#got to my appointment a little early only miss a little | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thelastofhyde · 4 months

Text

ii. santorini.

pairing. tourguide!joel miller x fem!reader. series synopsis. on the brink of undergoing a life-altering change, you runaway from your problems in the only way any sane person can: embarking on a mediterranean cruise. there you meet joel miller, a grumpy, private tour-guide, who just so happens to be tasked with touring you through each stop on your cruise. from greek goddesses to roman ruins, you have ten days to avoid your fate. maybe a frowning, southern, sex-on-legs of a man is just what the doctor ordered. chapter summary. tensions are high as you and joel spend your first day together exploring the popular island of santorini. back on the boat, joel gets a glimpse at more than he bargained for. series warnings. no use of y/n, set in 2015, no apocalypse au, cruise!au, rom-com, enemies-ish to lovers, tour-guide!joel, unspecified age gap, depictions/discussions of grief, angst, fluff, a whole load of smut, a lot of cheesy stereotypical romance tropes bc i just wanna see joel not suffer ( too much ) <3 chapter warnings. mild smut ( female masturbation, mentions of oral sex + piv sex ), bickering, alcohol, mild angst, so much cheese it'll turn you lactose intolerant!! btw joel hates santorini and he makes that known, but none of his opinions reflect my own ( please don't be mean to me over things characters say <33 ) word count. 7.9k hyde’s input. the majority of this chapter was written with a mixture of medicine flowing through my veins, it's a miracle it's even intelligible. apologies for the wait, the holidays and health issues got in the way <3 as always, i hope you enjoy, comments an dreblogs are always appreciated !! previous chapter - next chapter - series masterlist

It is a known fact that your name and late rarely exist within the same sentence.

The mere thought of being late fills you with a sickness you cannot cure. The extremes you’ll go to avoid it know no bounds. From arriving four hours before a flight, to waiting in your car a whole hour before entering a lecture hall, adulthood is a phase in which you’d sworn to repair the damage of a childhood worth of not arriving late.

Late to school, late to birthday parties, late to dentist appointments.

It wasn’t that you were a particularly difficult child, running rampant around the house as your mother tried to dress you, or your father tried to feed you. Quite the contrary, really. Often, it was little-you who chased around after them, and who waited by the door, school bag in hand, tapping your foot with every second that ticked by on the clock. You were too young and hadn’t the ability nor the empathy to understand that your parents were held up with sorting through things directly influenced by your existence, like cleaning up the messes you left at the breakfast table, or fixing the doorknob you and your sister broke in an intense game of hide and seek.

Nowadays, you can count on one hand the times you’ve been late.

First, you were late to your own surprise birthday party, but that was down to you getting stuck an extra hour at work. It was out of your control.

Then, there’d been your graduation ceremony. Your father missed an exit and ended up taking you on a mystery tour of the city, trying to find the next turn that led to your campus. Again, out of your control.

The third time is the one you remember panicking over the most, knee bouncing uncontrollably with nerves as you sat squeezed between two strangers on a plane. Your sister, barely halfway through her third trimester, had gone into labour, and where were you? Stumbling around drunk on a private beach in Cancún, mumbling along to the lyrics of some early 2000s classic you forget the name of. Your niece, all 4 and a half pounds of her, had decided now was her time to shine and there was nothing, not even the 4 weeks she had yet to grow in utero, that was going to stop her. By the time you arrived, mascara smudged eyes and with the stench of tequila still on your skin, she was laying peacefully in her incubator, the tiniest little fingers clenched into fists and a name tag around her wrist. This too was out of your control.

But the fourth time you’re late, as you stride urgently across the wooden decking of the ship, weaving in and out of lounge chairs and polo-neck wearing crew members, it’s completely within your control.

Yet, it’s not entirely your fault.

An alarm that never went off. A game of hide-and-seek with your purse. An unfortunate slip on bathroom tiles adding another bruise to your knees. An elevator that refused to travel faster than the speed of a snail. It’s as though Lady Luck had set out in favour of being against you, doing her utmost to ensure you arrive exactly seven minutes past your deadline. His deadline.

Best be on the deck by 7 am, darlin’, or I’m dockin’ without ya.

Your head whips from one side to another, eyes finding a familiar figure amongst the few passengers meeting their own private guides. It’s the same man from yesterday, out on the balcony, the memory of him cheering his champagne and shooting a tipsy smile your way replaying. Only now he’s clad in plaid, with a frown etched into his forehead as he stares at his watch. There’s another man, hanging off his arm, fusing with the collar of his shirt.

“She’s late,” you overhear him say, voice firm and leaking with annoyance.

“Maybe she just slept in!” The man next to him is cheerier, tired eyes full of optimism, even as he turns his head and stifles a yawn. “Give her a few minutes.”

“What kind of shitty tour guide sleeps in?” Balcony-Man huffs, and you can’t help but think of your niece and her pouty face whenever she fails to get her own way. “Does she think I’d not rather be asleep too? Lazy c-”

“See? This is why I told you to eat that damn croissant before we left.” The taller of them seems to snap, rolling his eyes. “Brighten up, Bill, or so help me God you’ll be leaving this boat a divorcee.”

Trying to tune their voices out, as the guilt of prying crawls its way into your bones, your gaze points down at your feet. The very same heels you’d worn last night, pretty as they may leave you, have you cursing at the Sun and the Moon. If you’d have just worn your sneakers, maybe you could have ran up the stairs instead of taking the snail-evator.

Joel, tour guide, Signore Miller’s voice- though your imagination can’t quite reach his level of arrogance- rears its irritating head through your mind, recalling his words from last night. Wear somethin’ a little more… practical. That had been enough to awaken that stubborn mule inside of you, hell-bent on proving him wrong.

But now, late, and with him nowhere in sight, your heels seem to have had the opposite effect. They’ve proved him right.

Which leaves you here, moping so pathetically you’re incapable of appreciating the shine of a rising sun over the horizon of aqua blue water.

Five minutes, you decide. That’s how long you’ll allow yourself to dwell in self-pity. Then, you’ll trek your way over to the Excelsior lounge, hit up the breakfast buffet, and await the general disembarking time.

Who knows, maybe you’ll get a call to say there’s a miraculous spot opened up on one of the tour groups.

If not, you’ll be fine! You’ve travelled alone before, you’ve got an all-inclusive data plan on your phone and you’re pretty well-acquainted with the less-than-accommodating features of Google Maps. You don’t need help, or a tour guide, much less one as blood-boiling, skin-prickling, irritating as Joel Mil-

“Wasn’t sure how ya like your coffee, but you look like a milk, two sugars kind of girl to me.”

Speak of the Devil and he shall appear. Or, in this case, think of him.

Turning a little too fast, you stumble a step or two back, and, sure enough, there he is. A tight fitting, dark grey t-shirt stretched over the swell of his biceps, a pair of washed-out denims, and two well-worn running shoes, one on each foot. Trailing up the swell of his tanned neck, you count the freckles up to his eyes, and find there’s bags under them. The growth of hair on his face is just as unkempt as yesterday, yet already it seems to have grown longer, making the litter of greys stand out more. The hair that sits atop his head is damp, and the strands that have managed to dry are being messed around by the morning air. He’s still got that ever-present frown stamped into his forehead, yet his mouth doesn’t seem to curl into a snarl as he calls your name.

You must stare a moment or two past his comfort level, for he clears his throat and nods down at his hand. Two to-go cups, the smallest streams of steam floating out the hole in each lid.

He’s extending one out- the one in his right hand- towards you. “If you’d rather black, you can take min-”

“No!” You snap back into your own body, all too quickly and all too volatile. Clear your throat, and then try again, this time with a little less of that im being held at gunpoint shake in your voice. “No… Thank you. It’s fine- Milk is fine.”

It’s more than fine.

In fact, he’s gotten it spot on. Down to the number of sugars you take.

But, still stubborn, you yearn to not give him the satisfaction of being right so early in the day, and instead settle for accepting the coffee out his hand. You welcome the golden warmth eagerly, eyes unable to resist slipping shut as you take your first sip. When they reopen, you find Joel watching you, intently. Purposefully, as though you’re something to be studied.

Clearing your throat, you glance to the side and spot Balcony-Man and his partner greeting an apologetic woman.

“Thanks for the, uh,” his stare is intimidating your nerves, setting you on edge of something you’re all to eager to jump off. “Coffee. Yeah. You didn’t have to… I mean, I actually thought you’d, you know, uh-”

“You thought I left without ya.” He states. All you can do is nod. “I could’ve. I did warn you not to be late.”

“You did.”

“I also told you to wear somethin’ other than them heels.”

“I know.”

“Yet here you are, late and in heels. You’re not very good at following orders.” He exhales something akin to a chuckle, as devoid of humour as it may be, and you swear he’s suddenly closer than you remember, knuckles brushing against your own as he bumps his paper cup against yours. “Just what am I gonna do with ya, huh?”

For a moment, you swear your heart has leaped from your chest and up to your throat, threatening to choke you with the beat of it. There’s no sense you can make of it, this reaction he rouses, a heat you can’t control creeping down your loins as you drag in a whiff of some manly cologne, the kind you’d usually turn your nose up at for being too overbearing. Yet, on him, it’s not. On him it’s just right, like he was born with pine soaked skin, and a tobacco stained kiss, and-

Before you can think of pulling in another breath, Joel’s stepped back, allowing a cool breeze to pass between you and get a hold of your senses.

“C’mon, we’re slotted in for the first tender that leaves for shore.”

“Oh my God.”

You’re half certain Joel’s growing sick of hearing those three words roll off your tongue. He’s likely felt this way since it first left your mouth, feet struggling to safely step out onto the dock as your mind became enchanted by the picturesque view in front of you. Only the burn of his hand meeting your lower back, nudging you ahead to make space for himself and the other passengers to step off the tender boat, was capable of dragging you back into your own body, the wanderlust that had gripped your soul yearning to be free to explore every building that sits carved into rock, every water-taxi that flows idly on cristaline water, every step that winds up and up and up the island’s cliff where, at the top, civilisation seems to lie.

The port you’ve docked on is rather small, with naught more than two docking strips and a walkway of shops and confection stands, with boats that find no space along the docking strips tying themselves to any safety they may find over the expanse of the walkway. It is no wonder the cruise floats safely out in deeper waters, alongside several other cruise lines, with no space for such large vessels. And, yet, the port is alive with something. The ground seems to pulse, like a beat of a heart, and the air, as fresh as the grass after heavy rainfall, almost dances its way down your lungs. Voices swim all around you, tourists scrambling past each other, fighting in a race towards something you’ve yet to identify.

“So this is Gialos, also known as the Old Port of Fira.” Somewhere, behind you perhaps, Joel’s voice pipes up, a speech so rehearsed and robotic, a part of your wonders how many times he’s recited it, how many people he’s recited it to. The other part of you, however, is much too fixated on the stairs ahead to pay him true attention, eyes following as two men and several donkeys descend. “That, up there, is Fira, the capital of Santorini. We’re going to need to take a cable- Are you even listening to me?”

“Yes!” You’re quick to react, a defensive rise in your voice. He meets it with a deadpan look and the crossing of his arms over his chest, which quickly becomes something you wish he wouldn’t do as you watch the tight fabric of his shirt stretch itself thin over the bulge of his arms. “No. Sorry, I’m just… Wow.”

You hope he appreciates the restraint you show towards repeating those three dreaded words again.

“You have all day to stare,” his words trip over his own irritated scoff, and you bite back a question of why he’s a guide if he seems to hate it so much, fearful he’s too honest to not tell you a truth that may hurt your fragile feelings. A truth where it is not so much his job he dislikes, but rather, your presence and all that it brings. “Right now, we need to move. Don’t wanna spend all day waitin’ in line now, do ya?”

This need for speed that hooks the other tourists seems to filter over into your guide, who’s forcing you forward, that heat of his palm now hovering inches away from your lower back. It’s enough to lead you where he pleases. As a pair, you weave in and out small clusters of people, till the space between you both and the large gathering crowd slowly diminishes. It is there where his once telepathic leading fails, with Joel turning left towards it as you stray right, over to the ascending pathway of stairs.

“Where are you going?” His tone is offended, almost, as he comes to a halt and watches you fail to do the same, to notice the space between you both and correct it like some puppy who’s been called to heel by its master.

“Where am I going?” The question, at first, is one you mistake as rhetorical. Staring back at him with an equaled confusion, you gesture to the stairway, as though it is the most obvious answer. Because, well, where else could you have been heading? He said so himself, that up there is Fira, the capital of Santorini, and you’ll be damned if you don’t get to see it. “Where are you going?”

“To the cable cars, that’ll take us up the island.”

Above the crowd of people, hanging over doors of small businesses, lay several signs. CABLE CARS - 6€ ! stands out, impossible to miss. Symbols you scarcely recognise sit beneath it, in smaller text, and you assume it’s Greek. In the distance, you spy the movement of the mobile boxes, people being carted up the length of the cliff at a speed that promises them a journey of mere minutes.

“Oh.” So, perhaps his option makes more sense than your own far longer, more tiring one. Still, stubborn as a mule, you double down on your decision to take the scenic route, inching closer towards the first step. Your guide, still in the face, refuses to move, daring eyes willing you to continue. “You want us to take the lazy man’s route? You go ahead, I’ll take the stairs and meet you at the top.”

You press one foot up onto the first step, weary of where you rest the point of your heel.

Glancing a few steps further up, there’s the unmistakable sight of a mound of brown substance, no doubt excreted out of one of the donkeys that walk ahead, tourists mounted on their poor backs.

“I don’t think you understand,” he finally inches closer, if only slightly, hands clenched at his side. “There’s five hundred and eighty-eight steps until you reach the top.”

The number is more daunting than you expect, and you pray he can’t read this on your face. “Only? I’ll be up in no time then!”

You feel more than see the way Joel’s eyes travel down the expanse of you, stuttering almost over the curvature of your chest, the dips at your hips, till they rest at your feet. The question hangs loose between you, unspoken yet evident.

In those heels?

“Listen, Joel,” taking a second, third, and fourth step, you aim for a literal higher ground, staring down below as he continues to drift closer and closer towards the stairway. “If you’re not fit for the task, or the climb’s no good for your knees, you can just say it, there’s no shame. Like I said, I’ll meet you at the top. Promise I won’t even report the fact my private guide abandoned me in favour of his own comfort.”

Defeat has never come easy.

Well, to phrase it better towards the truth, acceptance of defeat has never come easy.

There was always something more to be said, another excuse to be given for any of your shortcomings. When you’d been turned away from the school’s soccer team, you’d told yourself it was because you were a girl- ignoring the fact three girls in your year made the cut. When you’d lost an arduous game of Monopoly, you’d sworn you’d caught your sister sneaking notes out of the banker’s pile into her own. When you’d been beaten, round after round, by your own niece at Mario Kart, you’d stuck your tongue out at her and told her you let her win out of pity.

All that had been before, of course, back when you still roamed school hallways, when your sister sat across from you at the dining table, when your niece still laughed freely, wildly, celebrating her own victories with an over-the-top, uncoordinated dance around the living room.

As changed as things may be, defeat is still your foe.

It is that reason alone that you bite back a complaint.

You’d enjoyed the initial moments of your trek. Maybe it was the salty air in your lungs, or the beautiful views of your surroundings, or the idle grumbling coming from Joel, a few paces behind you, kicking up dirt under his feet with every step he travelled up. Whatever the reason, adrenaline had been flowing, into your heart and through your veins, covering every square inch of your body, a tingling of nerves from the tip of your toes to the top of your spine.

But, by the 10 minute mark, a dull ache forms in your feet. Each step of your heel feels more life threatening than the last, as the stairs grow slippier, dustier, and well-worn the further up you advanced. By stair who-knows-how-may, you take a near fatal tumble backwards, the crunch of crumbling rock threatening to be the last thing you hear. Till he appears behind you, fast as light, huffing out a breath as you smack down against his solid chest.

“Mind your step.” From anyone else, you would mistake it as a sign of care. From Joel, you know better than to think it’s anything beyond a humourless taunt.

You try to keep count of the steps, from then on, an effort to motivate yourself to move faster with each ten-pace you count. By 50, you lose your place and begin counting all over again.

The journey is difficult in other ways, too, with the constant passing of donkeys who obligate you to stand aside and make way for them. And the distant movement of cable cars, firing up and sliding down more times than you can keep track of.

When a particular step proves itself too steep, you can no longer hold back and, finally, a hiss slips out between your clenched teeth as pain shoots up your ankle, the leather of your shoe rubbing even harder into your brittle skin, threatening the promise of a blister yet to fully swell. Pushing the pain down, alongside a complaint, you take another step. Hiss. Then another, hiss. You can fight it no longer, bending at the waist to slip off your heel and examine the irritated skin.

Sure enough, it’s been rubbed raw, broken and spilling a small pool of blood.

Behind you comes an exasperated groan and, before you can straighten yourself to even register what’s happening, Joel barges past you and the figure of him up ahead slowly diminishes the faster he climbs up hill.

“Hey!” You call after him, hobbling to slip your shoe back on, but it’s to no avail.

He’s long gone, growing further and further out of your reach with each passing minute.

Cursing him under your breath, you decide to hell with the no complaints of his preferred regard for his own comfort. He’s abandoned you, injured and hobbling up the steps, all because he has the patience of a toddler who’s been waiting far too long to go potty.

“Wear somethin’ a little more sensible…” You’re bound to seem deranged to any passers by, half hopping up the steps, mumbling to yourself in a mockery of his deep voice “Yeah, right, how bout I shove somethin’ a little more sensible up your ass. Oh, what’s that? There’s no room up there with the massive stick you’re already carryin-”

“A local man warned me bout ya, on my way back down. Said there was some no-good girl casting out bad juju.” You freeze, foot stopped in mid-air. Shifting your gaze up ahead, you find Joel there, skipping a step every so often as he grows closer and closer. At his side, dangling from two fingers, sits a plastic bag. “Told him it ain’t no juju or curses you’re casting, just throwin’ a little tantrum.”

Like a fish out of water, all you can do is stare at him, wide eyes and mouth agape.

Joel pays your silence no mind, almost delighting in it. With a pop and a crack from his knees, he crouches down before you, holding out the palm of his hand.

“C’mon,” he mutters, pointing towards your injured foot. “Lemme see.”

You’re hesitant, at first, but ultimately lift it and let him curl his grip around it, holding you in place as the shoe slips off you. A tut meets your ears as his eyes meet the bloodied mess, and you watch how he contemplates, for a moment or two, before wetting his thumb with his tongue and swiping it over your broken skin.

It stings, like salt in a wound or a bee’s stinger through skin, and you try to flinch back, retract yourself from his hold. But Joel’s strong, resilient, nails biting at the flesh of your ankle to keep you in place. His free hand digs into the plastic bag he’d discarded at his side and pulls out a white box. Fiddling with it for a short period, he manages to open it at last and slips out a bandaid. He rips that open a lot quicker, using his teeth, and slips it over your open wound perfectly, thumb and pointer finger smoothing it around the curve of your heel.

“D’ya see now why I told you to not wear those things?” You feel like a child at his words, reprimanded like you once were for touching your mother’s curling iron. “And why I said we should take the cable car?”

Biting the inside of your cheek, you refuse to meet his eyes. But he just won’t let you be, craning his own neck to infiltrate the space you stare off into. There’s a pleased look on his face, smugness pulling at the right corner of his mouth. Alarmingly, you think of how it’s the closest you’ve gotten to seeing him smile.

You continue your pursuit of silence, repeating a mantra of how you don’t care that he’d tried to look out for your comfort, or how he’d then tried to save you the effort of an uphill battle, or how his hand, big and warm and rough at the fingertips, is still holding your foot in place, absentmindedly rubbing your ankle in a circular motion.

“Look at ya, gone all quiet on me,” that corner of his lip curls higher. You register the rustling of the bag, his hand digging back inside it. “Ain’t one for bein’ put in your place, are you?”

Out comes his hand once more, though this time it’s not a box of bandaids. Now, resting firm in his grasp, sits a mixture of navy blue dyed cotton, stitched atop a flat, thick layer of a straw-like material. A slip-on canvas shoe. Joel doesn’t await permission, nor does he even ask for it. He simply takes charge, slipping it onto your foot, mindful as he straightens out the back to lay against your heel.

“Other foot, up.”

Switching feet, you stumble as your weight completely shifts onto your injured side. Your hands, reaching out to stabilise your swaying body, are quickly directed by his own to rest atop his head, curls of brown threading between your fingers. You contemplate asking what products he uses to achieve locks so smooth and shiny, then rethink it as soon as you imagine his reply of a disinterested grunt and a snarky ain’t use anythin’ but dirt water and a splash o’ whiskey.

“How’s it feel?”

Soft, you almost reply, then realise he’s asking about the shoe.

With a wiggle of your toes, you tell him it’s fine, and leave it at that. He doesn’t need to know they’re surprisingly comfortable.

Joel rises with a bit of a struggle, yet refuses the help you offer. Rough hands scoop up your discarded heels, tossing them into the bag, and then he straightens his back, lets out a noise of discomfort, before nodding up ahead.

“C’mon, only got a hundred or so to go. We’ll be up in no time.”

The sun sits high in the sky when you reach the city of Fira.

Crossing over that last step, 588 painted in white across it, you huff out a sigh, exhaustion aching you out of any enjoyment of your victory over the stairway from hell. Before you can even utter a word of your thirst, Joel is already reaching into his bag of wonders, unscrewing the lid off a bottle of water and passing it to you. Grateful, you take a sip, and lament the few drops that spill down your chin.

At least they don’t go to complete waste, cooling your skin ever so slightly.

It’s a shame to see Joel start moving again, moments before you’re even ready to gain back your breath, but you follow after him, nonetheless, mindful to not press your foot too hard down. Through streets he winds, past shopkeepers he walks. Eventually, after a few minutes, you ask him where you’re both heading.

“To catch a coach,” his hand moves quickly, tugging you closer as a bicycle shoots past behind you. Your own find themselves against his chest, and realise it is nothing like his hair. Solid, warm, wide. It’s almost a shame to lower them back down to your side. “Less you think you can walk from here to Oia, too.”

Truth be told, you don’t know where Oia is.

But you do know your walking for the day is over, happy to follow Joel onto the coach. You take the aisle seat, he’s by the window. Across from you both sits a couple, young and giggling into one another’s ears, as though the sounds of their joy is sacred to none but them. A pang of envy thumps your soul, and you quickly turn your face.

Only to find that Joel’s is grey.

Not the hair that lines it but, rather, his whole face, paled and blood-drained. It’s a sickly image, and one that’s quick to get your heart racing.

“Are you okay?” Any thought of keeping your composure becomes mute as you hear your own voice, a treacherous shake to it that gives your panic away. “You look…” There is no word kind enough for you to use to relay the image of him, so you lock your lips.

It takes a few seconds for you to get a reply, as your hand moves up to feel his forehead. It’s sweaty, warm, and you move to pull your hand back when he’s holding it firm in place, eyes slipping shut. “‘S cold. You’re cold,” seems to be his explanation. “I’m fine, it’s just- Carsick.”

“You get carsick, yet you work on a cruise.”

“Not the same. Ship’s big, somethin’ bout the size and my own visibility, ‘s what stops me getting seasick.”

You sit like that the rest of the coach, your hand pressed to his forehead, his eyes slipped shut.

“What’s your favourite stop on the cruise?”

As it turns out, Oia is exactly what you’d pictured Santorini to be.

White washed houses, deep blue domes for rooftops, turquoise waters, all for as far as the eye can see. Joel complains, more than tells you, of the rise in tourism over the years, of how it’s turned the beautiful village into a party-town for idiots abroad, disregarding the clean environment, shamelessly blocking paths to snap a frame-worthy shot, raising prices to the ceiling. When you ask him if he thinks he’s in part to blame, if people like him are to blame- running tours, bringing guests onto the island, earning a wage off the visiting of such a place- he grumbles out something about missing breakfast, needing lunch.

So you find a cafe. Or, more, Joel leads you to one. He greets the doorman, with a wave and a pat on the back, before sauntering his way through to a back terrace, overlooking the whole village, the water perfectly framing it. Stepping out and sitting down, the view robs the very breath out of your lungs.

It’s like sitting inside a postcard.

Joel asks if you like Greek food.

You tell him you’ve never had it.

He orders for you both, a mixture of different plates, and swears he’ll find something you’ll like.

It turns out you’re rather fond of baklava.

“Florence.” Joel’s taken his time to answer, staring at you like a deer caught in headlights. Disbelief more than fear in his eyes, you have to wonder if it’s the first time someone’s thought to ask him, in all his years as a guide. Naturally, this leads you to wondering how many years that is. “It’s a real site. Full of history, a real story to be told.” He tilts a ceramic dish your way, eyes glancing down in an offering. You follow them, and spot olives. Shake your head, no, then smile, thanks. He shrugs, more for me, and pops two into his mouth. “There’s this…” he pauses to chew. “This library.”

“A library?”

“‘S not just a library.” He slips out the olive’s pip and raises another into his mouth. You try not to think about how thick his fingers look, rolling the remaining briny green pebbles around in the pot. “There’s a cinema built inside it. Plays some classic films. I always- or, I try to go whenever we dock.”

It’s hard to picture Joel inside a cinema, something about the setting too busy, too loud to place his scowling face in. Would he be the kind to have a favourite seat, perfectly picked to optimise the sound quality? Does he speak animatedly, excited any time he recognises an actor? Or is he a shusher, the kind to roll his eyes when someone dares to even clear their throat?

A part of you wants to ask him if your tour involves a trip to this library.

Something tells you it’s not a place he likes to share, though. It’s his own little corner, safe to sneak a moment of selfish indulgence amidst a week of catering to another’s needs.

“A cinema inside a library?” A waiter interrupts you, asks if everything’s alright. Joel orders another serving of baklava. “Isn’t that a bit of an oxymoron?”

“Yeah.” For a moment, you think you see a smile creep across his lips. “Suppose it is.”

Another interruption comes in the form of your ringtone, rippling the water in your glass as your phone vibrates upon the table. You’re well aware of how Joel spots the word Mum displayed across your screen. Just like you’re aware he sees how you swipe down on your screen and switch on aeroplane mode.

Before he can ask any questions, or the sudden silence can become too deafening, you throw out another question. “And your least favourite?”

“Least favourite stop?” You nod, affirmative, and he needs no time to reply. “Here.”

“Here?! How come?”

The baklava arrives, as if on cue, and you point down at it, as though it is reason enough to be enamoured with the island. It seems to do little to convince him, his hand reaching out to push the plate closer to you, inviting you to indulge yourself.

“Compared to the other stops, Santorini’s bland.” He says it when your mouth is too occupied to protest, stuffed full with layer after layer of pastry. “Kind of like a diamond, y’know? Real pretty to look at, empties your wallet, and, at the end of the day, ain’t much you can do with it.”

“People propose with diamonds.” You point out, and cough as a flake of pastry hits the back of your throat.

Joel’s already passing you your glass of water before you even think to reach for it.

“People propose with rings. Diamonds are just custom, not a guarantee.”

Sunset arrives with no warning, a hue of fiery orange melting down into the calm waters on the horizon. It’s Joel who makes the call to head back, one glance at his watch enough to tell you the last chance to catch a coach is nigh. It’s only as you go to call for the bill that he tells you it’s covered and you realise his earlier trip to the bathroom had been a ruse to go pay.

The trip back is calmer, quieter, with the coach full of sunkissed and heat exhausted tourists.

Again, you take the aisle seat, and Joel, the window.

Keeping an eye on him is easy, switching your gaze towards the approaching darkness of the night sky calling upon the street lights anytime he meets your eyes. When you notice the increase in breaths and the paling of his skin, you wordlessly unscrew the cap off a bottle and slot it into his hand, inviting him to finish off the last sips of your water.

Skipping out on a trip down memory stairway, you quietly follow him into the cable car and, when you reach the Old Port, you try your best to block out his smug remark of how easy and fast the ride was. A feat which becomes easier as you stumble halfway up the dock and turn back.

Like hours before, as you first stepped off the tender, your mouth falls agape. Only, this time, wider. The view of the island lit up in all its glory is enough to leave you breathless, hands scrambling to fish out your phone, open the camera and-

“You gettin’ on or what?” Joel calls out from behind, and you find him waiting on board one of the tenders, hand held out towards you.

It’s a demand, more than it is an offer, to hurry up. The collective of other passengers are watching the interaction, and a feeling you’ve come to know all too well crawls its way into your veins.

A burden, holding them all up, that’s what you are.

The feeling follows you back, as you slip into a damp seat and watch as the boat carries you further and further from the island, it’s lights twinkling in a way that chokes you up, drains you out, eyes stinging from more than just the salty air. You’ll love it, I swear! The memory plays out in your head, those words gushed at you. Hands squeezing your cheeks, a smile blinding you under its brightness. Just wait till you see it at night, the lights shine over it like stars!

You blink.

A tear pools at the corner of your eye.

“Here, look,” something nudges you. It’s Joel, inching his phone into your view. Through blurred sight, you glance at it. And find yourself, centre frame, lit only by the moon. In the back lies the whole skyline of Santorini, lights reflecting down onto the waters below. “Best view you can get, the whole island in one shot.”

Afraid to hear your own voice, you smile.

He answers by pointing his phone back at you, snapping another photo.

Back on the cruise, the two of you part ways, with Joel telling you to meet him in the same bar, same time as the night before.

Dinner had been part of your plans. With a glance over the listed restaurants on board, the ache in your tired bones asks you to stay in bed and make use of the room service. You listen, order something light, easy. It arrives in under 10 minutes and your hunger is satisfied sitting out on the balcony, watching the dark waves roll past.

Phoning your mother is the next port o'call.

Unlike with your food, that takes longer than 10 minutes. Much longer, and involves you countlessly reassuring her that yes, you’re okay, and no, you don’t need her to fly out and meet you in Naples.

“I’m a big girl,” you even throw in a laugh, hoping it’ll ease the worry lines you can picture splayed over your mother’s face. “I think I can climb up a mountain without my mum’s help.”

“Honey, you know that’s not what why I’m worri-”

“Did you know you can get carsick but, at the same time, not seasick?”

You hang up shortly after, with a promise to try your best to answer when she calls tomorrow, instead of hours later, when she should be fast asleep.

The time on your phone tells you there’s still forty minutes until you need to meet Joel. The image of that grandiose bathtub flashes before your eyes and, in record timing, you’re sinking into scalding waters, a complimentary bath bomb dumped in and granting you the childish gift of bubbles.

You try to relax, at first.

There’s no need to wet your hair, so you indulge yourself. Lay your head back, close your eyes. Feel your muscles loosen with the warmth, ignore the sting of soap in your blistering heel. Your hands struggle to find a resting place, until they meet your thighs. They sit still, for a moment or two, before one slips down, inching into the crease of where your legs meet.

Something stirs in your core, comes alive as you think of how long it’s been since you last felt someone. A few months, it has to be. A fellow graduate, if you remember correctly, that stupid robe still on his shoulders as he let his mouth come down on you.

Your hand is soon on your core, before you really notice, mind on a mission to recall the hazy encounter. When you think of his tongue, messy yet eager, your finger’s already on your clit, pressing against it with a tease of pleasure. When you think of his cock, uncut and thicker than your ex, splitting you open on his bedroom floor, your hips cant up against yourself, chasing friction. When you rewind how soft Joel’s hair had been between your fingers, your free hand grips one of your breasts, fingers pinching at your nipple.

Your eyes snap open.

Joel’s hair.

Joel.

Something you should not be thinking of right now, hand buried between your thighs.

You wait a few seconds, remind yourself of the graduate’s face.

His blue eyes, your fingers roll over your nipple.

His blonde hair, your legs spread wider.

Joel’s solid chest, your fingers dip inside your cunt.

Your breath is shaky, Joel’s annoyed groan echoes.

The shame of it, of thinking of him, is almost as tantalising as touching yourself, fucking your own hole full with as much of your fingers the angle will allow. It’s a one time thing, you justify. You just need to get it out your system. One and done, cum and done. No more of Joel Miller between your thighs, this is the closest he’ll get.

Someone knocks at your door.

You nearly miss it over the sound of your breathing, the pounding of your heart.

“Who is it?” You don’t like how weak you sound, but it’s too late to take it back now.

Another knock.

“Can I come in?”

A hand still between your thighs, orgasm titering on the edge, body fully submerged in lukewarm water. “No!”

“Ain’t safe to leave your door unlocked. Anybody could walk in- Jesus!”

You’ve never screamed louder.

Joel takes up most of the bathroom doorway, same clothes save for the shirt that’s got two buttons undone and the sleeves rolled halfway up his arms. You’re pressed right back into the bathtub, as physically far from him as you can get, knees pressed up to your chest, ankles crossed over.

In Joel’s defence, he’s quick to turn away, presenting you with a view of his back. A hand runs through his hair.

“Why are you in my room?!” You inch even further back, the water suddenly dropping several degrees.

“I asked to come in!”

“And I told you not to!”

“Well obviously I didn’t hear that!”

“Why are you in my room?” You’re back to your first question, eyeing up your towel.

It’s across the room, on the bathroom sink. No way for you to reach it without the risk of him seeing you reflected on something.

“You were late. Came to check if ya tripped on them heels and broke your neck.”

“I,” you’re not sure what time it is with your phone sitting by the bed, charging. That's now five times you've been late in adulthood. “Didn’t realise the time. I can meet you at the bar in ten minutes.”

He nods, and you watch him take a step, then immediately pause. “You know, I’ve heard a few things from passengers…” You may not see his face, but you swear there’s that half-smirk, smug look upon it. It’s practically dripping off his words. “The shower head, fourth setting. Seems to get the job done for most ladies on board.”

Grabbing the closest thing in reach- a bar of soap- you launch it and watch it bounce off his irritatingly wide shoulders. “Get OUT!”

You make it to the Tipsy Byson in 15 minutes.

Dressed more appropriately than the night before, your flared jeans and crop top garner less stares. It’s just as busy, if not busier, yet it’s not hard to spot Joel on a barstool, nursing a glass of something syrupy looking. Behind the bar is Luke, head thrown back at something Joel says.

They’re an interesting pair to observe, you realise as you make your way over. With Luke, so tall, so lanky, so bright-face, his energy warm and inviting, and Joel so- well, Joel.

“There she is,” Luke cheers, a little too loudly, calling attention to you as you slip into the stool next to Joel. “My new favourite customer.”

“Thought I was your favourite,” Joel’s yet to look at you, and it’s a relief. He’s looked at you enough for one day, one week, one lifetime.

“Sorry but she smells better than you, Joel,” the barman winks at you, a cheeky grin on his face. “ Plus, she’s a hell of a lot nicer to look at.”

Joel scoffs, you giggle.

“Not sure about the whole smelling better thing,” your response comes minutes later, after Luke’s already served you a glass of wine and turned away your cash, telling you he’ll put it on Joel’s tab. “But thanks!”

Unprompted and uninvited, Luke bends over the bar and takes an exaggerated sniff. “I don’t know, smell alright to me.”

“Really? I’m not even wearing perfume, I forgot to pack any-.”

“Yeah! Go on Joel, give her a whiff, tell her she smells fine!” There’s resistance on his end, but Luke’s adamant, hand clamped on the back of Joel’s head, shoving him face first into your neck. Joel’s nose brushes against you. You hear him inhale. Exhale. Inhale again, then the urge to cross your thighs begins to nag at you. “Well?”

“Yeah, smells nice- Fine. Ya smell fine.”

“Be still my beating heart! Someone alert the press that Texas said something other than-”

Joel interrupts Luke’s dramatics, scowl on his face. “Don’t you have a job to be doin’?”

Only once the bartender is down the other end of the bar, engrossed in a heated discussion over what beer pulls a better head, does Joel speak again, sipping on his drink. Whiskey.

“So I noticed somethin’, when I was checking your bookin’ info.” You nod, urge him to continue, and take a sip of your own drink. Some country song plays over the speakers and you notice a sudden shake in Joel’s knee, his foot tapping to the beat. “Says there should be two of you in my guide team.”

“Oh,” the lump forming in your throat falls safely back into the pit of your stomach as you take another drink of wine. “Must be a printing error. You know how technology can be, always complicating things.”

“Hmm,” it’s easy to write off the awkward energy between you with the excuse of earlier events, and it’s the first bright-side you find to him walking in on your intimate bath. “Well, you know the drill for tomorrow. 7 am on that deck or I’m-”

“Docking without me, I know.”

You finish your drink first. When Joel orders himself another glass, you smile politely and turn it down. Yawn, then tell him you best head to bed.

Before you can slip out the entry, someone calls your last name. Loud enough to turn more than just your own head.

It’s Joel, approaching you, effortlessly parting crowds through the lively bar as though he is knife and, the people, butter. The loud music seems to ring louder in your ear, impeding you from hearing the words that leave his moving lips.

“What?” You call out, hands clasped over your mouth in an attempt to amplify the volume of your voice.

His response is to step closer, hands holding you in place by the waist as he leans down. A hot breath on your neck, the smell of whiskey on his breath, the soft brush of lips against your ear.

“It’s your turn to bring the coffees.”

series taglist. @auteurdelabre

#joel miller series #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #pedro pascal smut #joel miller fanfic

206 notes · View notes

mountttmase · 3 months

Text

Happy For You

Note - just a little something to break up winter sun and to say sorry for being so awol. I’ll be back tomorrow I promise 😭🩷

Pairing - Mason Mount × Reader

Word count - 830

Warnings - fluff

It was miserable outside. Grey, rainy and so cold you wondered how Mason would be coping as he and winter weren’t exactly the best of friends but luckily for him he wouldn’t need to be outside in the miserable weather.

Since his latest injury he’d been training inside for a few weeks in between regular physio appointments and you knew he was itching to be back with the boys. He was only meant to be out for 4 weeks but everything was taking a little longer to heal than everyone would have liked and you could tell he was fed up.

Your favourite smile no longer reached his eyes and he had no desire to do anything fun anymore. As much as you loved spending time cuddled up together he was quieter than ever and you desperately wanted to do something to cheer him up.

In the end you settled on making his favourite dinner for him for when he got back from training and you were so focused on trying not to chop your finger off that you didn’t hear him come in and stand patiently behind you. Waiting for his opportunity to touch you and only once you’d taken a second to read over the recipe again did he launch his attack.

‘Oh Mase, get off you’re all cold and wet’ you giggled after the slight shock of him being there had vanished but he ignored you. Pressing kisses to your cheek repeatedly and holding you tighter as you tried to fight him off.

‘Exactly, isn’t it great?’ he laughed, lips directly over your ear and his words made you shiver. He sounded happy and your heart sored at the sound, still a little confused as to why he was so happy but he let you turn in his arms and the playful smile on his lips made your tummy feel warm. ‘why am I cold and wet, baby?’

‘Mase I genuinely have no idea’ you replied, his smile infectious but you were unsure about what he was trying to say to you. He’d just got home so obviously he was cold and wet and the more you looked at him the more you felt like you were missing something that was obvious. ‘Why are you home early too? I thought I had another half an hour without you’

‘Charming’ he snorted, pulling away so he could gather up his things and you watched curiously as he took his boots from his bag. ‘Skipped my shower and came straight home’

‘Wondered what that smell was’ you teased, watching him walk over with his muddy boots in his hand and you knew he wanted to retaliate to your words but you got there first. ‘Come on, Mase. You know the rules, no muddy boots in the house’

‘Am I gonna have to spell this out for you?’ He laughed unbelievably. Placing his boots down on the side before grabbing your unimpressed face in between his hands so you could look at each other properly. ‘I’m cold, I’m wet, I’ve got muddy boots. What do you think that means?’

‘Mason I’m really not sure’ you pouted, resting your hands on his chest as he quickly kissed your forehead. ‘Can you just tell me?’

‘I did some training outside today, like on the grass’ he told you quietly, his face looking almost bashful as you realised what he was saying but there was nothing that stopped the excited squeal coming from your lips.

‘Really?’ You laughed, letting him pick you up so you could wrap your legs around his waist. Twirling the pair of you around the kitchen as your laughs mingled together before he plonked you down on the counter. ‘Oh baby, I’m so happy for you’

‘Thank you sweetheart’ he beamed, pulling you closer so he could kiss you softly and when you went to pull away he only kissed you harder which in turn caused you to giggle against his lips. ‘It was only individual training but it’s a start at least’

‘Its progress baby, and it’s so exciting. You're almost there’

‘I know, can you believe it?’ he laughed. Kissing your cheek and pulling you closer so he could hide his face in your neck and you pulled him in just as tight. Your hand scratching over his scalp and the wet strands gave you an idea.

‘You’re really cold, Mase. Why don’t you have a shower and warm up? I’ll finish dinner off so it’s ready for when you’re done. It’s your favourite’

‘What did I ever do to deserve you, eh?’ He asked you, pulling back to look at you again and his still so smiley face made your heart thud. ‘Will you come with me?’

‘What about dinner?’

‘We can have it later. I just wanna hold you for a bit’ he told you softly and there was no way you could say no to him.

‘Come on then, let’s get you warmed up’

#mason mount #mason mount fan fic #mason mount blurb #mason mount one shot #mason mount fanfic #mason mount fluff #mason mount x reader #mason mount x y/n #footballer x reader #footballer x y/n #footballer imagines

249 notes · View notes

theboy-withthetigertattoo · 3 months

Text

Cw: fem reader, sex worker!Jisung, sub jisung, mommy k!nk, squirting

Jisung is one of the most popular workers in your home town broth3l. Recently, when you try and go see him he’s all booked up for the night. But at the early hours of the morning you’ll get a text saying

“Sorry I missed ya tonight, doll. Until next time❤️”

Whenever you went to see him you never made an appointment. You always just walked in and hoped he had some time available. You’ve tried hooking up with the other workers when he’s busy, but no one could satisfy you like him.

It was your birthday in a couple of days and you definitely wanted a sweet ending to your day. This would be the perfect time to make an appointment with your favorite boy. So you called the brothel and set up your time slot. Finally you’ll get to have some fun.

****************

You walk into his place of work a little more nervous than usual. It’s been awhile since you’ve seen him and you’re worried he’s already replaced you as his “favorite customer”. You figured he only says that because you’re paying him, but another part of you feels that he truly means it.

“Hi sweety!” Jisung squeals as he sees you enter the room. He runs up to you and pulls you close to give you a kiss.

“It’s been so long baby~” he whines “I’m sorry I’ve been so busy… if you want me so bad you gotta make those appointments early!”

“Well mr. Popular… I’ve been lucky with just being able to walk in and get you, so I never thought about it”

“Fair enough” he says as he struts away from you. He looks so sexy in that silk robe you can’t wait to take it off of him.

He stops in front of the bed and turns to face you again. He motions for you to come over to him and you can’t seem to get yourself to move. Why are you so nervous? You usually are so confident with him.

“Don’t get shy on me now~ usually you’re tearing me up as soon as I shut the door”

He walks up to you and cups your face to kiss you. Running his hands down your neck all the way down to your hips. He pulls away and grabs your hand and has you lay down on the bed. He straddles your hips and his lips are back on yours as soon as you’re head hits the pillow. The make out session is getting hot and heavy very fast.

He sits up and starts to untie his robe. The lingerie set he has on is in your favorite color. Your pussy throbs at the sight of him.

“Happy birthday, baby. I got this set just for you” he purrs as he grabs your hands and guides them to feel up his chest. You love how his pecs feel under the meshy fabric

“Wow sungie, I’m surprised you remembered my birthday! You must really like me” you joke

“I do, mommy” he leans down to peck you on the lips “I really, really like you”

You can’t hold yourself back anymore. You switch positions faster than he can even think. He’s under you now and he feels your mouth on his neck and your hands all over his body. Stripping him completely naked in the process.

“God I missed this so much… can’t wait to feel your pussy” he moans

You rip off the dress you have on and he’s literally drooling at the sight of your tits and visibly wet panties. You start rubbing your clothed pussy over his dick and he gasps. You do this a little longer just to tease him then you move your panties to the side and start sinking down on his dick.

“Oh fuck!” You both say at the same time. It really has been too long.

“Wow mommy… you’re so tight…. No one has fucked you since you’ve last seen me, huh?”

You shake your head no

“poor neglected pussy… I’ll make it feel better”

Now he’s the one turning you around. He asks you to get on all fours and you oblige. He sinks back into you and you get into his favorite position- face down, ass up. He starts off hard and fast and you’re already a moaning mess. He’s eating it up, though.

“This is what your poor pussy needed isn’t it? You just needed some good dick to make it all better”

“Mmm yes,…. Make your mommy’s pussy cum baby please…”

“Fuck yes mommy, I’m gonna make you fuckin squirt all over me”

He changes the angle of his hips and hits that perfect spot while rubbing your clit. Making you squirt just like he said he would. One thing about Jisung is that when he says he’ll do something, he’ll deliver.

He pulls out and rubs your back as you calm down. You roll over and pull him in for a kiss.

“How much time do we have left for our time slot?”

“Don’t you worry about that baby, I had my whole schedule cleared for tonight. I’m going to make your birthday so special”

“Oh- are you sure? I don’t mind spending the money baby but-“

“Who said you’re paying for any of this?? This is all my treat, because like I said, I really really like you”

You’re amazed. He doesn’t give you time to question him as he starts getting some toys from the beside drawer. What a way to spend a birthday.

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

Hope you enjoyed ❤️

#I literally lost my mind writing this #sub han jisung #han jisung #sub han jisung smut #skz smut #skz #han skz #stray kids #han imagines #han x reader #stray kids smut

135 notes · View notes

themultifandomgal · 5 months

Text

Kelly Severide- Finally

Kelly and I have been married for 3 years now. We met because of my brother Matt joining firehouse 51, then Kelly and I dated for many years before he proposed. Our wedding was a beautiful day and filled with so much love.

After a couple of years of marriage we decided that it would be time for us to start a family. Unfortunately this took a lot longer than expected. We even went to the doctors to find out if there was anything wrong. They just said that for some men and woman it can take longer and to come back in a year if we are still yet to conceive or if we struggle to carry full term.

Of course seeing negative after negative pregnancy test it really effects you mentally. So we stopped taking pregnancy tests so regular. We will only take one if I think I could be pregnant.

I wake up feeling off like I've drank to much. Headache and nausea. Rolling over I place my hand on Kelly's side of the bed, but I'm greeted by the bed being cold. That's when I remember that Kelly had to head off to work early this morning. I groan sitting up, my head spinning as I do, I swallow dryly feeling so ill. Slowly I crawl out of bed and go into the bathroom to get myself ready for the day. Thankfully I work from home so I don't have to go out anywhere.

I'm typing on my laptop when I have to quickly run to the bathroom to throw up. Which weirdly makes me feel immediately better. I clean my teeth getting rid of the nasty taste in my mouth and go back to my work.

I spend the next few hours working, but when my day of work ends I'm absolutely exhausted so decide to take a nap before Kelly comes back home.

This goes on for the next few days which does make me wonder if I could be pregnant. So while Kelly is at work I route around in one of the draws for some pregnancy tests that I bought months ago. When I find them I pee on the sticks and leave them on the back of the toilet before going back to work.

I forget about the tests for a couple of hours before I have to go to pee again. I pick them up not thinking that it will be positive, but when I see the little plus sign on all of the tests I am shocked. This is the first time I've ever gotten a positive pregnancy test, but still not wanting to get Kelly to excited I want to make sure that this is true. So that day I ring up my doctors and book an appointment for the next day. However I'm going to have to sneak out because Kelly is off.

The following day I wake up in Kelly's arms making me smile. I turn around to face him and brush some hair out of his face making him sigh and pull me closer

"Morning" he says in his gruff morning voice

"Morning" I reply placing a kiss on his lips "what have you got planned for today?" I ask

"I'm staying home and cuddling you all day. I've missed you" I giggle at his reply

"I've missed you to, but I've go a couple of jobs to do this morning"

"Like?"

"Well I have to go to the bank, then pop to the grocery store"

"I'll come with you"

"No" I say way to quickly causing Kelly to frown "I just mean it's going to be boring and you've been working really heard the past few days. Why don't you sleep in" Kelly frowns not buying what I'm selling

"What's going on?"

"Ok you caught me. I am actually getting you a surprise but I'm not telling you what it is so you'll have to wait"

"Ok? Why?"

"Will you stop asking me questions. Go back to sleep I won't be to long" I place a kiss on Kelly's lips before getting up and getting dressed.

So I'm pregnant! I run to the store and buy a gift bag, some dippers, wipes and baby bottles. I then head back home with all of the 'gifts' in the bag and head into the house

"I'm home!" I call out and Kelly is quick to greet me with a smile. He wraps me up in his arms causing me to giggle at his affection "go sit down for your surprise" he eagerly leaves my side and sits down on the couch still with a wide grin on his face "ok close your eyes" I say and he does. I place the bag on his lap and tell him to open. He puts his hand in and the first thing he pulls out are the packets of wipes

"Baby wipes? You trying to tell me to wipe my ass or something?"

"No. Keep going" next he pulls out the baby bottles. He frowns taking out the box of diapers. He looks at me still frowning, but a look of realisation crosses his face as I keep smiling at him

"Are you...? Are we...?"

"Yes. I'm pregnant" Kelly is up in an instant and spins me around then kisses all over my face

"I love you so much!"

"I love you to Kel"

"I'm going to be a dad"

"Yes you are. We're finally getting what we wanted"

#one chicago #one chicago imagine #chicago fire imagine #chicago fire #kelly severide x wife #kelly severide x oc #kelly severide x reader #kelly severide x yn#kelly severide imagine #kelly severide

139 notes · View notes

heich0e · 10 months

Text

tags: yakuza!suna/escort!reader the prequel(ish), icymi here's PART 1 + PART 2 series masterlist

The car pulls up along the back of the club just past ten o’clock.

It had rained earlier in the evening, though you'd fortunately missed most of the shower. The world passing outside the windows of the car is still soaked with it, and puddles pool in the divots of the road as the water trickles slowly towards the storm drains that line the street.

“Thank you, Toma,” you say to your driver as you reach for the handle to let yourself out, and in the front seat the kindly man dips his head in response.

“Would you like me to wait to drop you home?” he asks, his eyes meeting yours in the mirror positioned along the highest centre point of the windshield. “I haven’t got another ride for a half an hour.”

“I have to drop my take-home off to the office and get my payout, and the trains are still running, but thank you,” you assure him with a shake of your head. You smile at him in the rearview mirror as you pop the door open. You hesitate just before you slip out, leaning up towards the front seat. “Drive safe tonight.”

You have to step around puddles as you approach the staff entrance to the club, the water collecting every few steps along the craggy surface of the alley. You hear a voice filtering down the dingy alleyway from up ahead, and it makes you slow ever so slightly. It’s familiar, and as you round the corner to the door, you recognize why.

Kaito stands just beside the metal door with ‘STAFF ENTRANCE ONLY’ emblazoned across it peeling white paint. He’s ditched the suit jacket you’d seen him wearing earlier in the evening, left in his black dress shirt with the first few buttons undone and his sleeves pushed up to his elbows. The flickering light above the door catches on the garish chain he wears around his neck, glinting at you as Kaito holds his cellphone up to his ear, lost in his conversation.

“Of course, sir. I understand,” he says, and though his voice is as insincerely pleasant as ever, his face is contrastingly grim—the affectation of charm extending only to that which the caller on the other line is able to witness. You watch as Kaito pushes a hand through his carefully-styled hair in frustration, tousling the dark strands, squeezing his eyes shut. “It’s not last minute at all, I’ll make sure our very best girls are available once he arrives.”

You pause upon overhearing that particular snippet of his phone call, your heels clicking to a stop on the unevenly cobbled path, and Kaito’s eyes crack open once he senses your approach.

“Very well, I’ll be sure to be at the entrance to greet him myself. Have a good evening, sir.”

Kaito ends the call, his eyes still on you.

“You’re back,” he remarks, acknowledging you once he tucks his phone into the pocket of his dress pants—his voice is so different now to what it had been only seconds prior that he may as well be a different person entirely. He plucks out the cigarette tucked behind his ear and holds it to his lips, fishing a lighter out from his pocket. “Early, isn’t it?”

“Right on schedule, actually,” you reply, snapping out of your momentary stupor and approaching the door as the lighter clicks to life. “I was meeting with Suzuki-san this evening.”

Suzuki is one of your longest-standing regulars: a successful businessman in his mid-60s whose wife passed away a few years prior, and whose children have all grown and moved away. He takes you to dinner once a week, and your appointments are never anything more than that. He’s lonely, you realized quickly after meeting him, and the way his face lights up when you arrive at whatever restaurant he’s reserved for the evening makes your stomach ache a little too much to ever really enjoy the food.

“That old sucker?” Kaito’s eyes widen, the corner of his mouth twisting upward in an almost cruel way. “Still paying you to play footsie with him at dinner after all this time.”

You frown, shooting Kaito a withering look as you reach for the staff door to step inside. He ignores your glare, and you watch with a feeling of abject dread as an idea comes to him.

“Hey,” he says, his hand suddenly coming to rest against the peeling paint and forcing the door closed before you can properly open it. The acrid smell of his cigarette smoke is overwhelming with him this close to you, and it makes your nose scrunch up. “You should stay late tonight.”

“Can’t,” you reply flatly, angling your body away from his. “I’m just here for payout.”

Kaito huffs at your immediate refusal. “I’ll make it worth your while,” he tries again.

“I can’t,” you repeat yourself, holding firm.

He narrows his eyes, and you watch as he considers how he should reply. He rolls his eyes a bit and eventually backs off, taking a long drag from his cigarette. “Whatever.”

You open the door and step inside without any further words passing between you.

In the main office, you hand in the envelope of cash Suzuki-san had pressed into your palm after walking you back to Toma and the waiting car outside the restaurant. The disinterested man in the office—you never manage to keep track of who’s who with how frequently the faces change around here—takes the cash and counts it in another room, even though you'd already triple checked for yourself on the drive back to the club. You wait there with your arms crossed over your chest for him to bring you back a slip of paper that would outline how much you’d earned that week and what was deposited directly into your bank account, and your heel taps against the dingy tile as the minutes tick past.

The back office of the club is far less flashy than the interiors of the lounge a few hundred metres and some staircases away. In fact, the interiors tend to deteriorate in luxury the further outwards you move from the epicentre of activity—the club and the private rooms that are attached to it are the height of luxury, the suites that line the south end of the building slightly less impressive in their quality, and finally the administrative rooms and various other spaces that only the staff ever visit like this one are completely unremarkable. Looking around the shabby, disorganized office you wouldn’t even know the kind of business it’s running.

Maybe that’s the point, you can’t help but think.

As you wait for the nameless man to return with your pay stub, you hear a sound from the hallway outside the open office door. It’s slight, but familiar—the sound of a sniffle. It makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up.

It’s not unusual to hear a woman crying around here.

You quickly turn your back to the door, trying your very best to ignore it. That’s what you’ve learned to do over the years, after all. But the sobbing becomes less ignorable, more noticeable, and before you can think better of it you’re stepping out of the office towards the sound.

Around the corner from the office, next to a supply closet, you find a small girl hunched in on herself in a sparkling pink cocktail dress.

It’s Mini—at least, that’s the name she goes by around here since the girls rarely use their real names in this place, for good reason.

She’s young, maybe 20 if you had to guess generously, and had only been working at the club for a few week as a server mostly: circling the busy floor of the bar area and bringing patrons their drinks. She’s a bright, bubbly girl, and she’s taken a shine to you for whatever reason after only a few shifts where your paths have crossed.

“Hey,” you call to her, and it seems to startle her a bit, jolting when she hears the sound of your voice.

Her mascara is running down her cheeks as she lifts her face to look up at you, and her nose has gone bright pink even underneath the layer of makeup she wears. At the sight of you, she starts to cry harder, crushing herself unexpectedly against your chest. You’re not sure what to do, so you pat a little awkwardly along her back in a vague attempt to comfort her.

“What’s wrong?” you ask her, hoping your voice isn’t quite as stiff as the rest of your body is.

“K-k-kaito just pulled m-me off the f-f-f-floor,” she wails, the final word drawing out in a warbling little cry.

Your jaw sets as she struggles to compose herself, pulling herself away from you after another moment of tears.

"Why?"

“He told me”—Mini swipes at her running nose with the back of her hand, sniffling wetly—“told me there’s a private party coming in. He’s rounding up as many girls as he can for it and sending them into one of the private lounges.”

Mini hasn’t been at the club long, and has never worked a private party. You both realize what it means for her, without it needing to explicitly be said. Evidently the premise has her frightened.

You really have no right to be as angry as you are, but that doesn't change the fury you feel rolling in the pit of your stomach.

Or stop you from doing what you do next.

You find Kaito in his office on the other side of the building.

“Who’s this private party?” you ask him once he answers the sharp rap you land against his door and he calls you in.

Kaito glances up from his desk. He’s got his suit jacket on again, and he’s fixed his hair—back to his usual self. He looks a little surprised to see you standing in his office doorway, especially as pissed off as you are.

He quirks a brow. “What’s it to you?”

You bite the tip of your tongue in an attempt to temper the flare of irritation searing through you.

“I don’t think Mini’s ready to work a private party.”

“Who?” he asks, and the worst part is you know he means it, leaning back in his chair. His brow furrows as you stare at him.

Your lips part to explain, but he cuts you off before any words come out.

“Doesn’t matter anyway,”—he waves his hand disinterestedly—“I need girls and she’s on shift. We’ve got a very important patron coming in who needs a selection to choose from, and half our best girls are already booked out tonight—or refuse to stay late.”

He tacks on that last part just for your sake.

Your teeth clench.

“So you’re just gonna send a bunch of rookies in there?” you ask him. “What kind of impression is that supposed to make to this very important patron?”

He shrugs. “Beggars can’t be choosers.”

You’re not sure who the beggar in this situation is supposed to be.

You grind your heel into the tile of his office floor as you sift through your thoughts.

“How many girls do you need?” you finally ask him, the question hissing out through gritted teeth.

He grins, seeing the cracks forming in your armour even from the other side of the room.

“Depends,” he replies flippantly.

“On what?” you ask him flatly.

He leans forward across his desk with a sharp smile pulling at his lips.

“On if I’m going for quantity or quality.”

In the end, Kaito agrees not to send any of the inexperienced girls into the private room. Instead, there will only be five girls, all relatively experienced, who this unexpected guest that Kaito seems so insistent on catering to will get to choose from.

You agree to be one of them.

You touch up your makeup in one of the dressing rooms before heading towards the designated lounge. It’s one of the nicest private rooms in the building: large, quiet, and with it’s own small mini-bar that’s kept well stocked to minimize any interruptions—another testament to just how keen Kaito is to pull out all the stops for this mystery patron.

You’re not dressed how you usually would be a lounge shift like this—much less a private booking. The dress you’d worn to dinner with Suzuki-san is a little too tasteful for the role you’re about to assume. Mini had kindly offered to let you borrow one of the spares she’d brought to work with her after she found you freshening yourself up (and conveyed her relief at being spared the private party,) but you declined—not least of all because of your very different body types. Your quiet hope was that you’d get there, pale in comparison to one of the other girls who were better suited for the occasion, and ultimately be able to continue home like you ought to have already been by now, this whole situation an unfortunate—but only momentary—road block.

The other girls are already gathered in the room when you arrive, with drinks in their hands and glossy lips and beautiful, skin-tight dresses on their frames. You greet them quietly, accepting a glass of champagne that’s placed into your hands by one of the girls you’re closest to—a tall, stunning woman who goes by the name of Yuki.

“Any idea who this high roller is that Kaito’s kissing ass for tonight?” she asks you as you take a sip from your drink. Yuki had cut the drink with soda water, you realize it right away as the muted taste of effervescent wine reaches your tongue. It’s a welcomed trick that you yourself have been known to employ of many occasions, a tactic used to keep your wits about you without seeming like you’re turning down a drink while you work a long shift.

You can’t help but lament the fact that you really could use a proper drink right about now.

“No,” you tell her quietly, fiddling with the thin stem of the champagne flute between your fingers. “He didn’t say.”

“Must be someone good,” Sakura, another working girl whose long hair is tinted a pretty shade of pink that suits her name, chimes in from the other side of the room where she’s draped across the tufted sofa.

You wonder if she’s right about that, because an unpleasant feeling creeping over you is telling you the opposite.

The girls chat quietly amongst themselves as you all wait for the arrival of the much-anticipated guest, and you continue sipping your watered down champagne as you rest perched on the arm of a chair along one side of the room.

You should already be home by now. Should already have scrubbed the day from your skin and slipped into a pair of soft cotton pyjamas. You should be sitting on your sofa watching a movie, or reading the last chapter of the book you’d had to tear yourself away from to come to work that afternoon, or even be curled up in your bed asleep. You’re bitter to still be within the walls of the club, to still be maintaining the character you’re paid to play, and you chew the inside of your cheek as you stew in this resentment—so much so that you almost miss the door to the lounge swing open.

Your eyes flicker up as the rest of the girls stand in greeting.

You’re the last to rise from your seat.

Behind Kaito is a man you’ve never seen before, his apathetic stare sweeping lazily around the room as Kaito rambles on about something you don’t care to listen to. The guest doesn’t seem to either.

He has dark hair that reaches a little longer than the top of his ears, and an expression on his face that doesn’t seem to imply that he’s any happier to be here than you are. He has a bandage on his cheek, the skin around it still red enough to imply the injury is fresh, and a cut on his lip that looks like it could bleed again at any moment. He’s dressed in black—a turtleneck, under a long coat, over a pair of trousers, all in the same shade. His hands are shoved into his pockets to complete his general air of indifference.

His eyes land on you just as you make it up to your feet, and the way his attention lingers on you for a moment longer than it had the rest of the girls makes you want to curse under your breath. Your attempt to go unnoticed has already started off on the wrong foot, and the man isn’t even fully across the threshold yet.

Your eyes meet—properly meet—and for a moment you hold your breath.

“Ladies,” Kaito says, that saccharine, ingratiating tone you hate so much the thickest you’ve ever heard it in his voice. “This is Suna Rintarou”

The man’s eyes are still on you.

“I’m sure you’ll see to it that he has a very memorable evening.”

#suna x reader #suna rintarou x reader #yakuza!suna #hq drabble #hq writing #writing

303 notes · View notes

guanana · 2 years

Text

neotherapy (18+)

"Hey, uh... hello? You've reached Neo Therapy Practitioners, this is Jisung speaking!

Oh, you wanted to schedule with us? Sounds good! And who will you be visiting today?"

— Let’s face it, this whole adulting thing? Shit fucking sucks. Working from nine to five as a corporate slave for the next forty years until you’re rendered obsolete isn't exactly what you'd consider a fulfilling lifestyle. Between a ridiculous workload, an asshole supervisor, and an inexplicable amount of failed dates— it’s fair to say that you were one minor inconvenience away from committing arson.

That changes for the better when your coworker refers you to Dr. Lee at Neo Therapy Practitioners. A complex with a multitude of services to provide. Ranging from chiropractic adjustment, to beauty services, to even a practice as niche as aromatherapy? You find yourself dabbling in each of these services to unwind from all the stress, gaining confidence and relaxation in the process.

You unfortunately learn nothing in life is without consequence, however. When you end up in certain "situations" with each provider— you think you may have bit off just a little more than you can chew. But hey, beauty is pain, right?

— scheduled appointments

♡ session 1: step on a crack, dr. lee's gonna break your back!

– by guanana

[ “That’s what I’m here for. I’ll put you right back into shape.” ]

pairing: jeno x reader

summary: After years of sitting hunched over at an office desk and squinting your eyes at an overly saturated computer screen, your back finally gives out on you and decides it needs a break.

Good thing your friendly neighborhood chiropractor Dr. Lee is here to save the day! Small issue though— he’s really fucking hot and he’s got a way with his hands.

status — booked

♡ session 2: paint nails n' get railed!

– by mondaycoffee

[ “So? Do you want that discount or not?” ]

pairing: yangyang x reader

summary: At the suggestion of Dr. Lee, you find yourself setting up an appointment at Yangyang’s Paint-n-Go, Neo Therapy Practitioners’ very own nail bar! However, when you discover just how freaking expensive it is to get a mani-pedi done these days, your tech has an offer that you find difficult to refuse…

status — booked

♡ session 3: wants n' kneads

– by guanana

[ “This would be a lot easier if we kept conversation to a minimum. I can’t do my job properly if you don’t shut up.” ]

pairing: jaemin x reader

summary: The stress of the office has caught up to you once again. In fact, it came back so strong your back gives out ten times worse than before.

As if it couldn't get any worse, Jeno’s out of town. With your trusty chiropractor missing in action, circumstance leads you to the front door of Neo Therapy’s late night masseuse. Jaemin's not the friendliest nor the most talkative, so your utter confusion makes complete sense when his fingers find themselves knuckle-deep in your pussy halfway through the massage.

status: scheduled

♡ session 4: sugar, spice, n' good advice!

– by mondaycoffee

[ “I see her everywhere. She’s the early morning rain, the neglected cup of coffee sitting on the bathroom sink, and kind words from a stranger when you need them the most. I am used to seeing those traces of her, and, more often than not, it is I who seek them. But, when I’m with you, her memory gets the slightest bit fainter and that’s really nice.” ]

pairing: renjun x reader

summary: After your last appointment, you find out the origin of the pleasant smelling oils used during your massage: the handsome Mr. Huang working just across the hall. You discover through research that he’s a popular Aromatherapist in your area, and that he’s known particularly for his expertise in treating work-related stress. Perfect! You discover that he’s the complete opposite of what you had gotten with the emotionless masseuse, Jaemin; he is kind-hearted, gentle, and a wonderful listener. So it’s no surprise that after only a few sessions, you’re falling hard for sweet Renjun—with disastrous consequences.

status: scheduling

♡ session 5: find love, or dye trying

– by mondaycoffee

[ “Dude, watch it! You’re gonna get bleach on my vintage 1987 David Bowie Glass Spider Tour shirt!” ]

pairing: mark x reader

summary: If someone were to ask you if the glass was half-full or half-empty, you’d simply answer by bashing the glass against their head. You were not rolling with the punches, life throwing one thing after another with no signs of stopping. It’s so bad that Haechan finds a whole patch of white hairs forming at your scalp. Entering a quarter life crisis, you make your way to Neo Therapy’s highly acclaimed hair stylist as quickly as possible.

Now enter the eccentric—and painfully awkward—Mark Lee. While he doesn’t know a lot of things, he seems to know just how to fix you up. But while you’re stuck in his chair, you discover that he also has a knack for pissing you off. And what does a sane person do when they lose their cool? Step on a man’s cock, of course!

status: scheduling

♡ session 6 (FINALE): face your fears

– by guanana

[ "You don't always have to do things on your own, you know. I'm always gonna be here for you." ]

pairing: ? x reader

summary: You would think after all of the dollars you've invested into Neo Therapy Practitioners, you'd be much better off than how you started both physically and mentally. That's not the case though— you'd say you've gotten even worse.

After the trials and tribulations you've suffered from at the hands of the dastardly attractive men, you decide it's time to throw in the towel and accept that this 'treat yourself' shtick just isn't for you.

At least, that's what you had planned until you receive a call from the person you'd least expect. And just maybe, it might be what you've needed all along.

status: scheduling

— prologue

“Yeah, the fish was bigger than my forearm! Little prick nearly took me overboard, so you’re honestly lucky to be sitting in my presence today.” Your blind date guffaws, taking an obnoxiously loud sip of his wine.

You tried to be attentive, you really did. It isn’t often that you actually go out on dates, but when one of your ‘girlfriends’ offered to set you up with her “charming and well-mannered” coworker, you decided that it would be good to get out of the house for a while and enjoy yourself. However, this wasn’t exactly what you had in mind. Fortunately it doesn’t take long for you to see this man for who he truly is: a complete and total jack off.

Kevin Moon, on paper, is everything that a woman could ask for in a partner. He has a stable, high-paying job, and he makes enough money for you to step down from your position at the office and take care of the house. For an office man, he’s not exactly lacking in the looks department either, bragging that he works out daily to maintain his physique. When you ask him why he agreed to go on a date with you, however, his answer strikes you as more than a little off-putting. “Honestly??” He traces a finger along the circumference of a dinner plate, not breaking eye contact with you. “I was told that you have a bangin’ body. Needless to say, I wasn’t disappointed by that assessment.”

Your heart sinks to the bottom of your seat, watching a wolfish grin overtake his handsome face. Of course your friend didn’t say something like ‘Oh, she has an admirable work ethic’ or even a simple ‘She’s beautiful, I think you would like her.’ She has reduced you to the shell you inhabit without so much as trying. You squirm uncomfortably under his gaze, “Ah, I see…” You hum absentmindedly, trying to focus on anything but the man in front of you.

“Say,” He trails a suggestive hand across the table, grazing your own that rests next to your barely touched food. Having opted for the salad as your appetizer after he shot you a rather judgmental stare when you asked the waitress for fried calamari. Remembering the way he had spoken over you, taking on a snappy tone with the young lady. “Why don’t we take this back to my place?”

The logical thing to do would be to pack your things and leave this bastard high and dry. But you did tell your friend that you would give him a chance, that you were ready to get back into the game.

Your mind trails back to your time with Dr. Lee Jeno, your chiropractor who had shown you that there was nothing wrong with casual sex. While you enjoyed it and had gone back for seconds, thirds, and even more– the both of you had agreed that you were simply in different places in life right now. He was much too work oriented to make time for a relationship, and you were in pursuit of something more stable. Agreeing that your relationship held no depth aside from great sexual chemistry in bed.

An index finger traces down your knuckle, bringing your attention back to the man across from you. He tries a bit too hard to flash you some bedroom eyes, looking like he just ate an edible whole rather than looking desirable. Rather than subtly biting his lip, the man was just chowing down on the flesh.

The bar must be in hell. Because in retrospect, the next words that come out in your mouth could’ve easily stayed within the burner of your mind. With a heavy sigh, you decide to throw the dog a bone.

“Sure, let’s go.”

—-

“God damn,” Kevin groans after pulling out of you. Rolling and splatting back flat onto his king-sized bed with fast paced breaths. Popping off the used condom and tossing it into the trash bin near his dresser. “You’re amazing.”

You really wished you could say the same, but you couldn’t lie to save your life. Mr. Moon was subpar, and that was being generous. The man has not mastered the motion of the ocean, and was a two-pump chump at that. Bland, boring, and overall textbook sex has you regretting ever agreeing to a night out with him.

If it was bound to go nowhere, you wouldn’t have had that much of a problem. Never one to set your expectations so high as to not set yourself up for disappointment. But was it really too much to ask for a basic understanding of human anatomy? He couldn’t locate your clit to save his life, and that’s not even the worst part.

You didn’t even get a free meal out of this. The son of a bitch grinning at you cheesily back at the restaurant, shame apparent when he tells you that he’s ‘forgotten his wallet.’

Looking up at his ceiling, you refuse to look him in the eye. You’re especially ashamed of yourself for settling. If you wanted dick that badly, Jeno could’ve easily just fucked you until you literally couldn’t think properly.

Kevin watches you worriedly when you pick yourself up, redressing yourself and patting yourself down. Wordless when you collect your bag from the coat rack. “Heading out already?” He asks.

“Yeah.” You reply dryly when you make your way down the stairs, Kevin following closely with his now flaccid dick swinging with every step. God, he’s shameless.

“I mean, did you want to spend the night?” He clears his throat.

“I’m alright,” Your hand is already on the door handle, ready to head home to cleanse yourself of tonight’s sins. “I’ve got an early morning tomorrow.”

“Could I see you another day, then? Maybe Friday night?”

It takes everything in you to not sneer at his audacity when he tries to grab at your wrist. Seeking solace in biting your cheek. If it was up to you, you’d never see him ever again.

“I’m going to have a late night, I won’t be able to make it.”

“Saturday then?”

You blink at him slowly, almost appalled when he doesn’t get the hint.

“...Sunday?”

Oh, brother.

“You know what?” You say, twisting the door handle before taking a step out. Secondhand embarrassment running heavily through your veins when he follows you out, bare ass out for his neighbors to see if they were to look outside. “I’ll keep you posted.”

His lips form into a disappointed ‘o.’ “Uh, text me?”

“Yeah, something like that.” And with that, you were gone with the wind.

––

You’re late.

That much is apparent as you walk into the private room rented by your group of friends, voicing an apology upon your late arrival. You rush toward the open chair, frazzled as you drape your coat and bag across the top. Nobody found it important enough to wait on you before starting on their meals, save for Yeri who greeted you when you took your place next to her. “It’s really, really nice to see you.” Her voice is sweet and her smile warm, you can already feel your nerves begin to melt away.

“You too, it’s been way too long.” You murmur, pulling her into a side hug. You mean it; out of all of the people in attendance, Yeri was the only person you could truly call your friend. She always made sure to keep you in the loop, extending hang outs to you even when the others hadn’t. “I hope you’ve been well.”

A nasally voice from across the table interrupts your conversation, painted lips pulling into a veneered grin. “Ya-da, ya-da. I don’t know about everyone else, but I for one would really like to hear how that date with Kevin from HR went.”

Of course she would. The owner of the voice, Rianne, sat opposite of you at the large table. She was the one who contacted you about the date in the first place, assuring you that he was the perfect gentleman. However, the triumphant look in her eyes revealed the truth– she absolutely knew exactly what she had thrown you into…and now she wants to hear you recount your failure in front of everyone.

“It went alright.” You take a long drink of your water, swallowing down your pride along with an ice cube or two.

Her eyes were predatory as she watched you swallow, “Oh, that’s lovely! Are you going on a second date? You were all he could talk about in the office yesterday.”

And suddenly you’re choking, water going down entirely the wrong way. “Really?” You manage between coughs. “What– what did he say?”

“He said that you were so eager,” Rianne hid her smiling mouth behind a napkin, eyes betraying her amusement. “You couldn’t seem to keep your hands to yourself.” Your jaw slacks at the audacity, but before you have the chance to defend yourself she cuts you off with a giggle. “I can’t say I blame you, though. He is quite handsome, you make such a lovely couple.”

Fire courses through your veins, “We’re not a couple. He was nice, but I honestly don’t think I’m ready for a relationship right now. I don’t have any plans to see him again.”

A few of the girls gasp at your words, whispers erupting from each corner. Rianne’s eyes widen comically, letting out a feigned gasp of her own. “But, you can’t keep waiting forever! Face it dear, you’re not exactly getting any younger.”

You bite down on the tip of your tongue, trying hard to keep from giving her a piece of your mind. Luckily for you, Yeri is there in an instant, hands wrapping daintily around your forearm. “That’s enough, I think.” She reprimands, voice loud enough for everyone at the table to hear over the chatter. Then, she turns to you with a twinkle in her eyes. “Now, who wants dessert?”

The discourse ended just as soon as it began with much gratitude owed to Yeri’s intervention. Now that dessert has been passed around the table and the conversations have taken a better turn, you finally find time to relax. The atmosphere is far lighter, and even Rianne cannot keep from enjoying herself despite her loss. Soon, the attention of the whole table has been gathered, another one of your peers rising to their feet to speak. “As everyone already knows, our very own Yeri is getting married next month!”

The entire room erupts into cheers, Yeri bashfully curling into your side. You remember hearing about that! Her big, shiny engagement ring was the only thing taking up your instagram feed for at least a week. “This is so wonderful,” The same friend gushes. “Let’s hear some more details from the beautiful bride!”

“Well,” The bride-to-be begins, not even bothering to rise to her feet. “The color scheme for my bridesmaids will incorporate the red gowns I have already sent to the group chat.”

“Question, are we allowed to bring a plus one for this event? My fiance is on his way back from France on the private jet as we speak.” One of the ladies interrupts from the opposite end of the table, studying her perfectly manicured nails, trying to bring everyone’s attention to the rock presiding on her ring finger. Shameless. “I need to let him know these things so that he can have his secretary plan accordingly.”

Your eye involuntarily twitches as annoyance courses through your veins at light speed, unsettling your stomach. Of course this was going to be a popularity contest, a dimwitted battle of the dates. What else would it be about? You knew that Yeri came from money, but at least she was humble about it. As for the rest of them, all they care about is their material possessions and comparing the arm candy they’ve managed to secure within the last week. In response to your intense emotions, one of your hands ball up the fabric of your pencil skirt.

Yeri nods in response to her friend’s question, “Yes, plus ones are welcome! Just let me know so we can have enough food for everyone!”

All of the women seem to speak at once, each describing their plans for hair and nails, as well as the various men they’re thinking about inviting to the wedding. You attentively listen in on each of their conversations, trying to gauge where you stand in the midst of it all. To your surprise, it seems as though you’re the only person in turmoil about this. Unlike them, you have no date and you hadn’t even thought about the possibility that you would need one.

Rianne’s voice rises above the chatter, “Yeah, I have a date, too! He’s the sexiest guy in the whole office, everyone wants him, but he wants me.” She boasts, pressing her chest against the table, breasts nearly spilling from her blouse.

Well what do you know, she tricked someone into liking her? Pity. Honestly you couldn’t understand Rianne’s appeal. Sure she’s gorgeous, but when age finally claims her beauty, what will she have left? Certainly it wouldn’t be her winning personality… “--what about you?”

“What?”

“I said,” Rianne sucks her teeth at your inattentiveness. “It seems like everyone here has a date, what about you?” She cuts you off before you’re able to counter her, corners of her mouth downturned with artificial sympathy. “Oh yeah, you’re ‘not ready for a relationship’ right now. That’s okay, someone has to be there to watch the kids, right?”

Oh fuck no. “You’re sorely mistaken. I said I wasn’t ready for a relationship, not that I didn’t have a date.”

Her perfectly arched brows shoot up, “Oh really?”

Your mouth runs dry, but you try your best to keep a neutral expression. “Well, not exactl–”

“Who’s the lucky guy? Do we know him?” She leans in even closer. Any sign of surprise leaves her face, contempt reclaiming her features. It was well known that Rianne had to get the last word in any scuffle, so it was no surprise when she drove you into a corner. Putting words in your mouth to paint you as a charity case.

When your mouth clamps shut at the shame, a crooked smirk makes its way to her face once again. “Thought so.” She clicks her tongue at the last syllable. “You’ve always tended to… hm, how do I say this as nicely as possible?” She tilts her head, thinking hard when she brings a hand to her chin.

“Tend to what?”

“Neglect yourself.” She narrows her eyes at you, giving your visage a once over up and down. “But don’t worry about that, because I’d love to help you with that.”

“And why would you want to do that?” You snide, biting back any curses that threaten to leave your lips.

“Because what else are friends for? I’d hate to have you look anything less than presentable.” She travels from her spot at the table to wrap an arm around you, the suffocating closeness feels like being constricted by a snake. “How about you come with the rest of the girls and I for our next trip to the nail salon? I’ll cover all of your expenses, of course. I know you can get a little... stingy.”

There’s no way in hell you’re going anywhere with her. Not now, not even in a million years. At the mention of a trip to the nail salon, you’re swiftly reminded of a certain someone. Tall, broad, handsome, and offering a discount– at his colleague’s expense of course, but that didn’t matter right now. “No thanks, I’m good.”

Her confusion is apparent, and her hold on you loosens ever so slightly. “Why not?”

Because you would rather drop dead than give her any more ammo. “Because I’ve got an appointment elsewhere.” Shrugging yourself from her arms, you turn to face her and her expression is even better than you’d hoped. Mouth agape, jaw opening and shutting, almost fish-like as she tries to protest. You don’t try to stop the smile creeping up onto your face, “Contrary to belief, I do spoil myself every now and then.”

Never one to back down, she tries to call your bluff. “And just where are you going to get your nails done? There’s no way it could be any better than where we’re going.”

Even if it wasn’t by the grace of Yeri grabbing your attention to try her dessert that had just arrived, you know that you would’ve kept your little sanctuary to yourself. Turning away from the offended Rianne, you regain some semblance of control when you get one over on her. Honestly, a plus one wasn’t your top priority at the moment. Rather your mind drifts to your prospective nail appointment and your chiropractor.

It makes you think– not only did Jeno refer you to the nail technician across the hall from his office, but the complex had a whole hallway of different practices. Thinking about the two little business cards lodged in the folds of your wallet, you’ve yet to encounter even a fraction of the pleasures that they have to offer at Neo Therapy Practitioners.

...

"Hey, it's Jisung again. Thanks for holding.

...Are you still there? Ah, good! Alright, so I've got you all set for your appointment. We look forward to seeing you soon.

Oh? No need to thank us. You know it'll always be our pleasure to serve you."

...click.

——

( authors' note: thank you for taking interest in our collaboration project! be sure to follow the lovely and amazing @mondaycoffee for updates regarding the series.

the general series tag list and member specific tag lists are open! )

#nct smut #nct fanfic #kpop fanfic #jeno smut #yangyang smut #jaemin smut #renjun smut #mark smut #nct 127 #nct dream #wayv #nct u #kpop

3K notes · View notes

lizzieislife94x · 2 months

Text

Damn It! (e.o)

Requested <3

LizzieG!PxFem Reader

Another update for yall 😇 assssssss always requests are open my loves.

Lizzies POV:

I groan and rub my templates as my extremely attractive new assistant trip's sending the coffees flying this girl can't do anything right I only hired her because I wanna have her "I'm sorry I'm so sorry miss olsen ill get it cleaned and get some more im so sorry" she panics making me look at her god she's so fucking adorable "y/n take a seat just leave it ill get it cleaned after work hours, I need you to go book an appointment for a new client for Thursday can you do that " I say a little annoyed as smiles and nods "yes I can do that easy!" With that she jumps out of the chair and leaves my office.

Y/ns POV:

I can't help but curse myself why am I so clumsy why does she make my brain forget how to brain I sigh and dial the number lizzie gave me as a woman quickly answers

Hey my names y/n I'm calling on behalf of miss olsen she asked me to arrange an appointment for Thursday. I say waiting for a reply

Thursday is perfect this Thursday or next Thursday y/n. I hear as I start to panic fuck shit she just said Thursday is it tomorrow or next week

Umm I uh next Thursday, thank you have a great day. I quickly hang up the phone as I gron leaning against the table.

4 hours later:

"See you tomorrow miss olsen" I say as I head out to leave the building "I need you tomorrow bright and early don't be late" her tone is matter of fact making me gulp "yes miss olsen see you tomorrow"

Next Day:

Y/ns POV:

I take a deep breath before walking into the office "you got this y/n don't let her make your brain stop you can function like a normal human being" I whisper to myself before making my way up to the top of the building "morning y/n I think you should turn around and leave" Joe one of my co workers states making me panic "lizzie is on the war path she had everything ready for the meeting with the new client this morning only to find its booked for next week" I groan and cover my face "fuck I panicked when she asked what Thursday and lizzie didn't tell me it was meant to be today" I whisper as her door swings open "y/n my office now!!!" She yells slamming the door making my blood run cold tears threaten to run from my eyes as I make my way into her office "damn it! Y/n how could you fuck this up" I don't dare look at her "you didn't tell me it was for today I panicked and said next week" I whisper my voice failing me "don't give me the tears it was a simple task and you somehow fucked it up how is that possible" I sniff and look up "I'm sorry miss olsen ill do better" she laughs folding her arms "I think I should teach you a lesson right here huh?" I look at her confused wiping my eyes "please don't fire me miss olsen this is the only sorce of income I have " I pleade as she smirks sitting down "oh I'm not going to fire you be a good girl and go make sure the blinds are closed" I stand up confused as I close them "now come here I'm going to make that cute little ass red bend over the desk and show mommy your ass" her change of tone turning me on what the fuck is happening I slowly do as I'm told till I'm bent over my bosses desk her hands running down my back gently rubbing my ass making me bite my lip "you've been asking for this since you started such a clumsy girl can never do anything right huh, I think you need mommy to teach you " I let our a loud audible moan at her words making lizzie laugh "pl...please teach me mo..m..my" I beg as I feel her stand behind be pulling my ass flush against her waist the feeling of something hard pressing into me "can you feel what you do to me y/n" she whispers into my ear as I nod trying to press my ass into her harder "oh don't worry you'll get mommy's cock and load soon but first I gotta mark that ass of yours princess " I turn slightly as I bite my lip "I.. I.. I'm not on birth control" I stutter as she slaps my ass hard making me moan again "even better you'd love to be full of my seed with my baby growing in your cute little stomach" I nod slowly as she pushes my dress up over my ass "never knew you where a thong girl" she grins pulling my now drenched thong down my legs making me instantly spread my legs a groan falling from her lips as her fingers gently tease my soaking entrance "fuck" I cry out needing more her laugh ringing in my ear "I want you to count how many times I spank your ass can you do that properly? Can you count for mommy" she mocks as I nod her hand slamming onto my right ass cheek "one" I yelp suddenly another and another and another till she finally stops at 10, my ass feeling its on fire "my hand print looks good on your ass" she whispers biting my ear as she unbuttons her pants "so fucking hard thinking about making you take my dick" I turn with my back now on the desk needing to see her "fuck" I pant as she holds her hard cock in her hand "don't worry princess you'll be able to take it " she smirks as she steps closer teasing my dripping pussy "mommy please...Don.. t tease me" I beg as she finally pushes her whole length inside me making me scream "that's it sweetheart let them all hear how good mommy makes you feel" the rest of the world forgotten as I moan like never before as she runs her hand up my body my body grabbing my tits "gonna make you mine slut" she moans her thrusts somehow getting faster the feeling of her deep inside me hitting spots no one ever has has my whole body shaking "shit don't stop oh my fucking godddddddd I'm gonna cum"

I scream as I start to cum lizzies grin getting bigger as she continues to pound me not letting me recover "such a tight little pussy fuck it's like it was made for me" she leans down kissing me as pounds and pounds "fu...ck mommy" I moan against her lips for only her to hear "if you fuck up from now on I'm gonna fuck your brains out baby" I smirk as my eyes roll "that's just gonna make me do it on purpose" she moans as she slows her thrusts "so fucking naughty, I'm close sweetheart gonna fill your pussy" she moans her eyes closing as her thrusts get harder my second orgasm seconds away as I feel her hot sticky seed filling my unprotected pussy sending me over the edge making me cum harder than I ever have my body trembling as the pleasure rushes through me lizzie slamming deep inside me holding still "fuck y/n" she moans into my ear both of us recovering from the intense orgasm "now you gotta walk around with my cum leaking out of this well fucked cunt" she smirks teasing my clit making me shake "I don't even care" I giggle as she pulls out quickly fixing my panties for me "that was better than I've pictured" she smirks cupping my cheeks leaving a gentle kiss on my lips as she fixes her pants before sitting on her chair pulling me into her lap "but we do need to talk about all these mistakes sweetheart" I feel my cheeks blush and hide my face "it's because of you" lizzie looks at me shocked and confused "what do you mean" I groan as she grips my chin making me look at her "you make my brain short circuit like I know I can do the work but you somehow make my brain stop " she laughs cuddling into me "well I'm sure we can start to fix it from now on huh" I smile and nod as I cuddle into her a loud knock making me jump "go away come back in an hour" I giggle as she laughs "I want time with you they can wait" I smile and trace patterns on her neck as we cuddle in comfortable silence.

AN: hope this is OK 👍 drink water and stay hydrated babes 💗 word count 1.5k

122 notes · View notes

supernaturalscribe67 · 8 months

Text

Against the Grain

Words: 3,059

POV: 3rd Person

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Trans!FTM!Winchester!Reader [Platonic]

Warning(s): Fluff, Language (?), a brief mention of blood

Summary: Ever since the reader has come out to his brothers has transgender, they have been nothing but supportive. The only thing that Dean hasn't been supportive of is the reader's inconsistent facial hair growth. So, Dean comes up with a way to help him by teaching him how to shave.

A/N: I've officially hit over 30,000 words on my blog and I honestly have no idea how to feel about it...Feedback is greatly appreciated! Much love!

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

Are suits always so itchy?

Granted, he didn’t know if he would feel the same if they had gotten his outfit from a retailer that specialized in men’s formalwear instead of the old Goodwill a couple of towns over, but they needed something quick and easy. It didn’t help that he wasn’t able to wash it between cases either, but he was thankful nonetheless. Sam and Dean had promised that they would take him to get fitted for a professional suit on their way back to the bunker.

James Garrison would kindly pay, of course.

When (Y/N) came out to his brothers as transgender, he didn’t know what kind of reaction he was expecting from them. All of the negativity that was brought upon them from early childhood had clouded his judgment on how they would respond to such dramatic news. He had kept it a secret from them for about three years as a result of the anxiety, already having trouble coming to terms with his new self-discovery. Alas, two years ago, when he had gathered up all of his courage and sat his brothers down to explain in grave detail what was going on inside of his head, they were nothing but supportive.

It was an adjustment at first, with Dean having the hardest time with getting pronouns correct and slipping up on the name change, but (Y/N) could tell that he was doing his best, and that was all that mattered. He got better after a couple of months and had abandoned (Y/N)’s deadname and old pronouns completely in favor of his newly updated ones. (Y/N) could tell that Dean was proud of himself, and he was proud of him too. Sam, being the nerd that he is, wanted to learn more about transgenderism. He would ask his brother questions and scour the endless medical journals available online if (Y/N) couldn’t answer the ones that he had. He even went as far as to help (Y/N) find the perfect binder and get him set up with an appointment to start testosterone. Thanks to Sam, (Y/N) had been on testosterone for almost a year-and-a-half.

With the use of testosterone came changes, changes that he wasn’t necessarily expecting. He was constantly starving, constantly horny, and hair was growing everywhere on his body. Everywhere. Even though he didn’t mind the hair growth in some places, one place that the hair seemed to be lacking in growth was on his face, the place where he had wanted it to grow the most. He had a couple of scraggly pieces here and there, most of the hair growth being on his sideburns and underneath his chin, none of the patches consistent in length. Still, every time he looked in the mirror, he couldn’t help but smile. He had finally started to feel like his true self. Like he was starting to morph into the person he was destined to be.

And he couldn’t be happier.

(Y/N) emerged from the poorly lit motel bathroom, combing the sides of his hair with his fingertips. Sam and Dean stood in the center of the room, clad in their mock FBI uniforms. When they heard (Y/N) exit the bathroom, they turned their attention to him. It was the first time that he felt confident enough to dress as an agent on a case, and he was a little uncertain about his appearance. He wanted to make sure he looked professional enough to pass. It was a big change compared to when he only had to wear a blouse and pencil skirt. He didn’t miss those days.

With his arms held out in a grandiose gesture, he gave a small smile. “What do you think? Do I look okay?” He asked with a tone that indicated his uncertainty.

Sam and Dean eyed him, their gaze scanning from the top of his head to his shoes. Sam nodded.

“Yeah, you look great,” he commented, a smirk curled up in the corner of his lips.

Dean, on the other hand, furrowed his brows. “You look like a douchebag.”

Sam slapped Dean’s shoulder. “Dude,” he hissed.

“What?” He held his hands up.

(Y/N) frowned and looked down at himself. “Why do I look like a douchebag?” He asked, his shoulders slouched to show his disappointment.

“You don’t look like a douchebag,” Sam shook his head rapidly.

“Yes, he does! It’s because of that little neck beard you have going on.” Dean gestured to his face.

(Y/N) slowly ran his fingers through the hair under his chin, neck, and sides of his face. “What’s wrong with my facial hair?” His voice was quiet.

“(Y/N), don’t listen to him, there is nothing wrong-” Sam began.

“Sam,” Dean interrupted before looking back at (Y/N). “Look, FBI agents need to be clean to make it more believable. You look like a kid who just got out of a nightlong session playing that…that…War of Worlds or whatever.”

“World of Warcraft?” (Y/N) arched a brow.

“Yeah, that. You gotta shave it.”

“I don’t know how,”

Dean opened his mouth to speak, but Sam was quick to interrupt. He was sending Dean the deadliest of glares. “Dean, we don’t have time for him to do that. He looks great. He doesn’t need to change anything. Let’s just go, and, if it makes you feel any better, we can say he’s a rookie.”

Dean sighed. “Fine.” He mumbled before he turned back to (Y/N). “But when we get back, I’ll show you have to shave properly.”

“Okay,” (Y/N) nodded.

Dean and Sam then turned and made their way out of the motel. (Y/N) stopped for a moment and returned a hand to his face. He felt the patches of long hair caress his fingertips while the patches of stubble made his hand itch. He scowled.

“I’m not a rookie,” he mumbled to himself before he followed after his brothers.

“Alright,” Dean grumbled as he pushed the stopper into the sink. He proceeded to fill the basin up with warm water. “Now, one thing that you need to know is that you never, under any circumstances, share razors. Lucky for you, I packed a spare one.” He smiled as he pulled a new razor out of his pocket, handing it off to (Y/N).

(Y/N) glanced down at the razor. It was one of the cheap ones. One that you would find in a pack of ten or fifteen in a Walmart. The plastic was still hooked onto the side of the blade. (Y/N) took off the plastic bit and tossed it into the small trashcan in the corner of the room.

“What happens if you share razors?” (Y/N) asked.

“You can get an infection. You don’t know how clean someone else’s face is, and if you nick yourself, then you’ll be in a lot of pain. Trust me, Sammy and I learned a lot about that when we were younger.” He chuckled. “Okay, the first thing you want to do is get your face wet.”

Dean set his razor to the side and dipped his hands into the warm water. He leaned his head downward, brought his cupped hand up to his face, and wet his jaw. When he pulled his hand away, droplets fell into the sink below. He then looked at (Y/N), who raised his brows before he followed suit. He dipped his hands into the water, lowered his head, and brought some water to his face. His facial hair clung to his jawline as water dripped from his chin.

“Right, what I like to do now,” Dean reached down and picked up his razor. He looked in the mirror and tilted his head to the side so that he could fully see the right side of his face. “Is…make a mark on both of my sideburns where the hair meets the face.”

Dean reached the razor up and cut a small portion of his stubble near the hairline. It was only about an inch or two worth of hair. When he was done with the right side, he turned his head and did the same for the left side. He rinsed the razor in the water.

“You got it?” He raised a brow.

(Y/N) looked at himself in the mirror, turning his head from side to side. He furrowed his brows and hesitantly reached his razor up. He stopped before the razor could touch his face. “Where do I cut?” He asked timidly.

Dean sat his razor down and turned to his brother. He looked in the mirror, into his eyes, before he looked back at the side of his head. “You’re gonna wanna cut right…” he trailed as he reached up and ran his finger along the side of his face, about a third of the way down his ear. “Here.”

(Y/N) reached his hand up and allowed the razor to levitate above the spot Dean had pointed. “Here?”

“Yeah, right there. And don’t be shy about it. You’ve got this.”

(Y/N) glanced at Dean before giving a small nod. He then turned and looked in the mirror. He brought the razor to his face and made a small mark on his sideburns, the same as Dean had done with his. Once he was done with the first mark, he looked at his brother. Dean smiled softly at him, confirming that he had done it correctly. (Y/N) then tilted his head to the other side, repeating the process. When he was done, he rinsed his razor, just like Dean had, and looked towards him expectedly.

“Good, good,” Dean nodded before he reached over to the corner of the sink. He picked up a can of shaving cream, popped the top off, and sprayed a dollop into his hands. He held out the can towards (Y/N), who held out one hand for him. Dean sprayed some of the shaving cream into his hand before he set it on the counter and placed the cap back on. “Now, you want to make sure to cover every part of your face where the hair grows. Just watch and do what I do.”

(Y/N) gave a small nod and watched as Dean began to apply the shaving cream onto his face, starting with his right cheek before moving down his jawline and to the other. (Y/N) followed his movements exactly. The shaving cream felt different against his face, it was wet and cold, yet soft at the same time. He remembered times at the end of some school years, when he was younger, when the teacher would give them shaving cream on their desks to help clean the surfaces. He remembered drawing faces in the shaving cream, pictures of cartoon ghosts and cats. They proceeded to apply the shaving cream over their cupid’s bows, onto their chins, and their necks. When Dean was done, he rinsed his hand in the water, (Y/N) followed.

“Alright, the moment of truth,” Dean smiled at him as he picked up his razor. “We’ll start with the face and then make our way down to the neck. Just follow my lead, okay? I’ll go slow.”

“Okay,” (Y/N) nodded and picked up his razor.

Both of them turned to face the mirror. (Y/N) stared at his reflection for a moment, a part of him noting how humorous he looked with the beard of shaving cream before his eyes shifted over to Dean. As Dean began to shave his face, (Y/N) copied his movements. Every time Dean rinsed his razor in the sink, (Y/N) did as well. Everywhere Dean put his razor, (Y/N) put his.

It was a strange sensation, shaving. Since it was his first time, (Y/N) didn’t know how he felt about it. From the curl of his lip when he had to shave his cupid’s bow and chin, to the feeling of the shaving cream slowly running down his neck. It was new, but not disliked. It was easy enough, easier since he was following the live tutorial next to him. He couldn’t help but let his mind wander, though. Let his mind think back to the times when he was younger and watching from some random bathroom doorframe as Dean taught Sam to shave for the first time. Dean held the same expressions on his face back then when he taught Sam as now. A sort of proud, grown expression, giving (Y/N) the first taste of realization that Dean was the one who raised them, not their father. Fathers were supposed to teach their sons how to shave their faces for the first time, not the older brothers. It was almost as if Dean adapted the fatherly role in (Y/N) and Sam’s lives. (Y/N) would never forget that.

(Y/N) hissed. “Dammit,” he mumbled as he pulled the razor away from his face.

He looked in the mirror and could see a small, red circle appear on his left cheek. It had been the last strip of facial hair left. He had been doing so well up until then.

Dean’s head turned towards him before he let out a chuckle. He placed his razor down on the sink and leaned down to snag a small piece of cheap toilet paper. He moved over to his brother and tilted his head so that he could see the nick. Gingerly, he placed the piece of toilet paper onto the red mark. It stuck instantly to (Y/N)’s face.

“There we go,” Dean smirked and turned back to the sink. “Not bad on the face. One nick is pretty good for your first time. Now, onto the neck.”

(Y/N) did the same for his neck as he had done for his face, glancing in the mirror at his reflection while, now and then, turning to study his brother’s movements. He shaved his neck without incident, and when he rinsed his razor for the last time in the basin, the water now clouded with a mixture of hair and shaving cream, he felt a sense of accomplishment. He felt proud of himself. When Dean set his razor down, so did (Y/N). They looked at their reflections and examined themselves.

“And you're done,” Dean nodded. “All we have to do is rinse our faces,” Dean reached over, turned on the warm water from the tap, and cupped his hands to rinse off the rest of the shaving cream. Once Dean was finished, (Y/N) copied. “And we’re done.” Dean smiled at (Y/N) in the mirror.

When (Y/N) looked at his freshly shaven face, he ran his fingers over the places where the hair had been. The skin was smooth, something that he was going to have to get used to again, and he looked younger, in his opinion. The corner of his lips curled downwards in a frown.

“I look like a baby,” he mumbled.

Dean chuckled and shook his head. “No, you don’t. You look like a new man. Hey, facial hair grows back fast, and it’ll grow back a little more even this time. If you wanna keep it, I can show you how to shave around it when it does, to keep you looking clean and not like some homeless guy.”

“Really?” (Y/N) raised his brows.

“Of course. As long as you promise not to grow out a lumberjack beard or anything,” Dean dramatically shivered.

(Y/N) rolled his eyes. “No promises,” he chuckled.

“Oh!” Dean exclaimed. “Almost forgot. Aftershave!”

“Aftershave?”

“Yeah,” Dean reached over to the bottle that sat next to the shaving cream can. It was a small, green bottle of Brut. He splashed some into the palm of his hand before he put some in (Y/N)’s. He placed the bottle onto the counter and capped it. “It helps with those stupid razor burns and bumps.”

(Y/N) nodded as he looked down at the liquid in his hand. The scent was strong, and he recognized it as something Dean smelled of often. He, once again, copied Dean’s movements as Dean began to massage the liquid into his face and onto his neck. When (Y/N) massaged it onto his left cheek, he felt his skin begin to burn when it ran into the small nick on his face. Dean smirked.

“Burns, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah, why the hell does it burn?”

Dean shrugged. “Not too sure. You’ll get used to it. And once you stop cutting yourself while shaving, it won’t burn as bad.”

(Y/N) grimaced and continued to rub it in until all he could smell was the Brut and his entire face had been covered. Dean lowered his hands and unplugged the sink. The clouded water began to drain.

“There, now we’re officially done. What do you think?”

(Y/N) shrugged. “Not bad. I could get used to it, but I look stupid with this tissue on my face.”

“Oh, here,” Dean reached over and carefully took the wet paper off of his cut. “See? It’s like you didn’t even cut yourself.”

“Wow…” (Y/N) turned his face back and forth, examining the spots where the hair used to be.

“Now you can shave by yourself whenever you want. We just need to get you your own razors, and I can show you how to use an electric one when we get back to the bunker if you want.” Dean crossed his arms over his chest, his smile never faltering.

An identical smile made its way onto (Y/N)’s lips as he looked over at Dean. “Thanks, Dean. You’re a great big brother,” he spoke quietly.

Dean tilted his head down, narrowing his eyes. “What was that?”

“I said ‘You’re a great big brother’.” He spoke a little louder that time.

“Come again?” Dean cupped one of his hands behind his ear.

“You’re pushing it, Dean.”

“Alright, alright.” Dean laughed as he reached over and wrapped an arm around (Y/N)’s shoulders. (Y/N) placed his arms around Dean’s torso and hugged him tightly. “For the record, you’re the best little brother a guy could ask for. Just don’t tell Sam.”

(Y/N) smiled even wider. “I won’t.”

112 notes · View notes

drkmgs · 1 year

Text

Shapeshifters

Wednesday Addams x Reader

Warning: mentioned of death, poisoned

Story type: multiple chapters

next chapter

Shapeshifters — were hunted down by people who were envious of their power. They made up stories and marked shapeshifters as criminals. Thousands of shapeshifters are getting killed day by day. Until it's only Hundreds of them left in hiding.

Your parents were one of them, even though they're educators, who had a better chance of hiding their powers, but they were more concerned about your upcoming powers, having them at an early age in this era was dangerous. People started getting suspicious and children your age started to cast you out.

At the age of 5, you have mastered your powers and that's when your parents decided to send you to Nevermore Academy. You were exploring the school premises when you overheard your parents and the newly appointed principal of the Academy.

Your mom: Larissa. Please. You have to take care of Y/N. The Hunters are after us as soon as we left the country. It would be dangerous if Y/N tagged along with us.

Your dad: and as an educator to an educator, Y/N has potential. They already managed to master their power. They're highly aware of what is happening. They won't cause any trouble.

Larissa: You don't have to worry. I will take Y/N under my wing. I promise.

You respected your parent's and Larissa Weems's decisions. As years went by you grew closer to Larissa Weems, so close that she's already a second mother to you and on your 14th birthday, you received devastating news. The hunters got to your parents. You cried your eyes out in the arm of your mother.

Ever since your parents died, you weren't the same and Weems noticed. So she sent you on a quest. Find and Explore. Find your purpose in life and explore the world. At the age of 18, you've completed your quest. You have published 4 books about your journey, about your parents, about shapeshifters and their truth, and most of all about Nevermore Academy.

———

As you arrived at the Nevermore Academy, you got a very odd feeling, something is wrong. You flew over to Ophelia Hall, where your old room was. You swiftly landed on the balcony, changing your form from a raven to a human with your Nevermore uniform. You soon realized you landed on the wrong balcony.

Larissa: What a pleasing surprise, Y/N.

Y/N: It's nice to see you, mother.

You smiled at her. Larissa got in front of everybody standing in the room to hug you. Of course, you hugged her back. You notice the unfamiliar faces and turned your attention to them.

Y/N: I am very sorry for interrupting. I'm Y/N Weems.

Morticia: It's alright, child. I'm Morticia Addams. This is my husband Gomez Addams and our daughter Wednesday Addams. She'll be attending Nevermore starting today.

Larissa: This is Enid Sinclair, Wednesday's roommate. Miss Sinclair, would you be so kind to take them to the registrar's office to pick up Wednesday's new uniform and their schedules and also give them a little tour?

She turned to the blonde girl standing beside you and then she looked at you putting a hand on your shoulder.

Larissa: I'll see you later, Y/N. We'll talk about your journey.

With that Wednesday's parents and Principal Weems left the room.

:I'm Enid Sinclair! That is Wednesday Addams. She just transferred here. By the way, I'm a big fan of your books!

She turned to you as soon as the door slammed shut.

Y/N: Nice to meet you, Enid, and thank you for reading my books.

Enid: You should have it online, so a lot more people could read it and share it. What's your Instagram account, I'll follow you.

Y/N: I'm sorry but I don't have a phone or social media. I also want my books to be authentic and not influenced by people who assume to know everything because they have a search engine.

Enid: Well, you have a good point. How about you Wednesday?

Wednesday: I find social media to be a soul-sucking void of meaningless affirmation.

You were quite impressed with her comment. Something about her sparked your interest. She wasn't like any other people you meet. She was out of the ordinary. Enid showed both of you the school and the quad. Where she introduced each Outcast sitting in the quad right now.

Whenever you had the chance you'd steal a glance at Wednesday, but as soon as you laid eyes on her you would curse yourself for being a creep. This never happened to you. You weren't interested in relationships. Sure you have met people along the way but they weren't interesting as the pigtailed girl standing beside you.

When Enid slipped into a conversation with her crush. Well, it was obvious to you that she has a crush on this gorgon guy Ajax, who she just introduced. You took the chance to talk to Wednesday.

Y/N: So, Addams. Why did you transfer here?

Wednesday: I dropped piranhas in a swimming pool, where my brother's bullies were training. My parents managed to get me in here, so I wouldn't have any criminal charges.

Y/N: Huh. How's your brother's bully?

Wednesday: Lost his genitals.

Y/N: Great. No more asshole kids from him then. One way to save the human race. Would you like to flee this gruesome scene?

You nod to Enid and Ajax's way, who were still invested in their conversation. Wednesday nods and you showed her the way out.

#wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams x you #wednesday addams #wednesday x reader #wednesday x you #wednesday #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader #wednesday netflix #wednesday series #wednesday nevermore #wednesday x y/n #wednesday addams x gn reader #drkmgsstories #larrisa weems #principal weems

408 notes · View notes

hauntedwitch04 · 7 months

Text

Fools in love

Remus Lupin x reader

Words: 1,8k words

Warnings: none, just fluff and idiots totally in love with each other

Author’s note: Hi everybody! It fells so good being back, I missed writing and this is the first one-shot I write in a lot of time, so I'm really grateful for every tiny bit of love you gave me. Hope you enjoy the first day of my Halloween Party

Requests are open I Ask

My masterlist

Join the Taglist

Buy me a coffee - Patreon submission

🎃Halloween party 🎃

DAY 1: “Take my sweater, I love you and i don’t want you to transform into a popsicle”

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Rain beats hard against the windows of the Gryffindor common room. The fire near me crackles, and the pieces of wood seem to break like bone after a very hard punch, as my heart probably had a few hours ago.

I've spent a lot of time by the fire, but even so, I can't shake the cold that got into my bones, in the rush in the rain I made to get back to the castle, after waiting for more than two hours for a Ravenclaw boy who asked me out, outside the Mielandia.

I still remember the feeling of the cold wind against my cheeks wet with hot tears. My sweater was now dumped on the sofa, soaked with rain, and dripping rhythmically on the floor, mesmerizing me.

The fire dances before my eyes, and I can't help but feel like two people hugged tightly, dancing to music of their own created by their love.

A little bit I feel stupid in feeling so bad, for a guy who basically I don't even like since I've actually been in love with one of my best friends for what seems like ages now, but I think the thing that has hurt me most of all is not being able to be loved even by this mysterious guy whose name I honestly can't even remember.

For hours now I've been asking myself if I'm really worth loving? Why should people fall in love with me? Am I worthy of someone's love? If I can't even date a guy I don't like, how could I ever date the one I consider the love of my life? And why the hell does Remus John Lupin have to be so perfect?

I spend what seems like days sitting there staring into the fire. I hear people passing by, coming in and out of the dorms, some stop and look at me with compassion, trying to somehow share my pain, while others whisper hypotheses and theories about why I am in that situation. I, however, remain impassive, like a marble statue, the only emotion I allow to shine through are the tears I cannot stop.

It is still a long time before I can glance at the clock without seeing it fogged up by my crying.

Midnight.

I close my eyes and pray for any otherworldly entity to erase my memory of this rainy early October day, when my thoughts are interrupted by a warm hand resting on my shoulder. I turn slightly and my breath catches in my throat for a moment, for fear that the object of my thoughts will see itself reflected in my eyes and be able to read into me, into my soul.

"Lily told me you've been stationary here for more than four hours. I had to practically make a deal with the devil to get Poppy to let me leave early to come to you, luckily yesterday wasn't too bad." He says quietly as he sits down next to me, the famous Remus Lupin, every Hogwarts girl's dream, looking at me softly. Shit, I think to myself, there was a full moon yesterday that's why I didn't see him all day. I hadn't worried about it too much actually before I went to the appointment, too caught up in the anxiety of this meeting, but now I realize what a shitty friend I've been to him. I look at him and see his face battered by sleep and exhaustion, while only a few new scratches or scars adorn his face. My eyes land on his, and selling his worried look I can't help but feel guilty and go back to crying. After a few seconds, I realize that I am not only crying out of guilt, but also out of the realization that he, the boy I love more than my own life, will never see me in the same way that I see him but only as a friend to be taken care of.

His warm hands brush my shoulders and I immediately shiver at that contact. His gaze grows even more concerned and he immediately decides to take off his heavy sweater, one of his favorites that his mother made him last year after his had all grown small when he grew up all of a sudden during the summer. As he takes off the sweater, with his arms still above his head and this one still covered by the garment, his T-shirt, which he wore underneath, rises slightly so that his athletic body covered in scratches can be seen. I feel my cheeks turn red as I look at him, but I am quickly distracted by my friend handing me his sweater.

"Take my sweater, I love you and I don't want you to turn into a popsicle," he says, fixing his hair. His words strike me more pain than a bullet, but I hide my distress behind a bitter smile, and put on his sweater. Immediately I am hit by his scent: chocolate, cinnamon, ink mixed with book pages and cigarettes. I thank him in a thin voice, before returning to silence.

"I guess I understand that the date didn't go very well." He says after a few minutes, trying to figure out if I felt like talking about it, watching me carefully as I played with my sleeves.

"Actually, there wasn't even a date." I reply, chuckling bitterly.

"What do you mean?" He retorts confused, as he moves closer to me, to study me better.

"Well he never showed up. I stood like a moron in front of the place where he told me to meet for a couple of hours, even caught some rain, then when I realized that I was merely making a fool of myself I came running back here, and I haven't moved from here since." I explain quickly, not wanting to cry again.

I see the anger mounting in his eyes as he takes one of my hands between his and brings it to his mouth.

"If anyone has made a fool of himself it's him, honey. He's a fool if he missed an opportunity like this. You deserve so much better, the best person the world has to offer." He says in a whisper as he holds me in his arms, doing nothing but twisting the knife in the wound making me bleed more and more.

After a while he breaks away from that grip and takes something out of his pants pocket, which I discover is a piece of chocolate, and hands it to me.

"Eat, you'll feel better." He tells me, but I shake my head.

"I don't feel like eating, Remmy." I try calling him by his nickname, hoping to soften him, knowing that when he puts his mind to something, it's hard to change his mind.

"Honey, I won't take no for an answer. I care about you, like a sister, and I don't want to not only see you suffer for that moron but also starve to death." He continues, pulling my face up, resting one of his fingers under my face.

I don't know why I feel something breaking inside, as if a pitcher full of water has decided to pour in, and I no longer have control over my words.

"That's exactly my problem Remmy. I'm not crying, sitting here for over four hours for a guy whose name I can't even remember, I'm feeling like I'm dying inside because what happened made me realize that the only guy I've ever really loved in my life will never look at me, if he's not even interested in me even a person who's not even worth a hole in his sock. I've been sitting here for hours crying because I'm afraid that I'm not worthy of being loved, because I'm afraid that I'll have to live with these damn feelings, because I'm afraid that I'll see this boy grow up and fall in love with someone else while I'll still be here, and he'll continue to see me as just a sister, and he just happens to have reminded me of that fact himself just a little while ago." At my last words I see his eyes light up, having realized who I was talking about, after being dark and dull throughout my entire speech. "And now if you don't mind, after screwing up our friendship, I'm going to bed." And I try to get up, but I don't make it in time because a hand encircles my wrist and Remus draws me toward him forcefully, in contrast to his delicate lips brushing against mine. It takes me a few seconds to return the kiss, unsure of what this moment might change between us, before I let myself go completely to him. I bring my hands behind his head, and run my fingers through his hair, while his hands go around my hips to take me on his lap, as we continue to kiss, as if we were suffocating and that was our oxygen.

"I love you, I love you, I've loved you for what seems like forever, and I'm just a coward for not telling you sooner." He says pulling away slightly, so he can breathe before giving me another full kiss. Then he starts giggling, and I look at him shocked, before I start laughing too. We laugh until our stomachs hurt and tears furrow our faces. Remus stands up, picks me up and lays me down on the couch in front of the fire, then lies down next to me.

"We are two idiots." I say, chuckling some more. "We are so stupidly in love that we didn't realize each other's feelings."

"We're all idiots in love, honey." Remus replies, kissing my forehead. "Sirius will never get tired of holding it against me that he was right." He says giggling and hiding his face in the crook of my neck.

"Not even Lily." I chuckle in response as well, before I feel that being held tightly in her arms, sleep is slowly taking over my senses.

"By the way, you look very good in my sweater, honey." Those are the last words I hear before I fall completely asleep.

At that moment, however, neither of us knows yet that our friends will never let us forget the fact that they found us the next morning cuddled on the couch in the Common Room, in front of the fire, and I was wearing the sweater of what would become my husband and the father of my children, to whom Sirius would tell this story and how their parents fell in love and how he and Aunt Lily were right.

#hauntedwitch04's writing #becky's halloween party #halloween party #marauders x reader #marauders fluff #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin imagine #remus x reader

128 notes · View notes

imaginecolby · 3 months

Text

Friends with Benefits || Part Six - The Scare

"y/n, i cannot believe you are still coming to work." your friend said to you as you were returning to your office after your lunch break.

"i used up so much of my PTO at christmas, i'm trying to accumulate some more so i can have some extra time for my maternity leave." you laughed as you sat back down at your desk.

"you're better than me. i would've been out of here as soon i could." they laughed. they returned to their desk, and you got back to work.

a few hours passed, and you were making your way through the day like normal. returning emails, making phone calls to clients, putting out fires in the department you oversaw. everything was going as well as you would've expected. until it wasn't.

all of a sudden, you felt the beginning of a contraction.

"oh no, mister man. it is too early for you to be coming." you groaned through gritted teeth. you coaxed yourself through the contraction, and is passed after about a minute. you went on about your day for another few hours, before you felt the pain return. you paced your office, which seemed to help contraction go away. after about the third or fourth occurrence, you figured you needed to call your doctor.

"i'd recommend you come in and be seen. i have an open appointment in twenty that you can take." your doctor said to you over the phone.

"perfect. i will be there." you said to them. you luckily were able to get a ride from a friend, and your doctor's office was only a few blocks from your job. you text colby while you were on your way, and let him know what was going on.

"i'm sure they're just braxton hicks, but my doctor just wants me to come in for some monitoring for a little bit. i'm on my way to the hospital now." your message read.

"i will be there as soon as i can." he replied. you pulled into the hospital parking lot, thanking your friend for the ride. you checked in and were immediately taken to a room. you waited just a few minutes before your doctor came in, explaining that they wanted to monitor your vitals, as well as your baby's.

after about twenty minutes, there was a knock on the door. you called for them to come in, and colby fell through the door.

"y/n! is everything okay?" he sighed, falling to the floor next to your bed.

"yes. everything is okay." you said, brushing his hair back from his forehead. "geez, did you run over here?" you teased, wiping his sweat from your hand.

"practically." he laughed awkwardly. just then, your doctor came back into the room.

"alright you two, or should i say three," they paused to take a seat. "everything is still as great as your last check up. baby boy is just getting a little impatient in there."

"are we at the point of bed rest yet?” you asked.

"not quite. i do recommend taking it easy, so you're not overly stressed. but not complete bed rest." they advised.

"okay. i can do that. work isn't too busy at the moment, so fingers crossed it stays that way." you said, rubbing your belly.

"perfect. let's get you set up to head home." your doctor said to you. you collected all of your things, got your discharge paperwork, and headed home. fortunately, your work day was almost done, so you didn't miss to much of your day.

you were in contact with your boss as soon as you got home to work out a plan for a lighter work load, and potentially starting your maternity leave sooner. they were fortunately very accommodating for your needs, it was lucky that you had such a good relationship with them.

once you got back to work, you were mainly working half days for the last month and a half leading up to your maternity leave. on your last day of work, your coworkers threw you a small baby shower for your last day.

“i cannot believe you all did this for me. this is all too much.” you said through tears, as you continued opening your gifts.

“you deserve it! we love you and we cant wait to meet your little one. we wish you and colby luck, and are sending you all the congratulations in the world.” one of them said to you.

“did i hear my name?” you heard a familiar voice ask. you turned and saw colby walking into the conference room where your festivities were being held.

“what are you doing here!?” you asked gleefully, getting up to walk greet him. you gave him a hug and pressed a quick to his lips.

“oh, you know i never miss a good party.” he teased. “no, f/n text me and told me you were gonna need some help carrying things to the car.” he said.

as the shower was winding down, colby began taking things to the car, meticulously packing everything as to not damage any of the gifts. you thanked your friends again, gathering up the leftover food to take home. you made your way out to the parking garage to meet colby, walking with a few of your friends, the ones that actually planned the event. you thanked them profusely again for the shower, and for all the gifts.

once you got home, you helped colby as much as you could with helping bringing in the gifts. once they were all inside, you began to unpack and clean up, placing them around your home in the places where they would be most used. you had so many blankets, clothes, toys and bottles. your baby was going to be well outfitted for his best life.

you stood in his nursery, which was finally all put together. colby had spent numerous hours in this room, putting together the crib, the dresser, and all the other furniture. he’d arranged it wonderfully, and you couldn’t believe how much this room had changed from your boring guest room. you stood there lost in thought for a while, before they were interrupted by colby’s voice.

“hey, there you are. you okay?” he asked, wiping away a stray tear from your cheek.

“yeah,” you said softly. “now that im out of work, it’s really starting to set in. in a few weeks, we’re gonna have a baby.” you said, rubbing your belly.

“i still can’t wrap my mind around it. seeing you grow every day has been so mind blowing, and seeing how big he’s gotten on his ultrasounds. it’s been kinda crazy.” colby laughed, placing his hand on yours on your belly. “but im excited.”

“me too.” you said, smiling up at him. he kissed you softly before leaning down to press a kiss to your belly. you couldn’t believe you were coming up on the end of your pregnancy, but you really were excited. especially knowing that you had colby on your side. you made a great team, and you knew you were gonna raise a wonderful kid.

#colby brock #colby brock imagine #colby brock fanfic #colby brock fanfiction #colby brock imagines #colby brock x reader #fwb

43 notes · View notes

watchmegetobsessed · 2 years

Note

BRO IM BEGGING

please make a dadrry one shot (preferably for another one universe) about harry comes home from the studio and walks into the kitchen to greet y/n and the baby with kisses—he kisses baby first then goes to kiss y/n but the baby starts getting jealous and whines and they start saying things like “what daddy cant kiss momma?” and they giggle a bit. harry kisses y/n some more to get a reaction out of the baby and then the baby starts really crying and then harry takes them from y/ns arms and is like “ok ok i’m sorry i’m sorry” and kisses the baby a bunch and y/n cant stop laughing while harry’s trying to console the baby lol

please make this i’ll literally cry tears of joy

BABY MAKING

PAIRING: husband!dad!Harry X Reader

SUMMARY: Leo is going through his daddy phase and Harry brings up baby making.

WORD COUNT: 1.2k

MORE FROM THE ANOTHER ONE UNIVERSE | SUPPORT ME!

It’s a rare occasion that Harry wraps up work at the studio early, so he can head home before he has to pick up either the twins or Ellie from school or any extra classes. It’s barely past lunch time, the band had to finish because Sarah and Mitch are taking their son to a doctor’s appointment and Harry decided to call it a day and not continue without them. Mostly because it gives him time to be at home with you and baby Leo without the other three little rascals.

On his way home he picks up some cupcakes from your favorite place, knowing how happy the kids will be to find the treats when they get home in the afternoon. Once he has the sweets secured on the passenger seat he finally heads home.

“Baby?” he calls out as he pushes the front door closed with his hips, the box of cupcakes in one hand, his keys in the other.

“Kitchen!” you answer, Leo’s babbling following after your voice.

He finds you standing by the stove, your day got a bit messed up when the neighbor showed up unannounced and kept you up for about an hour, talking about how her cat got lost the other week. Miss Rogers is a nice lady, but sometimes she is too lonely and keeps up everyone and anyone she comes across.

You’re making a quick pasta for a late lunch, Leo has had a bottle already, but you’ll share some of the pasta with him as well. Lately he’s been getting introduced to more and more kinds of food and so far he’s been enjoying everything, especially broccoli and eggs.

He is sitting on your hip, his tiny hands gripping your oversized shirt as you’re stirring the sauce in the pan, watching your every movement like a hawk, as if he had any idea what you were doing.

“Hello, my loves,” Harry coos as he walks in, Leo’s head snapping around in an instant as a grin spreads across his chubby face.

Leo has been obsessed with his daddy. After a few months of mommy phase he now likes to be extra clingy when Harry is around, demanding all of his attention. He claps and giggles as Harry nears the two of you and leaning down he kisses his cheek about a million times, making him laugh even more.

“Hi daddy,” you smile as you watch the scene.

Harry presses one last, sloppy kiss to Leo’s cheek before turning to face you with a lovesick smile.

“Hello mommy. Missed you,” he hums, placing the cupcakes and keys to the kitchen island and leaning in he kisses your lips, but as soon as his mouth touches yours, Leo starts to protest and push his face away from you. “Oh wow,” Harry laughs with wide eyes as Leo tries to grab his hair and pull him closer to him, demanding more kisses. “What, daddy can’t kiss momma now?” he huffs and Leo just babbles in response as if he understood the question.

“You come home and I’m instantly the enemy, huh? That’s not how you acted when it was just the two of us,” you tell your baby, who only pays attention to Harry.

“Mommy needs some kisses too, buddy,” Harry grins before trying to kiss you again, but this time Leo goes harder and actually starts crying at the sight of his parents attempting to lock lips. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry!” he chuckles, moving back instantly and taking him from your hold.

Leo keeps crying as if the world was ending, his tiny hands gripping Harry’s shirt as his daddy showers him with kisses to calm him down.

“That’s what I get for carrying him for nine months,” you mumble under your breath, returning your attention to the sauce on the stove.

“Aw, baby Leo wants all of daddy’s attention, huh?” he coos, holding him to his chest, trying to soothe him. Leo lays his head to his shoulder, slowly stopping with the crying and enjoying being the center of all of Harry’s attention and you can’t even be mad at him, because it reminds you a lot of Harry himself.

He dances around the kitchen, gently rocking the dramatic baby from side to side until his cries fully die down.

“Mm, something is a bit smelly and it’s not the food I smell,” Harry chuckles and holding Leo up he sniffs his butt before grimacing. “Ow, that’s one smelly bum-bum, my love.”

“Can you change him, please?” you ask even though you know he’d do it anyway. Harry has never been the kind of dad who needed to be ordered around and told what to do.

“Of course. Let’s get this baby butt clean,” he comments before walking out of the kitchen and up to the nursery.

A few minutes later you turn the stove off under the sauce and head upstairs to check on the boys. Walking into the nursery you find Harry standing by the changing table, Leo lying on it with his hands and feet in the air, his pants are gone, but his body is on, putting his chubby thighs on display as Harry keeps talking to him.

“I know you’re team daddy now, but daddy is team mommy, so you’ll have to let me kiss her, okay? Will you let me? Daddy will be very sad if he can’t kiss momma, you wouldn’t want that, right?”

Leo sticks his tongue out as a reply and Harry pretends to be hurt and shocked as you walk up to him and hug him from behind. Leo eyes you suspiciously, but this time at least he doesn’t start crying seeing you interact with Harry.

“We love mommy, right? She is the best,” Harry hums, as he takes Leo from the changing table and holds him to his chest. He watches you with his eyebrows furrowed and you take a chance, pressing a kiss to Harry’s dimpled cheek.

Leo sighs dramatically, but doesn’t protest this time, though he grabs onto Harry’s face and presses his mouth to his daddy’s cheek, which equals to a kiss.

“I wonder who he gets his attitude from,” you chuckle, letting go of Harry to stand in front of him.

“But isn’t it adorable?” Harry grins proudly.

“You wanted another kid to get another copy of yourself, didn’t you?” you accuse him just as a joke.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, baby,” he shrugs his shoulders innocently before kissing Leo’s cheek again. “But maybe we should have another one to see if they would take after me too!”

“Oh no, the baby making has ended!” you shake your head instantly, making him laugh.

“Well, not entirely, right? We were practicing baby making just the other night,” he smirks, so pleased with himself, referring back to that quickie you had in the shower after every kid was put to bed finally.

“Safe baby making. Don’t even think about anything else!” you warn him, heading towards the door. “If you’re done with bonding with your son, bring him down for his late lunch, please.”

“Yes mommy!” he calls after you, but you can hear it in his voice that he is grinning cheekily, probably already plotting how he’ll seduce tonight. Not that he’ll have a lot of work with that…

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles au #harry styles fluff #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles blurb #dadrry #dad!harry #the another one universe

2K notes · View notes

0fucsgiveon · 1 year

Text

𝓐 𝓣𝓸𝓾𝓬𝓱 𝓞𝓯 𝓕𝓲𝓻𝓮

𝙒𝘼𝙍𝙉𝙄𝙉𝙂𝙎!- choking, possessive behavior, billy!russo x fem!reader, dark!Billy Russo. Knife play, daddy kink, spanking, guns and knifes, murder, drugs and alchol, (Dom sub dynamics) stalking, overstimulation, squirting, slapping, rough topics. Toxicity (let me know if i miss anything!) not proofread

18+ 𝘾𝙊𝙉𝙀𝙉𝙏 𝙈𝙄𝙉𝙊𝙍𝙎 𝘿𝙊𝙉𝙊𝙏 𝙄𝙉𝙏𝙀𝙍𝘼𝘾𝙏

Y/n was a women of power whatever she wanted she got. She was the leader of one of the most top gangs in new york which only consists of women. Though one thing was for sure she despised men they were the annoying fly that she tried to get rid of but they kept comming. That all changed when she decided to make an alliance with the one and only Billy

You took a deep breath the smell of gun powder and smoke filled you nose. The smell was all but familiar it made your heart skip a beat and walk with more force. As you walked along many workers bowed down to you. You loved power the one thing you never had as a little girl and you couldn’t help the smirk that spread across your face. A girl with short red hair and glasses that sat on her nose perfectly, spoke as she fiddled with the pen in her suit. “Mrs, i’m sorry to bother you. But your appointment arrived early and he asked if you could hurry up”

“Ah i see” you spoke softly and looked at the girl who was shaking. “Good job, go ahead and take a break i know its a little scary, and remember he can’t and wont do anything as long as im here”

The girl smiled and nodded as she walked away and sat on a nerby couch.

You slowly walked up the stairs carefully listening to the small sounds of heavy feat walking around the room. As you reached the door you slowly opened the door and locked it behind you. Slowly turning to see a guy with rugged clothes and buzzed hair, he had cuts on his face and deep brown eyes that were trailing down your body and up to your face. You stared blankly at him for awhile than slowly sat down on a leather chair crossing your legs. He looked down at your thighs that the slant on your dress exposed to his feasting eyes . “You know were here for business and i don’t like to have my time wasted. Scar face” you spoke with venom as you stared him in the eyes. Billy’s eyebrows furrowed and he walked towards you with a low chuckle. “Listen, sweetheart I’m not here to waste my time either” he turned around and sat down spreading his legs and leaning back.

You scoffed and rolled your eyes before looking back at him. “Before we get down to business i want you to know i hate men and the only reason im talking to you right now is because you have stuff i need and i have stuff you need”

“Trust me princess ive heard all about your hate towards men and how you had such a fucked up life with your poor dad-“ you threw a knife right at the wall it barley touching his face as you walked over to him placing both of your hands on the arm of his chair. “You have no right to talk about him you understand”

Billy just smirked and pulled you closer by the chin with his hand. “Don’t worry princess im not here to hurt you or talk about your shitty life” his voice was stern but spoke with a hint of calmness. That made your heart race and feel your cheek’s turn hot. You both sat there in quiet for a moment before you pulled away and sat down pouring a glass of 1980 rose wine. You looked at him intensely before taking a sip and getting back to the discussion.

The meeting was faster than you thought and billy was more agreeable and not as indecisive as people made him out be.

“See you later sweetheart” he playfully winked and walked out which caused you to roll your eye’s.

A few months went by everything was going smoothly. Billy has moved his crew in your hideout, so you seen him a lot more. You would be lying if you actually didn’t appreciate his presence. He would often talk about his past life, which you related too. But he mostly talked about his “psychologist girlfriend”. You didnt like her and practically wanted to rip her head off. Which led you to this situation right now. You forced yourself to look down at the broken window where her hopeless body laid. She tried to kill you so you fought back which led to her bleeding out on the sidewalk surrounded by random people. You felt your heart thump and blood drip down your face to your eyebrow.

You looked over to see billy with a blank expression than down at the body than back at you. You back up and ran to find your gun. Slowly you crept to the door. “WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU! AFTER ALL I DONE YOU DO THIS. YOUR FUCKING BITCH” billy kicked the door open and when he was about to turn a corner you knocked him down. “Heh, im the bitch shes the one who fucking started it! I did you a favor! She was sleeping with other guys billy!” You shouted. “Your a fucking liar” he flipped you over and onto the floor. “Hmft, i caught her in the act and was about to call you but she attacked me, his fucking clothes are over there.” He slowly let go of you to turn and look where an unfamiliar man’s clothes were.

You slowly got up and wiped your eyebrow and the two slashes on your face one on the left cheek and the other on the right corner of your forehead. Billy slowly got up and turned to face you. You stared at him for a second before he ran and put his hands around your throat enough to hurt but not to remove the air from your lungs. He looked into your eyes than at your lips. “Come on bill, are you going to kill me” you smiled before you raised a knife to his throat. “Now why would i do that sweetheart” he slowly leaned in your lips inches apart and the knife slowly creating an almost scratch mark. “Bill-“ he kissed you before you could finish and you slowly let go of the knife before wrapping your arms around his neck. His grip losened on your throat. Sirens were heard and you both stopped before you walked out with billy right on your track.

When you reached the car you started the engine and sped off. The whole ride was silent. “So your just not going to talk” his voice spoke gently. You cleared your throat “theres nothing to talk about.” You pressed the gas peddle going at 90 now. “Sweetheart, i know your lying” he glared at you.

“Look, I don’t got time for this billy” you glared at him. He scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Fuck if your going to act like this than stop the car.” You slammed the breaks and looked at him. “Just get the fuck out okay.” He scoffed and open the door slamming it behind him.

One thing was for sure you would never tell him was you were the girl he used to play with the girl with the shitty pedophile of a dad. You slammed you head against you seat speeding to the hideout.

It had been two weeks since the fight you guys had. You hadn’t heard or seen from him since than. You played with your knife examining it, tracing over the edges with your finger tip. Slowly you sat up placing the knife in a secret compartment. Walking out of the room your heels clicking against the wooden floor in the quiet house. Making your way to the kitchen you took out glass of red wine. You looked at the corner of your eye, he was there just staring at you blankly. In his tight black demin jeans with a tight black shirt to match. What you wouldnt do to rip it right of him and leave marks all over his body. His grunt caught your attention and your turned over to look at him than look away.

Not bothering to give him the time of day you walked right past him sitting down crossing your legs. “ah, i see your still mad at me sweetheart” his voice rang in your ears like a soft melody you haven’t listen to in awhile. Ignoring him you took a sip, finally turning to look at him he was already in front of you looking down at you. You slowly looked up. “What are you doing here this late billy. What do you want?” Your voice sounded cruel, you saw the way his jaw clench and he took a deep breath. “ i -i came to say sorry, fuck y/n im so fucking sorry ive been tryna call you but you changed your number so ive been keeping my eye on you..” his confession was quiet but it was loud an clear. Weirdly it made your heart skip a beat at his confession. Normal girls would run away gag and be scared or disgusted that they were being “stalked”. But you weren’t normal far from it. You felt your cheeks get hot and listen to billy mumble for words. “And i just want to be with you. I want to so fucking much y/n” hearing enough you pulled him by the shirt standing up and kissing his lips with so much passion and fire he almost fell over. Slowly he kissed you back moving the stool to push you into the counter.

Your hand went to the back of his neck scratching softly making him groan in response. He pulled your hair to make your mouth open so he could slide his tongue in. You could feel yourself getting wet and your belly make flips. As well as billys hard on. He could hardly take it anymore his jeans becoming to tight. At that moment his hands were touching everywhere. “Fuck i cant take it anymore i need to touch you feel you.. taste you, it’s driving me fucking insane” billy felt like a teenage boy wanting to fuck you right there. He lifted you up and put you on his shoulder dragging you to your room. You laughed at his eagerness with made him slap your ass a few times shutting you up.

He threw you on the bed and just looked at you. You looked so beautiful swollen lips and soft red marks on your neck. Your dress rolled above your plush soft thighs. “Your so fucking beautiful y/n” he rasped and kissed you softly while slowly taking off your dress. you moaned when you felt his knee between your legs grinding against it your core soaking his pants because you forgot to wear underwear.” Billy fuck i cant take it any more.. please do something please” you became a pleading mess not even remembering your self anymore while lust clouded your judgement. Billy laughed above you. Finally finished getting you all naked and bare for his eyes to see. You felt a little insecure hiding your self from his hungry eyes. He make a type of growl sound and lifted your wrists above your head. “ tsk tsk, none of that now i want to see all of this body all of it for me and its so fucking gorgeous so stop hiding it” it felt more of a command than a compliment and a whimper came out of you. “ shh Dont worry daddy will take care of you” he hummed while tying your wrist together with the rope of your dress. You would be mad that he ruined your dress but that was for later.

“Billy please just fuck me now i cant take it anymore” he grabbed your throat and bit your lip making it bleed into his mouth. You whined at the pain but it felt so good. “Thats not my name sweetheart, i only pleasure good girls and you haven’t been so good lately” he softly kisses around your nipples almost feathered like to the point you could barley feel it. He was making you angry with all his teasing and he was doing it on purpose and you knew it. “Bill- Daddy fuck i cant take i need you so fucking bad right just look how wet you made me, i cant take it anymore your the only one that can please me~” your voice was soft full of a seductive tone that made Billy’s ears pick up. “Since you asked so nicely ill give it to you, but you have to follow my rules” he whispered in your ears. You nodded eagerly agreeing to whatever he said.

He slowly kissed down to your thighs leaving bite marks sometimes along the way making you squirm. He slapped your face making you cry a little while he shook his head. You looked in his eyes catching the warning trying to stay as still as possible. He licked. Down your thighs so close to the place you needed him the most.

You where whining for him to lick there. When he finally did a low moan came from him. “So fucking sweet and all fucking mine.” He grumbled while sucking on your clit and prodding your entrance with his fingers. Moans left your lips he was skillful with his actions hitting spots your fingers couldn’t reach licking you like his life depended on it. You felt like you were in heaven. But you couldn’t keep your thighs open no matter how hard you tried. “Fuck daddy t’s too much” you kept squirming. “ mmm i know baby but you got to be still daddy can do something for you but it might hurt okay” he was asking for your consent which you gladly agreed to. He pulled a knife from a nearby desk staring up at you. “All you got to do i keep these pretty thighs open and then you wont get cut, ok princess” he whispered in your ear and nibbled slightly. You moaned in response pleasing billy. He slid down slowly and trace the knife around your nipples. The touch foreign but pleasurable, it felt like a scratch but it didn’t hurt. Slowly he dragged it down to your thighs careful to put light pressure.

When he reached you sweet spot he started his work again giving you beyond pleasure you could imagine. The knife only slightly touching you thigh. Your moans were more than audible and the room was filled with slurp noises. You trued you best to keep you thighs apart and felt your high approaching. “Daddy! Fuck imm gonn-na cum” you almost screamed. Billy moaned in response and continued. Your high washed over you but he never slowed his pace. Making you over sensitive. “Fu- stop it cant take no more” you almost cried. “Just one more baby ok, have to make sure your all prepped and wet” after what seemed like decades you came three times already sore from his torment. He threw the knife aside and came up to kiss you. Your juices still on his lips. You moaned and kissed him back. He rest his head against yours and pulled your thighs around his waist thrusting all of him into you in one push. His eyes rolled back and a low groan came out making you feel butterfly’s.

“Fuck your so tight, made just for me huh,” he slapped your cheek and harshly thrusted up into you. Making you let out a loud mewl. “All for you, fuck fell ssso good” tears were running down your cheeks. And billy started thrusting into you at a fast pace that hit your sweet spot over and over. He whispered dirty words in your ears and looked down at you. He wrapped his hand around your throat still setting a brutal pace. “Fuck look at me. Mmm want to see me little whore all for me!” He felt you clenched at those words and sped up and moved his fingers to your clit. “You like that huh? Being my little whore” he slapped you and you moaned loudly. “Mmgh yess all your daddy. Your little whore.. gonna cum!!” You started shaking feeling an unfamiliar feeling.

“Its ok cum let me feel your juices” he kissed you as you came feeling a flush if juices come out. “Fuck look at that made you squirt so fucking hot” he groaned and released inside of you. You shared a passionate kiss. Flipping you guys over now you on top. Still inside you rolled you hips against him. “Fuck you look so pretty like that baby girl” he grabbed your hims and made you move slowly. “Billy ngh, i need to tell you something.” You stared down at hime while you slowly moved up and down bitting your lips. “Ok baby tell me” he leaned up so now your guys were impossibly close while he sucked on your neck leaving marks. You moaned softly. “ im.. im the girl.. who played with you as a child..” you whispers. He immediately looked up at you staring you in the eyes as he pulled you closes thrusting up into you at such a fast pace your nipples bounced in his face. You moaned loudly as he flipped you over kissing you everywhere. Your face scrunched up in pleasure trying to form words. “Shh. I know your her, i knew for a long time but fuck been waiting for you to say it. Ima give you my kids yeah? Were gonna have a fucking happy family ok?” He moaned in your ears and you just nodded in reply.

“Gonna fill you up now okay?” He started rubbing your clit bringing you over the edge as you saw stars as you both cummed together. He stilled for a moment looking in your eyes. He looked sad and you pulled him in for a hug. “ I’ve done some bad things y/n..” he whispered.

“So have i billy, but that doesn’t matter ok?”

He hummed in response and gave you a soft kiss.

“I love you y/n… i always will” your heart skipped a beat at the confession and your cried a little. His brow scrunched up in worry. And you softly laughed.

“I love you to billy, and i always will”

You both cuddled and enjoyed each others embrace.

You felt safe a feeling that was hardly recognizable.

But one thing was for sure is that your love for each-other was a burning passion with a touch of fire.

#billy russo x female reader #billy russo fic #billy russo smut #dark smut #smut #the punisher #billy russo #ben barnes #ben barnes smut

316 notes · View notes