said Eddie's name-"

"Which was also an accident!" Buck cuts him off, quickly, almost desperately.

The look Tommy gives Buck nearly makes him want to take the statement back. "Please, Evan. You didn't just laugh it off then, and we both know it. And we always avoided bringing it up because we both knew what happened. From the beginning, I accepted that it was only a matter of time before you figured it out."

"Figured what out?" Buck questions weakly.

Tommy pauses, seemingly debating if he's going to tell him or not. Eventually, he settles on saying, "Both times were an accident. But one was an honest mistake while the other... wasn't."

There's a moment where Buck almost brushes it off and says I don't know what you're talking about. They were both a mistake. But he can't lie to himself or Tommy anymore, and he can see the moment that Tommy registers that, expression dropping to something somber but not surprised.

"You got my attention, Evan. But whose attention was it that you were really after?" Tommy asks, slowly backing away.

"I really liked what we had!" Buck interjects before Tommy can get away.

Tommy gives him a small smile. "I did too. But we both knew it was only a matter of time." He hesitates before walking up to Buck and pressing a soft kiss on his cheek. "Goodbye, Evan. And go talk to Eddie, please."

Buck huffs out a small humorless laugh, experiencing a weird sense of deja vu. He watches as Tommy walks away and doesn't say anything in response because if he fucks up his name one more time, he doesn't think he will ever recover.

As he makes his way back into the station, he notices that most people are upstairs actually minding their own business. But then he catches Eddie watching him carefully and slowly approaches him.

"I take it that went well?" Eddie asks.

Buck chuckles and glances over his shoulder to where Eddie must've had a clear view of their conversation. "Were you watching me?"

Eddie shrugs. "I wanted to make sure you were okay."

He says it so casually yet sincerely that it makes Buck duck his head, trying to fight the blush that threatens to color his cheeks. "Yeah, I'll be okay."

"So, everything is good then?"

Buck pauses and considers what Tommy had said – go talk to Eddie. “Yeah, things are… good.”

Eddie raises his eyebrows slightly, definitely not believing Buck’s weird tone.

Buck sighs and looks down. “Okay. They’re not good. But they’re fine. We broke up- amicably! And… I’m fine.”

Eddie takes a step closer and tilts his head down so Buck looks him in the eye. “Are you sure?”

It takes a moment for Buck to process what Eddie has said- he always gets flustered when he stands this close. He wonders how he pushed it all down before. But he remembers all the pep talks he would give himself to confess things to Eddie before finding out he was seeing someone new, and all the times he was with Christopher and knew that he would do anything for the kid. Anything meaning not dating his dad and fucking up their whole dynamic. And that’s the thing about Buck, he never knows how to keep a good thing. And if Eddie were the one to leave… he thinks it might destroy him.

“I will be fine,” Buck insists and plasters on a smile. “And don’t worry, I won’t stop your and Tommy’s whole bromance thing. So don’t stop hanging out because of me.”

Eddie frowns and puts a hand on Buck’s shoulder, thumb resting on his collarbone. “You know you’re my best friend, right? Even if I’m out with Tommy, you can always call me, and I’ll be by your side in a heartbeat.”

“Even if he’s flown you to a different state?” Buck jokes.

“I’ll make him fly back even faster. Maybe even see if he can land where you are,” Eddie answers, smiling wide and sincerely. Buck laughs.

They remain there for a few moments just smiling at each other before the moment is interrupted. “Everything okay?” Bobby asks cautiously.

“It will be,” Buck says with a nod because it will be.

He just hopes it will be sooner rather than later.

-:-:-:-:-:-

Buck’s in Eddie’s kitchen the Thursday after the breakup, staring at the calendar with the dumb circle around the date. Basketball pick-up game with Tommy.

Jealousy still swirls in the pit of Buck’s stomach, and he’s no longer trying to fool himself that he’s jealous of Eddie. He never really has been, and he wonders if Eddie knows that. Because Thursdays are Eddie and Tommy’s night. Even with Christopher’s absence and Buck’s extended stays at Eddie’s, Thursdays are the nights Tommy comes over to distract Eddie from the emptiness for a while.

But tonight, Eddie asked Buck to come over and have dinner with him probably knowing Buck would’ve had the tiniest mini spiral on his own. And Buck wonders what he’s done to deserve such an amazing best friend.

He glances in the pantry, wondering if he should tell Eddie to cancel the pizza order he'll be picking up on his way home in favor of Buck making something that will distract him from his thoughts. Just as Buck picks up his phone, there's a rattling of keys in the front door that makes Buck nearly jump out of his skin as he rounds the corner until he sees Eddie pushing the door open.

"You're early," Buck states as he takes the pizza out of his hands.

"Basketball ended early today," Eddie replies easily.

Buck narrows his eyes at him because he's pretty sure the only way that's true is if basketball ended early only for Eddie. "Right."

"I'm going to shower. Find something for us to watch tonight."

As Eddie goes down the hall, Buck calls after him, "You know you don't have to baby me, right?"

"Who else am I supposed to baby with Chris gone?" Eddie yells back, knowing that Buck can't really argue with him. He only wishes he had something to throw at him in response. He really should've made some popcorn.

While Eddie quickly showers, Buck set the pizza down in the living room and grabs two beers, plates, and napkins before settling on the couch. He opens Netflix and goes to his account, knowing Eddie’s is full of romcom suggestions that he pretends to hate, and picks out a random true crime documentary that fulfills Buck’s thirst for random knowledge and Eddie’s thirst for drama.

Eddie joins him a few minutes later wearing slightly ratty sweatpants and an old t-shirt that clings to his chest and arms just right.

Buck averts his gaze before Eddie can catch him staring, although he thinks he might be too late because he sees Eddie watching him carefully out of the corner of his eye. Buck grabs the remote and presses play in hopes of distracting him, but weirdly enough, Eddie’s gaze never really seems to leave him. At one point, Buck even glances over and gives him a questioning look which Eddie answers with a shake of his head before looking at the TV only to glance back at Buck a few moments later.

When the documentary comes to an end, Buck has absorbed about none of it and he doubts Eddie has either. So instead of talking about it, he grabs their empty plates and heads to the kitchen hearing Eddie trailing behind him with their empty bottles.

“Want another one?” Eddie asks as Buck rinses off their plates.

Buck shakes his head. He has a feeling that Eddie is about to ask him how he’s doing or something, and although another beer won’t really affect his cognitive abilities, Buck rather not take any chances. Once he’s through with putting the plates in the dishwasher, he turns carefully and leans against the counter, locking eyes with Eddie who lingers by the fridge, eyebrows furrowed in thought.

“Is there something you need to talk to me about?” Eddie questions, throwing Buck for a loop.

“Me? I was going to ask you the same thing after you found me more entertaining than that documentary,” Buck jokes.

Eddie frowns and looks away from him. “I did not.”

“Tell me one thing that happened during it.” And Buck really hopes he doesn’t say anything because he wouldn’t be able to confirm it.

Luckily, Eddie stammers for a moment before sighing, “I was staring out of concern after Tommy said…”

Buck's heart drops to his stomach as Eddie trails off. “What did he say?”

Eddie pauses and crosses his arms. “He asked if you had talked to me, and I told him you told me about the breakup, but he acted like there was something more that you needed to say.”

Buck crosses his own arms to try to hide how much his hands are starting to shake.

“Is there more?” Eddie asks.

There’s a moment where Buck almost says, No. I don’t know what he’s talking about. But then he hesitates, wondering if this is it. This is his moment.

Before he knows it, too much time has passed for him to lie and say there’s nothing, so Buck lets out a deep breath and takes a seat before he does something dumb like lock his knees for too long and pass out mid-confession. He looks up at Eddie who begins leaning against the fridge, head framed by one of Chris’s tests with a big A on it.

“I never told you why we broke up,” Buck confesses. “I never even told you the truth about why we started dating.” He pauses and looks down, unable to look at Eddie’s reaction as he continues. “You know, when I met Tommy, I thought he was pretty cool with the whole flying-a-helicopter-through-a-hurricane-to-help-us-without-asking-any-questions thing. I mean. Who does that? So, yeah I asked him for a tour because I wanted to get to know the guy - as a friend.

“And then, I saw him with you,” Buck looks up at Eddie, reimagining the moment. “And you were so happy with him. Happier than I’d seen you in a while, and I knew I should’ve been happy that you got a new friend. But I was devastated. And I felt so guilty about it, especially after the whole basketball thing. I told Maddie about what happened, and she told me all about this best friend she had and how she got jealous when she got a new best friend, and I thought… that was it. As selfish as it was, I wanted to be your one and only best friend.”

Buck pauses, wondering if he should cross this line, but Eddie nods gently in encouragement, brows furrowed as he takes it all in, and Buck continues, “But that wasn’t it. And deep down, I think I knew what was really happening, and I didn’t want to admit it. So, I changed the narrative in my head a bit… I think? Honestly, things aren’t one hundred percent clear to me about how I repressed it - but all of a sudden I was so sure that I was jealous of you. That I was jealous of you hanging out with Tommy. And that’s what I told him before he kissed me, and things just progressed from there. And really, I was happy with our relationship, he was great, and he was… kind of like you. But…” he trails off, words on the tip of his tongue but unwilling to fully let them escape.

“But?” Eddie prompts so gently that Buck almost doesn’t hear it.

In one breath, Buck says, “But he wasn’t you.”

Eddie’s eyebrows shoot up so fast that Buck would find it comedic if it was in any other situation. “So, you’re saying…” Eddie asks, head cocking to the side.

“Calling Tommy ‘Bobby’ was an accident,” Buck states, uncomfortably straightening up in his chair as he prepares himself for what he’s about to say. “Calling him your name was not.” And just to put the final nail in the coffin Buck says, “And it was never his attention I was after. It was yours. I wanted you, but I couldn’t handle the thought of telling you and ruining things between us. I never wanted to jeopardize our friendship or my relationship with Chris, but here I am… doing exactly that.”

Eddie purses his lips and nods for a few long moments before turning to the fridge and opening it up, grabbing two beers, and setting them on the counter.

“I’m good, Eddie.”

Eddie shakes his head. “No, these are both for me.”

Buck feels his entire being shrink in on itself and he wonders if this is the worst rejection he’s ever felt.

“To think,” Eddie clarifies quickly, walking over to place a hand on Buck’s shoulder, thumb soothing over his collarbone. “About everything you said - which absolutely won’t ruin our relationship or your relationship with Chris. I promise. I just need a few minutes.”

And that’s all Buck needed to hear to know no matter the result of this conversation, things would be okay.

He stands up quickly, suggesting, “Why don’t I let you sleep on it?”

Eddie gives him a look mid sip that says no before he can actually say anything. “The only way you’re letting me sleep on it is if you stay the night on the couch because I’m not letting you doom spiral in your apartment.”

“I wasn’t going to…” Buck trails off when Eddie raises his eyebrows at him. “Okay, yeah, I would’ve spiraled on my own. But let me at least give you some space to think.”

Eddie nods, eyes staring off into space entirely unfocused.

Buck quietly says, “Okay,” under his breath and goes to the living room, closing the kitchen door behind him. He takes a deep breath and settles on the couch, trying to make himself comfortable but failing entirely. He takes out his phone and starts typing a message to Maddie saying this is probably crazy but remember that time you said something like whatever I had to tell Eddie I would tell him in my own time? well, guess who just found out what you meant by that and told their best friend they’re in love with them???

But then he remembers Maddie will tell Chimney and Chimney will tell Hen and Hen will tell Karen and Athena and Athena would tell Bobby and… really he does not want everyone to know he confessed his feelings for Eddie before Eddie has time to process those feelings.

Buck sighs and goes through his apps before going to Google and looking through whatever is trending in searches before going down a rabbit hole that becomes a fairly decent distraction until he thinks Man, I need to send this article to Eddie. Then he gets an achy feeling in his chest.

Quite a few minutes pass before Buck gets a sudden dry feeling in his mouth and he realizes he needs water. This is arguably the worst time to need water when the kitchen is off-limits, but he doesn’t think he could drink straight from Eddie’s bathroom sink faucet without feeling weird about it. Plus, he’s sure Eddie will understand, and he won’t interrupt his moment if he’s quick about it.

So, Buck makes his way to the kitchen, pulling the door open only to find Eddie pushing it open on the other side.

“Hey,” Buck says with a small smile.

“Hey,” Eddie responds, eyes trailing over Buck’s features as if taking them in for the first time.

A few seconds pass before Buck finally asks, “Do you mind if I get some water?”

Eddie shakes his head and steps back out of Buck’s way. But as Buck steps forward, Eddie shakes his head and says, “Wait, I’ll get it for you.”

Buck frowns, trying to interpret Eddie's body language, but he's not sure if he's ever seen him so... nervous or maybe... flustered?

As Eddie walks back to where Buck is lingering in the doorway, his eyes roam over Buck before he snaps himself out of it, shaking his head and handing Buck a glass of water. He turns and rubs his hands over his face. "Dios," he mumbles.

Buck doesn't say anything as he sips on his water, leaning against the doorframe and taking in Eddie's spiral. It's simultaneously comforting and nerve-wracking. After a few moments of silence, Buck finally asks, "You okay?"

Eddie pauses and glances up at him. Buck's almost sure that Eddie is about to lie and say he's fine, but right as he opens his mouth, he closes it and shakes his head. Buck wants to step forward and comfort him, but he hesitates, wondering if the push into Eddie's space will scare him away.

Eddie takes a few steps toward Buck, effectively making Buck feel pinned up against the doorframe. "I have been trying to replace the hole Shannon left in my life since she passed. And I've been finding all these replacements that never felt right. Hell, I found Shannon's doppelganger, and it still wasn't right. And I always thought that she was just irreplaceable. And I was right. No one will ever be Shannon, and no one will be able to replace her role in Christopher's life or what I had with her. And that’s okay. But... while I pursued all these women for the wrong reasons, I never realized that Shannon wasn't the only reason why things never worked out."

Eddie takes a deep breath and takes another step closer to Buck. "There was always this small part of me that knew that no matter what happened with my relationships, it didn't matter because you would always be there - for me and Christopher. But I never really considered that this," Eddie makes a quick motion between him and Buck, "could even be an option. And I feel..." He trails off as he stares at Buck.

"Uncomfortable?" Buck asks slightly cowering in on himself, prepared for the mental hit Eddie's answer will be.

Eddie gives him a flat look, completely shutting down all of Buck's thoughts. "Like an idiot," he states as if it's the most obvious answer. Eddie crosses his arms and takes another step toward him. "I mean, I’ve always known you were attractive. Sometimes I would wonder what it would be like to be one of your girlfriends – especially when they didn’t treat you right. I would imagine what I would do if I was them.” He runs a hand through his hair and sighs, “Hell, I used to call Ana your name often enough that Chris tried to make it an inside joke. At the bachelor party, I really should've known though because as soon as I saw you and Tommy together I felt... awful." Eddie laughs and shakes his head. "For a minute there, I was confused as hell wondering if I was suddenly homophobic."

Buck can't help but burst out laughing.

"It's true!" Eddie laughs and hits Buck on the arm. "I had to reevaluate my feelings when Karen and Hen walked in, and I became very aware that it was just a you and Tommy thing. Then, I thought maybe I was just jealous seeing you close to Tommy or maybe seeing Tommy close to you. But that didn't really make sense because I've been so excited whenever you hit it off with anyone else in my life."

"So, how did you rationalize that thought?" Buck asks, curiosity getting the best of him.

"I got blackout drunk and didn't think about it again." The answer is so immediate that Buck can't help but laugh again. Eddie smiles at him and nudges him on the shoulder. "I should say, I didn't think about it again until about half an hour or so ago"

Buck can't help but look at him a bit bashfully. "Sorry about that."

"Don't be," Eddie says, hand landing on Buck's shoulder. "Don't ever be sorry about telling me how you feel even if it sends me into an identity crisis of sorts."

Buck cocks his head to the side. "Identity crisis meaning...?"

"I might be into guys?" Eddie says more as a question than an answer, but it still makes Buck's heart skip a beat. "I'm not sure," Eddie confesses. He pauses, eyes roaming over Buck before breathing out, "I think I might just be into you."

Buck's brain lags for a few seconds as he processes what he's been dreaming about hearing practically since he met Eddie. After replaying the words in his head a few times, he can't help but ask, "Might?" But before Eddie can answer, Buck leans over far enough to set his glass down and effectively crowd into Eddie's space, "Because I know a way for us to confirm that you're definitely into me."

"Is that so?" Eddie asks, an amused smile gracing his face. The hand on Buck's shoulder slowly yet firmly travels up his shoulder to the back of his neck. "Do you want to show me?"

Buck doesn't trust any words that are about to come out of his mouth, so he lets out a shaky breath and nods, already feeling his cheeks flush and his eyelashes flutter involuntarily.

Eddie raises his eyebrows at him, and they both share a moment of this is really about to happen.

As they move closer together, Buck is sure something is going to interrupt them - like an alarm or an unwanted knock on the door.

But Buck's nose brushes against Eddie's gently, and then there's a breath shared between them before their lips connect gently.

Buck breathes in sharply, heart pounding in his chest, and Eddie responds by weaving his other arm around Buck's waist and pulling him in deeper as if he's trying to make them one whole entity. And who is Buck to deny him his wish?

Buck suddenly remembers that he also has arms which he uses to cup Eddie's face, and then he backs them up until his back is suddenly colliding with Eddie's fridge.

Eddie pulls back momentarily to make sure he's okay, and Buck laughs breathlessly before pulling him back in.

It feels like his first time on the job as a firefighter, the first time he and Eddie truly worked together as a team, and the first time he met Christopher. It feels right.

Buck smiles so wide that he has to pull away with a laugh that sounds almost like a sob, but he doesn't try to stop the happy tears that escape - especially when he sees Eddie in a similar state.

They both stare at each other in disbelief for a moment as they laugh and pull each other into a hug.

"I definitely just like you," Eddie chokes out.

Buck laughs and squeezes Eddie a little tighter.

They linger in the hug for a few moments longer than they usually would, swaying slightly. They slowly pull back to look at each other before resting their foreheads together. “This is real, right?” Buck questions quietly.

He can feel Eddie nod before he says, “It better be.”

Buck laughs softly. He pulls back and notices a faraway look in Eddie’s eyes. “You okay?”

Eddie nods and looks down. “I just wish Chris was here for this. He would probably roll his eyes at me and tell me that you were right in front of me the whole time. Or maybe he’d also feel like an idiot for not realizing that you’re all we need.”

Buck cups Eddie’s face again and redirects his gaze at him. “Hey, we’ll get to know what he thinks soon, okay? In the meantime, don’t you think it’s better that we work out all the kinks of turning what we had into something more before getting Chris involved?”

Eddie nods and laughs softly. “Of course, you already want to fix what we have before it's really begun.”

“I’m the guy who likes to fix things,” Buck says with a smile. “But I don’t think there’s much to fix here, you know?”

“Other than the years of dates, kisses, and declarations of love that I need to make up for,” Eddie comments cheesily.

Buck cocks his head to the side and feels his cheeks turning red. “Wow. Eddie Diaz is a romantic.”

“For you, I sure am,” Eddie flirts.

Buck can almost hear Christopher groaning at the line. “Declarations of love?” Buck recalls out loud.

A pinch forms between Eddie’s brows. “Yeah. You know that I love you.”

Buck frowns and tilts his head. “Really? Because I don’t think we’ve ever truly said that to each other.”

Eddie looks off as if trying to recall every moment they’ve spent together. He frowns and looks at Buck. “Another thing that should’ve made things obvious to us.” Buck laughs as Eddie smiles and grabs his shoulder. “But, just so you’re totally aware, Evan… I love you.”

“Yeah?” Buck asks with a big smile, already pulling Eddie back in for another kiss.

“Yeah,” Eddie mumbles against his lips.

A few moments later, Buck quickly pulls away and says, “I love you, too, by the way.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Buck laughs, “Good. But I’m still going to spend as long as I can proving to you that I love you more than you know. That I love you and Christopher more than you both know.”

Eddie smiles at him so sweetly that Buck almost forgets that he’s allowed to openly stare – more than that… he gets to openly stare at that smile forever. “And we’re going to do the same for you.” There’s a pause before Eddie gets a slight mischievous glint in his eye. “Just try to refrain from calling me ‘Bobby,’ okay?”

Buck sighs and rolls his eyes, pulling away to put his glass in the sink.

There’s a sudden loud chime, and a moment later Eddie gasps.

Buck turns to find Eddie turning the phone to him with a text from Christopher reading I’m ready to come home Dad. Love you.

“Scratch what we said about working out the kinks?” Buck says with a breathless laugh.

Eddie nods and kisses him. “Let’s go get our kid.”

[a-killer-obsession]

🔞 Minors DNI 🔞

A search for a rumored Vegapunk weapon leads the Kid Pirates to an unexpected new crewmate, with a bloodlust that rivals their own and an incredible power.

CW: Please check AO3 for all current warnings, but general warning for smut, slow burn, serious gore, and really dark themes. AFAB reader, she/her pronouns.

Masterlist || AO3 || Chapter 1

Chapter 50 - Enemy

With Kid successfully rescued, it's time to go find Killer.

Word Count: ~4k

“So, what's the plan then?” Kid asked, chomping on an apple from your very quickly dwindling food stash, “they're gonna wake up and discover I'm gone soon.”

“We need to find Killer,” you replied, “I'm hoping he knows where the others are. Either because that's where he was, or because he's… working with the Shogun.” Kid sighed at your forlorn expression as you curled your knees up to your chin. “Last time I saw him was in the Flower Capital.”

“How far is that from here?”

“About a day’s walk,” you replied, laying out your map for him to see and pointing to the relevant areas, “we're somewhere around here, Heart Pirate base is here, capital is right here in the centre. I was thinking though, maybe we go to Law first, so we can get your seastone off.”

“Absolutely fucking not,” Kid growled, “I don't need that smug cunt's help. Kil can pick the lock when we see him.”

“Sure, if he wasn't a whole different person right now,” you sighed, “he's more likely to fight you. We're gonna have to subdue him, maybe bring him back here. Can you carry him with one arm?”

“Aye,” Kid responded confidently, “ye of little faith, I can take him without my devil fruit.”

“It's not taking him down I'm worried about,” you explained, “his fighting is off right now. He's manic and sloppy, I can take him down no problem with my fruit. The problem is getting him all the way back here, keeping him restrained and trying to get him to talk. I don't know what they did to him but they convinced him that we're the enemy.”

Kid examined your face carefully, seeing how lost and defeated you looked. Your expression reminded him of the way you looked after you lost your baby, something was hurting you deeply, that much at least was clear to him, even if he himself was emotionally stunted most of the time. “There's something else bothering you, isn't there?” He pried. You blinked away tears and sniffed, only sparing him a short look before hiding your face between your knees. “Talk to me doll, what is it?”

“I don't even know if everyone else is alive,” you sniffed, “what if Heat is dead? I should have told him I loved him earlier, I shouldn't have made him wait. He could be rotting somewhere for all I know.”

“He knew long before you said it lass,” Kid soothed, pulling you into his lap and resting his chin on top of your hair, “he's alive, they all are, we're gonna find them Yin. Just stay strong. You've done so well on your own, you don't have to suffer on your own anymore, I've got you. We're gonna find everyone.”

“What if we don't?” You cried, “what if we're too late? What if I took too long? What if we can't bring Killer back to his senses and everyone else is dead already?”

“Shhh, shh,” Kid soothed, holding your head against his chest, “I'll have no talk of that, you did everything you could, we're gonna save them. Together. You're not alone anymore, I'm right here Yin, don't cry. You're a Kid Pirate, you've gotta be brave.”

Kid took your face gently in his hand, tilting your chin up with a crooked finger, before running his thumb softly over your cheek to catch a tear as it ran over your scattered purple freckles. “You're not alone,” he said uncharacteristically softly, “let me hear you say it.”

“I'm- I'm not alone,” you sniffed, watching his amber eyes flick between your eyes and your lips, overly aware of how close he was and warm chest against yours. “I'm not alone,” you repeated, softer, almost a whisper as you leaned towards him. He made a quiet grunt as you pressed your lips against his, but he quickly took possession of the kiss, pressing back with a harsh need and forcing his tongue in your mouth. The kiss turned frantic, moans swallowed as Kid fisted his hand into your hair and you rolled your hips to grind against his growing erection.

“Not alone,” you whined, “Kid, I need you.”

“I know baby, I know,” he groaned back, shifting you to lay on your side next to him so he could hitch your leg over his hip, holding your ass firmly so he could grind his clothed length against you. “Gonna help you, gonna take good care of you till we get your boys back, I promise. They'd want me to take care of you.”

Desperate to feel full and distract yourself from the anguish still potentially waiting for you, you pushed Kid onto his back and straddled him. You made quick work of his belts while he groped at your tits, pushing up your shirt and bra to reveal the soft flesh underneath. He squeezed them purposefully to make you release your milk, groaning as a thin line shot out somewhat violently and hit him in the face, which made you giggle a little at his surprised expression. His eyes rolled back as you freed his cock and took it in your hand, pumping him and admiring the precum beading at the tip. You shuffled to squat over him, too impatient and needy to properly prepare your cunt, pulling aside your panties and whining as you sunk down on his length, letting the painful stretch and the pleasure that followed distract your mind from your stresses. Things didn't seem so bad with Kid's fat cock buried in your cunt.

“There you go sweetheart,” Kid groaned as you rode him, “let yourself go, all will be well. Fuck, you're so tight. Good girl, such a good girl.”

Kid's praises made you whine and ride him faster, and you wondered if Killer had shared your pension for praise with him. “S-say it again,” you whined.

“You're such a good girl,” Kid cooed, guiding your hips with his one good arm, the stump of the other moving like it longed to reach out and touch you as well, “such a very good girl, Yin. Doing such a good job taking my cock. Looking after your captain like a good sweet thing. You gonna be a good girl and cum on my cock?”

“Yes!” You moaned, coil pulling tight far too quickly thanks to his praise, “c-cumming!”

Kid groaned at your walls squeezing around him, his balls tightening as he realised it was the first time you'd cum on his cock, and it drove him wild. You were trying to come down from your orgasm but he began to piston up into you, making you scream as your orgasm seemed to continue on forever. “Good girl, good girl, good girl,” he chanted before making an animalistic roar and unloading inside you. The moment he stilled you collapsed against him, panting into the scarred crook of his neck, his hand still on your hip, his grip a little lighter now, keeping you sat where you were to warm his cock.

“Do you think they'll hate me?” You whispered. Post nut clarity was a real bitch.

“Who?”

“Killer and Heat,” you clarified, “do you think they'll hate me… for sleeping with you.”

“Not a chance,” Kid soothed, pressing a hard kiss into your hair, “they know you sweetheart. They know your heart is theirs. This is just a comfort. They won't hate you for just trying to feel a little comfort after all you've been through.”

“Okay..” you resigned, not entirely convinced but trying hard to trust your captain.

“Don't sweat it Yin,” Kid insisted, “you're okay, everything is gonna be okay. I'll tell them myself if you're worried about it. I promise they won't care.”

“We should get going soon,” you sighed, letting his softened cock slip from inside you and rolling off him, “it's a day's walk to the capital, we should get moving.”

“Yin,” Kid crowded behind you as you gathered your things into your duffle, stilling your frantic movements with a firm hold on your arm, “we're going to find them. When have I ever let you down?”

You let him pull you into a tight hug, his arm rubbing your back soothingly while your arms struggled to wrap around his thick waist. “I know captain,” you sniffed, “I'm just so worried.”

“Let's get going then, aye?” Kid suggested, giving you a reassuring pat on the back before separating himself, “let's go put those worries to rest.”

You slipped your visor on with a nod and threw your duffle over your shoulder, then you led your captain out of the crumbling shack, onwards to find your friends and lovers.

Your biggest concern right now was how to stay unseen and avoid fights on your way to the Flower Capital. Until now you'd been travelling under the cover of night, when you were at a visibility advantage and it was easier to hide. But with the guards at Udon no doubt having discovered Kid's escape by now, the two of you couldn't afford to stay still for any longer than necessary. You'd both allowed a few hours for a nap, but the sun was now risen, and soon there would likely be Beast Pirates out searching for the missing captain. You couldn't wait till nightfall, you had to keep moving, but that left you both exposed.

Some of the Beast Pirate Gifters were able to fly, and would spot you from a distance, especially now that they were no doubt actively searching. That left travelling under tree cover as the best option, though it would greatly slow the journey, and not all of the route had trees to hide under. You could use your devil fruit to cloak, but it would need to be used sparingly to conserve your energy in case it came to a fight, and you had no way to hide Kid's seastone cuff. If the two of you got caught out with nowhere to hide, the floating cuff would stick out like a sore tooth.

The best option, after checking with the map Kin’emon had given you, was to take a longer route via the neighbouring region of Hakumai, instead of going directly to the Flower Capital. It would take longer, but you would still hopefully make it before night. After that the plan was to search the capital after dark, being that it was the most likely time for Killer, or rather, Kamazo, to appear. The plan was less clear after that, but you hoped you would be able to disable him again so that Kid could carry him somewhere he could be bound, until you both figured out how to fix him. Or at the very least get information out of him so you could find where they were keeping the rest of the crew. You weren't keen on giving Killer another concussion, a man could only take so many knocks to the head before it resulted in permanent damage, or even a death-inducing brain bleed, but if it came to it you didn't have much choice.

The two of you made your way under the treeline, Kid refusing to let go of your hand. He felt responsible for you, as more than just a captain. He felt a responsibility to look after you on behalf of his best friend, and his long time friend Heat. Kid knew how sad and stressed you were, so he was trying to do what he thought they would do in this situation. He was no good with dealing with feelings but he was trying his best, and not to be too humble, but he thought he was doing a pretty good job. You appreciated his effort though. After more than a month on your own, a simple thing like having a warm hand in yours gave you a great deal of comfort. Just knowing you weren't alone anymore did a lot to soothe your anxiety and give you hope.

“How much further?” Kid huffed as he stomped along behind you.

“Why, tired already, captain?” you teased.

“Oi, some of us have spent the last month in a labour camp,” Kid scowled, before quickly remembering you hadn't had things much better, “Sorry, I'm fine to keep going for now, I was just curious.”

“It's still a few more hours, I think,” you hummed.

“You think?”

“I didn't have to take the long way last time,” you sighed, “have some patience, Eustass. This country is fucking crawling with Beast Pirates, and some of them can fly. We have to stay hidden.”

“Fine, whatever,” Kid grumbled.

The edge of the treeline came into view as you worked your way through the brambles, and you pressed your spare hand against Kid's chest to indicate for him to stop, the two of you squatting behind a bush. You adjusted the settings on your visor, searching for any nearby sounds or heat signatures that would indicate enemies. The next treeline was a good five hundred metres away, it was a decent distance to go without cover, so you needed to be extra careful, making sure to scan the skies as well. A group of warm bodies heading your way caught your attention, making you glad you'd taken the time to stop and check.

“Incoming,” you whispered, “big group of them, prisoner escort on their way to Udon I think, I can see one with shackles on.”

The two of you hid in the bushes, thankfully with no need for your devil fruit with the thick foliage, you could only hope that there would be nobody with good observation haki among the group. Even if you cloaked the two of you, you couldn't mask against decent haki. You heard Kid take a deep breath and hold it as the group came into view, maybe you should have warned him you'd masked sounds, to keep any accidental rustling from giving away your positon. Based on their clothing you could see they were all Beast Pirates, led by one on horseback, who dragged behind him a prisoner led by a long chain. Your breath hitched as you saw who they had, grabbing Kid's forearm and gripping it with a strength that told him something was very wrong. He hadn't seen him yet, or perhaps hadn't recognized him, given how wildly different he looked, and even moved, compared to the man Kid had been raised by.

“Killer,” you said in a hushed tone. Kid's brows, or lack thereof, shot up, amber eyes flicking between you and the blonde being forced to walk behind them.

“You're sure?” Kid replied with gritted teeth.

“One hundred percent,” you stammered. Kid made a move like he was going to stand, and you gripped him harder. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Freeing him,” Kid growled.

“And how are you gonna do that?” You hissed back, “you're unarmed, literally, without your devil fruit. All you've got is me and I'm just as fucking exhausted as you are. I don't have the energy to take that many. Not to mention we don't know if Killer will fight them or us. We're outnumbered, it's better to let them take him and free him later.”

“Fuck that,” Kid growled, “they're not taking him to that shit hole. I'll fight them on my own if I have to.”

“Kid! Don't!” You pleaded, “look, they have guns, even if you can take them hand-to-hand, you can't do shit if they shoot you. You're strong but you're not fucking bulletproof.”

As you argued with your captain the group got closer, the two of you turning to watch as Killer walked by. He stopped for a moment, staring directly at the bush where the two of you were hiding, and you knew full well that his haki told him the two of you were there. The horse-mounted pirate tugged at his chain, forcing him to continue, and he threw back his head and laughed as his feet moved again. It wasn't a happy laugh. It wasn't a laugh that said ‘my crew are here, and they're going to free me’. No, it was all pain, mixed up in his brain by the defective SMILE fruit, his true emotion was only fear and hopelessness, you could sense it in his brainwaves. Your chest felt tight watching him walk, and Kid made a soft growl beside you. There was no doubt in his mind now that it was his friend, and that something was very wrong with him. Killer never laughed out loud around strangers, let alone enemies. He hated his laugh more than anything, suppressed it except in the presence of those he loved and trusted most. Everything you'd told Kid was true, as much as he hadn't wanted to believe it, and if it weren't for his bubbling rage, he would have cried.

Kid moved to stand once again, pushing you away when you tried to stop him. “Kid, please,” you begged, “listen to reason, you can't help him right now, they have too much advantage.”

“Who's the captain here?” He bit back, “either you're with me, or you're against me. You're gonna help me free him, or you're gonna stay the fuck out of my way.”

“Kid, please!” you shouted, glad for your power masking the sounds of the argument, “you're just going to get us both captured!”

“Then don't fucking come with me,” he growled, “stay here like a fucking coward.”

Tears welled in your eyes as your hand dropped away from him. His heart hurt seeing your expression fall, but his anger was still in control of him. It always was when Killer wasn't there to show him there was a better way, only Killer had ever been able to convince him to stop and think. Kid had a one track mind to get his best friend back, and he wasn't going to let anyone stop him, not even you. Which only gave you one choice.

“Kid, please, if they take you again I might not be able to free you this time,” you reasoned, “I can't let you go out there.”

“Let me?” Kid growled. He grabbed your face and pinched your chin between his fingers hard, and you whimpered, immediately going back to that dark place in your mind that you thought you'd never have to return to. The one where every man in power was a threat to you, and you had to behave, or face the painful consequences. “You don't let me do anything, you fuckin’ hear me? You're my subordinate, and you're gonna do as you're fuckin’ told. Or you can find yourself a new crew.”

Something in your brain snapped then, images of Thompson's body under your knife flickering behind your closed eyes. His blood and piss pooling on the floor, the fearful expression on his face, the way he cried out when you cut him. His life draining from him as he choked on his own dick, the light in his eyes fading by your hand. ‘Never again,’ your mind chanted, ‘never again, NEVER AGAIN.’

“Fine,” you spat back, your voice laced with venom, “you can find yourself a new weapon. I'm fucking done. I'll find Heat on my own, you already know full fucking well he'll choose me over you. And as for Killer, you can explain to him for yourself where I am, why his girlfriend and daughter aren't back on the ship. See if he stays by your side after that.”

Kid let you go quickly, shock evident on his face. He didn't think you'd be so quick to quit, he thought he would be able to convince you to help him if he just threatened you. In the blink of an eye he'd ruined the months of trust he'd built up with you, and he immediately regretted it, but it only served to make him angrier. His anger was misplaced though, it wasn't you he was angry at, it was himself, and Kaido for tearing his family apart in the first place. But right now the only person here to receive his wrath was you, and he'd never been good at holding back when he was mad.

Multiple things happened in the blink of an eye. Before you could register it, a seastone-cuffed fist was flying at you, landing square in your gut and knocking the air out of you. You went down hard, wheezing and struggling for air as your arms wrapped around your stomach. In your struggle you groaned loudly, revealing Kid to the enemy, who spotted him immediately. You had the self-preservation to mask yourself with invisibility, but in your anger and pain you decided to leave Kid on his own. He'd made an enemy of you, he wasn't your problem anymore. He insisted he could hold his own, so he could fucking hold his own.

Next came the laughter, Killer turning manic as chaos unfolded, barely masking the two gunshots that rang out. Your vision was blurry as you lay on the ground, but you could see enough to watch Kid go down, a smug smile on your face as he realised too late that you'd been right. As soon as he went down, he knew it was over, as the pirates used the butts of their guns and swords to beat Kid until he was too hurt to fight back, all the while set to the eerie sound of Killer's mania. Your smug smile was wiped from your face as you watched them drag Kid to his feet. A new chain was attached to his cuff, which was then linked to Killer's, and the two of them were forced to walk again.

You laid shell-shocked on the ground, releasing your cloaking as soon as they were far enough, all your energy now going into the harsh sobs that racked through your body as you realised that once again, you were alone. You stayed there until night fell, curled up in a ball with your knees to your chest, wheezing as the sobs agitated your bruised ribs, twigs and stones digging into your side. The temperature dropped and you began to shiver violently, until you had no choice but to get your shit together. You had to keep going, at the very least you had to help yourself, and if not for your own sake then for Dawn's, and for Heat. Even if you couldn't get Killer out of prison on your own, you could at least sneak in and get information out of him, find out where they were keeping Heat and the others, rescue the rest of the crew, and then guide them to rescue Kid and Killer. Once you freed the rest of the crew, your commitment to them would be over, and you would leave with Heat and Dawn. Steal a ship and leave this awful fucking country for good. Maybe Killer would come find you, but you couldn't let yourself hope right now that he would even ever be himself again, hoping would only lead to more heartbreak.

With shaky breaths you struggled to your feet, your mind set. You would go to Udon, but only for information. For now, you just needed to get somewhere safe, and without Kid you could now move much faster, cutting back to your abandoned shack as fast as your legs would take you, relying on your devil fruit to keep you hidden. You ran for what felt like hours, collapsing immediately as soon as you made it inside the dilapidated building, and quickly passing out from exhaustion.

[NEXT CHAPTER] - link soon

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Taglist: @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @tremendoushorsepatrolgoth @iggy5055 @eyes-ofhell @luvnisstuff

[necrotic-nephilim]

I started in DC by reading fanfics, but as I began to read actual comics, I started to be unable to read the actual fanfic that got me into it in the first place because it's so out of character.

But there are still some stories that I love to read because I love the found family trope so much, even if it isn't really accurate to the source material.

As a comics purist (sometimes), are there tropes that you like enough that you'll still enjoy a fic even if it's not accurate to canon?

oh my god this is SUCH a fun question. bc while i started with the comics, there were certain characters and/or character dynamics where i was exposed to the fanon before the canon (just bc it's hard to read everything when you start out just to read some fanfic) and so i've definitely experienced the fanon to canon transition. (*especially* with Jason Todd. i had only read 80s/90s stuff where he was already dead or the New-52 bc that was on-going when i got into comics and man. the fanon misunderstandings i had about him before i got frustrated and sat down to read all his pre-Flashpoint stuff were absolutely bonkers.) and aside from that, whilst i tend to prefer canon over fanon, i'm not past giving fanon its flowers for occasionally having really interesting insights. occasionally. so some of my fanon "guilty pleasure" tropes would probably be

Morally Grey Tim Drake - this is one where if you try to back it up with canon, i *will* get salty about it. of everyone in the Batfam aside from maybe Bruce and Cass, Tim has the *most* black and white morals. often his internal conflicts are routed in such an inability to compromise his moral views and it can cause him to clash with other characters. he's *very* stiff and rigid in his beliefs and is *rare* to compromise in even the smallest ways. i mean, DC has repeatedly used Tim Drake of Tomorrow/Savior/Gun Batman!Tim for a reason. it's to demonstrate that of everyone, Tim *cannot* have his morals compromised. there's no grey area for him. he's zero or a hundred, so if he tips over the edge of "too far" he tips *all the way*, and doing so is one of his worst fears, how he could go "too far" if he let himself. a couple panels out of context from Red Robin (2009) (which was a grief spiral for Tim to begin with) don't change that. now that said. if it's done *right*, i sort of love Tim being morally grey in fanfic. it takes a specific flavor for me, and it's incredibly important to include that mental spiral along with it, of him struggling to justify it. i don't have any interest in "Tim Drake is loosy goosy with Bruce's morals and has the highest kill count and no one knows teehee" bc it doesn't play with the interesting parts of making Tim morally grey, which are fracturing his psyche. but all in all, i think it's fun to put Tim in a morally grey area and i will read it in fanfic and i enjoy writing it a lot

Joker Junior!Tim Drake - i've not written it on this account (yet) but on my main ao3 account one of my biggest fics surrounds this concept. this is one of those "well *technically* it's canon but only in a specific very divorced from the comics universe and would not work at all in the main timeline" so, i categorize it as fanon in that 95% of fics exploring the concept are not doing so within the Batman Beyond universe, but the main timeline. i just love it. I'll take any excuse to whump Tim, but this concept is so fun. psychologically breaking Tim will always be my favorite pastime. there are so many ways to explore the long-term effects this could have on him, how it could affect the Batfam. i'm not a fan of it being used as a "gotcha" to Jason or Babs' trauma with the Joker to paint Tim as the Ultimate Victim, but it is fun to see how their relationships would be affected by being mutual victims of him. (i have a vague JayTim idea where TIm fully retires from being Robin after being Joker Junior and killing the Joker, making Steph Robin for most of his typical Robin era and Jason still tracks him down out of curiosity bc he wants to know what happened and all. very underbaked but i've got thoughts.)

Renegade/Apprentice of Slade!Dick Grayson - this is another one where yes, this happened *sort of* in canon, but i highly doubt most people writing Renegate!Dick have read or are actually pulling from Nightwing: Renegade. it's just an exploration fo the concept fo Dick being Slade's apprentice and i will always eat it up in any capacity. whether Dick grows up with Slade from a young age, or chooses Slade for whatever reason later in life. it's not anything that works in canon bc it compromises Dick morally (similar to the above with Tim) and therefore will always come across incredibly fanon in most fics. but i can't say i don't enjoy it. it's fun to make Dick a little morally fucked up and see what you can make him under Slade's tutelage.

Jason & Damian Meeting in the League -there's no world where i believe this could work in the canon comics. (maybe in the Young Justice cartoon i suppose, but even then i think it's iffy) i would go as far to say it's wildly unrealistic. i don't see a world where Ra's would let Jason anywhere *near* Damian, bc Jason was Talia's pet project that he didn't approve of. that all said, there's something very interesting about how they *could've* met and them potentially bonding during that timeframe. them being somewhat brotherly during this time because Jason sees Bruce in Damian and sort of latches onto the kid and Damian is full of wonder hearing real stories about Batman and Robin, then that getting violently ripped away by Jason leaving the League is fun to me. it's fun how that could affect them within the Batfam and all. it's super fanon to me, but i do not care. i will eat it up

Bad Dad Clark Kent/Good Dad Lex Luthor - i will admit as a late, i've been less and less kind to this particular fanon bc of everything i've argued with people about, *this* one seems the most pervasive as misunderstood fanon. i don't mind when fanon exists, my gripe is when ppl try to claim it's canon. and the *arguments* i've had over this with people who can never seem to cite an actual comic are... frustrating. but that said, i think there is something fun to this strictly in fanon. the duality of who you expect to accept Kon and who you expect to hurt him being flipped is just sort of fun for the occasional guilty pleasure fic. it can make Kon's internal conflict a bit more interesting. the same goes for the Jon favoritism from Clark, it's not a canon thing (and i rlly wish ppl understood how complicated the timeline of Kon and Jon is and any distance from Clark toward Kon isn't malice, it's that Kon is from a timeline that Clark does not remember in the current canon so Clark just straight up doesn't know the poor kid.) but it's sort of fun to give Kon that complex of being overlooked and forgotten sometimes. making Kon just a *bit* more Luthor than Kent will *always* appeal to me in fanfic, especially if he *knows* it's wrong but craves approval from anyone who will give it.

Good Dad Bruce Wayne - i'll die on the hill Bruce is canonically a shitty father. maybe not to the extreme some people write him as, but he's not great at it. that said, i enjoy it in fanfiction. sometimes, i just want silly fluff or hurt/comfort where Bruce finally gets it right and manages to comfort whatever Batkid is in the fic. one of my favorite fics of all time is hinged on Bruce being a good dad, so i think it's just fun to explore how good the relationships *could* be, if Bruce was slightly less of an asshole. i usually prefer him as an asshole, but there are times i want low stakes nonsense.

Gotham Rogues Having Soft Spots for Robin(s) - just about every Rogue in Gotham has done something absolutely irredeemable, and most of them don't like or care about anyone in the Batfamily. but if there's a fic where one of the Robins inexplicably is sort of close with a Rogue and they have a cute silly relationship out of it? I'll eat it up i fear. Steph and the Riddler are besties? I'll believe it. Tim and Scarecrow get along pretty well? give me ten of these. Rogues protecting Robins just hits a spot. the unexpected nature of the relationship, as well as the fact they see each other regularly, can make a lot of good fodder.

[hyacinthi-mortem]

AO3 ISNT WORKING PROPERLY FOR ME HELP IM ABT TI HAVE A CRISIS

[romance-of-three-memes]

A lot of people in mainland China are perfectly capable of getting around the so called 'Great Firewall of China' and interacting with the internet beyond it but the thing is a lot of them just flat out don't want to or don't really care all that much. Yeah sure the internet is heavily censored, but outside of that non-English spaces have gotten smaller and smaller while English takes over as the lingua franca of the internet, and they may or may not be able to read and understand English very well.

Also a lot of people on the internet beyond the 'firewall' are very hostile to them, they get treated like naive idiots or brainwashed infiltrators for the ccp. I remember a few years back when a lot of Chinese fanfic writers started uploading their stories on ao3 en masse because there had been a big uptick in websites that host fanfiction getting taken down and some people were so utterly vile about it, making jokes about how they could get the fics taken down by mentioning the Tiananmen Square massacre in the comments and things like that.

All because they were apparently offended by their favorite tags having more non-English works that can very easily filter out so they don't have to look at them at all. Because God forbid a fanfiction website that already greatly skews towards English fics have more works in other languages, right? That's like the only thing I miss about fanfiction.net, it had way more non-English fics, well that and more stories for certain fandoms than ao3 does.

And it's not like a lot of tech companies and other governments don't censor the internet to some extent or another, China isn't unique in that regard, it's just particularly infamous for being so heavy-handed and easy to use as a red herring.

[shellshocklove]

moanin' & groanin' | logan howlett

pairing/AU: lumberjack!logan howlett/wolverine x inexperienced!female!reader

summery: working for your father's timber business isn't what you saw yourself doing, but when the wolverine comes looking for work it's suddenly not so bad – especially when he can teach you a thing or two.

warnings: this is an 18+ fic so mdni! age gap (in the way that his mutant abilities prolongs his life), swearing, use of pet names, smut, car sex, praise, a little dacryphilia, logan's got a dirty mouth, soft dom!logan, a little size kink (basically logan has a big dick), handjob, fingering, a little manhandling, unprotected sex (don't do it!!), no use of y/n

a/n: um hi! this is my first ever logan fic. i really hope i got him right! not beta read, and barely edited so any mistakes are my own. happy reading! <3

main masterlist / ao3

The pages crinkled under your fingertips as you turned another page. Over the top of your book you could see your father's men milling about, getting the timber ready for another outgoing truck. Day in and day out they worked like flannel-covered ants. 

He wasn't here, your father, leaving you to hold down the fort, or office to be precise, as he  ran errands. "I'll be back before lunch," he'd told you, a hand passing through the sleeve of his tan Carhartt.

The office felt bigger when he wasn't here, like his neuroticism took up twice as much space as he did himself. You looked around the room. It was small, more like a hut than anything else, raised up on cinderblocks. A tiny kitchen lined the front wall, the refrigerator had given out once this month already and something smelled like it had died in there, the white florescent light under the wall cabinets gave you a headache, and the tap drip drip dripped. The table and the mismatched chairs, your father had found at a fleamarked years ago, before you were born most likely, and they wore the wear and tear of years of use. 

Every available surface was covered in papers, and the wooden shelves on the wall dipped in the middle from the weight of the binders. When you were little you'd been afraid the wood would break in two, but they were still standing (hanging?) – maybe they'd stay like that for the rest of eternity for all you knew. Your father's office had only one desk, which made your job as occasional office manager and full-time problem solver, problematic. 

Your father would sit in his chair on one side, while you'd steal one of the mismatched chairs and occupy the other end. If you'd had your way, you wouldn't be working here. The timber business interested you just as much as your father was interested in the disco they played on the radio. "If it ain't the king of rock I don't want to hear it," he usually said and switched the channel. 

But the town was small, and no one was hiring. The summer after you'd finished high school you'd dreamt of moving to the city, but the money had been tight and your father needed you. At least the work, if your father didn't meddle, was relatively easy: answer the phone, type out the invoices and salaries, keep an eye on logistics, and make sure whatever breaks gets fixed. 

The radio hummed at a low volume, one of the singles from Tapestry, as you turned another page of your book. Leaning back in your father's office chair, you glanced at the clock over the door. He should be back by now. Just as the thought crossed your mind, the door swung open.

"Did you need something?" you asked, your book dipping down in your lap. 

Logan raised an eyebrow at you as he walked into the office on heavy steps, that damn cigar hanging out the side of his mouth. "Nice to see you too, princess," he poked jokingly, tugging at his gloves, one finger at a time, and tucking them into his leather belt. 

He sported the same outfit he usually wore; bootcut jeans, a white t-shirt under his flannel and a thicker wool-lined jacket. He must've been sweating in here with that on.

Autumn had claimed the trees and ground months ago, but this morning the frost had covered the ground and bit at the apples of your cheeks. Your breath had come out in swirling plumes when you'd locked yourself in this morning; the first glints of the sun peeking through the windows as it rose over the mountains. The first thing you'd done was crank the heater, and now as you approached midday, you'd shed your sweater long ago while the windows had fogged with condensation. 

The smallest of frowns tugged at your brows, as a heat prickled up your neck to your cheeks. Logan made you a little nervous– not in a bad way, but in a way where your thoughts would wander in his presence, conjuring up scenarios of him and yourself in… comprising positions. Okay, maybe it was in a bad way. But who could blame you when he walked around like that?

He'd arrived only a few months ago, at the tail end of the summer, looking for work. He was strong, stronger than any of the other men working for your father, and although the work was hard, it seemed like he never tired. You didn't know much about him and he kept mostly to himself, hidden away in a cabin up in the mountain, but sometimes you'd see him down at the local bar, nursing a glass of whiskey in one hand and a lit cigar in the other. More than once you'd seen him chatting up Kayla Silverfox, and more than once you'd wished it was you in her place.

"Oof," Logan groaned as he opened the fridge, grabbing his packed lunch and closing it as fast as he could. You appreciated him for that; whatever had died in there should stay in there.

"Yeah," you said, "I'm not cleaning that again, not even for a million bucks."

"Can't blame ya." 

He looked to the table for a second where the guys usually ate their lunches, before he decided to take your usual chair at your father's desk. As he sat down, you pushed the ash tray to his side of the desk, earning you a short smile in thanks as he rested his cigar. It wasn't unusual for him to talk to you on his breaks. 

So, why did you heart beat so fast in your chest?

Because it was the first time you'd been alone.

"So, where's your old man?" he asked and bit into the sandwich he'd packed in an old newspaper.

"Running errands– he should be back soon…" you trailed off.

Logan hummed non-committedly. "So, you're in here sittin' pretty readin' your book while we're out in the cold slavin' away– maybe I should become the boss' daughter."

"Well, it's not easy," you sighed, feigning confidence, "and you gotta be pretty first of all," you front teeth dug into your bottom lip as you tried to hide your nervousness.

"That's true," he grinned, "I ain't got nothin' on you, princess."

Logan held your gaze with intent, and it was like something in the air shifted. It happened sometimes with Logan, like he had this power beaming from him that sucked you in. Erratic wings fluttered in your stomach, and you had to drop your gaze.

"So, how's the book?" he asked, taking another bite of his sandwich.

"Eh," you shrugged, dog-earing the page your were on, before throwing the beat-up paperback on the table. "Too many plot twists– first they're on earth, then there's this virus spreading– so they have to move all of humanity to the moon, but then there's this species that lives under the surface of the moon who they start a war with, but one of the main characters are in love with a moonie– that's what they call them– so, now they're in love and trying to stop the war and…" you shrugged again.

Logan chewed slowly as he nodded his head. "Sounds complicated," he decided, making you let out a small laugh.

"I guess so."

A grin washed over Logan's face at your small laugh, and you felt his gaze roll over you, over your exposed skin. When he looked at you like that, like a predator drooling for a meal, you felt a small damp spot stick to your panties. You watched as his nostrils widened, his jaw clenching shut as a pulsing vein protruded from his neck.

"So, science fiction," he started, clearing his throat, "Didn't know you liked that," he continued between the last bites of his sandwich

"Some kid at the library recommended it," you shrugged, "so I thought I'd try it out. And it's not like it's that far from the truth– we've got mutants."

Logan crumbled the newspaper hard and quick, the sharp sound making you jump. "Yeah," he said, and stood to his feet, "That's true."

He grabbed his burnt out cigar, and threw the ball of newspaper in the trash. You started to wonder if you'd said something wrong, but then he said, "Your father's back," and not even a second later you could see your dad's old truck pull up outside the window.

How did he even know that? 

"Logan– wait," the words just fell out of your mouth before you could even think them through. He hovered by the door, raising a questioning eyebrow at you. 

You could be brave– Just say it! 

"Come by later would you? Before you leave for the day– I have something for you."

A gush of cold air blew in with the arrival of your father. He almost crashed right into Logan on his way out, nearly knocking him down the wooden steps. You thought you could glimpse a small nod from Logan, but he was out the door so fast you couldn't be sure. 

The rest of the day went by slowly as a growing anxiety gnawed at your neck. With your dad back you slipped out to borrow the car, driving into town to pick up some lunch at the local diner. It was routine at this point, something you did without thinking, but today your thoughts couldn't stay still. You were pulling up outside the office when you realized you'd driven the whole way with the radio off.

What was even your plan? 

You wished you were better at this. You could pretend, sure, put on a brave face to hide the nerves from surfacing, but how do you get a man like that to go for a girl like you?

You felt non the wiser when the sun had dipped below the mountains and he finally knocked on the office door. Your dad had left thirty-minutes earlier, stranding you at work with no way to get home. 

If this didn't go well, you didn't look forward to walking home.

"What 's it you wanted, princess," Logan asked, leaning against the frame of the door with one knee popped. Your eyes couldn't help but run down the length of him – his broad shoulders, the bulge hidden below his big belt buckle, and the veins of his exposed arms as he slung his jacket over his shoulder.

"Oh, um," you tried to shake your thoughts, and you rummaged the desk for the envelope. "Here," you said as you found it, stretching your hand out for him to take it.

He pushed off the door frame with a raised eyebrow, the cold air from the open door taking with it the warmth of the office. "What's this?" he questioned, taking the envelope from your hand. 

"It's your check– for this month's work," you explained.

His raised eyebrow pulled into a frown, "This is a week early," he questioned, "and I usually get these sent in the mail."

"Oh, I-I just thought I'd give it to you personally this time," you lied, fitting a shrug at the end for good measure, trying to sell how completely normal and nonchalant you were.

Logan raised a skeptic eyebrow at you, and you suddenly felt really really stupid. In your chest your heart could compete with a hummingbird's.

"Really?" he said with a smile before he dropped his chin, "Can I appreciate a little extra something in here, or…?" he trailed off, waving the envelope.

Letting out a shaky inaudible breath, you tried in your flirtiest voice, "Maybe if you give me a ride home…"

...................

The lights from the town below looked like stars scattered over the night sky, the yellow light of the roads connected them like on a string. You knew that Logan knew where you lived; the town was small, and even with the short time he'd spent here, it wasn't hard to get familiar. He'd stopped at the lookout point, about half-way up the mountain road. It was nice in the daytime, with a nice view of the town, the mountain and rivers, but at night it attracted a different kind of crowd: lovers. It was cheesy, and cliché, but clichés were clichés for a reason. 

The Led Zeppelin tape whirled, and the music stopped. 

Suddenly you felt nervous, fingers picking at a loose tread on your sweater. Logan leaned forward to flip the cassette, and his truck filled with a sound of organ, like you were back in church. When he leaned back he slung his arm over your seat. You watched how he spread his legs, getting comfortable, as his eyes found your face.

Under the wool, your heart picked up its beat.

In a brave move you shifted closer, the leather seat moaning under you, as a pleased smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. His big palm snaked around your shoulder, curling you closer to him until his lips caught your own. You only hesitated for a second before your hand found his neck, where your fingers tugged lightly at the hair at the nape of his neck. 

A low growl huffed against your lips, and he deepened the kiss, pressing himself roughly against you as he licked into your mouth. You couldn't help the small whimper escaping you. His touch was rough, almost impatient, but tender all at the same time, and you felt yourself fall apart.

The air stuck to your skin, clammy and sticky with arousal and now you started to get impatient. With a loud smack you broke apart, your lips raw and spent from use as you caught your breath. A rough hand cupped your cheek, the pad of his thumb skated gently over your skin as he tilted your head towards him.

"Such a pretty little thing," he mused. His eyes had gone dark, pupils huge and filled with lust; yours must've looked about the same as they rolled down his body. He shifted closer to you, pushing you closer to the door, and you got a better view of the bulge hidden behind his jeans.

Your heartbeat pounded in your ears, clogging up the sounds around you like you were underwater, pushing at your thoughts at the back of your mind. Logan moved with such ease, each touch natural and easy, like he'd done them a thousand times. Not like you, with only your short-lived high school boyfriend under your belt. 

"Hey," he shook your head gently, "Where you goin', bub?"

"I'm sorry," you whispered, a heat coating the apples of your cheeks. 

He shook his head, his face surprisingly tender for someone so rough, "Tell me, baby."

"I'm just…" you trailed of, trying to find your words, "I'm a little nervous– I haven't done this much," you said, avoiding his gaze.

"That's sweet, bub." The pad of his thumb rubbed the pet name into your skin as he leaned forward to catch your lips in a soft kiss, "But I wouldn't worry that pretty little head of yours 'bout it."

His breath was hot against your own, and an ache started to spread between your legs. The hand on your cheek travelled downwards to tug at your jacket, and you parted only for a second to rid yourself of it, but before you could lock your lips with his again he grabbed at your hands.

"I'll teach ya," he told you and guided your hands to his broad form. 

He let you touch him as he shucked off his jacket, your fingers dancing over the soft flannel. He was solid beneath your fingers, hard muscles from hard work. A patch of dark hair curled at his chest, peeking out beneath his white shirt, and you found yourself wondering where it lead.

Curling his hand around your wrist, he guided your hand lower; down over his chest where you could feel the solid form of him. His bronze belt buckle burned you like ice, but the heat of him as he pressed your hand to the hard bulge beneath the buckle burned even brighter.

"You feel that?" He looked you straight in the eyes. He pressed your hand down harder and you could feel the shape of him against your hand, hard and thick, and big. You barely managed a nod through the wave of heat coating your cheeks. 

"That's because of you, princess." His voice was low, almost like a growl, as he started to guide your hand to rub over the thick length.

"Me?" you questioned, breathless. 

"Yes, you," he chuckled, a heavy hand petting at your head. "D'you want to take it out? Stroke it f'me?"

"Please," you begged, looking at him with moony eyes through your lashes.

"So polite f'me," he mused, his hands tugging at his belt before he popped the button on his jeans. Slipping off your shoes, you crawled up into the seat, sitting back on your knees as you watched him pull at his jeans. Peeking out from under the denim, you could see a dark patch of hair.

Logan was in no rush, revealing only an inch at a time of the base of his cock, making a show of it as the tension rose. A wave of tickling arousal washed over you, and it made you brave, reaching a trembling hand forward, you helped him tug at the fabric.

At last his cock sprung free.

You felt your eyes widen at the sight, as you involuntarily squeezed your thighs together. Even with your limited experience, you knew he was bigger than most. The thick length of his cock bobbed from the weight, hanging heavy between his legs. At the tip of his fat head, a drop of precum pearled, almost invisible in the dark truck. 

"Come here, bub." He widened his legs as he reached out a strong arm for you, curling you into his shoulder. 

"Put your hand on it," he ordered, "like this," he grabbed at your wrist and guided you hand towards his mouth. You let him move you around, eyes blown out and wide as you couldn't take your eyes off his impressive cock. 

A wet blob of spit pulled you from your thoughts, it drew the slightest frown over your face until he guided your palm, now coated in his spit, to his cock.

Under your palm his skin was silky soft, but hard and firm at the same time. You found yourself mesmerized at the sight of your hand around him as you familiarized yourself with the heaviness of him in your hand. 

"There ya go–" he cut himself off with a groan as you formed a fist around the head of him. Your fingers struggled to reach around him, but it didn't seem like Logan minded much when you moved downwards smearing his spit over his shaft in an experimental tug. 

"That's it, good girl, just like that."

A warmth bloomed in your chest at the praise, wrapping itself around your heart. You wanted him to say it again– to be good for him. So, you reached forward with your other hand, wrapping it around the base as the other formed a fist around the head. Another pearl of precum beaded at the tip, and you took the opportunity to skate your thumb over it, massaging it into his spit.

A growl seemed to get caught in Logan's throat, and still riding off your high that the praise had sown in you, you started to pump his cock in slow strokes. A slick sound escaped under your fists with each stroke, and you watched how his head fell back in pleasure.

"Am-am I doing it right?" you asked, voice barely above a whisper.

At the sound of your voice, Logan sat up straighter, a heavy hand falling over your back to pull you closer. "You're a natural, princess."  

You couldn't contain the smile from coating your lips as he brought you in for another searing kiss. It was hot, and suffocating, and all-consuming, all at the same time. It clouded your mind, and you forgot what your hands were supposed to be doing. 

Logan's hand travelled down your body, his big palm grabbing at your ass. "Take of your pants," he ordered against your lips, "Panties too," underlining his order with a couple of light slaps to the flesh.

Shuffling out of his hold, you fingered at the button of your pants, pulling at them and your panties as quickly as you could. Goosebumps prickled over your exposed skin, the air suddenly frosty without Logan's touch – but that didn't last long.

The calloused pads of his fingers trailed up your thighs, pressing down into the flesh as he pulled you closer to him. "Come sit in my lap, princess."

He didn't wait for you to move, instead he manhandled you how he wanted. Spreading his legs wide apart he fit you between his legs, your back pressed against his hot chest with his hard and leaking cock caged against your ass. 

"I'm gonna touch you now, baby, okay?" his deep voice whispered in your ear.

"Okay," you peeped, heart pounding in your ears at this new proximity. 

He spread your legs, putting your wet and neglected cunt on display, hooking them over his knees. When his palms danced over your inner thighs, you felt yourself sink deeper into his chest, deeper into the safe scent of pine and man. 

"Need to get you ready f'me, bub– stretch this tight cunt out for my big cock," he cooed.

You ached for him, a sticky wet feeling between your legs as you wished so badly for him to finally touch you. His touch was light, but teasing, drawing circles along the thin flesh, circling closer and closer to where you needed his touch the most, before he pulled away. 

"Please," you whined, grabbing at his arm.

His breath felt hot against your neck, and you could feel the grin he pressed against your skin. He let you guide him upwards to hover his large palm over your mound, but he wouldn't let you have it. Instead, he pushed at your sweater. His hand spread across the skin beneath your belly button as prickled goosebumps followed the rough pads as they ran across your skin.

"Y'gonna feel me right here, bub?" he teased, "So deep inside your tummy?"

A whine caught in your throat and you felt like an exposed nerve. Arousal pulsated throughout your body, threatening to pull you apart unless he did something soon. Your neglected cunt dripped with an ache only he could sooth. 

"Yes, please, Logan," you whined, tears threatening to spill.

His thick beard scraped against your cheek, and you almost trembled from anticipation as he slid his hands downwards. He raked his fingers through the curls of your mound, and a gasp fell from your lips when he finally pushed at your clit.

A wide smile reached across your face when he started to circle his fingers, tight with the perfect amount of pressure. Your hips bucked to meet his touch, your cunt eager and dripping for more of him. His other arm clasped around your middle, keeping your still and steady in his lap as he had his way with you.

A bold finger dipped lower, running through your folds and teasing at you entrance. A slick sound filled the car as he played with your cunt, circling his fingers around your hole, dipping a teasing finger inside you just to the first knuckle, before withdrawing it just as quickly. 

"Such a messy pussy," Logan murmured in your ear, the deep bass of his voice vibrating into your skin. "Listen."

The sound as he played with your pussy was obscene, lewd, and so dirty you felt a heat crawl up your chest. A breathy gasp escaped you when he finally split you on his finger, and a satisfied smile coated your lips as he started to move it inside in a steady rhythm, prodding every so often at that spongy spot inside, the spot your own finger couldn't reach.

"F-feels s-so good," you managed to stutter out. 

The heel of his palm pressed against your clit with every thrust, teasing at your insides and conjuring moan after breathy moan from your lips. He guided you closer and closer to the edge, and you wanted so badly to fall. When he pulled out to slide another finger inside you, you felt a tear roll down your cheek with satisfaction.

"I can feel that pussy clenching me– you close, bub?" he poked, never stopping his fingers.

Your head rolled back, resting heavy on his shoulder as you nodded franticly, mouth parted slightly, humming out small breathy whines. You were so close, the tension in your stomach twisting and aching for release.

But then he pulled his fingers, dragging them up over your mound leaving a wet trail in your curls. You couldn't help the disappointed sigh as more tears pressed their way down your cheeks.

"Shh," he hushed you, "you're okay, bub." 

Under you, you felt him move, his strong muscles flexing as he shifted you on his lap. When you felt the blunt head of his cock slide between your folds, an eagerness came upon you. You grinded against him, making a small chuckle rumble from his chest. Logan slapped his heavy cock against your folds, coating his big cock in your slick arousal. 

The first stretch of him knocked the breath right out of you, the fat tip of him splitting you in half as he helped you guide yourself down on him. You had to remember to breathe, your hand fumbling for something to hold on to. 

"Fuck," you whimpered, eyes wide, "I-it's so big– it's t-too big."

His hand wrapped around your middle held you in place, keeping you still on his cock as you adjusted to the first inches of him inside you. 

"It's not too big, princess, you're doing so well f'me," he praised, "just a little more, bub– you can do it."

With a wet whimper you lowered yourself, taking a couple more inches of him, as Logan pressed more fluttering praise into your skin. He let you take your time, easing yourself down on him at your own pace. When your thighs were finally flushed with his, he was so deep inside you, you jolted, trying to move back up, but Logan's hands held you down. You felt him in your tummy, like he'd said, his cock reaching so deep you were shaking.

"Sit still, get used to it," he told you, as you tried to catch your breath, "You're being so good f'me."

And somehow the burning stretch of him soothed away into a pleasurable pressure, one you couldn't help but chase. With an experimental rock of your hips, you felt the fat head of him prod at your spot, making you mewl. And when you started to swivel your hips, Logan groaned in satisfaction, meeting your movement with small thrusts.

Slowly, he picked up his rhythm, strong hands shifted to dig into your hips, holding you in place for him to move you as he wished. In your ear, you heard him growl, deep and animalistic as he fucked up into you.

It didn't take long until your breath came out fast between moans as the pressure built, and built, and built. 

"Logan," you moaned, tethering right on the edge.

Another growl escaped his chest, as his strong arms hooked under your legs. He pressed them tightly to your body as he picked up his pace, bucking wildly into your eager cunt. You could feel him throb inside of you, and you couldn't help but clench at the thought of feeling him spill inside you, claiming you.

"Don't stop, please, don't stop," you begged, tears streaming down your face like two winding rivers, "I-I'm gonna come."

A hand slid between your legs to rub at your puffy clit, coaxing you closer and closer with winding circles. 

"Come on my cock, baby, come all over that big cock."

It was hot, and blinding. Euphoric shocks pulsed through your body, as you fluttered and gushed around his cock. Logan's grip on your legs tightened as you shook violently with your orgasm – a million stars exploded behind your eyes.

"Oh, that's it, bub, such a good girl," he praised between heavy wet pants against your ear.    

Fucking you through your ecstasy, Logan chased his own high at a relentless pace, and all you could do was take it, reduced to a ragdoll in his hands. In your ear he muttered nonsense interlaced with praise, telling you how good you felt, and how perfect you were for him.

With a deep groan he pulled out quickly, tugging at himself until he spilled his thick spend on the truck floor. With bleary eyes you watched how it pumped in quick spurts, dripping down his hand and soiled the knuckles in his own sticky cum. 

Behind you, Logan breathed hard, nudging his nose against the column of your neck to press soft kisses to the hot skin. 

A pair of bright headlights beamed down the road, pulling you from the moment with its blinding light. Logan helped you shift off his lap, reaching to hand you your discarded clothes before he tucked himself back into his jeans. 

The cassette whirled in the car radio, and you couldn't remember when the music had stopped. Logan shifted back behind the wheel and an eerie silence grew in the distance between you.

"How 'bout I take you somewhere to eat?" he posed.

You smiled, "I could eat."

...................

hopefully this was okay? a comment telling me your favorite part is always welcome, and my ask box is always open to chat <3 and thank you for reading!!

© shellshocklove, 2024 i do not give any permission to repost, translate, feed to AI or redistribute any of my writing, with or without credit!

[gremlingottoosilly]

Cleaning services (perv!Konig x fem!cleaner!Reader)

Konig needs help in decluttering and cleaning his house. Unfortunately for you, he takes quite a huge liking in having pretty things like you around. And he isn't very nice about it.

TW: Perverted Konig, age gap, Konig masturbates at you without consent, implied kidnapping, yandere Word count: 3754 This work on AO3

There is no shame in having a professional cleaner, König tries to tell himself. 

Yes, he is a grown man with a very dangerous job that requires having a lot of responsibility. He holds the lives of his soldiers in his hands and risks his life every day not for the sake of his country, but certainly for the sake of his wallet and the reputation of KorTac. 

Hiring a professional cleaner for his house shouldn’t make him feel humiliated and embarrassed, and he knows it. Cleaners are basically like soldiers – doing stuff that other people can’t for a certain amount of money, providing services for the clients who can afford it. Besides, it’s a support of his local community – after everything he took from the people around his town, it’s only natural that he would support this growing business of cleaning services. 

There is no shame in having some nice old lady cleaning his house and watching over it while he is too busy trying not to kill himself or drown his head in liquor after a particularly rough mission. When you lose two guys on a run that was supposed to be the quickest task possible when you’re returning home with an injury that isn’t really that serious but brings your whole mental state into a very dark place, and when you’re forced to take 3 weeks of leave in the place you hate, hiring a cleaner to take care of everything really shouldn’t make him so ashamed of himself. 

Even if he can clean his space – the house is just too big for only one of him, and his ribs still have this funny feeling of fantom bullets traveling around his guts. So, he dials up the number of the cleaning services because he is too fucking old to understand their weird website and messenger ordering, even though speaking with a human operator on the other half of the line is somewhat more humiliating that having no idea of how to use a modern interface. 

There is no shame in asking for help, his therapist is trying to shrill it in his head all of the time and yet he is still hesitant when the cleaning professional is knocking on his door, finding this place surprisingly fast. König braces himself, thinking about all the ways he could avoid having a conversation – he drew a quick map of the place, put down the room cleaner shouldn’t be entering – his gun safe, mostly, already repeated in his head how he would greet them and swiftly extract himself from the situation. 

“Guten Tag, please, come in. This is the map of the place, don’t go to the red door on the right, don’t hesitate to ask questions, I will be on the second floor.” He takes a few wide, swift steps to his door and stops. Thinks again, overthinking, thinking too fucking much about everything, anxiously checking on his phone to read the message that yes, his cleaner is here and he should probably open the door or they would burst down the window. “Guten Tag, come in. Map of the place is here, don’t go to the red door to the right, please hesitate to ask questions, I will be somewhere around the house, lurking in the shadows” He braces himself to open the door, ready to see that sweet old lady who would spend the next 8 hours cleaning his house and then turn back another day to rinse and repeat until his house stopped looking like a place where a very, very miserable man lives. (Even if this is true) 

But, there isn’t a nice old lady with a bunch of cleaning supplies and determination to make someone’s life easier. 

But, there isn’t a cold middle-aged woman with a very professional no-nonsense attitude who wouldn’t even talk to him before going straight to work. 

But, there is a young girl. Well, not a girl, of course, if he had to guess you were somewhere around the “Too fucking young, but definitely legal” spectrum. Young enough to not be alive when he was already going to school, young enough to make him sweat, and definitely not old enough to be accepting a job where you’d have to spend so much of your life cleaning and scrubbing and sorting and…

There isn’t anything shameful in ordering a cleaning service when you genuinely need it, but you’re young and you’re pretty and he isn’t even wearing a mask because he is an old dumbass that forgot about it, and you look at him with your shiny eyes and…

Maybe, he should clean on his own – would definitely be less shameful. 

— Sir? H…hello? Good morning? Can you hear me? 

Yes, he can hear you. 

Yes, he would love to hear you every single day of his life, when he wakes up and when he falls asleep. 

— Ja. I apologize, I…thought it was mail. 

It’s a dumb excuse, but he can’t really say that he was just too fucking mesmerized by your shiny eyes and perfect hair and nice figure and basically everything about you. He has this nasty habit of imagining a future with people around him – with people who just fucking want to be left alone, and yet he still stares and looks and it’s probably ultra uncomfortable for them – but he can’t help imagining the life with every cute lady in the grocery shop or elegant lady sitting next to him on a train. 

He has a pattern – people who are not interested in him in the slightest. He has a pattern, a preference, cute girls, smart girls, popular ladies that were never even so much as looking in his direction. He could probably score someone now, having a colonel’s salary and honorably discharged payments, but he gave up on trying to find anyone. He has friends, company, has work where he spent most of his life anyway – he doesn’t need anyone, he wants to think. 

Then you waddle into his life with a bunch of cleaning supplies and a small vacuum, barely able to handle everything in your hands. He rushes to help and envelops your hands with his – you are so much smaller in comparison, he has bear-like arms and horribly big everything. he feels awkward when he gently removes everything from your arms – when he tries to help by simply putting everything on the table of the next room. 

König hated this house – it was big, it was empty, and the only reason he didn’t sell it was because Mother’s things were still locked in her old bedroom and every time he tried to clean it and evaluate the cost of the house, he decided that he will Do It Other Day. Coincidentally, all of those days were also followed by three-month minimum missions, making him utterly unable to do everything about this place anyway. 

This is why you’re here – a hired cleaner, a sorter, you promised to de-hoard everything and see if there is anything of value. Perfect for someone like him, especially since he is paying you double for spending the whole day and a few days more in his house exclusively. 

Now, he looks at how awkward your smile is, how you fidget with the edge of the broom you brought, and how you can’t even start a conversation because he is simply staring at you, staying in the living room of this dead, almost abandoned house. Now, he looks at how cute you are, how perfect, and remembers that he didn’t score with anyone in half a year already – not even in terms of sex, the casual flirting was also forbidden since half of his unit was transferred and the new people weren’t really fun of his tough methods of breaking rookies in. 

When was the last time someone genuinely smiled at him? 

Ah, he is staring again. Scheisse. 

— Where do you want me to start, sir? 

He wonders how much he should pay you to clean him instead. Would you be gentle? Rough? Would you call him a pervert, which he is, and then slap him and yell at him for being such a horrible old dog who is ready to pounce at every pretty girl in his presence? He would do anything that would set his mind free of the thought about Mom. Her bedroom. This whole house that he can’t call home ever since he turned 6 and understood why Father was always so, so angry. 

— The living room. If it’s not too much. 

He barely stops himself from talking more – you look weird, you loom surprised, you look at him like he is fucking stupid and, in fact, he is. Of course, it wouldn’t be too hard for you, you’re his clean, for fucks sake. You come here to clean, you get good money for it, he shouldn’t feel guilty for using your services because, in some way, he actually provides you with a job and a cute thing like you shouldn’t go to other houses, with old perverts that can do unspeakable things with the adorable worker. 

Ah, yes, perverts like him. God, he is hopeless. 

— Alright. Do you want to note something, like if there is anything I shouldn’t touch? 

He would allow you to take your adorable, yellow glow-wearing hands to get into his personal savings and all of his bank accounts, if you’d want to. He curses under his breath, hating how professional you are – hard worker, perfect, simply a fantastic person who deserves more than working for him. You aren’t trying to shy away from the job and he almost resents you for it. 

You’d make a good soldier, he thinks – you’re able to hear the orders and oblige to them, you’re obedient and came even before the discussed time. You’d make such a perfect private for his unit, he observes. 

Ah, right, he was supposed to answer you. Shit. 

— No. Just don’t go to the second room on the left. 

— Alright. Anything else? 

He grumbles under his breath, trying to get into the right headspace to deal with someone like you. König knows it’s rude, to just ignore and leave you like this – but if he were to stay in he same room as you, he would do something horrible, disgusting, and completely dishonorable to you. So, he leaves – escapes – to his office. Father’s office, mostly, the only thing here that belongs to him are some documents and useless papers – and a laptop that he drags to every other room anyway. 

He doesn’t like this room, it reminds him of the worst episodes of his early childhood – yet, this is his only reserve. He doesn’t want to leave the house because the territory is secluded and if something were to happen to you, he would be the only one able to help. He also doesn’t want to leave his gun collection with you – he doesn’t want you to find it and freak out or hurt yourself. 

This is what he tells himself, at least. He wants to be there with you, in the same room preferably, but horrible for his anxiety, because he wants this illusion, phantasm of having a loving relationship. Of having a woman in his life, a lovely housewife who would cook for him, clean for him, and would be absolutely spoiled with gifts and attention. God knows he doesn’t have a romantic bone in his body – but he will carve one out of his ribs for you. 

And he only knew you for an hour tops. 

König feels like literally the worst man alive when he spread his legs and starts stroking his hard, glistening cock. He brushes over the swollen, red tip, not allowing himself to have any lube other than spit and oozing pre-cum – he tries not to cum embarrassingly quickly, thinking about your perfect gestures and smiling face. How perfect you look in your cleaning uniform – not like maids from the occasional porn he was watching, but still beautiful. Your body is perfect even with all of those ugly layers and grey fabric – and he can’t stop thinking about the sway of your hips or glimpses of your legs under your dress.

He thinks about you, bent over his couch, trying to clean the especially dirty spot on the furniture – how the material of your dress would be tight around your ass. The image makes him grunt quietly, stroking his barely wet dick even more – the pain from the dry sensation only makes the pleasure all the sweeter. He is hard, was hard for the past 10 minutes as you were introducing yourself and whatever your deal is. He is dirty, perverted, knowing only your name and your face – and he is still stroking himself, thinking about paying you extra just so you’d get on your pretty knees and suck him. Would you be sloppy, messy, get his cum all over your face so you’d have to wash it off? Would you be experienced, eager, trying to get as much seed as possible with that pretty tongue of yours? 

He is a lost cause because he hears the sounds of vacuum – you’re only a few rooms away from him, trying so hard to clean his house for him, to work through every bit of furniture and everything he acquired for the past twenty years or so – and he moans loudly, knowing that you don’t hear anything. You’re probably listening to music or some silly girl’s podcast about planets and gardens and maybe some university lectures. He’d pay for your courses, he would get you any book you want – having his salary and barely spending it made him softer in the saving habits. 

He can afford to splurge on a pretty girl who just needs a rich Austrian mercenary to sweep her off her feet. But, he is old – but, he is a monster who preys on someone helpless, using her pretty face to jerk himself off, and he doesn’t even deserve your number, although he has had it since accepting the service. 

His cock is big, angry red in his hand as he runs his finger over the bulging vein, teasing the sensitive flesh – always loud in bed, with grunts and moans of pleasure, he can barely contain himself now, only forcing his mouth shut when he doesn’t hear the sound of vacuum anymore. He strokes his dick fast, angry, and slams it into his fist, trying to make the pain last longer, so he won’t cum after a minute or two. He has the stamina to last longer – but it’s also the first time he was so horny since…he can’t even remember. 

König thinks about putting you in his bed – like a perfect housewife, you would hug his waist with your legs, would allow him to lick and grope at your tits, and won’t scream too much when he’d force his tongue inside of your precious pussy, taking every last drop of your pleasure. He wouldn’t want to be forceful, angry, you’re too precious for this and too weak for his strength – but he can imagine slamming into you in a matting press, cumming inside and not even pulling out, warming his cock in the heat of your body. 

Father would kill him for doing something so dirty in his office – but he is long dead, devil save his soul, and it’s König’s office now. Even when he barely uses it, even if he doesn’t really need this. It came in handy when he had to jerk off to the pretty cleaning girl who cleaned up after him – so, somehow, his father managed to improve his mood 15 years after he died. 

He cums with a low groan, whispering your name – he doesn’t understand how a pretty thing like you still works here and wasn’t taken by someone else already, but he would take what he can get. Never the one to get the first dibs, never being someone’s first choice – he feels terrible for thinking about you in such a low way, but his pleasure sticks to his fingers and, at this point, it’s too late to feel bad. 

Drying the tip of his dick with a tissue, he spends a good few minutes with spread legs, his soft cock laying on the chair, with cum still oozing out – such a waste, honestly, would be much better to stuff you full of his cock or even take your pretty ass, spread you slowly. Keep only the tip in, not pressuring you into anything more until you’d start moving yourself, like a good slut you will be. 

So perfect under him – the images and sounds of your voice are running through his mind, making him breathe heavily. If he was younger and had as much sex drive as before, he would already be hard – but he needs some time to relax, thinking about your pretty legs and adorable face. 

It takes him a few minutes of listening to your sweet voice to understand that you were not, in fact, a hallucination or a mystical fairy coming to make him come. You were standing outside of the office door, looking embarrassed and clearly hearing at least some of his horny mumblings – you avoid looking at him, and your fingers are trembling when you tug at the sides of your dress. Guilt immediately rushes to him again, he looks at you like a perfect treasure you are – and he is a horrible monster trying to hoard all of it to himself. 

— What is it, liebling? 

Petname goes smoothly from his tongue and he can only hope that you don’t know German – he is too embarrassed to talk to you, too anxious, his newfound shyness is a result of both your beauty and the post-nut clarity that already made him feel like a monster. He contemplates just giving you money and sending you off, paying double for the false call, and leaving you a 5-star review so you won’t get in trouble with your boss. 

You look so meek from his angle of view – he has to fight the urge to pinch your face, squeeze your cheeks, grab your waist in his firm hands, and just lift you in his arms, holding you to his bed. Maybe getting a nice set of cuffs to ensure you would never escape from him. 

— I finished with the living room and…well, I just wanted to ask if you want the decluttering work to be done today or tomorrow. 

He remembers how he basically paid you for a few days worth of work – and he smiles at exactly how perfect this decision was. Of course, you are a smart girl, a modest girl, you aren’t staying the night and would rather waste time on the road, much to his dismay, but at least he would see you for a few days already. 

He might not even let you go after. 

— Ach. Today, if it’s not too…

He stops himself again – of course, it’s not too much, you are a professional, not just a friend that comes to clean his place for a pack of beer and maybe some pizza. He doesn’t know how to talk to you, anxiety eats him whole, and he has to just avoid looking at you to avoid further embarrassment. 

— Alright. I will do it right away then. 

You smile awkwardly, your lips are twitching and he already knows that you could hear him moaning your name and sweet little praises while stroking his cock. You aren’t biting the hand that feeds you, not running away screaming at how perverted he is – poor girl, you probably need money more than you need personal safety if you’re fine with him heaving like this. If you were his, he would never allow you to be so careless. 

He moves behind you in the most dreaded room of the house. Mother’s bedroom, a room that she only used for sewing and only allowed him in when he was extra whiny after another failed fight with his bullies. All of her thighs are here – ever since she passed away, he just moved everything to one room and locked it, barely bothering to keep a key. He hates being here, almost as much as being in Father’s office — this room smells like death and old paper and you scrunch your nose in an adorable expression when you take a step inside. 

— I will divide everything into categories, alright? 

— Gut.

You look at him nervously, clearly scared that he is watching over you now. It might feel like a logical decision – after all, it was his mother’s vintage things, who knows what kind of jewelry she kept here, something that he won’t even notice gone until it’s too late. You and him both know, however, that this isn’t the reason he is looming over you. A perfect obedient thing, you deserve something better than his affection, but he still locks his gaze with yours, looking at your hands and going through various furniture pieces. 

You work like a fairy, not an ounce of laziness or exhaustion in your actions – even after you already spent a few hours cleaning his living room, you act like a Cinderella that got a bunch of magic mice up her rags. He licks his lips, looking at your perfect ass you as sit on your knees, starting with decluttering every little box there is. 

— Can I just put it back in boxes or…

You look the the contents – vintage makeup, some jewelry, head pieces that don’t look particularly expensive but were definitely well-loved. You wonder who they belong to – probably a wife, or, maybe, some of his relatives who lived here. He doesn’t seem like a married or divorced man – he does, however, look insanely lonely. 

It takes him a good few seconds to respond, too mesmerized by the little song you were humming a minute before. He imagines you in that old, chunky jewelry, some necklaces that cost more than your salary – and the thought makes him salivate. 

He smiles, leaning closer to you – hot breath on your face, you shift immediately, scared. He is so fast for someone so big, his movements are perfect and his eyes are cold – you feel the chill deep in your bones when he moves even closer, his lips almost brushing against yours. 

Suddenly, you are very aware of the fact that he locked the door to this tiny room when you both moved in. 

[rollercoasterwords]

the tiktokification of ao3

or: some of you fundamentally misunderstand ao3 and it really, really shows

i was talking about this with a friend a few days ago and since then i've seen multiple posts of various sorts that have just made me think about it more, so. here is me breaking down a disconnect i see particularly with younger members of the marauders fandom (i say marauders specifically just bc that's the only one i'm plugged into):

okay, so i've seen many (usually younger) marauders fans either talking online about how they wish ao3 was more like social media (specifically regarding algorithms) OR talking about ao3/fanfiction/fanfic writers as if they are operating under the same etiquette/guidelines/assumptions they would bring into social media platforms. this ranges from being mildly irritating to genuinely harmful, and i want to talk abt why.

first - you have to understand that social media, in this day and age, exists in a profit economy. and when i say social media here, i'm referring to platforms like tiktok, twitter, instagram, etc. all of these platforms exist in a profit economy where content is a product that can be monetized. this leads to a few important distinctions:

people posting on these social media platforms are generally posting with the intent to get their content seen by as many people as possible, as quickly as possible

they post with this intent because once their content is consumed by enough people, it becomes a product that they can monetize

therefore, if that content gets popular enough, these people can become influencers, where content creation is an actual job and their audience are, in a sort of vague and obscured way, similar to consumers purchasing a product

because of the profit economy surrounding social media, there are certain assumptions + forms of interaction that bleed across almost all social media platforms. the ones relevant to this little essay include:

operating under the assumption that anyone posting anything on the internet wants to go viral, ie. be seen by as many people as possible as quickly as possible in order to grow an "audience"

these influencers are creating content for us, their audience, so they should want to please us. they should also be trying to appeal to the broadest possible audience. therefore, if we dislike their content, we have a right to make that very, very clear.

in that same vein, we have a general right to critique content creators, as they are making a profit and we are the consumers purchasing their product--much like you might feel entitled to a certain standard of service in a restaurant where you are paying for the food.

when you carry these assumptions over to a platform like ao3, it creates problems. why? in a nutshell: because ao3 exists outside the profit economy

ao3 is a non-profit. it does not have an algorithm because it is not trying to sell you anything. this means that the writers posting their work on ao3 are not making a profit. we are not influencers. we are not creating monetized content to sell to a consumer-audience. where consuming content on other social media platforms might be comparable to eating at a restaurant, reading fanfiction on ao3 is more like coming over to someone's house and eating cookies that they made for free. you are in their house. the cookies are free, given as a gift. so what happens when those assumptions outlined above start to bleed over from other social media?

assuming that anyone posting fanfiction online wants their work to go viral -- i've seen this with popular fic writers getting questions like, "are you worried x isn't going to be as popular as y?" those questions are usually not ill-intended, but they demonstrate a fundamental lack of understanding about why writers post work on ao3. it's not to go viral. it's not to build any sort of online following. most of us who post on ao3 have jobs or schoolwork or other commitments, and writing fanfiction is something done for fun, out of a love for writing. those sharing their work online might be seeking community, but that is fundamentally different from seeking an audience, and in no way involves internet virality. if someone is posting fanfic on ao3 with the hope that it'll "go viral," then they likely either won't continue writing fanfic for long or will reach a point where they have to re-evalute their motivations, because seeking joy and validation by turning your art into a product for consumption just isn't very sustainable.

influencers are creating content for us, so we have a right to let them know if we don't like it -- nope!! fic writers are not influencers. yes, even the popular ones. no matter how much other people might blow their work up on social media, fic writers are still outside the profit economy. they are not creating content for an audience. they are not creating content for you. they are writing because they love it, and they are generously sharing it. if you don't like it, don't interact with it. you are never entitled to loudly and publicly proclaim how much you dislike a fic. i talk about this more here

we have a general right to critique fic writers, the same way we do with content creators/influencers -- again, no. you should not be treating fic writers the way you would treat an influencer on another social media platform, no matter how popular they may be. this is not to say fic writers are beyond all reproach; rather, it is a call-in to check your entitlement. fic writers are not little jesters entertaining in your court. they are not subject to your whims. they do not have to do things for you. they do not have to write things you like. in that post i linked on point 2, i talk about what etiquette might look like if you're really concerned that a fic writer is doing something harmful, but that is not what i'm talking about here. i am talking about the proliferation of negativity i have seen, especially on twitter and tiktok, where people essentially just talk shit about fics or fic writers as though they are entitled to have those fic writers working to please them. this is gross, and it needs to stop. you wouldn't go over to someone's house, eat the cookies they baked to share, and then spit those cookies back in their face and start shouting about what a shitty baker they are. or maybe you would--in which case, congratulations! you are Not A Good Person.

anyway, at the end of the day, a lot of this can be boiled down to: Because ao3 exists outside the profit economy, fic writers are not influencers, and you should never be treating them as though they are. i think i see this disconnect largely with younger people just because they've maybe only ever really understood social media within this sort of influencer-consumer-culture economy, and genuinely don't understand how to interact differently with the internet. so, consider this post a call-in to reevaluate the way you interact with fic writers and the etiquette you use when it comes to engaging with fanfic on ao3! i promise that ao3 being different from social media is a very, very good thing, and also a very, very rare thing, so let's treasure it and focus on fostering community rather than trying to morph it to fit the mould of influencer-audience dynamics that we see almost everywhere else <3

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

could u pls write a fic about a plus sized reader noticing Spencer doesnt look at her alot so one morning she wears lingerie and a see through robe and she teases him until he just takes her on the couch?

༉‧₊˚. 𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐥 || 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

— pairing: spencer reid x plus size!reader

— summary: listen, it wasn't that you didn't love the domestic life with spencer, but god, you just really missed being touched (and penelope has a solution).

— warnings: uhh this is almost 3k of pwp firstly, penelope being the best wingwoman to ever exist, lingerie, teasing, unprotected sex, couch sex, vaginal sex, sub!spencer reid, dom!reader, kind of switch spencer and reader at the end, riding, heavy petting, subspace if you squint, mentions of oral sex (m and f rec), the reader is lowkey a freak (and penelope instigates it), clothed sex, the reader is dressed and spencer isn't, i held myself back from including a mommy kink, but that's the best you're getting from me, a lack of foreplay (be considerate folks), consent kink, praise kink.

— wc: 2817

⋆ a/n: HEY SO i really let this get away from me in the sense of this was meant to kind of be dom!spencer but i blinked and all of a 2k was written of sub!spencer so yikes!! but i really enjoyed writing this, it's been literally forever since i've written pwp so... here ya go!! i'm trying to be more organized with uploading because i really want to clear out my drafts before starting any new projects.

masterlist | AO3

“Pen, have you ever seen those TikToks where it’s like ‘he has a whole woman in his bed yet he’s playing World of Warcraft’ or some shit like that?” You ask the phone that’s tucked under your chin.

You’re in the middle of putting up laundry, but a feeling of unrest bubbled beneath your skin.

Penelope laughs, “And let me guess, that’s how you feel right now?” 

You sigh, looking down at the shirt that refuses to turn inside out. You throw it back in the hamper with a huff before grabbing a pair of – Spencer’s – jeans.

“I just – I’m not with Spencer for just sex, you know that, but it’s been like… forever since I’ve gotten any.” You can’t even listen to yourself talk.

“We’ve been in this like… domestic bliss stage, and while I love waking up to breakfast in bed and giggly showers, I’m horny and every time he does something so normal – something that shouldn’t even be considered sexy – I have to hold myself back from jumping his bones.” 

Penelope lets out a rather unattractive chortle, but she continues. “Listen sister, while I love the Boy Genius as much as the next person, he’s kinda dense. With all those brains, he’s rather hard-headed when it comes to romance.”

“I know, I know, and those are one of the reasons why I love him! The denseness is cute, but I’m starting to think I sabotaged myself.” You look down longingly at the MIT t-shirt. Spencer was away at the office right now, so that means whatever conversation you were having with the colorful woman on the other end was completely inappropriate.

“You know what I think?” She starts. “Oh God.” You sigh fondly. “Oh, hush! Don’t even act like my ideas aren’t good! Anyway… If there’s one thing I’ve learned from being quite the seductress myself, is that at the end of the day a man is a man, and they can be reduced down to their most primal instincts.”

“What are you saying?” You inquire curiously with furrowed eyebrows. “I’m saying that you gotta work with what ya mama gave ya! Men are dumb, they see a tit or a nice ass and they lose all cognitive function. So what I’m saying is to put on some lingerie and act like a little minx! Guys love it when you tease them and act like you don’t know what you’re doing! It’s about the chase, my fellow curvaceous protege.”

“So you’re saying to… seduce him?”  

“That’s exactly what I’m saying – Oh! Good morning sir! Yes, sorry, I’ll call you back when I’ve got the answer to what you need… yes okay bye-bye!” And with that, you’re left listening to the silence. 

You laugh, shaking your head in exasperation before taking a seat on the bed.

Seduce him, huh? The notion almost seems ridiculous, but it really isn’t that far fetched. You’ve had sex with Spencer before, you know how his brain works, what gets him needy and what parts of you turn him on. Maybe it’s not such a bad idea.

You don’t really own any lingerie, because for one, the material that’s supposedly the back of your underwear gets swallowed by your ass, and two, Spencer’s never complained about your granny panties. But hey, it doesn’t hurt to look right?

Okay, seduce Spencer Reid is a go.

Taking one last scrutinizing look in the bathroom mirror, you leave quietly, walking into the kitchen and pouring yourself a glass of coffee. Liquid courage as they say.

The light pink sheer robe hangs off of your ample form, the fuzz on the edge of your sleeves getting in your way and irritating you. God, if this doesn’t work, a woman by the name of Penelope Garcia is going to find herself six feet underground.

Spencer sat on the couch slipping his feet into a pair of mismatched socks – you’ve stopped trying to organize them a while ago – tucking them into his converse. He’s off today, probably having plans with the bookstore and the park before offering to make the both of you dinner. It’s endearing to say the least, but food is not something you're hungry for.

“So, what’s on the agenda for today?” You ask before taking a sip of your coffee. He hasn’t looked up, but you’re facing him now, your scantily clad body exposed by the thin satin of your white bra and underwear. A devil in disguise (you hope).

“Hmm, I was thinking about playing chess in the park for an hour or two before going to the bookstore. A new novel about quantum physics just came out, and even though it’ll probably be about stuff I already know, I’m always willing to look at it from a different perspec…” Spencer finally looked up, his sentence slurring a bit. “...tive.”

“Ah! That sounds exciting! I’ll text you what I want for dinner later if that’s okay? Or would you rather I go shopping with you?”

He blinks, his mouth hanging open intelligently, as though he’s still trying to process exactly what he’s seeing. “Yes. I mean no - I mean… I… what are you wearing?”

You spare a lazy look down, as though you had forgotten you even had the thing on.

“Oh this? It’s just really hot in the apartment today. So make sure you bring some sunscreen and a fan, yeah? Don’t want you getting a sunburn or having a heat stroke.”

“I - I’ve never seen that set before, is it new?” He stammers. You click your tongue as if you genuinely had to date the outfit back, when in reality the tags to the set itself sits pretty in the bathroom trash can. “I have no idea honestly, it looked comfortable though, so I just slipped it on. You don’t mind, right?”

“I… no. I don’t.”

You beam at him, “Perfect. Oh! Let me make you some coffee before you go, I know how hard it is for you to start your day without it.” 

You turn back around, and you could hear Spencer fruitlessly swallow a gasp. The back of your underwear might as well have been a piece of string, because your ass cheeks were basically eating the material. It was uncomfortable, but oh well, beauty is pain.

You smirk in victory, pulling out a medium sized thermos and pouring the rest of the liquid in it.

You didn’t hear him move, let alone walk behind you, but two large hands placed themselves respectively on your hips, the man tucking his face in the side of your neck. You shiver at the hot blow of air that escapes through his nose, and his grip on your skin turns a little tighter.

“What are you doing?” The question is mumbled, but you don’t miss it. “What does it look like? I’m making you coffee, silly.” He huffs. “No. I mean what are you doing to me?”

He presses forward, pushing his half hard cock between your cheeks. It was your turn to gasp, and you couldn’t help but put down the pot of coffee, pushing the now full thermos away to avoid any future hazards. 

You hold on to the edge of the counter, tilting your head further to the side to give the needy man more access. He takes the hint, peppering sweet, heated kisses on the sensitive skin of your throat. You shiver once more, sighing out a smile.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You know lying is useless, especially with the way your voice sounded so breathless. “You know you’re a terrible liar.” It was a playful dig, and his palms had begun to move, pushing on your full stomach to put more of your weight on him.

“Hm, but you don’t know every single thing I have in the closet, now do you?” You remark, yelping when he nipped at your earlobe. “Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong and you know it.” You do. “Do I?”

“This is terrible foreplay.” He jokes and you giggle. “I’d say I’m doing a pretty good job, don’t you think?” You push your hips back and add a bit of friction onto his cock. He groans and you feel your pussy pulse.

“You always do a good job.” Spencer murmurs.

You’re turned around so you can face him, and you wish you could take a picture to savor the look on his face. He’s beet red, cheeks and ears flushed a beautiful hue that leaves a twinge of pride pooling in your stomach.

He cups your face, drawing you in for a long awaited kiss. 

You sigh into him, hands twisting at the sleeves of his cardigan to pull him closer. He lets you in exchange of pushing you against the counter until your lower back is digging uncomfortably into the marble.

“Where do you wanna go?” He finally breathes. You stare at him as if you were in a daze before processing his question with a blink. “Couch?” You ask. “Whatever you want.” He says before joining your lips together once more.

He walks the both of you backwards slowly, and he takes advantage of when your mouth parts in a moan as he flicks his tongue against the top of your lip. He tastes like toothpaste and you might be a little crazy to think that it makes him way sexier than it should.

Your eyes flutter open and you push him away with hands on his chest gently.

“Do you trust me?” You gasp.

“Of course.”

“Good.” You say with a smirk.

You make sure he’s close enough to the edge of the couch when you push him on it, quickly clambering onto his lap and settling your hands on his shoulders; his fall naturally to your waist and you grin.

“Hi.” You whisper quietly. “Hey.” He responds back just as hushed. “You can grab my ass, you know.” You tease and his eyes widen just slightly. “I…” You guide his palms to hold the meat of your ass and he grips.

“God.” It tumbles from his lips in a whimper and you fucking melt. 

“Sorry I’ve been such a tease today, Spencie.” You say sweetly with a fake pout. “I just needed you so bad and you’ve been so, so sweet to me, my sweet boy. I didn’t want to ruin it by asking you to fuck me stupid.”

“You wouldn’t have ruined it.” He corrects with a whine. You had begun to grind down on him and he gripped you tightly, helping you rut against him. “No?” You question. He shakes his head quickly, his hair bouncing along with the swings.

“No. ‘Would’ve done anything you asked.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.”

“So, if I asked you to let me suck your dick until I’ve sucked the soul out of you, would you have let me? How about if I asked you to eat my pussy for breakfast, huh? Would you have done it?”

“Yes, yes, God yes! I want to… I wanna do all those things so badly.” He groans, all but pawing at you now. 

“I bet you do,” You coo. “I guess I haven’t been the only one pent up. But that’s okay, because I’ve got you, yeah?”

“Yeah.” 

You smile, leaning in to give him a kiss before traveling downwards to his belt and wrangling it open. You popped open the buttons of his jeans, sliding back so you can tug them down his legs. 

“Up.” You command softly and he obliges. 

You’re faced with his hardened cock bulging from under his black underwear.

“Oh… is this for me?” You know you’re being mean when you drag your fingertips over the spot where precum has begun to pool, only putting slight pressure on it just to hear that sweet sound of his breath hitching.

“Yes – it’s all for you.” Spencer whines and throws his head back against the couch. “All for me? My goodness…” You trail off as you drag his underwear down his thighs. His cock springs up and bobbles against his clothed stomach.

“Can I –” He licks his lips, “Can I take my shirt off?”

“Of course, my love.” You were just about to ask him anyway.

As he rids himself of his top you get up for a split second to take his pants and underwear off fully. As you go to undress yourself, he stops you.

“W— wait… keep it on please.” 

“Oh? You wanna be nasty and pull my panties to the side, huh? Dirty dirty boy.” You tisk, but in reality you feel like you’re about to explode. “Is that okay?” You smile at his question. “More than okay.”

You climb back on top of him, doing exactly what you said and pulling the white satin to the side before gripping his dick, lining it up to your entrance. He holds you steady looking up at you with those big brown puppy dog eyes as you sink down.

The stretch stings because of the lack of foreplay, but you can’t find it within yourself to care as the pain shoots up your lower back and is already fraying at your pleasure filled nerves. 

“So… so good. God.” Spencer chokes. 

Your lips are rolled between your teeth, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. You heave out a breath when he sinks down to the hilt, and he just rubs soothing circles on your hips. The feeling helps to guide you as you loosen up, and when you do, you give him an experimental clench.

He groans of course and you smirk lazily.

“‘Gonna ride you now, ‘kay?” You murmur as you lift your hips up before slamming down. Spencer practically shouts when he re-enters you. “Fuck, fuck, fuck…” He’s a whimpering, cursing mess. “That feels good, baby?” You ask as you bounce. Spencer nods and fondness twists in your chest.

“You’re so tight. I think ‘m gonna pass out.” He says dramatically. You laugh, grabbing his hands and slipping them under your bra so they can cover your breasts. “Well, don’t pass out until we’ve cum, alright?”

He gives your breasts a reassuring squeeze. “Of course.” He huffs and you giggle again. The giggles die out though when you shift and his tip prods just right.

“Oh shit.” You curse but remain in the same place.

You ride him in abandon, the sound of skin meeting skin radiating out into the early morning air of the apartment. The sound is nasty and wet and it causes your head to swim. The buzz of mind numbing pleasure swims around in your gut, and you can almost grasp it.

“Spence I – I need more, can you…?” You moan out, your head tilting back. “Yeah, yeah, I got you, sweetheart.”

One hand leaves to rub furiously at your clit and your hips cant forward, sending you landing on his naked, sweat slicked chest. Your thighs burn and you rest for a moment, but Spencer doesn’t seem to match the same sentiment, because the other hand holds you by your hip in a grip that’s almost bruising. 

The fat is spilling through his fingers but he uses it as leverage as he now fucks up into you. You squeal, throwing your arms around his neck and tucking his face into yours. You mark him mindlessly, body trembling as you near your orgasm.

You can feel him twitch inside of you when he sets a pace, bringing you up and down in a way that indicates he’s nearing an end of his own.

“Together, okay?” You cry out, “‘Wanna cum together.”

“Okay, honey, okay.” 

He sets his feet on the floor and rubs harder at your sensitive bud, and the arousal that implodes inside of you is so blinding that you white out for a minute. Every one of your senses are overwhelmed, and you can hear him mewling into your ear before warmth paints your womb.

It’s silent in the apartment for a moment before you speak.

“I have to tell you a secret.” You whisper mindlessly, laying your cheek on a bony shoulder. “And what’s that?” He runs his fingers up and down your spine.

“This set is new.”

“I know honey, I saw the charge on my card.”

“What?!” You exclaim, pulling away from his body to search his hazy eyes with your wide ones.

“You forget I can see the bank statements.” Spencer says with a smile. “No, no. I – I didn’t mean to use your card.”

“You didn’t have to… I may have uh… may have slipped one into your wallet when you weren’t looking.” He admits sheepishly. You stare at a moment and then smile incredulously. “Did you… secretly sugar daddy me?”

“Oh God, please don’t call it that.” He says with a groan, leaning forward to bury his face in your chest.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever sugar daddy.” You tease, running your fingers through his sweaty locks.

ೃ⁀➷ my lovely taglist!: @alina02 @louderfortheback @minervadashwood @their-love @fandomsarelifee @theendofthe70s @nomajdetective @mgg-theprettiestboy @phoenixblack89 @celtic-crossbow @hallecarey1 @bunnybabe-babydoll @dixonzzgirl @violettavirus @khxna

[amywritesthings]

press four for more options. | part four.

( Read on AO3 )

Pairing: levi ackerman x f!reader (attack on titan / shingeki no kyojin) Word Count: 4.6k Summary: After seeing your ex with his new girl at a work party, you take the not-so-smart advice from a friend to call a sex hotline to get over him. Your match? A baritone bossy dom named Levi.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI - alternate universe (modern), sex work, pet names, alcohol, mentions of drugs, jokes about death Credits: dividers by @saradika-graphics

part three. / return to part one. | masterlist

Night comes around.

You do not call.

In fact, you don't call the Scout Services Hotline a single time that whole weekend.

As you scroll mindlessly through social media in your bed, fluttering between apps without retaining a single word or meme, your cell phone weighs heavily in your hand.

Don't call.

Just don't call.

It isn't like you're devoid of things to do.

Going out is an option.

Being around people may help your mood — but you don’t feel like unearthing from your snuggie poncho.

Putting on a movie can be a great distraction — but you know your attention span would barely last through the opening credits.

It was him.

Right there.

Right in front of you.

Levi from Scout Services, alive and in the flesh, holding your phone.

No amount of mental gymnastics can make you doubt otherwise. 

He has a voice like no other; one that haunts your day dreams and soothes your nightmares, one that brings this sudden urge to do better for yourself—

Ironically, to be independent and strong on your own.

Which, actually, really fucking sucks now that you’re stuck with the decision to totally disappear from the gym, too.

(Kind of thwarts the whole ‘new me’ chest-puffing you’d started Friday with.)

So you make a final decision:

You still have to go to the gym Saturday, Sunday, and Monday.

Even if you say nothing, keep to yourself, remain a shadow, you have to go.

(There’s a fragile line drawn in the sands of reality. You can toe the edge, but you refuse to. This is his livelihood. You’re not delusional to believe you’re a main character exception.)

Coincidentally, Levi goes every day, too. 

Your stomach flip-flops with the unsettling realization that your perch on a treadmill actually gives you a perfect vantage point to watch him as he sets his station up every morning.

Meticulously he sets towels down to place his shaker bottle and water thermos down, as if worried the ground hadn’t been cleaned overnight.

He even takes the disinfectant cloths and cleans every dumbbell he lines up neatly before starting his workout.

The dark-haired man truly is less-than-average in height, which isn’t a turn-off to you in the slightest, but his arms — his goddamn arms.

Levi wasn’t kidding when he told you that he could pick you up.

He could probably pick two of you up, one arm each.

They’re so toned, his forearms veiny from morning dehydration.

Training vigorously in his own world, not once does he notice that you’re the bumbling idiot that’s tripped on the treadmill (see: a few times) from dissociating.

Hell, he hasn’t a single fucking clue that you’re close enough to yell across the room to him.

Would he know?

That you’re Scarlet.

His, in some made-up world.

(Does your voice stand out in a sea of lonely people?)

The cleaning ritual extends to his cooldown, where he properly cleans each piece of equipment before nestling it back in its place.

Levi sits on his phone for a second, dropping down to a bench to scroll — text messages.

(Damn it, have you really resorted to minor stalking?)

As soon as he stands, though, you drop your chin to watch your sneakers rhythmically pass one another on the treadmill belt.

He passes like a ghost, evaporating into the men’s locker room without a word.

This is torture.

You miss him.

But you still refuse to call.

Can't — because in another world you may be his, but in this world, he is not yours.

.

.

— —

.

.

    Tuesday night rolls around and you decide you hate life.

Annie, Eren, Reiner, and Mikasa are already there by the time you walk into the downtown hotspot.

The boys as well as Mikasa are still in their suit attire from work, their ties loosened at their necks. Annie’s in a hoodie and jeans, clearly much more interested in having a comfortable evening.

If the emptied shot glasses are any indicator of the plans for this evening, then you steel yourself for one hell of a Wednesday.

You glide through the busy crowds of the bar towards the group.

Bodies upon bodies crowd this place — it’s never not a zoo at this hour, no matter the day. Saying excuse me would only waste breath. 

A live band croons on the far end of the smoky bar, forcing everyone to talk ten decibels higher just to hear the conversation.

(Can’t you turn around and go home while you’re ahead?)

In the sea of people, a pair of emerald green eyes over by a cluster of tables in the right-hand corner catch your movement. They widen, recognizing your face, and a lopsided grin of surprise follows.

“Holy shit, she left her cave!” Eren yells, holding up a cheap beer in salute to your arrival.

(Thanks Jeager, you little fuck.)

You don’t hear what she says, but you can see Mikasa’s lips part in tandem with a sharp elbow jab straight to his ribs.

Eren instantly falters his salute, souring in pain.

“I know. Don’t be so shocked,” you state to your colleagues, leaning up against the circular high-top table. “Am I the last to show?”

“Nah, you’re right on time. Armin and Jean’re on their way,” Reiner grunts, holding onto a comically small cosmopolitan in his rather large hand. “Sasha’s on babysitting duty with Nicco.”

You look around the bar for any other familiar faces.

“And Connie?”

“Passed out,” Mikasa supplies. “Took edibles after work.”

“There’s no chance in hell anyone’s waking him,” Eren snorts. “Fucker’s toast.”

Reiner sighs. “For what it’s worth, Jean tried.”

“No, Armin tried,” Annie corrects, finally piping up. She holds something on the rocks — brandy? Whiskey? You can’t tell. “Jean just laughed and kept trying to draw shit on his face.”

“You didn’t see the Snapchat he sent?” Eren asks after a gulp of his beer.

You shake your head, knowing damn well you’ve avoided using your phone for the last several days. 

Missed texts, abandoned tagged tweets, your streak in your mobile game ruined — anything so you wouldn’t be tempted to click that little number.

Damn it.

Enough wallowing.

“I’m gonna go grab a drink,” you state, disengaging with the table. “Anyone need anything?”

From your peripheral, you see a familiar mop of blonde hair walking towards your group. At his side is a much taller man sliding through the crowd, navigating the shorter one to the tiny table you’ve commandeered from the masses.

Armin and Jean.

Reiner and Annie shake their heads.

“Nope, I’m solid.”

“Good here.”

“Eren’s got the next round of shots,” Mikasa flatly states. “You’re fine.”

“Ha, hell yeah!” Eren exclaims, before he settles into a confused pause of silence. His head whips to Mikasa, blinking twice. “Wait, what?”

You don’t stick around for that aftermath.

Squeezing back into the lion’s den of people, you try not to get hit with any too-full beverages or waving hands.

You manage to weave and duck, eventually finding a small empty corner at the edge of the bar.

Success.

You rush to claim it before someone else can, your forearm on the wooden surface. 

Holding up two fingers to get the one of the three bartender’s attention, she nods once to acknowledge she sees you — she’ll get there eventually.

Two empty stools are available, so you scoot onto the one closest to the wall while waiting for your turn and drop your purse onto the other while you situate yourself. 

It’ll likely take a while if the busyness of the staff has anything to say about it.

An hour.

All you need to do is last one whole hour.

Chat a bit, mingle a little so everyone at work doesn’t think you’re a total goddamn recluse, then you can go—

“Is this seat taken?”

A question sounding to your left breaks your train of thought.

The seat.

The one next to you, where your purse lay.

Way to go, dumbass.

You answer on autopilot, not thinking twice about it.

“Oh — shit, yeah. I mean, no! No it’s not. I’m sorry.”

As your torso turns to grab your purse off of the deep red stool, your eyes drop to make sure nothing spills out of it.

“Hold on, let me just move—”

Your chin lifts to find yourself staring eye to eye with Levi.

Wait.

Levi?!

His cheekbones look even sharper under the warm hue of the bar lights overhead, lips parted like he was interrupted in asking a question.

The whites of his eyes grow more prominent with every passing second, making the blue-gray color of them stand out in stark contrast to the black curtain of fringe falling against his temples.

The realization that you spoke — that he’s seen your face before — seems to be hitting him like a goddamn freight train.

Your blood runs cold as your own eyes round.

“...my stuff.”

Weakly you finish your thought, wishing for nothing but death right now. 

Maybe a stranger, like a secret agent with wicked strength, will simply rush the bar and put you in a headlock and knock you out. 

Maybe your drink will be poisoned. 

You’re happy for anything so long as it’s swift.

Levi grunts in acknowledgement, slowly finding a spot on the empty stool beside yours.

Both of you swivel towards the bar, staring ahead.

Silence.

For what feels like hours, neither of you speak. The noise of the bar becomes overwhelming.

Somehow the surrounding voices feel amplified when you’ve lost your own. 

It’s trapped between a thousand apologies and half a dozen explanations that sound worse than the one before it.

You need to get up.

Excuse yourself out. 

Leave.

You won’t get your damn drink, but that’s fine so long as you’re not here.

“How’s your phone?”

Eventually Levi speaks, and you find yourself wishing he hadn’t. 

The effect of his voice is even worse in person — so buttery smooth, the gravel much deeper in his chest now that there isn’t a phone receiver to dilute it.

“Not… damaged,” you reply cautiously.

“Good.”

Another stretch of silence passes, and you forget about ordering drinks altogether.

Your eyes drop to view his folded hands, how the veins protrude even when resting.

His fingers are slender, strong, and hate yourself for yearning.

You have to apologize.

This is crossing a line.

You need to—

“So—”

“I’m canceling my subscription.”

You blurt a fraction later than Levi, proclaiming your innocence before he can ever condemn it.

When you meet his steely eyes, they squint with curiosity.

From the crown of your head to your chin, he assesses in a serpentine pattern before eventually finding your eyes once more.

“How come?” he asks, leaning further against the bar top.

“I— how come?”

You repeat his question in surprise.

Wildly gesturing towards the space between you with your hand, you snort.

“Uh, because that’s the right thing to do in this circumstance? Because seeing you in person is borderline unethical?”

He hums at that, not giving you much to work with.

“And for the record, I did not stalk you to this bar.”

“Didn’t think you did.”

“I’m actually here with friends—”

“Why didn’t you say something?” 

Levi interrupts, seemingly unbothered by your rambling. 

“At the gym. I can make an educated guess and say you knew it was me from the second I opened my trap, but you didn’t say anything.”

Why isn’t he freaking out?

Shouldn’t he be freaking out?

Just as you open your mouth to continue professing your innocence, the bartender walks over and points to you.

“What can I get you?”

You blanch, no longer remember how to order drinks. 

“I—”

“I got her tab,” Levi interrupts casually, tapping his index finger into the counter. “Two hard seltzers.”

Then he has the audacity to glance your way.

“Pineapple, right?”

Holy shit, he remembers your favorite flavor?

Is this a flex?

(It kind of feels like a flex; a way to say I know you, I was there.)

“...pineapple’s fine,” you murmur in return, hesitant.

The bartender doesn’t waste another second to rummage in the mini fridge on the other side of the bar for two slim cans.

For another agonizing thirty seconds, neither of you say a word.

He raises his chin to watch whatever sport’s game is playing overhead on the television.

You stare at your mirrored reflection in the bar backsplash.

This is real life.

The man you’ve spent hours talking to over the phone to, getting off to, is sitting right beside you, yet he isn’t trying to create distance.

If anything, he’s buying you a damn drink and asking you why.

Why didn’t you say something?

“I didn’t say anything at the gym because that would have been extremely inappropriate,” you finally argue under your breath, keeping the conversation strictly between you. “What would I have said? ‘Oh hey, guy I've paid to talk to on the phone every single night for the past week. Isn’t it crazy that I actually go to the same gym as you?’ That’s so creepy.” 

When he says nothing, still staring at you, you continue to bury yourself into a deeper grave.

“I mean, I thought you lived, like… a billion miles from me. Maybe from another planet.”

His brows pinch with amusement. 

“On Mars, or…?”

Oh.

He’s joking.

He’s actually joking about this.

You turn your chin, brow furrowed. “This isn’t funny.”

“It’s a little funny.”

He crosses his arms over his chest, and you have to force yourself to maintain eye contact.

“I wondered why you looked so scared of me on Friday. Thought maybe I smelled like shit from my workout.”

No, you want to say. Unfortunately it was the goddamn opposite.

“So you’re not…”

“Worried you’re a stalker trying to dox me because of my job?”

Levi blatantly finishes, and you wince.

Clearly he notices your embarrassment, because he sighs and relaxes his shoulders.

“I’m more pissed that you didn’t call all weekend, but then again, that’s the nature of the job.”

You both watch each other for a moment as the bartender returns, passing you both pineapple hard seltzers to nurse.

He pushes your can to your hand, nudging the icy-cold aluminum against your thumb, then picks up his own.

“The nature of the job?” you repeat, and he nods.

“People get bored. Run out of funds. Novelty wears off fast.” 

Levi shrugs, sipping his drink. 

“Just because you like talking to someone doesn’t mean they stick around. Wouldn’t blame 'em — shit gets expensive quick.”

“I just…”

You trail off, fighting to find the correct words to say.

“...I thought it wasn’t right to call again, knowing I knew what you looked like, so I didn’t.” 

Explaining yourself makes your tongue feel sluggish, like you were caught red-handed in a crime you didn’t know you’d committed until hindsight.

“I can leave you alone,” you decide to add, holding your drink tighter. “Like I said, I’m here with my friends and… after all, you were doing your job. A great job. You’re kind of the reason I’m even here in the first place.”

Levi’s brow knits, and your eyes widen.

“Not like that!”

“Pretty shit at asserting yourself even in person,” he murmurs like it’s a cheeky inside joke, and he sips once more. “So how am I the reason?”

He’s not angry.

Hell, he’s conversational.

Not the least bit worried about how you’ve both managed to get here.

Might as well be honest.

“Because I decided to stop being a little less scared of the world,” you confess softly. “It— That’s why I got to the gym so early on Friday. I wanted to start doing strength training, like how you talk about how much you love it. And… I thought, maybe, I’d spend more time with friends. Get out there more. Be more assertive — beyond right now, obviously.”

The dark-haired man’s expression smooths at that in a mixture of recognition and surprise.

The slide of his brow is beautiful, and your heart squeezes at the sight of an animated Levi in the flesh, just as you pictured.

“Do you have to go back to your friends right now?”

At first you don’t quite register his question, but then it causes butterflies to flutter in your stomach.

He looks left to right, as if trying to find your troop of buddies, before returning his attention back to you.

“You don’t… want me to leave?”

Levi shakes his head.

You feel bolted to your stool, unable to move even if you wanted to.

Simultaneously you sip your drinks, keeping eye contact.

It feels intimate.

Too intimate.

“So, then…” You start slowly. “What does this mean?”

“Well,” Levi begins, mulling it over in his head. “Means the whole provider-client relationship has basically gone to shit. You know my face, now I know yours.”

“Right.”

“Then again, that professionalism was already well into a shit pile way before Friday morning.”

You blink, not following. “Huh?”

“There’s nothing in the company policy about what to do when you stumble into your client at the damn local gym, but there sure as hell wasn’t anything about…”

Levi trails off, clenching his jaw in debate.

“...about crossing the line I practically leapt over. I’m good at my job because of my detachment, but this was the only time I bordered on unethical myself. That wasn’t fair to you, and I’m sorry.”

Sorry.

Levi… was sorry?

The words blurt faster than you can stop yourself. “Why the hell are you sorry?”

His eyes widen with a budding uncertainty.

“I… just said I crossed the line?”

“When?”

“On the phone?”

“Okay, duh, but when?”

“Our last session.”

“So that was real.”

Levi actually got off to your voice.

If you weren’t in such shock about sitting here face-to-face with him at a local bar, then perhaps your ego would have, in fact, made a crash landing on Mars.

He considers his next words very carefully. 

“It wasn’t supposed to be.”

Then he sips more before shaking his head.

“Look. It’s… a job a friend of mine got me. I’m not a real-life Casanova or any of that shit. Hell, most of my time was spent training punks to fight in a boxing ring, so I never had the energy for relationships or dating.”

You can't hide your surprise. “You were a fighter?”

He makes a noncommittal face.

“Loosely. Personal trainer, training in general — fell into it after I got out of the service.”

“Right, you were in the army,” you murmur, and the edge of his lips upticks at your recollection.

“A couple of months ago the gym I worked for went under, money got tight, so I thought I’d try it out. Guess everyone says it's hard to teach an old dog new tricks, but bossing fighters around and fielding horny-ass callers ain't all that different."

Levi turns his chin just so to regard you under a wispy black fringe.

“I can usually predict what someone wants. The people that call this hotline shit, they’re in and out."

He takes a pause.

"You, though — the second I picked up your call, you threw me through a goddamn loop.”

You use your nail on your index finger to absently scratch the side of your thumb, attempting to process everything he’s telling you.

"First night we spoke, actually, I ended up at this very bar to contemplate why the fuck I wanted you to call back. Didn't want you blowing your money on it, obviously, it's overpriced and ridiculous, but — it clearly shook me up enough for me to take then ten-minute walk in the middle of the night in the first place."

Ten minutes.

That length of time strikes something in you.

“So, your… office building isn’t far?” you slowly ask.

Levi shakes his head. “No, no office. I work remotely. Kind of the reason why I took the gig in the first place. I wouldn’t do this shit if I had an audience in a damn two-by-four cube.”

You’re not sure what possesses you to confess it, but you point past your shoulder. 

“My apartment complex is actually six blocks down the street.”

Ten minutes away, is your implication.

His hand had raised to sip from his seltzer can, but it halts immediately.

His eyes narrow. 

“The complex on Junction Ave?”

“Yeah," you say.

“Right across from—”

“The Reiss deli.”

That narrowed gaze shoots wide. “You’re shitting me.”

“You say the word shit a lot.”

“Baby, I live there,” he blurts.

“Wait, what?”

Now it’s your turn for your eyes to nearly pop out of your skull.

(You’re too shocked to even process what he called you.)

He huffs in a brief laugh, shaking his head.

“You gotta be fucking with me.”

“I’m not! Wait, you live in the same building as me?”

“You said Thomas was your goddamn mailman,” Levi states. “Do you know how many fucking Thomas the Mailmen there are in this world? I didn’t think we’d have the same one.”

Holy shit.

Oh, holy shit.

You sit up taller in your seat. “Wait, what floor?”

“Sixteenth.”

“I’m on the tenth!” you exclaim in your shock. “Holy shit, so you…”

Have been right above me this entire time.

Your phone buzzes, ruining your train of thought. 

Reflexively you look down to see the preview of Annie’s message over your lock screen.

[A. LEONHART]: Did u die?

Right.

You’re here with friends.

“Friends wondering where you are?” Levi inquiries at the sight of your growing frown.

“Yeah, give me a sec.”

You swipe the screen north and type a reply.

[ME]: Talking to someone. Be over in a bit.

Annie’s reply is immediate, and you turn your phone from Levi’s view in mortification.

[A. LEONHART]: 🍆🍆🍆🍆🍆

[A. LEONHART]: WINGMAN??? NEED????

[ME]: NO! Do not come over here!

[A. LEONHART]: ok ok ok noted

[A. LEONHART]: i’ll keep jaeger to the left end of the bar

“Looks urgent.”

“Huh?” 

You shoot a glance back up to Levi, who’s now angled towards you with his cheek squished against his clenched fist. His elbow props him up on the bar top. 

“No! No. It’s just my friend Annie. She — is actually the one who gave me the number to that hotline in the first place,” you confess.

Levi hums in that delicious way you’ve come to crave. 

“I don’t want to derail your evening. I’ve already taken you away from them for a while.”

Your heart is hesitant, but it grows despite yourself. 

“If you want me to stay, then I’ll stay,” you quietly state. “I… liked talking to you. I mean, beyond the whole — you know.”

He nods once, setting his drink down. 

“For what it’s worth, I don’t want you to disappear, either. My job’s not exactly corporate. Not many people can separate fantasy from reality. With you, I never had to bullshit what it was, but…”

Levi trails off, sighing heavily.

“...but I also understand if it’s just a fantasy, for you.”

Something nestles itself between the lines of his words. 

Something he isn’t saying outright, sussing out if he has any right to try.

“Do you really mean that, Levi?”

That sigh turns into a curbed huff, smile fleeting but enough to bring your stomach butterflies. 

“Damn. Sounds nice, hearing my name in person.”

Oh, sweet Jesus.

You could scream into your damn seltzer, but you decide to play it as cool as you possibly can.

“So Levi’s your real name?”

He nods.

“Not creative enough to come up with an alias."

Levi shifts, rolling out a shoulder.

"But to answer your question, I’m saying I… yeah, I mean it. I wouldn’t mind asking you out for coffee sometime, given we seem to run on the same gym schedule as it is. Just didn’t know if you wanted to leave it at the hotline and call it a day — no pun intended.”

Are you seriously hearing what he’s saying right now?

Does Levi want to step out of a fantasy and into your reality?

Your lips part with a million questions only to end up blurting a very stupid one: 

“Are you single?”

That earns a bark of a laugh, causing his head to gloriously drop back, exposing his neck.

(All you want to do is sink your teeth into it.)

“Yes. Very,” he promises. “Are you, still?”

“Very,” you promise back.

“And my job doesn’t bother you?”

You haven't quite gotten that far, logistically, but it's only a coffee.

He isn't asking to marry you.

Besides, he talks about it like any other office job. You can't find any ill feeling toward it.

“Work is work,” you argue with a one-shoulder shrug. “Sure, it’s unconventional, but… I’m so used to not knowing what I want, or second-guessing what’s good for me, and I don’t think I’ve ever second guessed a damn thing with you.”

Bringing the seltzer back up to his mouth, Levi smirks against the can, mulling something over. 

You smile in return, sipping your drink.

It's the truth.

He may not really know you, but he knows you.

Just as you're beginning to think you know him.

“Well, if you don’t get too wasted with your friends tonight—”

He steals a ballpoint pen from a dampened closed check from his left side.

Then he snatches a napkin from one of the bartending stations with lemons, limes, and straws.

Hunching over, he scribbles on said napkin, before turning a cheek to you.

“—and you end up going to the gym tomorrow morning—”

Levi then sits up taller, folds the napkin, and reaches for your hand resting on the bar top. 

His skin is smooth. 

Heated. 

Your entire body melts to his whim as he turns your wrist over, palm facing up.

One by one his fingers unfurl your fingers, nestles the napkin in your hand, then closes your fist for safe keeping.

“—give me a call.”

Leaving a twenty on the bar counter, Levi lets go of your hand to slip off of his stool.

You say nothing as you watch him give you one last once-over, expression full of admiration, before turning into the sea of people.

A call.

Flexing your hand, you uncrinkle the napkin to read the number etched black on white.

Not the Scout Services Hotline.

No — his number.

Your attention flies back to the original spot where you've now properly abandoned your friends, but you know they'll forgive you for your absence.

Annie knows.

She'll cover for your abrupt disappearance.

On autopilot you yank out your phone, bypassing the texts from your friends, emails from work, and tap the little telephone icon.

Zero through nine appear.

Hastily you type the number, hesitation long gone, and press send.

One ring.

Two.

By the third, it abruptly cuts. You hear shuffling in the background. Cars beeping.

“Hello, Levi Ackerman speaking.”

Levi Ackerman.

Knowing his full name warms your heart.

Standing from your stool, you rise to your toes to search the floor-to-ceiling windows.

Levi stands there on the sidewalk, holding his phone up to his ear.

“Hi, Levi. It’s formerly Scarlet.”

Immediately he turns to the bar, searching the very same window.

Searching for you.

You smile to yourself.

"My schedule just opened up. I know it's a little late for some coffee, but..."

Trailing off, your teeth catch your bottom lip.

Be selfish.

"Are you free for some tea now?”

.

FIN

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

How are we feeling, Hotliner Nation? I teased that this may not be the end of this story. I'm not against writing a sequel, whether to continue the immediate story or time skip, but I wanted to see what people thought before I spoke too soon. Regardless, I hope you enjoyed our hotline journey together.

In the meantime I invite you to follow me here or subscribe to my AO3, as I have other projects in the works (including finishing the final chapters of my canon-based amnesia au with Levi, Silver Underground.)

The last two months have been such a wonderful journey, and I thank every single one of you for engaging the way you have. I never anticipated such a frenzy when I started P4, so sincerely, from the bottom of my heart - thank you for the comments, reblogs, inbox mssgs, etc. Every reblog gives this writer wings.

[stupidlittlespirit]

Just For Tonight (Valentines Special)

Rating: NSFW, mdni Type: Longform Tags: Fake dating, no use of pronouns for reader, messy kissing, pretending to be in a relationship, making out, Reigen being a cheapskate, flirting, riding, fingering, PIV sex, glasses!reigen Word count: 9630 My other works: here on tumblr and here on Ao3!

There's a nice new sushi place in town. It's a shame they're only offering discounts for couples....

“Valentine's day is a total scam,” declares Reigen, feet kicked up on his desk and lounging in his desk chair. “It’s so lame.”

It’s 5PM on a Wednesday afternoon and work is drawing steadily to a close. You’re filing the last few pieces of paperwork for today, tidying up your things before you head home for the evening, and all you’ve done is ask if any of your colleagues are doing something nice tonight for the lauded day.

In his typical fashion, however, Reigen has seized the opportunity to launch into a pointless spiel about his one-sided beef with made-up events and how much he doesn’t buy into them.

“It’s a capitalistic concept invented to sell cheap, poor quality products marked up by like, five hundred percent, to dumb idiots that are so blinded by love that they’ll part with cash hand over fist just to prove how much they allegedly care about someone,” Reigen yaps away. “Don’t people care about the integrity of love? People should show how they feel every day, not just when society tells them they have to. It’s a dumb holiday. It’s stupid. Totally ridiculous.”

“I heard that fancy new sushi place is doing half off for couples,” says Ekubo, floating aimlessly past your head.

“Half off?” says Reigen without missing a beat. “For real?”

You roll your eyes from behind your laptop and click it shut. Trust him to only care when he can save a few Yen.

“Yeah,” Ekubo yawns. “I was gonna go down there and haunt a few couples. Y’know, spoil their day or whatever.”

“Nice,” you snort, wafting the spirit away from your face. “That doesn’t scream bitter at all.”

Ekubo grins. “Gotta make entertainment somehow, honey. You have no idea how boring it is to be dead.”

It’s hard to look disapproving when you’re laughing but you shoot him a look anyway.

Reigen snatches his feet off of the desk and sits up straight, his chair creaking with the abrupt motion. He taps away on his PC, lightning fast, and makes a sound of interest. “Holy shit,” he says. “Looks like you’re right. Half off food and drink.”

Ekubo ignores him and turns his attention to you. “Any plans?”

You shake your head. While you’d rather not give him the satisfaction, you partly agree with Reigen. The holiday is a made up scam; almost every restaurant and bar in the city ups its prices under the guise of special dinners and intimate drinks, filling their windows with hearts and flowers and corny banners about love.

Being single on Valentine’s is even worse. No one wants to go out alone and the commiseration prize for being so is a condescending offering of dating events and pathetic ‘self love’ bullshit. It's unbearably sad and you'd rather drink a bottle of wine alone in the bath than be seen to engage in any of that shit.

Still, the thought of spending it with someone you have feelings for is, in theory, very attractive. It's just a shame the only person you want is sat two meters away and very much not interested in doing anything of the sort.

Bottle of wine in the bath it is, you think.

Once everything is packed up, you wish them both good nights and make your excuses to leave. Reigen lets you go without even looking up from his laptop and you decide that tonight, more than one bottle might be needed.

♡

At six thirty, just as you pour your first glass, your phone buzzes on the coffee table. You pick it up and flip it open, hoping this isn't going to be a late night call to come in to work even earlier tomorrow morning.

[Reigen] - are you free?

You stare at the message and another one comes in straight afterwards.

[Reigen] - obviously you are.

That’s a little hurtful but it’s not like he’s wrong. Why? you message back.

Three dots show up as he types, then they disappear, then return, and after a few minutes another message buzzes through.

[Reigen] - Emergency, meet me ASAP.

He pings through an address in the City and briefly, you're worried that he might be in trouble. The office diary hadn't listed any out of hours clients for tonight and it would be unlike Reigen to take a job that he couldn't handle alone; Serizawa is at night school this week to cram for exams and Mob is busy with his friends, so nothing is due to come up.

Another text comes through.

[Reigen] - and wear something nice.

You have absolutely no idea what he means by that, however if Reigen says it's an emergency then you'll never forgive yourself if you leave him high and dry. The last thing you want is for him to get hurt.

Must be a posh client, you think. Last minute demands for your presence are usually related to a high paying job, so it isn’t beyond the realm of possibility that he needs you to butter up a stuffy customer and show off some leg to make a sale. It wouldn’t be the first time and you usually get a good commission for your troubles. It’s easy money.

Sighing, you screw the cap back on your wine bottle and down the half-full glass in record speed.

It’s better than moping about alone.

♡

You make it there in thirty minutes, give or take. The short notice gives you just enough time to make yourself presentable, pick out an outfit and make it into the city, yet by some stroke of luck you manage to catch the last train into central.

The address isn’t far from the office and with a brisk pace, you make it in good time. It’s busy out here tonight. It’s hardly unexpected. You’re in the food district on a major holiday, throngs of people are wandering through here at the best of times.

What is, however, is the sight that greets you when you arrive at the map’s marked location.

Reigen is standing outside a dimly lit restaurant, browsing his phone in one hand and clutching a lush looking bouquet of roses in the other. You almost walk right past him, he's unrecognisable without his usual suit and tie; he's dressed in navy slacks and a perfectly white dress shirt, silver glasses on the end of his nose and hair styled nicely. He looks good.

“Reigen?” You ask, approaching him warily.

At the sound of his name, he glances up from his phone briefly to see who’s asking and double takes. He looks a little surprised to see you and you have to admit that you feel similarly.

“Oh,” he says, looking you up and down. “You made it.”

“Where’s the emergency?” You frown, looking past him to search for awaiting clients.

Reigen clears his throat and jerks his thumb over his shoulder, towards the restaurant. “Here.”

There are no concerned looking people waiting around behind him. In fact, the entire place looks to be filled with couples who are anything but. You glance between him and the shop front again, and wait for him to expand on why you’re here.

Reigen stares back at you for a moment and then proffers the bouquet. “Here,” he says, a little flushed in the face. “You like flowers, right?”

You stare at him, clearly confused, but you take them from him all the same. They’re roses, deep red and freshly cut, tied together in layers of pink paper that rival the colour on his cheeks. You have to admit, they're lovely.

“What are these for?” You ask, laughing. “Where are the clients? You said there was an emergency.”

Reigen looks slightly guilty and you realise, after a moment, that there isn’t any client. No one needs your help and there doesn't appear to be any spirit floating around to cause bother. Now that you think about it, the front of this place seems vaguely familiar and when you look again, you realise he’s totally played you.

“This is that fucking sushi place, isn’t it?” you sigh, shifting the flowers into the crook of your arm. If what Ekubo had said is true, it’s not like you’re going to get to take advantage of the discount he so desperately wants. “Reigen, we're not exactly….” You gesture between you both and the words that go unsaid are obvious: ‘a couple’.

“Look, they’re doing fifty percent off the whole menu!” Reigen launches into his reasoning and you can tell he’s practised it. “It’s just for tonight, and we don’t have to do anything except look like we are, right? They won't know any different!” He pouts slightly for good measure and you hate that it works so well on you. It always does. “Plus, they sell that swanky shrimp shit and I really wanna try it…. Please?”

The flowers suddenly make sense.

“Are you asking me to date you for the night?” You ask, raising an eyebrow. The concept is hardly unappealing. Reigen is cute and you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about it. Well, thinking about it and dreaming about it are two very different things and the little candle you hold for him has only been getting bigger over time.

You’ve kept it quiet for the most part; the only person in the office that has any vague idea is Ekubo. He’s perceptive enough to have caught you looking when no one else is and although he's sworn to keep it a secret, you suppose if he isn't around then you can get away with playing things off as pretending.

He shrugs, unabashed in his request.

“Ugh,” is all you say and it's the vague confirmation he needs.

Reigen grins.

He drags you into the restaurant, hand wrapped around your wrist, and announces to the waiter that's taking stock of the visitors that he's booked a table for two. The waiter looks from Reigen, to you, to where he's holding you tightly by your arm.

“Tonight's dinner is for couple's, sir….” He says, looking unconvinced.

Reigen wilts slightly, letting go out of you and gesturing towards the flowers in your arms. “Uh,” he clears his throat. “We are.”

The waiter regards you both with suspicion and Reigen visibly prepares himself to argue with the guy. If you're honest, you'd really rather not cause a scene in an establishment like this by allowing him to fight with the first member of staff he comes into contact with.

The restaurant is clearly not made for people like the two of you: it's modern and luxurious, filled with mahogany and crystalline chandeliers, and all the staff look like they've smelled something unsavoury. It's clearly an upper-class joint.

Still, you think it might be nice to take advantage of an opportunity like this and you don't really want to spend tonight by yourself. Besides, you'll never hear the end of it if this gets screwed up and frankly, pretending to be on a date with him is probably as close to the real thing as you're going to get.

Reigen opens his mouth and you take his hand before he can get himself in trouble, slipping his arm around your waist and leaning into his side. He stiffens, looking at you in surprise, but you ignore him in favour of giving the waiter your best loving smile and lean into him.

Reigen smells like musky aftershave and something that’s distinctly him, and it makes your mouth water. “He's just shy,” you laugh, laying it on thick. “Of course we're a couple.”

It's important that you sell the idea first, Reigen had told you after you'd floundered a sales pitch once. Convince them even a little bit and the rest of it sells itself.

The advice is sound enough and you decide that the situation calls for a little more manipulation in order to close the sale and get the fucking stupid shrimp your boss wants. If nothing else, this'll teach him a lesson for tricking you into things. You press a chaste, but decent, kiss to the corner of his mouth and shoot the waiter a look that you hope conveys how much a couple in love would definitely do something like that.

You can feel your body warm up and you will yourself to stay relaxed, hoping your face doesn’t show how silly you really feel.

Reigen isn’t doing as good a job at running with things and he laughs, a little manic and high pitched. He mumbles something about you being right and gingerly squeezes your waist.

The waiter sighs and gestures for you to follow, apparently adequately persuaded.

When you risk a glance at Reigen, he's alarmingly red and slightly sweaty. All of the argumentative energy has left his sails and he seems rooted to the spot, unable to meet your eyes.

It's more than a little entertaining. You slip out of his half embrace and take his hand, having to drag him along in the wake of the waiter when it becomes clear that he’s forgotten how to move independently. “This better be the best fucking sushi I've ever had,” you warn him, but it's hard not to smile when he almost trips over his own feet on the way to the table.

♡

The meal is otherworldly.

It's a testament to how the other half live. You've never had seafood like this before and knowing you probably won't have it again seems to make it all the sweeter. Everything is ten times better than the usual places you go.

Reigen lets you order whatever you want, provided it’s on the discount menu, obviously, and he even shares some of his fancy shrimp with you. Not much, but some.

The atmosphere is nice, too. Admittedly it's very romantic, candle lit and dark, and you suppose that is rather the point of it all. The lights stay low, the music is soft, and even the sushi arrives arranged into cute little hearts.

Your company is even better. Reigen has taken you out to eat before but usually he drags you to a cheap ramen place on the way home from work, and he always makes for entertaining companionship. This, though, is new. You've never actually gone out with him for a proper dinner and the entire time you sit across from him, you can't stop the way your stomach flutters at the thought of spending time like this together. It's silly, really.

It's not like this is a real date, after all. You don’t want to push the boat too far. There’s no sign that he actually feels any way about you beyond needing your compliance for his plan and you don’t want to make an idiot of yourself by getting too into it all.

You're halfway through sharing a round of nigiri when you realise Reigen is holding your hand. You're not sure how you missed him do it to begin with. After you'd sat down to eat, Reigen had been quick to keep himself to himself. The rosy tint to his face had stayed for a long time after your little over the top display and you had assumed he’d been too embarrassed to try something similar again.

Except halfway through dinner, you realise that his fingers are laced with yours as he laughs about a comment Mob had made the day before and he seems completely oblivious to the way his thumb is stroking over your knuckles.

You don't intend to mention it. It feels nice and you can't deny how enjoyable it is to play pretend like this with him, except he must catch your line of sight because he hums into his water glass, starting like it's also the first time he's noticed it, and starts to untangle himself.

“Shit,” he mumbles. “Sorry, I didn't-”

“I don't mind,” you say immediately. You're not sure what makes you blurt it out, but you tighten your grip to prevent him from backing off and surprisingly he gives in with no resistance.

He glances up at you, taken aback, and you try to clarify your meaning with only the tiniest of white lies. “The waiter already thinks we're making it up,” you say hurriedly. “We should probably keep it up until we leave, right? I’m not getting stuck with the full bill.”

Reigen raises his brows, seemingly astounded that you're not horrified by the concept of holding his hand, and he nods quickly to hide the expression. “Good idea,” he says, tangling his fingers with yours again. “Just for a bit longer.”

The hand holding lasts for more than just a bit. Even when you eat, neither of you let go of one another and no one mentions it. Sushi is easy to eat with one hand anyway, so it’s unobtrusive and easily forgotten. In fact, it’s oddly natural.

As the evening ticks on, you both relax enough that you start to forget that you’re supposed to be acting like you’re totally in love. It’s easy to get on with Reigen. You’ve always played off of each other well and this doesn’t feel any different to how you always behave around each other.

Beyond the handholding and the way his knees bump against yours under the table, you could be anywhere with him right now and you’re not sure you’d notice the change.

You’re not sure if that makes you feel better or worse about the situation.

The menu extends to several good wines and some specialty cocktails too, and in spite of the fact that you’re both scheduled to work tomorrow, you’re not shy about indulging. A single glass for you becomes another and even Reigen takes a risk on a second cocktail once he realises they’re serving something with citrus and fizz in it.

By the end of dinner you’re both getting on for being tipsy. Reigen begs off halfway through, a lightweight as usual, and relinquishes his for you to finish instead. It's probably for the best. His face is turning a pretty pink as he leans forward on the table, the alcohol bleeding into his system nicely, and dinner has been far too nice to puke up on the way home.

The alcohol settles in quickly and as mixing drinks tends to do, it goes to your head. You're not quite drunk, but you're not stone cold sober either. You think it might be why you stop paying attention to whatever Reigen is saying and start to let your thoughts wander a bit.

He's busy explaining a job from a few weeks ago, one that according to Mob had been fairly dicey, yet as you polish off the remainder of your glass, you’re not really listening to him brag about how he’d definitely been the one to save the day anymore.

You’re far too busy admiring the view to care about his stories. The fine wine feels like it cushions your mind in velvet, warming you up from the inside out and blurring everything around you except from him.

The chatter of the restaurant has faded away and the intimate lighting makes it feel like it’s just the two of you in here, trading stories and laughing with each other.

Reigen talks with his hands a lot, especially when he's had a drink, and while he expresses how close he’d come to death for the fifth time that day, he rocks your joined hands back and forth in time with his free one.

Reigen has nice hands: they’re wide and square, strong from all of his massages, with thick, long fingers you can’t help but imagine in places entirely unsuited to a public restaurant.

You’re enjoying a mental movie of said fingers on your body when he waves his hand in front of your face. Obviously you’re not doing a good enough job at showing him the attention he so craves.

“You're drunk,” he says, amused at your embarrassed look.

“No, I'm not,” you protest weakly. The stupid smile on your face belays your dishonesty and Reigen is clearly entertained. He blatantly doesn't believe you and you hide a laugh behind your hand. “Anyway, if I am, it's your fault.”

Reigen pretends to look aghast at the suggestion. “I'm your boss, I'd never get my employee drunk,” he scoffs.

“You don't remember having to scrape me off the floor of that bar at the Christmas party last year?” That one had been a particularly messy night out, even for you. You’re still all banned from the place for being idiots.

He smirks and you can see he's recalling it in real time. “That was your fault, not mine.”

“No way, you practically plied me with alcohol,” you say, laughing. “Very irresponsible of you.”

“Shut up,” Reigen grins and nods to the bouquet that’s propped up on the chair beside you. “I’m a great boss! I got you flowers, didn’t I?”

“Only so I’d date you under duress!” You say.

“I mean, sure, but also because you never get anything for Valentine’s.”

You stare at him, totally caught off guard by the confession. For what it's worth, Reigen looks even more surprised that he's said it. “I…. How did you-”

“Uh,” Reigen rubs the back of his neck, avoiding your gaze. “I… heard you talking to Serizawa about it last week.”

You can barely remember the conversation yourself. Serizawa had been talking about seeing flower arranging classes at his school and you'd made a comment whilst Reigen had been in the other room making tea, off the cuff and totally meaningless, about how you'd never gotten them before, not even for Valentine's day. It hadn't been said for any reason other than conversation, but it had been true. Up until now, anyway.

“Reigen, I-” You don't know if you should be over the moon that he cares so much or humiliated that the object of your affection knows about your shitty dating history. “Thank you.” You say finally, giving his hand a squeeze. “I think that's the nicest thing someone has done for me for a long time.”

Reigen shrugs it off like it's nothing and you're reminded of how much you really, really fucking like this guy. He's so sweet and kind and thoughtful, and no matter how frustrating he can be, he makes up for it so easily that you can never hold it against him.

Your head swims and ridiculously, your eyes start to burn a little.

You’d really rather not cry in front of him and very graciously, Reigen pretends not to notice. Instead, he reaches for the desert menu and this time, he tells you to pick whatever you like.

♡

For the last stretch of the night, the two of you share mochi and a couple more cocktails. The wine is a little heavy for dessert and Reigen talks you into splitting drinks so neither of you get completely wasted.

You're using them and his accidental confession over your flowers as an excuse to show a little more affection than you ought to, and he doesn't give the impression that it's a problem for him. He does start a little when you press your ankle to his under the table at one point, but at your apology and attempt to move it back, he catches your foot between his and holds it there without comment.

The casual touch becomes a subtle form of footsie without either of you consciously meaning it to and by the time dinner is done, you're sitting with your legs slotted together. Despite the fact you've let go of each other's hands to eat, everything feels much more intimate than it had at the start of tonight.

On the last few pieces of mochi, Reigen pauses his chewing. “You've got-” He gestures to his lower lip and you realise he's signifying that there's something on your mouth. “S'not much.”

Your hand flies up to seek out whatever he's talking about and you're mortified momentarily, expecting something obvious and gross clinging to your teeth, but your fingers come away clean with only a little powdered sugar on the tips.

“Oh,” you say, with a relieved laugh. “I guess I've had worse on them.” It isn't supposed to sound suggestive and the hidden meaning bypasses you until Reigen opens his smart mouth.

“Yeah,” he mutters, smirking to himself. “I bet.”

His comment comes out of nowhere and you almost choke on air, blindsided by the double entendre.

Reigen realises you've heard him and he turns so red you're sure he could light the entire way home. He panics a little, holding his hands up and starting to stammer out an apology until he realises you're laughing.

It's more than a little funny and you really don't don't mind. In fact, you suddenly wonder how far you can get him to take things. If he's making jokes like that, you're intrigued to see if you can coax out a different side to him. Just because he's your boss, that doesn't mean you both have to be uptight and on your best behaviour all of the time.

And anyway, it's all in good fun tonight. Couples are supposed to flirt, aren't they?

“Are you trying to push my buttons?” You ask, sucking the sugar from your fingertips and smiling over at him.

Reigen's eyes follow the motion and he clears his throat. “No, I-” He glances up at you, eyes searching yours, and you can almost hear the bell go off in his head when he realises he's safe to mess around a little.

A slow grin begins to bloom on his face and, slipping comfortably back into a playful attitude that you always enjoy being around, he shrugs. Reigen sits forward to lean on the table and props his chin up on his fist. “What are you gonna do if I am?” he asks, smirking. “Report me?”

You mirror him, leaning on the table too, and feint innocence. “No idea,” you say, layering on the helplessness. “Maybe. Maybe I’ll have to call HR and tell them my superior is bullying me….”

“Oh yeah?” Reigen's grin grows, cocky and lopsided. “Unfortunately,” he says, taking your hand again without acknowledging it. “I run that department too.”

Biting your lip to hold back a laugh, you duck your head and take the bait he's so clearly dangling in front of you. “Then I have a complaint to make about my boss….”

“Your boss?” Reigen says, tilting his head and pretending to recall who you might mean. He's extraordinarily good at committing to the bit. “Oh, you mean that really good looking, powerful psychic guy?”

“Uh huh,” you laugh softly and you run your toes up his ankle under the table. “Super powerful, very handsome.”

Reigen's eyes dart down toward where you're touching him, unseen, and he clears his throat again. “Handsome, huh?” He says, playing it as cool as he can. “How handsome are we talking?”

“Oh,” You smirk, shrugging one shoulder. It's hard not to break into giggles, not least because he's so cute when he thinks he's being subtle about fishing for compliments. “Enough that I don't mind him pushing a few of those buttons, I suppose.”

You know you're supposed to be joking around. All of this is a joke, a game, and yet…. The way he's allowing your touch, letting you do it back to him, it's impossible not to keep pushing.

Reigen's brow twitches and he grins. “And what if he pushed them harder?”

“I don't think I'd say no,” you sigh happily. “I like my buttons pushed pretty hard.”

“Careful,” Reigen warns playfully. “I heard he's bad news.”

You laugh under your breath. “He's not that bad once you get to know him.”

“You think so?” Reigen asks, eyes searching yours. Nonchalant, he takes your hand again and turns it over until your palm is facing upwards so he can draw slow circles on the soft skin

The sensation makes you shiver. Distractedly, you chew on your lower lip and nod. “Don't tell him, but I think he secretly likes being nicer than he gives himself credit for….”

Transfixed by your mouth, Reigen bites down on a grin. “How do you know what he likes in secret?” he says quietly. “I bet you've never even asked….”

“D'you think he'd tell me?” You say, toeing off your shoe to push your foot past his trouser leg and curl it around his calf. It's risky and stupid, and you can't even play it off as part of tonight's front, but Reigen doesn't seem to mind at all. “If I did.”

Something has changed in his gaze and all of a sudden, it doesn't feel like you're acting the part anymore. The two of you are very, very close together now and the air feels charged, like it's full of static that's pulling you towards him. He's only a few inches away from your face and you can smell the sweet scent of lemon on his breath.

Reigen is still trying to play it cool, working hard to maintain his composure as though he isn't sweating nervously. “Maybe if you show him yours, he'll show you his.”

“Yeah?” The din of the restaurant is distant and muted, like your head is full of cotton wool, and all you can concentrate on is the way he keeps licking his lips.

Reigen meets your eyes again and there's a tiny glimmer of hopeful interest in them. He doesn't appear to be joking anymore. “Go ahead,” he mutters. “Run it by me first.”

You're practically touching noses by now, leant across the table in each other's space, and if you were to tilt your head only a tiny bit, to pull on his hand, to drag him down onto you, you think you might be able to finally get the real kiss you've been dreaming of since you-

“Are you ready for the bill?”

A voice cuts through the woolly atmosphere, loud and abrasive, and both of you almost fall off of your chairs in sheer surprise, jerking away and righting yourselves in your chairs. You whip your foot back, Reigen stops touching your hand, and the intimate air abruptly feels broken and ruined.

“Apologies,” says the waiter, not looking very sorry at all. “But we do need the table.”

You can barely look up at the guy, face burning hot. It feels like you’ve been caught in the broom closet with your boss, doing something far worse than winding each other up, and Reigen seems just as embarrassed. Awkwardly, he takes the small, folded piece of paper from the waiter and reaches into his back pocket for his card.

♡

Reigen pays the whole bill and when you attempt to offer your half, he looks at you like you're insane. Typically, you split the bill with him whenever you go out to eat. He's a cheap bastard and you know better than to expect anything less, but he refuses your offer the second you hold out your own card.

He doesn't even complain about it, either, apparently just happy to have achieved his goal of qualifying for the discount he's been aiming for all night.

Once everything is settled, Reigen calls a cab for you both to share and the whole time you wait for it, you stand arm in arm with him, grinning like idiots and laughing together about cheating the system.

The taxi arrives quickly and in it, you sit closer to him than necessary, warm and toasty against his side.

The journey is quiet to begin with. You're sated and full, and still a little tipsy, so the silence isn't unpleasant. Slumped down in your seat, hiding your face from him, you can't stop turning over the memories of the dinner. He'd been so close to you, so within kissing distance, and you're too nervous to say anything about it in case he laughs you off.

What if he was just playing along? you think silently. What if I'm reading into it? The thought is nauseating. Perhaps you've sold the idea of dating him a bit too hard….

At your side, Reigen clears his throat softly and you shift so that you can see him properly. He’s sitting so close to you that your head is practically on his shoulder, and he looks down at you with a small, soft smile.

“Thanks,” he says quietly. “For coming. And for, y'know, going along with it. I hope it wasn't too weird.”

“I had a lot of fun, Reigen.” You laugh quietly. “Thank you. It was totally worth it.”

Reigen snorts. “I think we sold it pretty well, too,” he says. “Especially, y’know, on the way in.”

Oh, you think. The kiss.

“Sorry,” you duck your head and laugh, awkward. “I didn’t think he was gonna let us in and, well, you told me to make it work, so….”

He doesn't say anything and risking a look back up, you see that Reigen is watching you closely again, just as he had in the restaurant. Reigen smiles slightly, so warm and soft that your stomach feels like it might climb up your throat, and he looks down at your mouth again.

“Maybe I need to call HR,” he says with a half-laugh. “Kissing a subordinate is probably against some kinda law or something.”

There’s a playfulness in tone, like he's joking and simultaneously trying to see what your reaction to such a comment will be.

You decide to test the water. “Depends on whether the subordinate is into it, I guess….”

Reigen smirks, teasing, and a little bit relieved that you're not backing off. “I dunno, they didn’t get the chance to tell me.”

You realise he’s talking about the conversation you’d had before you had been so rudely interrupted, and your nerves flutter. Tonight has been full of flirting and teasing, and if you're still playing stupid games, you suppose you might as well go all in and see what happens.

You're both tipsy enough that you can play it off if he doesn't go for it. “Well,” you say, biting your lip. “I guess I'm pretty partial to a redhead. Especially if they’re in charge of me.”

“Yeah?” he says quietly, smile growing.

“And men with big mouths that they can't keep shut, too,” you smirk, glancing down at his.

“Noted,” he chuckles, his breath ghosting over your face. “Anything else you like?”

You look back up at his smug expression and decide you can't let him get too ahead of himself. “And swallowing.”

Reigen makes a funny noise, strangled and hoarse, and closes his eyes for a moment. “Fuck,” he murmurs. You can see his throat bob up and down as he tries to compose himself, and when he finally opens them again, he looks like he's struggling to keep it together. A blush crawls up his throat and the look in his eyes is so hungry it makes your knees go weak.

“Fuck HR,” Reigen says, and then sways forward slightly with the motion of the car and, leaning the rest of the way into your space, he ducks his head and kisses you.

Your eyes flutter shut and he cradles the side of your face, turning your head so he can get you exactly where he wants you.

It’s soft and nervous at first, like he's still not sure if he's making the right move and he pulls away almost as soon as he makes contact, only to return without hesitation for a second and a third at your insistent sounds. The chaste kisses become deeper as he lingers, slow and unhurried, and you can taste the sweetness from your desserts and drinks.

It’s so unbelievably fucking perfect.

You press your tongue against his and he gives a low groan, his hand finding your thigh to pull you closer. The kisses keep coming, his fingers trail upwards, crawling closer and closer to your lap, and you drag your teeth over his lower lip when he pulls away to breathe.

Reigen looks like he's had more than just a couple of cocktails to drink now; his face is redder than ever, his gaze glassy, and he's panting against your mouth like he's run a mile. You press another kiss to the corner of his lips and you shift in your seat, encouraging his hand to explore even higher.

He does as he’s asked, thick fingers slipping up between your legs and he leans down again to keep kissing you while he teases you through the fabric of your clothes.

You sigh into his mouth. His touch doesn’t feel like it’s anywhere near enough, the sensation dulled by your stupid fucking outfit, and you try to press up into him to seek out more.

Reigen laughs at your desperation, mumbling a stupid comment about being needy, and you bite his lip again in warning. “Careful,” You whisper, reaching over to palm him through his slacks with a smirk. “Don’t get smart.”

Reigen chokes out a grunt and his hips buck up of their own accord. He’s already hard, tenting his slacks, and you're not about to let him think he's in charge of the show. “HR won’t be happy if they find out I didn’t get my way,” you tut, rubbing his cock up and down slowly. “Then you will be in trouble.... And we don't want that, do we?”

Reigen hisses, eyes dark and pupils blown wide. He stares you down, challenging your gaze, and he smirks at your unwillingness to let him get away with being an asshole. He goes to kiss you again, surging forward, and then the taxi driver clears his throat very loudly.

You're yanked back into your surroundings. The car is parked up outside your apartment, engine running, and the driver is watching you in the mirror. He doesn't look very impressed. “You kids mind taking this somewhere else?”

You cover your mouth with your hand to stop yourself from laughing and grab your bouquet of flowers, flinging open the door while Reigen grabs whatever cash he has in pocket and flings it into the driver's tray.

He scrambles out of the car, darts around the back and grabs you by the hand, dragging you away and ignoring the guy's shouts of how much he's overpaid.

You only live on the first floor. Your apartment is small and simple, so much so that it hardly qualifies as much more than a shoebox with a kitchen attached, and you have to shuffle around in the hallway in order to let Reigen get inside.

He passes down the hall and makes his way into the main room, and once you’ve locked the front door you go after him. He's hovering about in the tiny living area, hands in his pockets as he inspects your room, and you drop the flowers on your coffee table whilst he’s busy.

This is the first time he’s been in here. On a proper night out, you tend to crash at his if you can’t make it home; it’s marginally bigger than yours and the cab is cheaper, which means his place always wins out. It’s a new experience to have him in your space like this.

“This is nice,” Reigen says awkwardly, gesturing to the apartment at large. “Cozy.” He seems a little stiff, unsure what to do now that he’s here.

You snort, coming to stand in front of him. “What are you, an estate agent?” You put your hands on his chest and guide him backwards until his legs hit the edge of your bed, and he falls back with a soft thump!

Willing and able, Reigen makes room for you between his legs. He pushes himself up on his elbows and looks on as you begin to undress. Your movements are slow and deliberate, never once looking away from him, and you can see his breathing pick up in pace.

He’s hypnotised by every move you make. You shed your clothes until you're in just your underwear, exposed to him, and climb carefully into his lap. You take off his glasses and lean over to deposit them on the bedside table before going back to him.

Reigen's hands come up to hold your waist and he boosts himself upward to restart his feverish kisses. He's ungainly and needy, licking and biting his way back into your mouth while you start to strip him of his dress shirt. You make quick work of the buttons, slipping them out with deft fingers and peeling the fabric away.

You tug at the back of his shirt until it slips free of his slacks, hands wandering over his lower back as you explore his soft skin. Much to your delight, the muddy freckles on his face continue down his shoulders, cascading onto his upper arms and spattering the pale skin like paintbrush flecks.

Reigen's body is slight. Narrow and slim, yet soft at the edges. He isn't very muscular; you know he runs on the weekends and you suppose he stays reasonably fit in order to chase after the others at work, so there's a subtle hint of strength hidden underneath the puppy fat of his stomach.

It's more attractive than it has any right to be.

Without breaking away from his kisses, you slip your hands down his chest and work your fingers under his belt until you reach the buckle, blindly undoing it with practiced skill.

The metal gives way and you slide the leather from the pin quickly to give yourself easier access. You're about to do the same to the buttons when he pulls away from you panting hard and clinging to your hips.

You try to chase his mouth, still pressing open mouthed kisses there while he tries to speak.

“Wait, wait,” Reigen says, voice hoarse. “Hang on.”

“Are you alright?” You ask, leaning back to make sure he's okay.

Reigen looks bashful, eyes searching yours. He goes to say something and then stops himself, visibly nervous about whatever he intends to say. "I…" He sighs, closing his eyes to steel himself. Whatever is wrong, it’s enough for him to reconsider what he's doing.

He doesn't move you off of him, but he suddenly looks like he wants to hide away somewhere. His flirty confidence from earlier is gone, replaced with the same shyness he'd shown when you had kissed him at the restaurant.

You take his face in his hands and force him to look up at you again. “Reigen, what is it? If you're uncomfortable, we can-”

“No!” He shakes his head, wrapping his arms around your middle to keep you still. “It's not that, I just…. I'm-” Reigen groans, not out of pleasure but embarrassment, and he buries his face in your shoulder. “I haven't really…. Done this. Before”

“What, fuck an employee?” you say, laughing quietly. “It's alright, I was just kidding about making a complaint, I-”

“No, I mean this,” he mumbles into your shoulder. “Sex.”

You push at his chest until he has to sit up, revealing his cherry red face. He's uncharacteristically out of his depth and you're confused as to what he's saying . “You mean, like, it's been a while?” You ask.

Reigen grimaces, shaking his head. “Like, ever.”

“What?” You don't mean for the shock to show so obviously. He’s clearly already struggling and you gaping down at him like he’s mad won’t help the situation, however the idea that he’s never had sex before is utterly insane to you.

“I’m sorry,” Reigen apologises, avoiding meeting your eyes. He shuffles like he means to get up, jostling you about. “I didn’t wanna say anything, I know it’s stupid I can just go-”

“Reigen, stop,“ you put your hands on his shoulders and he stills, nervously glancing up at you through his lashes. He looks like he expects you to laugh at him, to kick him out now that you know his secret. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I didn’t think it’d be a good topic over dinner,” Reigen huffs, rolling his eyes. “It’s embarrassing, obviously.” He’s very obviously humiliated by his admission and it makes your chest ache to see him so uncharacteristically vulnerable.

His point is valid enough; tonight was supposed to be fake, it’s not like there had been any need for him to tell you anything of the sort. Still, you feel a little bad for pushing him so much now. Admittedly it’s a surprise. He always seems to know what to say and being able to talk the talk usually gets you pretty far when it comes to sex, but the more you think about it, the more it starts to make sense.

All throughout dinner, he’d been happy to shoot the shit with you when he’d thought it was just a game, however the moment you’d done anything that even bordered on actual affection, he’d been decidedly less confident. Even in the car, his touches were hesitant and his kisses were unskilled.

You run a hand up his chest to soothe him, watching his tense shoulders relax. “Idiot,” you say, fond. “I don’t care.”

Reigen raises his eyebrows. “You don’t?”

“Not even a little bit,” you smile, leaning down to kiss him again.

Reigen doesn’t stop you. He breathes out heavily through his nose, gradually beginning to calm down, and you decide that things will have to go a little differently than you’d originally intended. “Tell me if you want me to stop, okay?” You murmur.

He nods quickly and you trail kisses from the side of his mouth down to his jaw line, open mouthed and hot, and he tips his head back with a groan. His skin tastes slightly salty, probably from sweating so much around you, and you drag your teeth over his pulse point.

Reigen sighs happily. He squeezes your hips, grabbing them gently and digging his blunt nails into the skin.

You slip out of your bra and toss it across the room. You stop bothering his neck in order to sit up, and you guide his hands up from your hips to caress your chest.

His big hands grope at you, squeezing experimentally as he explores the new sights, enjoying himself immensely. It makes you keen under his touch and he grins, his bravery growing at your enjoyment.

You unbutton his slacks whilst he's busy touching you up and slip a hand into them to palm at him through his underwear. Reigen grunts and presses his hips up into you, seeking friction to rut against, and you push down to meet him.

He gasps at the contact, his hold on your hips tightening, and before he can get carried away with dry humping you, you tug at his slacks and force him to stop. “Take these off,” you instruct, climbing off of his lap to give him room.

Reigen scrambles to shove off his trousers, kicking them away with his underwear and shuffling back into place, lightning fast. His eagerness is horribly endearing and it makes you grin. You slip out of your underwear and push him back against the pillows. “Lay back,” you smile.

Reigen does as he's told and with him flat on his back, you can finally see him as exactly as you've imagined. A trail of deep red hair leads down to a small patch that surrounds his thick cock, well kept and neat.

His thighs are curved nicely, long legs stretching down to hang off of your bed, and they show far more evidence of his exercise than his upper body. Regardless, he's gorgeous from head to toe. It drives you insane and you drink in the view for a second.

Reigen begins to look a little self-conscious at your attention. He squirms under your scrutiny and you're quick to settle his fear, straddling his waist and kissing him again until he forgets all about his worry.

You trade touches with him, hands roaming over one another as you make out for a while and Reigen's bravery begins to grow. He's encouraged by your soft sighs and casual exploration of his own body, and quite bravely he walks his fingers down from your hip to your bare pussy.

Your breath catches and you look down to him, giving him the silent go ahead.

Reigen bites his lower lip. He looks excited and shy all at the same time. Very carefully, he runs his fingers along the soft folds of you and studies your face to see how you react to his touches.

You gasp and tilt your body towards him, opening your legs to give him better access to you. His fingertips meet wetness and he makes a soft sound, both interested and surprised, and he trails them through your arousal.

Reigen is so busy investigating the feeling that he seems to forget that you're attached to the other end. He toys with your pussy, listening to you gasp and moan, grinning to himself greedily.

“Reigen,” you whine, reaching down to cover his hand with your own. “Put your fucking fingers in me before I-!”

He does as you ask, pushing one into your cunt and silencing your command. You moan loudly and push down onto his hand, desperately seeking more.

“Should I just….” Reigen looks a little awkward, unsure how to proceed, and with your hand that holds his wrist, you guide his finger in and out slowly.

“Keep doing that,” you sigh. “That's perfect.” The motion makes you shudder and you grab at his shoulder with your other hand. Reigen works his hand up and down, slow and steady as though he has all the time in the world.

You’re so wet that he hardly has to wait to add a second finger and you encourage him along to keep him calm.

Reigen appears to be enjoying the praise you give. His cock is hard against your hip, precum smearing against the skin when you shift, and he rocks into you in time with his fingers.

As he moves his digits within you, you lean back to take hold of his cock, squeezing him gently. Reigen practically mewls when you do so, cock twitching in your grip.

You bring your hand back to spit in it and gently, you coat his cock until it's wet enough to glide your hand along smoothly, starting to stroke him.

Reigen gasps and bucks upward into your hold, desperate for more as he grips the sheets with his free hand. He adds another finger into you carefully, watching your face with barely concealed awe. His fingers inside you burn in the best way, and Reigen's digits curl perfectly to hit your sweetest spot, making you cry out.

He pauses for a second, frightened he might have done something wrong, and you shake your head at his silent query. “Don’t stop,” you say, breathless.

Reigen nods and moves in time with you for a minute, unable to look away from where you sit above him. His hand speeds up as yours does and within minutes, Reigen is falling apart under your touch.

Worried he'll get carried away, you lift up off of his hand and guide his fingers out. At first, he protests with an annoyed grunt, trying to snatch you back down, and you shove him back by his chest, grinning.

Reigen looks confused until you shift backward to hover over his cock and he catches on quickly.

“Ready?” You ask, making sure he's okay.

Reigen nods quickly and takes hold of your waist. “Fuck, yes, please.”

You can't help but tease him a little, rubbing the head of his erection over your cunt for a moment and watching how easily he works himself up with unrestrained glee.

He goes to say something smart and you seize the chance to catch him off guard. You ease your weight down onto him until finally, you're completely filled by him. It feels so good you cry out and pitch forward, bracing your hands on his chest.

Reigen chokes out a moan, grip on your waist tightening, and he screws his eyes shut. He tenses for a moment, trying to calm himself before he can manage to go on. As much as you'd like to let loose, you force yourself to be patient. If he's never done this before then you can't ride him too hard to begin with. He'll come in five seconds flat and you're desperate to feel him for as long as possible.

“Relax,” you coo, covering his hands with your own. “Look at me.”

Reigen manages to open his eyes and you smile, reassuring. “Take a deep breath, don't panic.” You say, running your thumbs over his hands. “You're doing so well.”

Reigen blushes and manages a sheepish smile, breathing in and out slowly.

After a long minute, Reigen nods for you to go on, and you lift yourself up and down slowly, thighs straining as you move. He watches you in disbelief for a second, like he's committing the sight of you to memory, and a big grin crawls onto his face. “Fuck,” he gasps. “You're so fucking hot.”

The compliment is unexpected and you feel your face warm up. Having his fingers in you feels like nothing in comparison to the way he's looking at you right now, hungry for more and leering at the sight of you on his cock.

You can't stop yourself from smiling and you roll your hips forward, slow to begin with. Each move has you both moaning and sighing, encouraging each other to give more and more until you're not sure who's fucking who anymore.

Reigen's eyes roll back when you speed up, eyes fluttering to stay open. His fingers are digging into your skin and the thrill of being bruised by him runs straight to your pussy.

The room fills with only tiny moans and sounds of fucking; No smart come backs, no more faking, just pure pleasure and excitement.

With a good pace set, you run your fingers over your clit, sighing happily as you circle your touch. It feels so good that you can't even focus on keeping rhythm, your hips stuttering a little.

Reigen seizes the moment to take charge of the moment instead of letting you control the movements, and he fucks up into you. His confidence is unexpected so you barely have time to process what happens, falling forward and leaning on his chest for support. His gaze moves from your face to where your tits bounce, and back up again. He meets your eyes and the sight of one another is enough to make both of you laugh.

He sits up a bit and presses your foreheads together, kissing you over and over, messy and uncoordinated as he gets closer. You both make soft little sounds, panting into each others space like you're desperate for air, and as your fingers work furiously over your clit, you begin to feel a coil build in your stomach; you're so close you feel like you might explode, and you cry out when Reigen snaps his hips particularly hard.

It's enough to force you over the edge and you tighten around him, body shuddering as your climax hits you. You moan his name loudly as the waves wash over you and the sensation is obviously too much for Reigen, because he buries his face in your neck and makes the most obscene noise you've ever heard.

It's somewhere between a sob and a moan, but his voice breaks halfway through and he bites down hard on your neck to stifle himself.

You can feel him cum inside you, cock twitching, and you collapse forward onto him the second he's done. Both of you go limp, lying pressed up against each other as you try to catch your breath again. Neither of you move for a while and it isn’t until you feel your thighs begin to cramp that you decide you’re going to have to get off. You lift up off of him carefully and you both groan at the loss as he slips out from you, cum trailing after his soft cock, and you flop beside him on the bed.

Reigen looks thoroughly fucked. His hair is astray and his mouth is red, lips bitten and slightly swollen from all the attention you’ve given them throughout tonight. You know you probably don’t look much better, but you’re so exhausted you can’t bring yourself to care.

You shuffle up into his side and Reigen tucks an arm under you, pulling you in close. Your eyes are growing heavy against your will and Reigen drags your leg up over his hips to make you more comfortable.

He draws circles on your skin with his thumb, breathing slowing to a normal pace. The silence is comfortable and calming, and you’re almost drifting off by the time you manage to speak again.

“You okay?" you whisper, peering up at him.

Reigen hums, a ghost of a smile on his face. “Yeah,” he says, sounding entertained. “Very.”

You laugh quietly to yourself at his smug face and snuggle closer to his side. He squeezes your upper arm gently and presses a soft kiss to your forehead.

"Are you?” He asks.

“Definitely,” you sigh happily and close your eyes. “I think we went above and beyond to convince that place tonight, don’t you?”

Reigen smiles into your hair. “Eh, maybe we should go out a few more times. Just to make sure.”

You grin into the crook of his neck. “Sure, if you’re paying.”

Reigen chuckles and gives your ass a gentle slap. “Only if you show me how much you really like swallowing.”

“Deal.”

[cokou]

What OP Men Post About you on Reddit PT2

OP 男性があなたについて Reddit に投稿するもの。

𝑴𝒖𝒍𝒕𝒊 𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑭𝒊𝒄

sum. Your boyfriend posted about you on reddit. 𝑹𝑬𝑫𝑫𝑰𝑻 PT1 ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ tw. Fluff & Crack! Slight nsfw on shanks part😭 ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ a/n. Im using my free time to upload my works, i hope its okay to have late uploads😭😭 // Do not translate or transfer any of my works, this is my only account (exp. AO3) will not be cross posted anywhere else. // Masterlist♥

r/AITA Swrdsmn.Zoro ⬆︎ 11.7k ⬇︎ 309

Am I the asshole for refusing to take my girlfriends map route?

My girlfriend loves to take me on a different of adventures throughout the world, her main favorites were taking simple walks that would eventually end up at the other side of the city. She drags me along with her always even if i had told her multiple times that it's too early to go for a walk. My girl, sets her alarm at 3am and wakes me up to go outside and walk with her.

About a week ago, she broke the news to ME, that she booked us a hiking trip. Me being myself, i usually laze around the house and get some sleep, so hiking isn't definitely my thing. But either way she bought us 2 hiking tickets up a snowy mountain.

When we had 4 days prior before setting out for hiking, she immediately drew a map from the place we were going. I admit that she is definitely good at drawing maps, but i studied them and absolutely got confused. I gave up on doing so.

We arrived to our destination and she immediately grabbed her map out of the bag, she tried pulling me to the right side of the mountain but there was a map hanging by the wall of the cabin shop saying that the left side is where the mountain hiking is located. I talked to her about it and she told me that the map they made is probably fake.

We got into a small argument and i parted ways with her towards the left side and i fot lost, I was reported as missing and a group of search party was launched to get me back, Now I'm back with my girlfriend's hold and she's mad at me for not taking her word. We talked to the cabin shop for the map route and found out that there was no such thing as a cabin back on the mountain.

Comments:

Chef_Sanji: yta, obvi your gf deserves someone better. ➣Swrdsmn.Zoro replied: I wasn't asking you ➣Chef_Sanji replied: Obviously you were, you posted this so you're asking everyone. (COMMENT WARNING)

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r/meat Straw_Luffy ⬆︎ 12.7k ⬇︎ 103

My girlfriend cooked me this today :D !

I'm absolutely thinking that she's better than @chef_sanji! Her cooking is so yummy i could eat all of this in just one bite🤤 THANK YOU SO MUCH @Your.Name !!

Comments:

Chef_Sanjii: IT LOOKS SO GOOD, GIVE ME SOME TOO YN-CHAN❤️❤️ ➣Straw_Luffy replied: No way it's mine! ➣Chef_Sanjii replied: I WASN'T TALKING TO YOU ➣Your.Name replied to Chef_Sanjii: I will when we meet again! :D (Liked by Chef_Sanjii)

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r/wifey ItsmeShanks ⬆︎ 47k ⬇︎ 1.7k

—Attach photo of you

All night, all day, with clothes, naked, doggy style, missionary, full nelson, in public, in private, in bed, on the sofa, with toys, vanilla, piv, anal, boob job, hand job, fingering, masturbation, in the ship, on the floor, top to bottom, on sea, on land, on my face, on your tits, helicopter style, pegging, on camera, in front of everyone, in an alleyway, in the shower, standing up, sitting, laying down, bent over, no stopping, finishing inside, finishing outside.

@Your.Name

Comments:

Your.Name: WHAT THE FUCK SHANKS (Liked by ItsmeShanks)

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r/girlfriends Com.Acee ⬆︎ 113k ⬇︎ 12.3k

My girlfriend is so beautiful, she absolutely deserves the world.

Literally shes the best, I don't know what i even did to desrve her presence besides me, but im sos so thankful for it. Everyday i wake up next to her it feels like im blessed eith yet another peaceful and loving day knowing that everything is complete with her by my side.

She smells so good that it stays on my sense of smell, the way her fragrance litter her room and immediately smells like her once i enter is so peaceful and sweet. I absolutely love her perfume, i bought one of them to keep on my room and i spray tiny bits of it on me whenever she's not with me now.

I seldom carry her little gifts in my small bag whenever im away from her to remind me of her presence, her perfume never leave my hands. My shelves are filled to the brim with her godly scented perfumes, her perfume is wuite expensive yet it doesn't matter. Her little girts are kept in a glass covered shelf to ensure protection and will never be broken.

I love gifting her her favorite items and seeing the cutest smiles on her face, i really really wish to spend my eternity with her forever. @Your.Name i love you so much😭😭

Comments:

Your.Name: THIS IS SO CUTE AHHH ➣Com.Acee replied: ILYYYY❤️❤️ (Liked by Your.Name)

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r/Girlfriends MetalPipeLover_Sabo ⬆︎ 46.1k ⬇︎ 429

I need advice on where to take my girl on a date! D:

Any recommendations for places that's suitable for a date? I'm planning to propose to my dear girlfriend, we've been together for a solid 6 years and a half. We've talked about getting married and i think today is the day i propose to her. I can't think of any place thats perfect enough to do so.

Anything that would have a good view or maybe a little cute cat cafe beside it would be fine, I'm thinking of a little elegant theme..or maybe a little cute one? I really cant decide, i contacted my brothera but they couldn't take a single thing serious. Please actually take me seriously😭

My girl isn't that picky, but i myself think that what ever crosses my mind is simply not enough and that she deserves much better than what im thinking of, but of course i still need to atleast make the proposal romantic right?? 😭😭 Please give me recommendations, im absolutely desperate...

Comments:

Com.Acee: The grand canyon idk🤷🏻‍♀️🤷🏻‍♀️ ➣MetalPipeLover_Sabo replied: ACE GET OFF MY COMMENT SECTION😞😞😞 Straw_Luffy: Take her where there's meat! :D ➣MetalPipeLover_Sabo replied: No that's not good enough. Unknown: A flower field maybe lol? (Liked by MetalPipeLover_Sabo)

©Cokou 2024, all works belong to me.

[writerpeach]

ROI (Railed On Investment)

Dreamcatcher Kim Bora x Lee Gahyeon x m! reader

12.9k words

A continuation of the Dreamcatcher Office series

---

Read on AO3

There are always three guarantees when it comes to working in the office: meetings will always be unnecessary and tedious, you won't have enough time in a workday to get everything done, and somewhere, Gahyeon is getting her brains fucked out. 

Your favorite little assistant now has a brand new title and full-time responsibilities, some of which she fulfills without question. But the more things change, the more they stay the same—when her insolent tone creeps up, or she crosses the line with that smart mouth. No matter how cutely she pouts or bats those eyelashes, you can’t exactly let it slide, and you have to remind her about the chain of command, remind exactly where her place is. 

Which is usually underneath your desk during a business call, with those perfect lips sealed shut around your cock while you’ve got both hands atop her head to keep your assistant in her rightful place between your legs. 

While Gahyeon may have a bigger paycheck and more freedom, she seems intent to exercise some of her former disobedience, thinking her new status can absolve her. Whether it be those tight little skirts a little too short, or work shirts a little too sheer, she seems determined to test every single ounce of the dress code—like it's more of a suggestion than a policy.

Thankfully, you don't have to deal with her alone, because the other half of your dynamic duo has to put up with her shit as well—Kim Bora. Her job description doesn't exactly involve babysitting an office brat, but she’s always willing to dish out any necessary discipline is needed when your hands are tied up by whatever corporate bullshit gets thrown at you.

So that's why, when you return from a meeting with one of the overlords, with a stack of reports cradled under your arm, it isn't the slightest surprise to hear that certain someone whining and moaning all sprawled out on your desk, under no consideration for how loud she is when Bora has two fingers jammed in her wet cunt.

"Oh, hi boss, welcome b-back," Gahyeon murmurs, voice broken by the loud noises she makes echoing when you step back into your office.

"Yeah, welcome back," Bora greets with a sultry grin, her fingers all slicked up and dripping with that fresh, juicy nectar dripping all over the place. "This one, she's misbehaving, you know the drill. And so early too." 

Gahyeon shoots an unapologetic glance over at you, and her skirt is all crumpled and slid up, panties to the side, heels kicked off and her feet all resting on the edge of the desk as Bora pumps her fingers in and out, slow and agonizing while you toss the reports onto the desk.

"Do tell me," you sigh, resting back in the comfort of your big office chair, staring down at this beautiful display of lewdness. And honestly, you’re not even sure you want to hear. "What did this fucking brat do now?"

Gahyeon shifts and squirms, each time Bora jams those two digits inside, twisting them slowly and curling right where she needs—punishing and edging out the disobedience all at the same time, making sure there isn't an orgasm until she's earned it. 

"That fucking skirt," Bora groans, eyeing her so disapprovingly. "Waltzing around like her ass cheeks weren't hanging out. Little slut wants people to see everything she's hiding."

"That's all? The whole office should be used to it at this point. Surprised she even had a pair of panties to show off today."

Bora offers a subtle chuckle, and she picks up her pace, keeping the same merciless rhythm. You do your best to relax while the room gets all that much hotter, with this blonde, needy girl writhing around helplessly with those hilted fingers pleasuring her. 

"Look, I don't care if this brat comes in bare naked, but the higher-ups certainly do. Minji and Siyeon can only do so much, corporate just visited while you were in that meeting and gave me an earful." 

"Maybe corporate should get a turn with her then," you tease back, watching as Bora draws her fingers all the way out, only for Gahyeon to struggle at the fleeting pleasure that vanishes in an instant, biting her bottom lip in annoyance. 

"Really?" Bora asks, eyes widened in disbelief, and wipes those slick fingers along the inside of Gahyeon's thigh, spreading her pussy lips wide open for her lustful eyes to ogle at. "As much as we know she'd love to get railed by a room full of older men she's never met before, it's not the kind of reputation that we need around here."

"Fuck, Bora, please just make me—"

"Shut the fuck up," Bora growls, staring directly at her as she smacks her palm against Gahyeon's clit several times in succession, a sudden squeal bursting from her loud mouth. "We're not done talking about you, slut. This is all your fault."

"My fault?" Gahyeon asks rhetorically, still shifting and squirming around as Bora drags the pads of her two fingers around the edges of her slippery entrance, avoiding Gahyeon's insistent pushes and buckles. "I didn't do—"

"I didn't ask you for a response, did I?" Bora cuts her off instantly, flicking that sensitive nub hard, and drawing out an obscene groan while those toes curl and Gahyeon tenses up. Those fingers tease the poor girl relentlessly, barely dipping in for an instant, only to make a quick exit before you see the same deft fingers sink back inside, only to repeat the process again and again.

"Please," Gahyeon whimpers and begs. "I can't—"

"Can't what? Can't stop parading around the office like a whore? It's one thing to get bent over this desk on a daily basis, but that doesn't mean we want this pussy out for the whole floor. It reflects on our entire office. "

"Fine, I'll start dressing nicer, just fucking finish the job," Gahyeon tries to bargain, but Bora isn't having any of it, pushing her all the way back, so that her head dangles off the edge and those silky blonde locks cascade over the desk with her. She's so close, so agonizingly close, and her moans turn all wanton and whiny, that heat coiling deep, cunt aching for release—only for Bora to slide two digits out right before she can hit her peak.

"What makes you think you're in any position to dictate that? Do you even know what dressing nice means?" Bora runs her hands up the needy girl’s blouse, before she settles on a spot in the middle of the thin white fabric. With one harsh tug, she rips it open, letting the buttons fly off as Gahyeon's generous breasts spill out, only secured in place by a lacy black bra that barely covers a fraction of that delicious chest.

And in a flash, Bora yanks the material down, so hard that it gives up a fight in seconds, her soft supple breasts spilling out completely free, jiggling slightly as the cool air hits her bare skin. 

Gahyeon cries out instantly when Bora kneads those breasts, groping roughly as you're given a front row seat to how aggressively your trusted colleague handles her—how tightly she squeezes the two luscious mounds, teasing those pretty nipples into stiff, prominent peaks.

"By the way, it's that time again," Bora says, continuing to play with Gahyeon's perfect tits while not so much as sparing a glance your way. 

"Time for what?" you ask, as the fabric of your pants grows increasingly tight with how hot and heavy the action on your desk gets as she rolls Gahyeon’s swollen nubs, pinching harder and harder before she gives those tits a nice, strong slap that makes the girl yelp. 

"Performance reviews," Bora murmurs in the middle of another slap to Gahyeon's other breast, pausing only to grope even rougher, getting two handfuls as they grow more tender with each passing second, every time a palm strikes the sensitive flesh, jiggling from the sheer impact. "Can't believe we're already on a month of being stuck with this brat.” 

“What are we even reviewing? All she does is get on her knees or spread her legs. Not exactly worthy of a promotion."

"Hey, I put a lot of work into these fucking blowjobs you get. And I always swallow everything that you give me unless you finish on my face," Gahyeon interjects before letting out a desperate whine once Bora slaps her tits once more. 

"Shut the fuck up, brat," Bora hisses out, digging her fingernails into the supple flesh of Gahyeons’s reddened breasts. "Being a cumslut is hardly an achievement. As much as we love ruining you, don't think we can exactly put 'talented at gagging on cock' on a report to corporate."

"That's called eager to please. Doesn't that count for something?" Gahyeon insists, but Bora doesn't exactly agree, or offer much respite, no, her fingers just pinch both nipples at once, earning a shrill cry that reverberates throughout your office. 

"We'll see. What I write on this report depends on you," you say, finally standing up to relieve your painful erection that's been trapped in your pants for far too long. Within seconds, you've got the zipper down, clothes piling at your ankles and resting your entire shaft against her pretty face that rests off your desk. In the meantime, Bora keeps aggressively playing with those scrumptious, pale tits, not letting up for a single second as this desperate little toy laps her tongue along your length. 

"Let's see how well you can handle this cock, hm?” Bora asks, smacking each of those tits in succession, causing such a beautiful ripple. 

Gahyeon has nothing else to offer but more whines in response as those lips part in an instant, allowing your throbbing length to slide past that pout of hers, straight down the back of her throat with just one deep thrust. Both of her hands scramble to your hips, struggling for air as your shaft plunges into those warm depths with no relent. You do all the work, but she’ll gladly play her role, eagerly taking down every inch that you force down with a brutal, unforgiving pace.

To her credit, her eyes tell the story, how much she enjoys this rough treatment while they water with tears from having her nose meet your balls. Gahyeon’s choking continues on repeat while her dainty hands cling onto you, gagging and coughing as you pump her throat full to the limit.

Every single sound has you moaning in response, blonde hair all messy, her mascara running as she gurgles around your cock and savors every moment while her head dangles off your desk. Those fucking lips—lips that look so good absolutely ruined and used, lipstick smeared everywhere along your length, lips that have one purpose, to bring pleasure. 

"How's fucking that throat feel? Must be worth a few points," Bora chuckles while groping Gahyeon's breasts, fondling and smacking roughly with no remorse, watching with intrigue as you slam into her warm little throat that constricts so perfectly.

 It’s hard to respond, when all you want to do is use this pretty mouth, savoring the pure bliss of those lips locked down around your length, ruining this face like it’s part of your daily routine. 

Both you and Bora lock eyes as she offers a particularly vicious squeeze of those breasts, and Gahyeon groans around your shaft when the older girl slides down between those thighs to feast on her neglected cunt so ravenously—unable to properly voice her pleasure with your cock stuffed so far down her throat. 

"This fucking mouth is worth all the trouble it gets into, god—it's the perfect fucking toy to dump a load into."

With Gahyeon's breasts freed up, you plant your hands on them, palming both roughly with your length stuffed all the way down, holding yourself there for this incredible sensation of warmth to make that throat bulge from the intrusion.

There's nothing quite like this as you fuck her throat nice and deep, losing yourself to such sloppy gagging as spit trails along her cheeks, the perfect encouragement while you keep your hands full of her pale tits. 

“Such a good fucking slut, so desperate for me to fuck your throat—really want a good review, don’t you?” Gahyeon makes every noise imaginable, gurgling out sounds of struggle and gargled gasps, all muffled through your balls slapping against her face. Every plunge past her soft lips makes your entire length disappear, working in unison with Bora devouring that sweet cunt, and you're not sure which sight is better as you roll and pinch her stiff nipples to accompany your ruthless pounding into her wet throat.

But like every fucking time, Gahyeon enjoys every second of it—all this saliva pouring from the corners of her mouth, choking on your length so dutifully, it's beyond pornographic. 

An incredible display that’s made better when you peer down your desk to see Bora working her cunt with her expert tongue, and you can only imagine how wet this desperate girl is from the sounds alone. Her hands keep a tight hold on Gahyeon’s creamy thighs, forcing them so wide as she alternates between swirling the tip of her tongue against her clit, slurping around it, or delving straight in her folds, coating herself in those sticky, messy fluids on endless loop. 

And with the amount of juices that spill out, Gahyeon is absolutely gushing with arousal and anticipation, so impossible to contain herself as her loud moans stay entirely stifled around your cock—

Only once you finally give her a breather, she gasps for air desperately, spit strung across her face as she stares up at you like the complete mess she is with this smile that spreads across her ruined features. 

"If there's one thing she's good at, it's choking on your cock," Bora says in the midst of feasting on her soaking little cunt, head buried in between those thighs. Now, Gahyeon can finally let those moans out freely, as she strokes your cock inches away from her hungry little mouth, eager to get you back in that warmth as she succumbs to the stimulation. 

But you’re not ready for her to have this treat again, focusing on those sore tits, tugging her nipples, giving them some slaps of your own to get them bouncing while your hard, aching cock hovers right above that saliva-covered face. 

“You like choking on this, don't you, slut? Even more than that spoiled pussy getting filled?" 

"Of course, boss—I'd rather have this cock over any promotion," Gahyeon says so shamelessly, her parted lips a mess of drool that looks so perfect. The way Bora keeps devouring her dripping entrance makes her breath hitch in between words, those eyes so desperate and hungry through the tears. "Nothing's better than having a cock in my mouth and a hot load down my throat."

That’s the one thing she doesn’t deserve right now, which is why she isn’t getting anything but these light little slaps with your saliva slicked cockhead all across her face, resting it on her lips while she plants these desperate kisses that get you to groan. 

Bora isn’t as gentle as she sucks on Gahyeon’s clit so intensely that her entire body jerks up against the desk, all these messy slurps and greedy licks that make her pussy ache with need as she gets brought closer and closer, drawing out all of those pathetic moans and squeals in between. 

"And to think you ever denied being a slut at one point," Bora mutters out while slapping that pretty cunt several times, making her sob and cry out with desperation. "The only reason you haven't gotten fired here is how good that pretty mouth  is at making us cum.”  

"Hey, I'm good at other things too," Gahyeon insists, voice shuddering. She tries to stroke you in order to get you back down her throat, but you're not keen on that idea, swatting her hands away. 

"Tell us then. What else can you do, you spoiled brat?" Bora asks while her tongue laps slowly against her slick folds, up and down the length of her slit, testing her limits while you deny the chance to stuff her throat, smacking those lips with your shaft to gain some relief. 

"Besides having you ride my face and emptying these balls? I make your coffee just how you like it every morning and take care of lunch every day. I file all the paperwork and keep things organized."

Bora just laughs. Like this is some grandiose task only she can do. 

"So you do the bare minimum and expect praise for it? You think because we use this pretty body of yours that you should get rewarded?" Bora asks, her tongue prodding around, tonguefucking that quivering hole and slipping inside only for a brief moment of unearned pleasure that doesn’t last.

"Fuck! Please, I'm so close—" Gahyeon cries out as she grips the desk's edge, bucking her hips in a desperate manner, but she's denied by Bora's harsh stopping, once again pulling away right at the worst time.

"What do you think, should we let her cum now?" 

It’s a question meant for you, despite having the same answer in mind. All this slick wetness around her pretty mouth looks so good as she keeps devouring the poor thing so mercilessly, she can't even respond with proper words—not that anything that comes out would convince either of you. 

"Sounds like she really needs it,” you say, looking down at Gahyeon who lets out the most frantic nod. “So no—she doesn’t get to cum until I wreck that pretty little pussy."

Bora shares your enthusiasm while you step out of your pants and boxers, kicking off your shoes and stripping away your shirt while Gahyeon stays completely helpless, no longer a part of this negotiation about when she gets to have an orgasm. Once you’re all naked, you take up Bora's former position at the edge of the desk, pulling her back by her thighs and keeping that useless thong to the side before admiring her dripping pussy just dying to be filled up. 

"Have fun,” Bora says, with an adorable smirk across her pretty features as she stays put on the desk, getting her hands all over Gahyeon’s sensitive breasts, playing and pinching harder once you move back and tease that soaking entrance with the head of your cock. 

"I think this is my favorite part of her performance review," you say while swiping the head along those messy folds, getting your cock wet in all the abundant arousal that spills out. Then you line yourself up with that beautiful pussy—and sink all the way inside Gahyeon, as your entire shaft disappears into that warm, heavenly cunt.

“Oh my god—“ 

Her wet walls wrap perfectly, and you start off like you always do, pounding her needy pussy hard without pause from the get go, a sudden, relentless tempo that has her moaning out loud. And fuck, if it doesn't feel incredible, so hot and tight as slick surrounds you from every possible angle as you grab hold of those luscious legs and raise them high on your shoulders.

"Guess she really is worth the trouble, huh? That pussy is her only selling point," Bora says as your thrusts intensify, sliding in and out of that intoxicating heat with ease, your cock spreading Gahyeon’s wet pussy lips further apart as she gets taken just how she begs for. "So spoiled and greedy. You think just because you keep these balls emptied that you deserve a good review?" 

"Y-yes, don't I work hard? Always willing to take this cock? Even up my ass?" Gahyeon asks, trying to get words out in the midst of each merciless thrust. Bora pays her little mind, and you can hear the laugh she lets out even through all the moans, getting her hands all over that soft skin as she explores all her favorite parts of that gorgeous body she has access to.

"God, listen to this cock hungry whore talk like she actually puts in work. Getting fucked in that tight ass is part of your job duties," Bora says, swiping her tongue flat across Gahyeon's nipple before nibbling. "Don't forget it takes both our efforts to make you actually useful."

All this scolding does little to deter Gahyeon's warm, greedy little cunt from swallowing you up all the way to the hilt, tightening so wonderfully when you bottom her out. It's so perfect the way she sounds, these needy moans spilling right out as she clenches so hard, desperate to never let you go when you pick up speed and pound away into the welcome heat of her tight cunt. 

"Love your cock so fucking much, love the way it stretches me, just want to cum all over it," Gahyeon groans so desperately every time you snap your hips forward, not granting even a moment of respite railing her on your desk. Your rough thrusts make her breasts bounce beautifully, and Bora moves one of her hands down to stroke the younger girl's clit, helping bring her closer to that sweet release that she’ll do anything for at this point as she whines and begs for it.

"Not even a please? Where are your manners, slut? What do you say when a superior fucks your pussy like this?" Bora asks as her fingers work around that swollen bud, her voice silky and smooth as she savors the sloppy squelch of Gahyeon's hot cunt taking your entire length so well.

"Please—please let me cum, sir, let me cum on your amazing cock," Gahyeon whimpers out, and despite being denied earlier, your only plans involve giving her exactly what she needs to get there—because nothing will pull you out of this slick warmth until you've made a creamy mess inside. 

You’re both keeping her right on the edge, and the face that Gahyeon makes, you can tell the floodgates are going to burst regardless if she gets permission or not. It only takes a few more sharp thrusts to hit just right, pounding that cunt hard enough to make her eyes roll back as Bora rubs her clit in these vigorous little circles that get her writhing all over your desk. 

"Go ahead and cum all over that cock, you selfish little whore," Bora says, almost a demand as she kisses all across her neck and chest as Gahyeon tenses up. She takes your cock better than ever, absolutely helpless while you help bring her dangerously close to that needed release.

It’s almost pitiful how she can’t hold it any longer, not with the constant denial that's pushed her to the brink so many times, and not with the way you've got her folded in half, pounding so harshly from the start.

You give her a nod, and Gahyeon finally gets what she's so desperate for—trembling in pleasure, that pretty pussy convulsing around your shaft like a vice as a delicious gush of wetness floods your cock. The look on her blissed-out face when she cums hard on your soaked length keeps your hips pistoning so greedily, your rough strokes keeping this climax hitting so hard she can barely breathe—

Gahyeon just shakes and spasms while her cunt makes these violent twitches around your entire shaft, holding you hostage in place with moans that just build and build with every deep thrust.

"Fuck, fuck, can't stop cumming, please, sir, don't stop!" She repeats so loudly it's practically a sob, but she gets exactly what she needs—this unstoppable sensation of wetness pooling beneath her, threatening to push you out with every tight squeeze of her slick folds as she spills everything onto you. Bora doesn't stop the assault on her sensitive clit either, coaxing out more and more nectar to fuel your thrusts while you pump that pussy through one long, unrelenting orgasm.

But as good as this feels, and god, does it feel great—you need Gahyeon all to yourself, even if it means ditching your lovely colleague who's done so much to help her get off. 

Somehow, your cock pulls free, so, so glistening and dripping wet when she stares at it like a starved little slut. But before she can get any bright ideas, Bora is right there to claim you for herself, leaning over so she can clean you off—just her tongue taking a slow, leisurely drag all up and down along the sides, licking you up before her lips take over. 

"Hey—" Gahyeon protests weakly, heaving through these heavy breaths. Bora ignores her, starting with a light peppering of kisses to the head of your cock. Then within seconds, she has that tongue swirling a bit more enthusiastically before wrapping her pillowy lips tightly along your shaft and descending all the way down, humming approvingly on your brat-slickened shaft.

Bora bobs her pretty head up and down, all messy and lewd, slurping up Gahyeon's arousal from off your shaft without even a trace of a gag as she takes you so abruptly into her warm mouth. It’s more of a demonstration, the way she gets so deep, that all you can do is rest a palm on the back of her head while she goes to work, getting so sloppy within seconds. 

Once she cleans you enough, Bora pulls her lips off of you, that smile absolutely filthy when drool spills from her satisfied mouth when she glances at Gahyeon, every bit eager to get all filled up again. "Do you want this cock inside your little cunt again or do I get to finish him off?" 

Gahyeon can hardly speak, all sprawled out and still overwhelmed from her explosive orgasm, but manages a weak nod.  So, without a moment of hesitation, you peel her off the desk, getting rid of this bothersome blouse and skirt, but not bothering with the rest. And then Gahyeon is all yours, at your disposal, in this flimsy little thong with her breasts still spilling out of her bra, all vulnerable and entirely desperate for more—

You don't even have to say a thing when she's turning around and bending over to show the view, squishing her bare tits against the wooden desk and sticking that tight little ass of hers in the air.

A better invitation can’t possibly exist. 

"Seems she knows her place after all," Bora says, leaning in to press a deep, lasting kiss to your lips, so you can taste the faintest hint of Gahyeon's arousal before stepping aside to let you work. You give this brat a loud smack on her plump ass, watching how that pale flesh jiggles deliciously in front of you while she’s patiently waiting for the inevitable.

There's little time to waste, and even less time to tease as you sink back in between her cheeks, every inch buried back into that slippery, warm entrance, earning another loud groan when you slam back into her cunt.

"It's the only thing she seems to understand," you say, and grab those wide hips, thrusting deep while pulling her back onto your cock so forcefully that there's no way to ignore each vocal, lewd sound, the wet slaps and desperate whines filling the room.

Bora watches carefully, almost jealous she doesn’t have the full view of how your cock slips out, lingering a moment between each relentless thrust, to plunge all the way back. Gahyeon’s mouth just can't stay silent, each breath more lustful and heavy as she devolves into an absolute mess her cunt so dripping wet with your cock buried as deep as it'll go, whimpering for more. 

“Fuck her harder, make sure she knows who’s in charge. Wanna see you destroy that cunt,” Bora orders and leans in, your lips meeting hers once more, tongues intermingling while you don’t let up pounding away, not giving her any mercy in the slightest. "Wish I could have that huge cock tearing me apart again, she can hardly take you like I can."

"Maybe I'll just stop fucking this brat so you can get a turn instead. My cock feels much better in your pussy than it does hers. Always does."

"Hey!" 

Gahyeon starts to complain in between moans, but it's quickly cut off by your rough, repeated thrusts, your hips slamming her against your office desk to shut her right up. It’s not the truth, because honestly, there is no comparison between these two perfect women, but you’re not going to let her know that. 

"Tempting,” Bora says, pondering your suggestion. “Watching is just as good. I get to look at this pretty little toy take all your cock, how she gets used for what she is. But unlike this useless whore, I can be patient.”

The thought of Bora all spread out on your desk, tits out, bouncing away, dripping with sweat—it makes you fuck the blonde a little harder, much deeper, thrusting over and over again, the grip on those wide hips making bruises like you’re imagining the very thing happening.

“Her cunt is so fucking good, so tight. Guess she deserves this pounding and all my cum then,” you growl, plunging faster with no remorse into her wetness, making those full, plump cheeks bounce against your hips. But you hardly settle into a rhythm before you decide on a different direction, and pull her up off the desk, capturing her arms behind her back and taking a few steps behind to fuck her completely upright.

“Oh my god, fuck, sir, just like that—fucking use me!” Gahyeon pleads, her toes barely touching the floor as your full weight presses into her petite frame, arms hooked around her own to get your body pinned completely against hers. 

She's so small compared to you, and from this angle you're able to hammer into her with no trouble, giving your hips total freedom and complete control. There’s nothing for this pretty girl to anchor herself to, so you make her take it all, using her body to the fullest potential as much as you want while those perfect breasts bounce and bounce with each pump. 

"Bet she wishes her pathetic cunt could take this as well as mine," Bora giggles, and takes a seat back on the edge of the desk, hopping into position to be a proud spectator. Leaning back, she bites her lip and gets all comfortable in order to enjoy the view, skirt hiked up and panties down to her ankles, showing off that wetness as she spreads those legs, rubbing at that pretty cunt. 

"Can't show up on time, but you can certainly be a good little fuck toy,” you say, keeping your eyes locked on how those perfect cheeks jiggle deliciously inches away. “That cunt grips my cock so fucking hard, Gahyeon—do you think you deserve for me to fuck a load into you?" 

"Y—yes! So bad, yes!" Gahyeon desperately whimpers, nodding her head frantically, her feet struggling to stay grounded as your thick shaft pistons inside her slick warmth. Her bare ass meets your hips again and again, these hypnotic ripples a constant reminder of how in control you are over her. 

"Forgot the magic word, slut. Maybe he should paint that pretty fucking face instead and make you walk out of here without any clothes or dignity left,” Bora says, and the thought is so enticing—but requires restraint that you don’t quite have anymore. 

"Fuck, please, sorry, sir—please use my little cunt and dump everything, every single drop of your huge fucking load. Please, sir, fucking cum in my cunt, god, please—" Gahyeon's a rambling, blathering mess, driven to the point of delirium from her pussy getting such a thorough pounding, and it just all fuels your thrusts for more. 

"Just a worthless toy for us to fuck, that's all we hired you for isn't it?" you growl into her ear, the harsh sounds of flesh on flesh echoing with every harsh slam of your hips. You do everything to keep Gahyeon steady, filling her with every inch as those velvety walls take your length without protest, clenching hard and dripping all over your shaft. 

"Y-yes, sir, please keep using me. Fuck this tight pussy just how you want, empty those balls, I'm only good at getting my holes filled—“ 

Bora's in her own world, plunging fingers deep into her tight cunt, mesmerized by the view and loving how she's the reason you're fucking Gahyeon’s brains out right in front of her. She loves it—that power trip, and those pretty fingers take full advantage, letting her wetness guide them straight back and forth inside her until the slow squelches from deep within barely become audible over the slapping of your hips and your assistant’s desperate, whimpered pleas.

Gahyeon is nothing short of incoherent right now, tossing her head back against your body and screaming at the top of her lungs, begging you to fill her with hot, sticky cum. She’ll get just that, but only when you’re ready—she'll have to endure this pounding, getting her greedy little cunt used however you deem fit in order to earn her reward.

"God, you're so wet—such a messy fucking cunt. You really are nothing but a warm hole for this fucking cock, aren’t you, Gahyeon?” 

Those words piped right into her ears are nothing new to this girl, only adding a new layer of arousal, making this greedy pussy gush around your shaft in the most irresistible of ways. You have to pause between thrusts, giving yourself a long chance to savor at how she drips so much all over you, those glistening lips parted to welcome such an easy entry when you bury yourself into balls fucking deep each time.

"I'm so wet because of your big fucking cock, sir.” Bora can only laugh in between the sinful sounds of her wet fingers sliding so deep within her slippery depths. There’s no discretion here in the slightest, nothing held back about how she lets her fingers dive straight to her core, stuffing that dripping cunt, trying to make up the difference for something far better.

"Look at her, little brat does know how to be formal," Bora says, continuing to fuck herself so shamelessly, like she's jealous of Gahyeon's current position."But I've got a better idea for your slutty mouth." 

That smirk is all you need to get the message, as she removes her thong and zips her skirt right off, scooting back on the desk to lay herself bare and spread wide open. You bring Gahyeon right on over, letting go of her body so Bora can guide her head to that dripping entrance. 

Gahyeon clearly doesn't mind as she plunges her tongue into Bora's cunt, circling away hungrily as you continue to ram into her tight little pussy. This gives Bora exactly what she wants, her hand settling on the back of the other girl's head. pulling so close to fully smother her between those creamy thighs.

"I want you to eat this cunt just like your job depends on it," Bora orders, getting a handful of blonde locks in the process, tugging without concern. "Because it fucking does." 

There's not a moment spared when Gahyeon starts running her tongue up and down along the pink, soaked slit of your colleague’s delicious pussy, and now you’re the one who feels a hint of jealousy. But when you have such a slick tightness surrounding your cock, all of that becomes a trivial matter, ramming into this useless little thing so harshly, to make those cheeks bounce and push her tiny frame against Bora.

"There you go, eat my fucking pussy while I watch your cunt get ruined. Fuck, he's going so hard, can you even handle him this deep?" Bora asks, and strokes a hand through Gahyeon's hair, keeping her thighs firmly locked around her head. And all Gahyeon can offer back in response is muffled cries as she laps up the sweet taste, eager for more. 

Bora keeps her gaze on you, her bedroom eyes full of lust as she rides Gahyeon's pretty face, not letting up for a second. "Fuck, can't get enough can you?—little whore will eat my cunt until she passes out If i let her," she says, rocking her hips to grind against that eager mouth, indulging in the endless attention. 

She's stuck right between you two, being fucked so senseless she can barely take it, desperate to lick Bora until her mouth goes numb. Through every thrust, she’s lapping up those wet messy folds, savoring every drop she can of that slick sweetness. Gahyeon can hardly manage to breathe like this, suffocated by those perfect thighs, but that certainly won’t stop her from going to town on her boss. 

And of course, you don’t let up for a moment, maintaining the same relentless pace to sheathe your cock inside this needy fucking brat, every thrust forcing her right back into Bora who keeps her trapped right there. 

"Such a perfect fucking pussy, taking every inch like a good slut," you say, smacking her ass roughly, again and again. Gahyeon clenches so tightly after each hit, each sting lingering far too long, those delicious cheeks turning redder with every strike. She's just a mess beneath you, moaning into Bora's pussy while giving her all, and when you push your thumb into her asshole, those muffled, frantic cries get even louder. 

"This is where my cock should be, buried in your ass—but you haven't quite earned that privilege yet.” 

Your thumb slides in as deep as you can get, all the way past that tight ring of muscle, stretching her back entrance out before you pull out and leave it painfully empty, bringing back both hands to their rightful place on those sinful hips once again. Gahyeon can’t even protest with Bora’s cunt pressed up against her mouth so forcefully, that blonde mess of hair clutched so tightly between her fingers. 

“Who does that slutty fucking cunt belong to?" Bora asks in such a harsh, demanding tone, using the strands wrapped around her fingers like reins to bury Gahyeon’s face deeper against her pussy, practically fucking her face at this point. 

And again, the only response comes in the form of pathetic whimpers while trying desperately to keep licking, these sloppy sounds loud and clear as Bora smears her own arousal everywhere on Gahyeon’s features, not even interested in the pleasure, but how utterly debauched she can make her look. 

“Need an answer, brat. Asked you a fucking question, didn’t I?” 

Drowning in lust, Gahyeon barely manages to pull back, slurred speech following with gasps for air when Bora forces her mouth off for a moment. "B-both. It belongs to both of you—my tight little pussy is just a useless toy for my bosses to use," Gahyeon mumbles out, nearly sobbing as you pound away, using her perfect little body for your pleasure alone.

"Good whore," Bora coos as she shoves that face back between her legs, that greedy mouth finding all the right ways to please. Gahyeon eats her pussy so hungrily, like she’ll simply die if she can’t satisfy her, and when those moans slip out of Bora’s lips louder, it gets you throbbing so hard as you sink in repeatedly to her warm, slick entrance. 

It’s quite the sight. The tight grip Bora has on Gahyeon, her nails digging so deep into her scalp while this relentless onslaught of thrusts has you pumping deep—it’s just what that greedy pussy needs, and suddenly you feel a series of impossibly tight clenches, juices flowing all over your cock one more time. 

"Greedy fucking slut. Did we even say you could cum again?" you ask Gahyeon, though it's not like she’s going to let that deter her. And certainly, it’s not helping your own case when her pussy squeezes like this, begging for another release. 

"S-sorry, sir—couldn't help it, your cock feels too good," Gahyeon says, voice muffled between Bora's full thighs as you hammer into her like there’s only one end to this. She licks through Bora's folds frantically to get back into her good graces, her messy, swollen lips latching on to her clit, slurping on it hard enough to get a loud gasp out of her. 

"If only you worked as hard as you eat me out, maybe we wouldn't have such a problem on our hands,"Bora says, losing composure and letting her head roll back. There's only so much of this you can handle, Gahyeon between those succulent thighs while you rail her from behind with everything you have left to give. 

One more smack on that plump ass, and the grip on her hips gets so rough as you reach closer to the end, forcing every inch in that slippery, slick cunt and brace for impact. 

"Gonna fucking cum—your tight fucking pussy is gonna make me cum," you groan out, digging your fingertips into her pliant, soft flesh as this overwhelming pleasure gets even stronger with each bury into that dripping wet heat. "God, I'm going to pump this useless cunt full, you selfish little brat—"

"Fucking fill her, fill that little whore up with every single drop. Make that cum drip out of our pretty fucking toy.” 

You punctuate your words with a sharp, hard slam as Gahyeon crumbles yet again, unable to warn when another intense orgasm hits, causing that silky tightness to become impossible to resist. Bora isn't so far behind either, hips bucking up, thighs gripping the younger girl's head tightly, a muffled sound from where Gahyeon's buried face-first between them—the only sign of a proper climax happening.

After these two collectively fall apart, you're the only one left standing. 

So you indulge yourself, pumping so roughly into the warmth of Gahyeon, the endless tightness surrounding you in wetness as you give in completely, plowing into her until your final thrusts, those last few moments where you lose all control and fucking unload—

And with Gahyeon bent over so beautifully like this, mouth full of Bora's cunt, you fill her greedy fucking pussy to the brim, firing your release so deep—spurt after hot spurt until there’s nothing left for you to spill inside. Through every lingering moment, your hips keep up with the mess you’re emptying into this cunt, fucking every drop inside as deep as it'll go, and savoring the way those slick walls demand you stay buried for as long as you can possibly manage.

It’s a beautiful fucking picture. 

"What a perfect little cumdump we've hired ourselves…" you murmur under your breath, all winded and exhausted as you ride out this intense high. Only when it dissipates do you slowly pull your cock out from Gahyeon’s messy cunt, filled to the absolute brim. 

You’re greeted with a beautiful flood of hot sticky warmth that leaks out, a white mess that trickles down the inside of Gahyeon's thighs, glistening in the warm office light. "Guess we'll have to keep her after all."

Breathing heavily, Gahyeon stays bent over your desk, about ready to collapse. She doesn't say a word as Bora gingerly rolls off the desk to shuffle behind her, running fingers through those beautiful, cum-filled pussy lips that plunge deep in her well-used entrance. Bora collects a taste, turning around and sucking her fingers so lewdly.

"You really filled her up nicely," Bora says with the faintest of grins. "She might even get a positive review if this keeps up."

Gahyeon stays collapsed against the desk, the wooden surface the only thing keeping her upright, body almost limp as she plays with her cunt so shamelessly for the pair of you to view. Bora leans over, guiding her head to kiss her, tongue delving deep into her mouth to sample just how delicious their mixed juices must taste. "What do you say when your boss dumps a huge fucking load inside your pretty cunt?" 

"Th-thank you sir," Gahyeon manages to say, completely out of breath and still clinging onto the desk.

"So you do have some manners,” Bora says, returning behind Gahyeon, spreading her cheeks wide like she wants to see more of your load drip out. “What do you think, ready to work on that performance review?" 

There's not much you have to say, running your hands over Gahyeon's sweaty, exhausted figure, tracing fingers up her spine that sends a shiver. "Employee takes orders well. Easily persuaded. Works hard. Especially when it comes to pleasing her boss with her tight fucking cunt..." 

"Really don't think I can add that last part in,” you respond, giving Gahyeon one last smack on her ass that makes more cum leak out. 

"Rephrase it then," Bora says with a cheeky laugh and pulls you close, giving your lips a tender kiss. "Guess we should get dressed before someone needs us. It's almost time for lunch."

"Can we order delivery again?" Gahyeon suggests as she hobbles over to collect her discarded garments, still struggling to hold any real semblance of balance. "I can barely feel my legs..."

"What do you think? Minji won't mind putting it on the company card again," Bora says. 

"Why not? Pizza sounds good."

“Pizza it is.” 

✦ ✦

After an extended lunch break, you’re back in the office, sitting in your office chair ready to fill out Gahyeon’s performance review. Of course, Gahyeon can never sit still—she’s compelled to sweeten the pot, with her shirt tossed away and your pants down to your ankles, on her knees underneath your desk, bobbing her head so frantically between your legs. 

You say little while most of your focus is on this report, filling in whatever you think fits, what exceeds expectations and what needs improvement—somehow trying to keep it related to work while this needy girl slobbers on your length.

Bora's still there, perched up on your desk, legs crossed, using her phone to catch up on emails and indulge on pizza, paying no attention to what’s happening while Gahyeon has every inch stuffed in her pretty mouth.

"Must you gag so loudly? You're distracting me,” you murmur out, and she glances over with a playful smile on those devilish lips, because you both know that's what you like to hear, despite your protest that falls on deaf ears. If only there were a rating for how good Gahyeon sucks dick, you ponder—you’d give her full marks. 

"It's part of the fun," Gahyeon giggles, barely pulling her mouth off your hard, throbbing cock, just to push those lips back down further than before, gurgling and slurping lewdly. "Besides, you love when I choke on your cock, don't you, sir?"

"Only because it gets you to shut up. I swear it's the only way I can get any work done here."

You glance over briefly from your computer monitor, observing as the other woman in the room completely ignores this depraved show that's going on only a few inches away. Without a single sound she reads over and replies to emails, taking a sip of cola to wash down a third slice of pizza. "Our Friday morning staff meeting starts at noon now. It's been moved up. Something about how Minji won’t be back from her business trip until then.” 

With her heels dangling freely in the air, Bora shoves the rest of her slice in her mouth before picking back up where she left off, continuing with her phone. It’s not exactly subtle, the distraction she creates, her skirt short enough to catch your eye, with that pretty glistening pussy in plain view, knowing full well you can stare with her panties long forgotten somewhere in this room. 

And while you try to create positives out of thin air for this report, the ravenous slurps and groans from underneath your desk somehow get louder in your ears, as the suction of Gahyeon’s soft lips sliding up and down your cock fight for your attention. 

“Does that mean I don't have to come in early?" Gahyeon asks, popping her lips off your shaft with a thick string of saliva still connected. 

"Absolutely not," Bora says, irrationally annoyed at such a question. "You still have to bring us breakfast and coffee first thing in the morning. Don't even think about sleeping in." 

Those messy lips pout as she forces herself back down onto your length, gurgling loudly and choking in a way you know is deliberately over-the-top, as if she's protesting through a mouthful of dick. You ignore it, and turn your attention back to the screen, because you need to add just the perfect closing remarks to this performance review, even while your favorite blonde fucktoy gets so sloppy and obscene on your throbbing cock. 

You should get a raise for this alone, for finding praise for Gahyeon’s work where there is absolutely none. 

"And wear something nice. You can have your tits out here all you want, but cover up when you're outside this office. I don't want to get scolded again because you can't hide that tight little ass of yours,” Bora adds, picking off a pepperoni on one of the last few slices left in the box. 

Gahyeon can hardly reply coherently, and honestly, it sounds more like she's gagging on your cock just to spite Bora—she's heard this exact lecture three times this week already.

"Maybe everyone at the meeting wants to see my tight little ass hanging out the back of the skirt I'm wearing tomorrow, have you considered that?" Gahyeon whines, lips making a trail of spit when she pulls off for only a second before she plunges right back down, lips down to your base so fast it makes your head spin.

Bora suddenly looks up with a grimace. "Are you getting uppity with me, Lee Gahyeon? See what happens if you show up at that meeting dressed like a slut." 

With her sinful lips far too busy for a response, Gahyeon keeps that warm fucking mouth sucking away, because she knows better not to respond again—for once. It's for the best, for both of you, because you don't have the energy to reprimand her now, as you finish the last few paragraphs. One click of the send button, and it's finished, straight to Minji who’ll look over it after she comes back from her trip. 

Now that you’ve checked that off, you push your chair away to give Gahyeon more room as she follows your cock, those wet lips working their magic without anything to get in the way of this heavenly blowjob. 

"Gahyeon—" 

"Yes, boss?"

"Those tits, Gahyeon. Your mouth is great, really great—but show me what those fucking tits can do. Remind me why I just gave you a good review.” 

"Yes, sir. Of course." And with that she undoes her bra, letting the lacy fabric slide down her arms before tossing it across the room, straightening her back and guiding your cock between her heavy breasts. There’s hardly a moment to breathe when she squeezes them together around you, enveloping your cock with all this soft flesh. 

"How's that, sir?" Gahyeon breathes out softly, looking for approval while she uses the warmth of those tits as they smother and massage every last inch.

The constant stimulation around your sensitive shaft is pure perfection, and even better is when she gets into this rhythm, bouncing those tits with her palms to fuck your cock between them. You lean back in your chair and sigh, enjoying this moment with your undivided attention. 

"Fuck, this feels incredible. Those tits are fucking perfect, keep going—“ 

Gahyeon smiles, and keeps the friction going, so soft and slick every time she spits in between her abundant cleavage, picking up speed to keep you trapped. The sight of this is more than enough to lose it—your cock disappearing between those beautiful fucking breasts, feeling that heat every time Gahyeon brings her tongue back into play, so desperate to please you.

"Do I get to skip the meeting if I use my tits to make you cum?"

Bora scoffs at that, turning her gaze downwards, offended even at the thought of that question. Without even looking up—not that you’d ever have a reason when you have this view in between your legs, you don't dare answer the question. Because if you had the option, you'd absolutely tell her yes. 

So with this devilish eye contact, Gahyeon keeps pumping her tits, sliding your cock between them like she'll do anything to get out of that meeting. But Bora’s not exactly too keen on being ignored, as she tosses her phone on the desk, watching how this show plays out. 

"Are we bribing our bosses now, Lee Gahyeon?" Bora asks, crossing her arms with an icy glare that she flashes. "Such a bold little thing—like you don’t miss out on enough work as is. Did you forget we're both in control here? You're not the only one whose tits can make this cock explode." 

Gahyeon isn’t sure how to respond to that, lips quivering, realizing the look on Bora's face is more than a little serious. But that doesn't stop her from using her cleavage to the fullest, determined and focused, intent on doling out as much pleasure as you can take. In the corner of your eye, you can see Bora sitting up, tugging her shirt off, followed by her bra to display those equally wonderful breasts ready to get involved in whatever fashion she sees fit.

"Lee Gahyeon, you're done." And just like that, the younger girl comes to a halt, tilting her head in confusion.

"B-but, Boss—"

Bora raises an eyebrow to that objection. "How many times have I warned you about talking back? Get off his cock. Now. I want you to clean this place up instead, it’s a fucking mess." 

"W-wait, that's not fair—" She looks to you for support, but you’re not interested in getting on Bora’s bad side. Sooner or later, all that defiance has a breaking point. 

"Better do what she says, Gahyeon, you know how she gets. If Bora says you're done, then you're done—" Bora smiles at that, glad she has her partner-in-crime on her side for this. And reluctantly, Gahyeon eases off your cock with disappointment written all over her face, making you sigh a little when the warmth of those incredible breasts gets taken off you. She gathers up all the clothes scattered on the floor, moping a little when she steps out from the desk to put them back on. 

"And organize all our documents when you're finished. Put them away in alphabetical order. By date too."

"Y-yes ma'am."

Bora takes up her former position, dropping to her knees as she reaches for your cock with the intention of finishing the job. One of her delicate hands rubs your thighs, ensuring the stiffness in your cock never leaves for a second. "Mine now." 

"Little harsh, wasn't that?"

"Harsh? She's never going to learn otherwise,” Bora says, stroking your cock that only has one destination in mind. “Ever since she's gotten fully hired, little brat’s gotten a little too comfortable getting what she wants. Or do you want her to talk back all the time?"

"Bora, you can't just send her off like that—and it's not a competition."

"No, it isn't—is it? Not when my tits are clearly bigger and better.“ 

You’re not sure how to react to that, but you don’t get a chance to when she leans forward to slip you in her mouth, sucking on the head of your cock while continuing those tender strokes. Somehow, you’ve almost forgotten how divine Bora’s blowjobs are, how soft those lips are, a stark contrast from the rough facefucking that Gahyeon always begs for. 

"We both know I'm better than that useless slut anyway..."

Her mouth is so warm and wonderful, taking your cock deeper and deeper with each push until she can take every inch, filling up her throat entirely without any struggle, almost showing off to Gahyeon how it’s done. And yeah, she might give better head than your younger assistant, but there's always going to be something special about what that brat does that makes her irresistible, that innocent face mixed with all the lust in her eyes. 

But then Bora pulls her mouth off your cock with a pop, and you know there's only one place left for it to go—trapping it between her supple, equally impressive breasts, where the weight of them surrounds your cock in blissful friction. It feels just as good, maybe even better, as those sizable tits make your cock ache for more, the way Bora pushes them tight around you like she never wants to let go. 

"So what about this? My tits feel just as good, don't they?" Bora asks, finding a rhythm as all this soft flesh squeezes around the entirety of your length. She's far too confident for her own good, that's for sure, but that's exactly what you enjoy about her, that and indulging in that hot, tight body of hers. 

"I do love your tits, Kim Bora. How long has it been since I last saw my cock trapped between them?"

"It has been a while. Your cock looks so good between them," Bora sighs, smirking away as she keeps this tight seal of warm flesh between her cleavage, hands cupping them around your aching shaft. "Too long if you have to ask. But you're usually too busy eating my ass to ever want to fuck my tits."

"Can you really blame me? That ass is too perfect, Kim Bora—the way you always bend over for me at the copy machine, what else am I supposed to do but bury my tongue inside?” 

She can’t help but beam at the praise, as you lean back in your chair, relaxing to bask in the moment while Bora uses this glorious pair of tits to please your needy, throbbing length. But even while your cock gets perfectly sandwiched between them, you can’t help but feel a little bad for Gahyeon, how quickly and forcefully Bora dismissed her from what she adores—but she only has herself to blame for that. By this point, she should know better not to push those buttons. Consequences have never been something Gahyeon is good at dealing with. 

"See, you've barely missed her anyway. Not when these tits must feel so fucking nice," Bora coos, and picks up the pace just enough, bringing so much delicious pressure to squeeze your cockhead every time her breasts massage from base to tip.

“God, that feels so good—you really need to do this more often.” 

“Maybe I will. Really takes the edge off work, doesn’t it?” 

You nod, unable to vocalize anything else as you glance around the room to see what Gahyeon has done—but surprisingly, the place looks even cleaner than you've seen it, filing cabinet pulled out while she sorts through various papers and documents stored, floor free of everything that tumbled off the desk earlier. 

Your attention isn’t stolen for long, as your gaze turns back to those soft, heavenly breasts that Bora offers so freely, sliding your cock between them like it’s her job to make you moan. "Do you want me to make you cum like this? Cum all over my big fucking tits?"

An enticing offer to say the least, and not an thing easily to ignore—so hard to refuse when she gives your cock this level of attention, but still, there's something more you want, something that even surpasses the stimulation these amazing breasts give. Bora senses your hesitation, slowing down her strokes while you work through the indecision. “If this isn’t doing the trick, then I can jump on your dick and finish you off that way. Bounce these heavy things in your face while you cum inside me?"

"You really spoil me sometimes, Kim Bora. That sounds better, much much better..." 

"Well, you deserve to be spoiled after dealing with this ungrateful brat all week. Now you can just relax and let me take care of everything… I'll make you cum so hard you forget all about her." That's all the convincing Bora needs, giving your cock one more moment of this delicious friction as she pulls away and gets undressed, skirt dropping, panties gone within seconds. 

Then comes your favorite part—you get to witness the glory of that sinful, naked body, those enticing curves, with thighs so deliciously thick, and that glistening cunt, smooth and shaven, just ready to wrap around your throbbing cock until it milks you dry. 

Bora positions herself to straddle your waist in your office chair, lining up your cock at her wet, warm entrance, more than eager to ride your length to completion. "I’ve missed this huge cock stretching me. Fucking brat had it for too long." 

You chuckle. "Didn't I fuck you yesterday? In the copy room while Gahyeon was printing out everything for our meeting this week?"

"If it's been more than twenty-four hours, it's been too fucking long. That doesn’t count.” 

Without giving you a moment to reply, Bora drops right down, taking your throbbing shaft to the hilt in one fluid motion, that hot, gripping pussy swallowing you up without warning. This girl knows exactly how to angle her body, shoving those beautiful breasts right into your face as she starts to move her sinful hips, riding your cock fast and hard right from the start. 

“Fuck, Bora, that tight pussy could make me forget my own fucking name—“ 

Not a second gets wasted indulging in those perfect tits. While Bora gyrates her hips, you grab two perfect handfuls of that bountiful chest, sucking hard on each of her nipples, and savoring how incredibly soft her breasts feel in your hands as she slams down against you. 

"Missed having this cock splitting me open. God, you feel so fucking good inside me. Such a good fucking stretch."

"And I missed having these perfect tits in my mouth. Nobody knows how to ride me better than you do, baby."

Bora smiles as she runs her fingers through your hair, encouraging this lavish attention with each eager bounce that has her tight walls squeezing with such a harsh grip. "Don't you forget that. I've missed creaming on your cock so much. Gahyeon got her way more than she should have, but you're all mine now."

All you can do is keep your mouth on those pretty, stiffened buds, flicking your tongue playfully along them as your cock gets so slippery inside this wet heat. 

It's enough to take your mind off things—not just work, or Gahyeon, but everything, with the way her hips rock, giving you such a beautiful view of her breasts bouncing, now drenched in your saliva while your aching hardness disappears into her impossibly slick warmth. 

"Fucking hell, Bora, how are you always so—god, how is your cunt always this fucking tight," you groan out, burying your face into her breasts, relishing this wetness, the warmth, the absolute perfection that surrounds your cock as she rides you relentlessly on your chair.

"Because your cock belongs right here, buried balls deep inside me. My tight little cunt loves every inch of you, baby," she coos softly, bringing your lips to hers for the sweetest little kiss.

And no doubt Gahyeon can still hear every detail from across the room, cleaning away and reorganizing everything just as told without question, unusually quiet, the most obedient she's ever been. Maybe she's learning after all—or maybe she thinks she’ll get a turn again if she behaves. 

But god, Bora feels so good on top of you—her hips driving down to take the entirety of your length with ease, her delicious bouncy tits right in your face. With every movement, her slick, warm walls grip your cock to milk another orgasm with an urgency that you've never seen before. 

It's enough to make you throb and twitch uncontrollably, and you just can't get enough of these tits, switching back and forth, squeezing whatever isn't trapped in your mouth, completely drunk on lust.

"Fuck, you love them, don't you? Could suck and lick these things all day and never tire of them, couldn't you? Mm, fuck—love when you play with them, when you’re so rough, it feels too good," Bora says, head tilted back and savoring your hungry mouth as you indulge in this feast, sucking her tits like you’re starved—

"You know me too well, Kim Bora. Your tits are just so addictive—I could spend the whole day like this if I had the choice.” 

Part of you tries to stay as composed and dignified as you can, but it's harder than usual, with Bora always managing to stifle anything that leaves your mouth after each harsh bounce, spreading warmth and wetness everywhere along the way.

"Who says you don't get that choice? We'll just cancel that stupid meeting with the team tomorrow so you can play with my perfect fucking tits, and pump as many loads inside me as you want."

"Don't tempt me," you say in between lewd slurps of her swollen tits, before you sit back just to take in the view, enjoying the show that her delectable body so graciously puts on display for you. 

"Since when has it ever been hard not to tempt you?" Bora questions, and you’re in no position to give a proper answer when she buries you to the hilt, those thighs crashing down against your own and working tirelessly to find the spot that drives you absolutely mad. She gets so wild with those hips, and the bliss is incomparable to how Gahyeon rides you—her determination to prove a point, that she'll always be superior in every aspect.

"Fuck, you ride my cock so fucking well, Bora—think I'm about ready to burst." And with a coy, knowing smile, the pace gets out of control as Bora rides without grace or decency, hell-bent on making you cum as fast as she can. It's just a constant slap of her bare ass against your lap, impaling that needy pussy repeatedly to make your balls tense up with every tight clench.

“Good, that’s what I love to hear. Cum inside, need you to blow a fucking load right in me. Fucking fill me up, you know this is where your cum belongs."

You can't do anything else at this point, hypnotized by how Bora bounces on your cock, those gorgeous tits right in your face. And if that wasn’t enough to deal with, her perfect sopping cunt squeezes so hard, desperate to finish you off that there’s no way for you to hold on—

The heat becomes too much, and you can't help but reach out and grab that plump ass, digging into the flesh and groaning in complete delight as you wait for the unavoidable to take over. 

"Gonna fucking cum in you, god, your pussy feels too fucking good," you growl, and that just encourages Bora to drive down faster, picking up the pace with no signs of stopping, on a desperate mission to bring you to completion in the swiftest, easiest fashion possible. She lets out a slew of filthy moans, hands on your chest, and you're torn between wanting to look into Bora's eyes, or gaze at those heavy tits that jiggle in sync with her deadly hips.

“Unload it all, baby—“ 

There's not even enough time to make a decision—all you see is Bora smiling wide as she takes one last rock of her hips that sends your cock over the edge, and you finally explode inside her with a deep groan, flooding that hot cunt with so much thick, sticky cum. Each buck of your hips helps that load flow free, spilling it all and painting her insides white as her walls milk every drop for all it's worth, desperate to coax out everything left in your balls, every last spurt until that pretty cunt overflows.

When she’s wrung everything out of you, Bora's more than a little breathless. Her hips still move to claim all your seed as she steals a heated kiss from your lips, arms wrapping around your neck. You just stare at her, at the sweat dripping down her neck, eager to take a taste while you drag your tongue up and down to do just that. 

"Knew I can make you cum better than that dumb blonde slut,” she says, and all that heat from her filled cunt makes you throb with oversensitivity as her hips slow down, bouncing in your lap so lazily. 

"You're cute when you're jealous."

"Jealous? I'm not fucking jealous. How could I be? I'm so much better in every goddamn way, including fucking you," Bora snaps back, brushing the hair away from her face and shifting back a little, making you wince from how sensitive your spent cock is inside her. 

"You're not wrong. But you're still jealous, Kim Bora."

"Whatever, as if I could be threatened by a useless whore who'll cum on anything she's given." Bora's never been good at hiding her anger, getting all snappy when you tease her just a little. But also, she can’t help but love what you’ve spilled inside, wanting you to get a good glimpse. So rather gingerly, her hips lift up, letting your shaft slip free, as this thick, creamy mess oozes out, right above your lap with your combined fluids. 

"Gahyeon—" Bora says, as she shifts focus in her direction, only now noticing how spotless and organized everything looks as she hops back up on your desk, legs spread wide to display your load still leaking out. 

"Yes, boss?" she replies eagerly, glancing over with wide, anticipating eyes, as she stands at attention and awaits another order. 

"Stop what you're doing and come clean my cunt up. That's all I'm willing to let you have."

"Right away, ma'am." Of course, only when she gets the chance to taste your cum out of Bora does Gahyeon not give a modicum of attitude, so quick to stop her tasks, falling to her knees right in front. 

Without delay, she dives in, and Bora sighs softly when Gahyeon laps up the cum that flows from her messy, wet slit, pushing her tongue inside to seek out more. Because she knows this is her only chance for your seed, and she can't miss it for anything. 

"Good girl... so you do know how to follow orders. But only when they're beneficial, hmm?”

There’s nothing but a satisfied hum when Gahyeon swipes her tongue back and forth between Bora's creamy pussy lips, making sure none of that warm load goes to waste, as she uses your taste for an incentive to finish the job. Bora is still a bit exhausted, those heaving breasts still gaining your attention as she sits patiently with her legs parted, watching Gahyeon lick every inch of her clean.

"Alright, enough. That's all you get," Bora says as she pushes her away, shutting her legs, and Gahyeon immediately pouts with those lips soaked in cum, eyes narrowing. "What do you say, brat?"

"Thank you, boss. You're so delicious."

"Better thank him too, most of that came from his balls." Gahyeon quickly shifts her focus towards you, eyes looking so bright and innocent, as if she's waiting for another chance to dole out her gratitude.

"Thank you, sir. May I?" she asks, eyes right at your shaft, and you let out a little nod. Gahyeon scoots over closer and takes your cock back in her mouth, so shamelessly without a second of hesitation. 

"So fucking greedy. What are we going to do with you, Gahyeon?" Bora shakes her head, chuckling out loud as Gahyeon cleans up the excess seed and your throbbing shaft all over with a hungry tongue and hollowed-out cheeks, sloppy and loud, slurping with purpose.

If you’re not careful, you know she’ll try to make you cum again, despite Bora trying to limit her indulgence, but you don’t even care about any sensitivity when she looks so good on your cock—lips so fucking pouty and eyes pleading.

"Stay right there, Gahyeon. You stay right fucking there until I say otherwise," you order her, making her eyes go wide as you grab the back of her head, burying yourself to the hilt to keep your cock nestled in her throat. Gahyeon complies without protest, being the perfect cockwarmer as she lets your shaft rest in the cozy embrace of her throat, completely stuffed, so quiet and just obediently holding in place, tongue laying flat to let you relish in the warmth. 

"Good fucking girl," Bora giggles, and those deep, pretty eyes of Gahyeon look right at you as your cock holds her tight throat open. She does her best not to move, this pleased look on her face every time you throb inside, staying nice and hard between those hungry lips. "Keeping that mouth full is the only way to stop you from complaining."

Gahyeon certainly makes a pretty picture like this, struggling to contain every ounce of desperation, unable to move or talk.  Her lips stay pressed up against the base of your shaft as she stares right up at you, like she needs a hot mouthful of cum to fill her belly like it’s the only thing that’ll settle her down. 

"What do you think, feel like taking the rest of the week off and fuck our gorgeous, needy assistant at your place?" Bora asks, and leans over to take advantage of the view, looking right at those thick fucking lips wrapped around you as you resist the urge to use her mouth to ease the frustration she’s caused. "How does that sound, Gahyeon? You want that dick stuffing your holes all night, don't you?"

"That's not a bad idea," you say, to which Gahyeon nods as a sign of agreement, muffled sounds from her stuffed lips just enough to get a smile out of you when your thumb reaches over to wipe drool off her bottom lip. "Think I'd rather pound this brat's ass all weekend than go to another fucking meeting."

"Even better." There's a big smirk on Bora's face, running her fingers through Gahyeon's blonde locks. "Is that what you want, slut? Want this thick cock to stretch out that pretty little asshole of yours? Make you scream without having the entire office hear what a huge whore you are?"

After you ease Gahyeon's mouth off of your cock, she inhales deeply before finally responding, lips glistening from saliva as she smiles brightly. "Fuck, please, sir—it's been so long since you've put that big dick in my ass—so fucking long."

You both know there's no truth to those words; hardly a day's gone by that you haven't slid your cock into this girl's asshole, while she's staring outside your office window, or the bathroom mirror after you've buried your face in between those plump cheeks. Regardless, you'll let her maintain this little charade, let her get the anticipation going in hopes of more.

"Let's get going then," Bora says, getting back on her feet as she looks around to find her clothes scattered everywhere, only bothering to put her skirt and blouse back on. "Minji might not like us missing the meeting, but there's no reason she can't reschedule. We've got more important things to take care of."

"So no meeting? Really?" Gahyeon responds, this adorable giddy little smile on her face while you slip your pants back on, fastening your belt and shutting down your computer.

"No meeting. Instead, I get to ruin that pretty little asshole all weekend and fuck the attitude out of you." 

"Good luck with that," Bora laughs, walking over towards the door to grab her purse. "But if you get tired of dealing with the brat, I can just sit on your face so you get a moment's peace."

“You really do spoil me, Kim Bora," you laugh along with her, watching as she does her best to put on a presentable appearance, leaving her shirt with one button unbuttoned just to make sure her cleavage is out in full display. "And Gahyeon, gather your things, make sure everything's locked up, then meet us downstairs. Don't keep us waiting." 

"On it, sir."

"Oh, and don't forget the paddle, Gahyeon. Should still be in the same drawer," Bora says, shooting a big grin before disappearing out your office door with you slowly following behind. 

"Of course, boss."

You’ll deal with however Minji chooses to reprimand you on Monday, but for now, you've got Gahyeon all to yourself with Bora coming along for the ride. 

That’s all you’ll worry about—no reports, no deadlines, and no meetings, just the two most gorgeous girls you've ever laid eyes on spending the entire weekend in your sheets.

[bayjaruchel]

Never Too Much

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Pairing: Mike Schmidt (2023)/AFAB Reader

Rating: Explicit

Summary: There are certain things that your boyfriend really likes to do. (2.2k, mostly cunnilingus | originally posted on ao3) | Masterlist )

－－－

Mike takes his time with you, when he can. 

He likes being able to pace himself. By now, he knows your body very well; every curve and harsh edge, every single little detail. He's traced up your contours with his fingertips and kissed all the way back down again. Even though he's generally not the best at keeping calm, he's a very patient lover when given the chance to be. After your first few— and frantic — times together, he's slowed down considerably. 

However, there are still exceptions to that pattern.

Like when you don't have the time for anything slow; such as the minutes before he has to get ready for work. When you're both still a little groggy, but still need each other. Or when he knows he won't be free for most of the day, and you want to make it up to him. You fumble for each other, a determined clash of hands and lips and warm skin, both desperate to make the other person finish first. The sheets get twisted awkwardly around his legs— the hardwood floor makes your knees sore— but it's completely and utterly worth it. For every time you can't properly make love— in the purest definition of the phrase— there's always going to be a time when you leave each other completely breathless and spent afterward. No matter the technique, he's mastered the art of thoroughly taking you apart. 

There is one specific thing that Mike just can't be patient with, though. 

"Shit—" 

He's always been eager to eat you out. 

No matter the time or place. It could be during one of those brief periods, or during the long hours of the night where you have all the time in the world. He just can't wait. And he isn't waiting right now, even redoubling his efforts when you tighten your grip in his hair. His head bobs, slightly, as he drags his tongue through your gathering wetness, up towards the aching apex of your pleasure. 

A gasp is punched from your lungs when Mike closes his lips around your clit and sucks, for just a moment, before returning to your cunt. He shifts forward to get even deeper than before, lapping at you in broad strokes, equally calculated and clumsy. His enthusiasm is palpable, as usual. The sounds he's making— almost filthy slurping, accompanied by little moans now and then that send pleasant vibrations through you— they fill the air, easily overpowering everything else. His eyelashes flutter now and then, but occasionally he looks up at you, taking you in. You know how you look: nearly as disheveled as him. 

Your thighs twitch as he continues to savor you. Whenever he moves back up to gently flick your clit with his tongue, his breath comes in hot puffs through his nostrils. He always takes a deep inhale before diving back in, totally uncaring towards the way his spit and your slick must be dripping down his chin. He's not afraid to get messy. In fact, you think he likes it— he likes the evidence of your arousal clinging to your stubble, the knowledge of what he does to you. The knowledge of what he can do to you.  "Mike," you gasp again, "oh, fuck. That's— that's so good— " 

His mouth is still occupied, but he hums, muffled into your cunt. The praise has always done something for him. But you don't just say it because he likes it— you say it because you mean it, truly. The fact that you can see his hips shift a little at your words is just an added bonus. He hasn't even attempted to reach down to touch himself yet, even though you know he must be tenting his boxers. Even though you know that by the time you get close, there'll be a wet spot in the fabric.  

"You don't even have to beg for it anymore," you tease, even though you're too breathless for it to really land, "you know I'll let you do this again and again, even if I'm supposed to be doing something else." You're a sucker for him, and he knows it. Biting your lower lip, you use the hand in his curls to tug him closer. He's just like putty in your hands. "Maybe you like to beg a little, huh? Is that right?" 

You decide to take his answering moan as a yes. Mike looks up at you with heavy hazel eyes— pleading, again— wanting to tell you what he wants, but he also doesn't want to stray from his task at hand. Sometimes you wonder what you did to earn this. It's practically worship, at this point. You make a hasty mental note to repay him later, but it's hard to concentrate when he's putting all of his effort into pushing you towards your orgasm. You can feel your muscles tensing, the heat in your abdomen building—   

He's gradually focusing more and more of his attention on your clit now. But he's still dragging his tongue through your cunt, tasting you, collecting what's accumulating there. You jolt when his nose bumps against your sensitive nub, providing much-needed friction in the absence of his tongue. Although you definitely aren't the first person that he's done this to, you know for a fact that you're the person he's done this the most to. How do you know? He's told you himself. 

Cuntdrunk is a good word to describe him. If he could, he'd live between your thighs forever. 

You choke on a whimper. Mike takes in that sound— greedily, needily, he needs more. Scrambling to get a grip on one of your knees, he squeezes it once, pulling it closer to his head. And you understand the signal immediately. You close your thighs around his head, essentially trapping him where he is. Forcing him deeper. His brow furrows, nose pressed against your clit. The first time he wanted you to do this, you were afraid that he'd suffocate; that you'd hurt him. But by now, you're well aware that it won't happen, as long as you're careful not to push him down too much. 

He really likes being pushed like this, though. It empties his head, he says. Yours is pretty empty at the moment, too. You're blissfully absent, hardly tethered to Earth. You only really register the feeling of his hair tickling your thighs and shins, from where you've got them positioned— the pillow underneath your hips— his tongue. The pace he's keeping now is almost feverish— 

— minutes pass, and you're so, so, close. You can feel it, toes curling when he sucks on your clit again. You can't bite back the sounds that you're making anymore, your mouth falling open as your breathing grows more uneven the closer you get. Your thighs tighten an increment, your heart pumping furiously. The sensations are nearly overwhelming, but you can do little except take what he's giving you. "Just like that— mmhn — keep going, that's perfect—" 

You're teetering on the edge for a split second, but what finally pushes you over is another glance downward. Mike is— to put it simply — ruined. 

His hair's all messy from when you'd been tugging at it earlier, his cheeks a brilliant red. Almost the entire lower half of his face proudly displays the confirmation of what he's been doing this entire time. If his eyes weren't shut, you know they would be hazy, glazed-over— you haven't even touched him yet, disregarding a few kisses— and he's already fucked-out. All because of you. 

"Mike!" You squirm, eyes squeezing shut, "Mike, I'm—" 

He groans into your pussy when you cum, eagerly licking up all the remnants of your orgasm. The coil unwinds in waves, which crash through your lower body. 

He works at you until the abrupt heat in your gut fades away, replaced by a relaxed warmth, and you start shuddering with oversensitivity. 

You could let him continue— he'd keep going for as long as he possibly could. He'd make you cum as many times as humanly possible if you let him. However, you release his head from between your thighs instead, letting your legs slip down to lay on his shoulders. As soon as he's free, he starts taking deep lungfuls of air, catching his breath. Just like you. Which is sort of ironic, since he was the one doing all the work. 

He rests his cheek on your inner thigh, leaving a wet smear there. You can't really bring yourself to care, though. 

Mike looks at you, still bleary-eyed. 

" 'S good?" He asks, hoarsely. 

You know you're not done with him yet. 

"Yeah." Fondly, you smile down at him. He easily returns it. When you scooch back to sit up against the headboard, he instinctively shuffles forward to fill the newly created space. Your eyes flick downward when he goes to sit up, too, finally exposing his lap— 

"Uh." Mike clears his throat. 

"Could you … " He trails off, but you doubt it's entirely because of embarrassment. 

"I was already planning on it," you reply lightly, already going to place one hand on the back of his neck to tug him closer. He goes, and positions himself so he's hovering over you; spreading his knees just so, he's still looking at you reverently. 

"That's good," he breathes. 

"You want me to suck you off or something?" The suggestion is extremely casual, like always. But his breath still audibly hitches, and he swallows.  

"... You want me to blow in five seconds?" 

Snorting, you thumb over his cheek. He leans into your touch, the corner of his mouth quirking up. "I'm serious," he insists, voice low. "It'd be really terrible. You don't want that, right?" 

"I don't know." You shrug as best you can. "It's kind of hot, knowing that you got that worked up from just eating me out." 

He contemplates this for a second. 

"Fair enough." 

But then, he drops his tone and murmurs, "I still don't want it to end that quickly." 

"You don't?" 

"I don't." 

You let out a long, dramatic sigh, and pretend to ignore the snicker it elicits from him. 

"But I was looking forward to returning the favor." 

It's Mike's turn to shrug. "Plenty of other opportunities for that later, y'know." 

Admitting defeat is the worst thing ever. 

"I guess you're right," you concede. "Fine." 

"I guess I'm— " he starts to mimic under his breath, but the rest of his words are expelled in a single whoosh when you squeeze him through his boxers. "— fuck." 

A crease forms between his eyebrows again as you continue to feel him out. You were right. Near where his tip was resting, you can feel a small, slightly damp spot. It's enough to make you throb, once— no matter how many times this happens, you'll never get used to this. Your patience is quickly failing, like his.

"You were saying?" You ask innocently, while hooking your fingers in his waistband. 

Mike quickly shifts from his previous snark, right back to need. 

"I was— I was saying—" His tongue darts out to moisten his lips, "— how much I need you to touch me right now. " The last part of his sentence is barely a whisper. "Please."   

And there it is, you want to quip, but you think you've done enough for now. His boxers come off easily, and you unceremoniously wrap your hand around his cock. That's enough to make him shudder, a small noise escaping his parted lips. There's no need for build-up anymore, so you just start pumping him. He quakes, and then leans in, nudging your nose with his. Wordlessly asking permission. 

You can still taste a little of yourself on his tongue when you kiss him, leisurely. You drink in what was previously muffled by your cunt. He twitches in your palm, lips pliant and tender against yours, but still a discernible force. A comfortable presence, sharing the same breaths as you. He kisses you again and again until he has to draw back for air. 

Mike breathes your name, high-pitched and trembling, as warmth shoots into your hand a few minutes later. 

"That's it," you murmur, coaxing the rest of it out of him, "that's it. There you go." 

You both just lay there for a couple of long moments. It feels like raw electricity wherever your bare skin is touching his. It's like a current, of sorts. He's still shaking, faintly, either from the exertion or the fact that he's most likely still a little oxygen-deprived. It's probably a nice mix of both. But when that subsides, you both reluctantly roll off the bed, clumsily plodding to the bathroom to get cleaned up. 

The tile is cool underneath your bare feet. He stands nice and still as you clean your dried cum off his face. You stay nice and still while he cleans you up, too.

When you're throwing the used towel in the laundry bin, he speaks up. Now that the residual heat has faded, you can feel goosebumps starting to prickle across your skin. 

"I love you," he says. 

You are both naked, a little damp, and standing in the bathroom. 

But somehow, it all fits together. It makes sense. 

You turn to face him. 

You wrap your arms around his neck, and his hands automatically land on your hips. Mike watches you, obvious worry glimmering in his eyes. He's unsure if that was the right thing to say. 

Then: 

"I love you," you conclude. 

The tension all but melts from his shoulders. 

[loganlermanstanaccount]

hear me out..what abt u and miguel in a hotub trying to hide that fact that you guys are literally screwing eachother in front of the others🤭🤭and he’s talking u through it..whispering in ur ear..telling u to be quiet while he’s literally roaming his hands all over u! 😋😋

this is a leeetle bit funny to me bc in real life, sex is the last thing i'd wanna do in a hot tub. But for Miguel..... 😍😍

Wandering Hands

(AO3 Mirror), Main Masterlist

pairing: Husband!Miguel O'Hara x f!reader

summary: You're on a trip away with your husband, Miguel. He gets handsy. (Hot tub sex + Husband!Miguel)

warnings: 18+ , fingering, p in v, instructional, Miguel talks you through it, teeny tiny bit of f!dom, exhibitionism, semi-public sex, very very sappy. Minors DNI

a/n: this is disgustingly sappy and cheesy at some points - I kinda have to apologise in advance. I've had a rough week lmao

very big thank you to my beta reader @tianyhi <33

wc: 2.7k

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

Wandering hands: Miguel has wandering hands. 

It's your anniversary, and that's the thought you're left with as he kneads your thigh, eyes low at a fancy resort. A resort you practically dragged him to, mind you.  He's a workhorse; absorbed in his job and everything that comes with it. Your husband; diligent and devoted, as always; he needed a break. Somewhere hot, somewhere expensive. It’s what he deserved. And whilst he would never take the initiative to book one for himself, isn't that what a wonderful SO was there for?

To his credit, he's been 'unplugged' since the moment you got here - putting away his work laptop and ignoring all the calls he'd get from overbearing clients. His sole focus for this whole week is you; and he's made that abundantly clear. The lingering looks, gentle touches: everything about him screams love and warmth. And he's all yours - a fact that still sends you spiralling, every now and then. All yours. 

"You're not paying attention, cariño." He says under his breath, swirling the wine under his nose like the man in front of him. 

You're both at a wine tasting, like sophisticated adults (...who had made fun of the idea on the way over). Miguel's wearing pressed trousers that hang on his frame just right, and a tank top underneath an open button-up. The peek of flesh makes you hot under the collar like a Victorian housewife, and you flush when you realise you're staring. Miguel pinches your cheek with a laugh, soothing it with a simple kiss. 

Huffing, you take a sip of the expensive wine without thinking. There’s a gasp from the sommelier, and the small group turns to look at you. Your face heats up when you realise what you’ve done - shirking from the pack of eyes silent with sharp critique. A man beside you taps your shoulder with a slimy smile. 

“Miss, that’s a 1978 Monfortino. It probably costs more than your rent.” 

“...I thought this was a wine tasting. So eventually, we have to… taste. The wine.” Miguel chuckles into his drink, squeezing at your waist. You make a fair point.

The man laughs, smug. “With all due respect, it’s an experience of the senses… maybe this is your first time somewhere with this kind of price tag, but it’s quite rude to-”

Miguel clears his throat, flashing a disarming smile at the man to your side. It doesn’t quite reach his eyes, with a dangerous veneer you’ve seen before. The smile he gives before closing a big deal at work, calculated and shiny – when he smells blood in the water. 

“With all due respect, watch your fucking tone.” 

His face drops just as quickly, and he downs the rest of his wine, standing up - hand outstretched to take you with him. Gladly, you follow, click-clacking in your heels and little dress; hand tight around his.

“...Pinche idiota…vete a la verga…smug little-” It’s under his breath, but his intensity makes you giggle. 

In the elevator up to your room, he stews, brow creased in little furrows. A force of habit, he pulls you closer, tucking away a stray strand of hair. With a smile, you knead his temples, smoothing the creases. He visibly softens and leans into your touch.

“You’re on vacation, Miguel. Relax, baby.” 

“S’not that simple.” He grumbles, but chases your lips with his own, regardless.

Defiant, you move at the last moment, chin up in the air.

“No, I’m being serious.” He snakes a hand to your ass, dancing over the hem of your dress. 

"I could think of a few ways to decompress, if you're up for it…" Voice low and silky, want pools at the base of your stomach. 

"Miguelito, the bedroom voice doesn't work on me, anymore." You slather on the charm, batting your eyelashes in a way that makes him laugh. He rolls his eyes. 

"Let's do something. I think…I think the spa's still open? We could get a massage-" 

"I don't want a massage unless it's you, baby."

"...or go to the sauna-"

"Didn't pack the right clothes, m'afraid."

"God, don't be mean." It's your turn to roll your eyes. And you whack at his chest, admonishing him gently. "What about the hot tubs?"

He turns his head to the side as if he's deep in thought. Pondering, weighing up the options; when really, the only thought in his head was you in a tiny bikini. 

"If you insist, cariño." 

~~~

The spa isn't too far from your hotel, a stone's throw from the beach. You walk with Miguel in the pleasant evening heat, flip-flops and cover ups light on your back. 

There at the back, open air, behind rows of beach houses and overlooking the sea. You settle into the tubs, each one sectioned by wooden slats and climbing plants - not visible from the main spa, but not completely closed off, either. You can still hear the quiet buzz of other people, although it's not too full this late in the day. 

You slip the light fabric onto the floor, and step out of the cover-up. Miguel, already in the water, watches the light ripple off of your skin. You don't catch him staring, but you feel it. His gaze is heavy as he drinks it in; you are dappled and gorgeous, and his heart is full. You slip in, shuffling up close to him in the dull thrum of the water jets. 

Eyes closed, you rest your head on his shoulder. "You're staring." 

"Yeah." It's so soft, said in the press of warm bodies, that you almost don't hear it. Playfully, he flicks your forehead - in that little triangle between your eyebrows that appears when you're resting. It's cute, he thinks. "...you got a problem with that?"

Laughing, you shake your head. "It's not too much?" 

He moves closer to you, hands on your hips and mouth pressing soft kisses into your neck. 

"The trip, I mean. It was a little last minute, and there was that thing with our passports…" You sigh, turning towards him, hand on his chest to stop him. "I just thought you needed a break. And I know this isn't usually your thing, but I want you to enjoy yourself. If you're not, let me know, and I'll book the first plane out of here, I promise." 

You're looking up at him, clearly worried, and his heart breaks. It's almost as if you've forgotten that an anniversary entails both people, together as one. The truth is, as long as he's with you, and you're having a good time… 

"Doesn't matter where we go, cariño. I'm right where I need to be if I'm with you." He says it like a statement - so matter-of-factly it makes your head spin. Because, you suppose, to him it was a ubiquitous truth: that in every universe, every iteration, the both of you belonged together. What would sound over the top or cheesy coming from someone else, is made so simple by Miguel. A fundamental truth: his home, his happiness, his heartaches and highest highs, were with you, and you alone. 

"Promise me."

"Hand on my heart, baby." He places a palm that spans the crest of his ribcage. "...I promise."

He guides you onto his lap, so your back presses to his. His kisses are so light and airy, you don't notice how his hand creeps towards your thigh and the gentle movement of his hips under yours. 

"You always take care of me," His hand snaps the band of your bikini bottoms, making you writhe on his lap. "Let me return the favour. Relax, cariño."

You nod, gently, eyes blown when you realise what exactly that means. Miguel's large palms dance over your tummy, pinching at the flesh to make you laugh; and then down to your thighs, to paw at them. He shifts, directing you over the jet by the base of the seat, and there is delicious pressure at your clit. 

He cups your pussy under the foam of the water, ripping a heady moan of which you try to subdue. You lean into it: the hand that's now migrated into your bikini, the rock of his hips, and the hickeys he sucks into skin. Coupled with the fact you were in public, he brings you to climax quicker than even he expected. You were so needy, everything about your body telling him you wanted more - needed more. He presses the pad of his finger over your clit, barely there, and you claw at his arms under the water. 

"More?" He coos, dulcet tones brushing the shell of your ear. "Pórtate bien,  okay?" 

So lost in your haze, you don't register the steady padding of a pair of people coming towards you, behind the wooden divider. A head pops over, and you still his wandering hands. 

"Oh, there y'all are!" You see the bronzed face of Jess and her husband, a couple you had met during the trip. She bounces towards you both with dizzying accuracy, donned in a bright swimsuit and sheer cover up around her waist. Her husband is quieter, opting for a nod to Miguel, behind you. 

"Can we join you? Hope we aren't interrupting anything."

Miguel meets your eyes. 

"Is it okay?" He says, a thousand words said in your exchange. We don't have to do anything, it's up to you.

"It's fine," You breathe and then louder, to Jess. "It's fine."

He kisses your forehead and squeezes you closer, shifting so you feel his growing length under his shorts. An action that would seem innocent to a passer-by but below the surface… 

He starts off slow, imperceptible movements as he strokes your clit. It makes you impatient, irritated that he had the audacity to start something he couldn't finish. Or, wouldn't, rather. You make lazy conversation with Jess and her husband; innocuous little things that barely take your mind off of Miguel behind you. 

Some time goes by, and he's somewhat conservative – hand pressed against your pussy like his fingers were made for you. You get used to the pressure, as Jess talks about her day.

"...they're having a sale, as well! We're gonna go back there tomorrow, because, God, there were these earrings that I couldn't take my eyes off of, real gold, and only-" 

"Fuck!" He slips two fingers in, without warning, sinking to the knuckle as your little hole adjusts. Jess pauses, a little confused. 

"I was just…" He scissors them ever so slightly, enjoying watching you squirm. "...t-thinking about how great that deal was. Like… fuck! Real gold!" 

Internally, you wince, hoping she buys it. Jess isn't stupid, but you don't think she knows you well enough to notice your husband fingering you in a hot tub. You hope. 

"Right." She gives you the benefit of the doubt. "Not gold-plated, real gold."

You nod, hoping the foam from the jets is hiding the way you rock into Miguels' fingers. They feel good, curling up into you at that spongy spot he knows too well. 

"There's a good food spot, by the boardwalk. I think they do…" She turns to her husband, who has an arm draped around her. 

"Pasta, baby."

"Pasta! Yes, of course. We had a gorgeous meal and they served mussels, with the dish you were on about, before."

A beat. And then another. There’s a pregnant pause, before Miguel nudges you gently. "Yeah, sorry. It was the… garlick-y… one that had, um…"

You can't concentrate, against his wide torso, his hands between your legs: your brain goes fuzzy. You catch a smile tugging at his lips; and you almost scream. It's cruel, and all he can do is laugh. 

"Miguel's more interested in that stuff, m'afraid." You give her a weak smile, and Miguel rewards you with a thumb to your clit. 

It takes you everything not to jump at the pleasure that rocks your core; and you clamp a hand to his thigh. You make eye contact and he smiles; the smug fuck; gently chattering on with Jess about your trip to a local market, the other day. He's as casual as can be, and seemingly unaffected. 

You try your hardest to nod and smile where necessary; giving simple answers that wouldn't require much thought. In the cool night air, the conversation is pleasant enough, but your husband insists on stretching out your orgasm – watching for the tell-tale signs and pulling away. It's a game of cat and mouse; and whilst you just want to get off, Miguel takes pleasure in the chase. 

"We should be heading off, I think." Jess says after a while. "Just wanted to catch up with you two."

Miguel smiles, dizzying and innocuous. "We're happy to, Jess."

They slip out with a splash, and she nods towards you. "You ok, sweetheart? You just seem a bit out of it, today."

Perhaps too hastily, you nod. "I think…I t-think it was something I ate."

"Oh." She looks a little worried, and it makes you feel guilty. "You get better then. I'll give you a call tomorrow."

"Thanks, Jess." And with that, they make their way out. 

Once out of sight, Miguel speeds up, his other hand on your thigh to wrench your legs open. The speed makes you dizzy, melting with your head back on his shoulder and desperately humping his hand for some relief. The rock and slosh of water over tiles barely registers in your fog. 

As you moan and writhe, he whispers filth into your ear. 

"Quieter, cariño. What if someone hears?" You whine and all he does is chuckle, lowly. "What if they find you, spread on my lap, fucking yourself on my fingers?" 

"You're being mean."

"Eso no es justo, amor." He titters, shaking his head. "You told me to relax, no? This is how I want to relax." 

Tears prick at your eyes, as he uses his other hand to rub circles into your clit, the warm froth washes over you both, but all you can feel is him. 

"¿Dime que quieres, hermosa?" What do you want?

"M'close, Miguel." You bite down another moan. “I’m ready.”

"Want to feel it, baby. Cum for me."

You tilt your head to the side, and he captures your lips with his own – in awe as you clamp around his fingers. Grinding down on his crotch, you ride out your orgasm. The way he makes you feel is hot, and wet and filthy. 

When your shaking legs still, you turn around to face him. He's hard, and too much of a gentleman to take his own pleasure. You slip a hand into his shorts, hand hot against his cock. It's his turn to lean into the bliss: head back and lips slightly parted with pleasure. 

You've always liked his lips, plump and kissable, a pretty pink that just fits against yours. 

"You're teasing." He hisses softly. 

You scrape your nails along his chest, and he keens, clutching your hand close to his heart. 

"...and what exactly have you been doing all night?“ You make a tight ring with your fingers, squeezing his tip and his hips jump up. 

"Vale, vale, vaaale…." He paws at you waist, a little desperate. "Fuck- I get it."

You give him a kiss, wet and needy, before slipping the gusset of your bikini to the side and sinking down on his length. He cries out and you swallow it, pressing yourself even closer to him. With your tits against his chest like that, he can't think straight. You shift against his length, finding a steady rhythm but it's too slow – and Miguel grows impatient. With a growl, he places both hands on your hips, forcing you downwards as you writhe on his length. 

"Dámelo, dámelo…" He slams his cock into you - hard and fast and just the way you like it. "Just like that, baby, just like-" 

That growing coil at the base of your stomach snaps, and you clamp around him. But he doesn't stop, just fucks you through it until he cums, hot and sticky fluids spilling into you. Panting, you capture him into a kiss. You separate, and he's got a dopey smile on his face. 

Content. Relaxed, even. 

~~~

Jess calls you the morning after, and you answer. 

"Hey, everything ok?" You yawn into the receiver, a little tired from last night's activities.

"I said I would call, didn't I?" 

You hum. "...suppose you did."

"You feeling better now Miguel's not playing with your pussy in a hot tub?" 

Shit. You almost drop the phone. "Jesus, we didn't-" 

"Save. It." She grumbles something you can't quite hear; something you suspect you're better off not hearing, anyways. 

"...Sorry. We weren't really thinking."

"Damn straight." She pauses. "I'm not mad, sweetheart. Can’t even judge you, to be honest. As I always say, it's not a real vacation until you fuck your husband somewhere you shouldn't-" 

"Gross, Jess."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Did the woman who got fingered in a hot tub just say something??" 

You wince at the vulgarity of her words. 

"....Ouch." 

She laughs into the speakerphone, and you join her. Besides you, Miguel stirs, a little smile on his face. Half asleep, he thinks he’s heard an angel, voice light and airy in the space of your hotel room.

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