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lailawinchesterr · 3 months

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berry vodka [jo harvelle]

masterlist

summary; too many shots lead to the confession you’ve been keeping inside for seven months. tags; bi!fem!reader, angst, fluff, insecurities in sexuality but no details, not proofread. — verse: berry vodka next part (smut)

“C’mon, Dean, I’ve done everything you’ve asked for, I’ve tried—”

“Wasn’t enough if the demon’s still out there!” His voice is so clear it makes me shake. I’ve known Dean for years and years, he’s hardly ever raised his voice at me. No one respects women more than he and his brother do, and not once have they yelled at me no matter what I did— and now he’s screaming, for what? Because I let some demon outsmart me for two seconds?

I scoff and storm out of the bedroom we were fighting in. It was a stupid hunt right next to Ellen’s hence why we’re staying at the roadhouse for the week, so i end up at the bar.

Thankfully, so is my favorite blond. “Hey, Jo.” She smiles wide, waving, and in return dropping the shot glass in her hands to the counter.

“Hi, berry. You’ve been kind of hot and heavy with Dean these days. You okay?” I roll back so I’m sitting straight.

“Thanks,” I blow a kiss when she hands me a Berry Vodka, “we’re ‘kay, he’s just being an asshole.”

She agrees with me (though I’ve yet to tell her what he’s being an asshole about) which makes me lean forward on the bar. “I mean, I’m his friend and you’d think that after hunting together for so long he’d stop blaming me for guys hitting on me.”

Her eyes widen and this time she almost drops the glass on accident, though it’s hardly a close call as she easily regains her composure. “He— what?”

“What?”

“Dean what?”

“He got mad at me?”

“For guys flirting?”

“Yes.”

“Why—” she clears her throat and looks back down at her work, still moving, “why would he— why? Is he like— does he like you?”

“Does Dean—” I let out a laugh, “does Dean like me? Did hell freeze over? No, of course not. He’s not jealous, he’s overprotective. He’s being an ass but he isn’t in love with me.”

“Good,” she lets out a small breath and my heart seizes. Yeah, of course it’s good. Jo’s always been in love with Dean, him liking me would cause a bit of an issue. “I mean— whatever. Yeah. Anyways, why’s he fighting with you anyways?”

“I let a demon go. Thought he was an overly eager guy so I sent him on his way.”

“How’s that your fault?”

“He… might have mentioned he’s a demon— but I thought he was trying to be funny or something, I didn’t know he actually was one. Turns out he wanted to find Sam and Dean. He has something on Yellow Eyes.”

“You guys getting close, then?” One quick nod. The heavy alcohol in the drink burns as I try to finish as much of it as possible at once. I hand it back to Jo and ask for just shots. “You sure?” Another nod.

I need to let go tonight if I’ll be awake and attentive with the guys tomorrow on their wild goose chase. She hands me one shot and I shake my head. She furrowed her eyebrows. “C’mon Jo, I’ll pay.”

“That’s not it and you know it. You can’t drink.”

“What does that even—” she glared at me and maybe, okay, so sometimes I get a little crazy when I’m drunk but so what? I just flirt and dance, it isn’t like I hurt anyone. Besides, waking up with someone in my bed tomorrow could maybe solve all my problems. “Let me have it, Jo. I just need one night, I deserve it.” That seems like the magic word for everyone in my life at the moment.

I die for Dean once and suddenly I have a free pass for the rest of my life. If I’d known, I would’ve died for the jackass sooner. Sam brought me back the same day but still— everyone lets me have it.

She stares at me like she’s contemplating it and then gives in with a sigh. From that point on I’m being served shot after shot and I’m more than sure my tab is so high I won’t be able to pay half of it when the night ends. Jo starts serving me much cheaper brands as the night went on— I’m sure she knows that too.

Three shots later, I’m still sober enough to taste the vodka cheapening. “Jooo,” I draw out her name, “you’re not doin’ enough! I need to get drunk, not bored.”

“Slow down, honey.” I shake my head though my ears heat up at the endearment. No time for that now. Two shots more and I’m officially buzzed. Buzzed enough to not notice Dean sit down next to me.

“Hey, sweetheart.” I shake my head quickly and stand up mumbling something about it being a good night and he seems to take the rejection well, sitting in place as I walk to the empty pool table.

Immediately as I’m racking the balls up, someone’s hands are on my waist. “You wanna give me a round, honey?” And because I literally have nothing better to do, I let the Sam-height, almost Cass-level-hot guy play pool with me.

His facial hair covers most of his face, which actually looks way too good, but his blue eyes look really really beautiful and I can’t stop staring. “Yes. Yeah.” He smirks and moves his hands away.

“What are we playing for?” I almost answer, I’m not sure what to say, before his deep voice comes from behind me. His hands aren’t on my waist, but he might as well swallow me whole if he’ll make me feel this small.

“A hundred bucks, how about that, man?”

“And who are you?”

“Her friend.” Dean has a hand on my shoulder. Asking loudly enough for the other guy to hear, “you mind me playin’, sweetheart?”

Obviously, I shake my head and we get started. I’m winning so far, the guy— Stefan or something— is downright embarrassing at the game. Dean is letting me and I’m drunk enough to not care. Three more hits and i sigh. “I want drinks.”

Stefan perks up from his round, “I’ll go get ‘em. What do you drink, honey?” He asked for my name ages ago and I gave it but he doesn’t seem to like it.

“I will go get them.” Dean decides and taps the taller man’s shoulder once. That’s smart. I’m not sure why it is— but it is. Stefan’s closer now. Too close.

“I like girls.” I whisper, or blurt, or something that means I say it so fast and so low that I don’t hear or understand it myself.

“You— what?”

“I’m into girls. M’sorry. You’re so close. M’not kissing you.”

“Yeah, I— I wasn’t.” He furrowed his eyebrows but I just shrugged and moved further back. “Did I make you uncomfortable?” I mean, he asked me if I wanted another round by trapping me into the pool table.

I must’ve said it outloud because, “I didn’t trap you, I mean, I held you but that’s because you were kinda off your feet. I apologize if—”

“Oh. M’sorry.”

“Stop apologizing. It isn’t your fault.”

“Good.” I smile and move closer now. He’s warm when I’m not worried he’s trying to get in my pants. I’m not exclusively into girls— only half way, I’m bi, but it seemed like the easiest way to disgust and run away a man.

We talk, enough for me to know his dogs name and for him to know that Dean means well, he’s just worried because I’m drunk, and that he isn’t my boyfriend.

“You sure? Does he know that?” I glance over at the hunter, speaking to Jo with those twinkling green eyes.

I nod once and tell him we should keep playing. Dean seems occupied. We keep going and set the balls up evenly again. The first round I’ve won two hundred from both men, then we decided to play for nothing and I’m regretting it cause I could’ve really made my bill if I kept receiving money with the way I’m winning.

“You’re good.” He’s sweet. I get his number and we talk— promise to keep in touch for when I come back to town and just as he’s about to leave I catch up with him.

“Stefan,” I call out once and then I trip over something. Faster than light, I’m already draped over his arm. Falling and whatever. He wants to say something but I quickly straighten up to kiss him, moving my fingers through his hair. He seems to enjoy that, pulling me closer. Then he pulls away.

“How much have you been drinking?”

“What?” That’s not a question you ask someone that’s sleeping with you. Or planning to.

“How many drinks?”

“I— I don’t know like so little,” he shakes his head, “only five.”

“Five?”

“Shots.” He lets out a scoff and walks me back to the bar. I’m sure I’m pouting by both the looks on Dean and Jo’s faces and by the pull of my mine. And maybe Stefan’s laugh. He hands me off to them and I wave at him. He makes me promise to call tomorrow and I nod. “He was so nice. Why don’t nice guys go for me?” I groan, banging my head against the wood of the bar softly.

“That’s not true.” I know it’s Jo who says that which makes it even worse. Of course you’d think that. You’re trying to get me to leave so you can suck Dean’s face off. It’s not fair. He gets all the girls. Always. Even the ones I really like.

“Whatever.” I take out the two hundred and hand it to Jo. “Keep it.”

“Berry, that’s a hundred and twenty five tip.”

I shrug and stand out of the chair. “M’gonna go to sleep.” Heading up the stairs proves to be a lot harder than i initially planned and so I just give up halfway through and sit down with my head in my hands and tears flowing too fast for me to comprehend why they’re there. This sucks. Having feelings suck. Why can’t I be an angel or demon or something devoid of emotions? Why can’t I be heartless like— I don’t know— Dean!

“Ouch, sweetheart.” I need to stop speaking my thoughts out loud. “I agree with you there. What’s wrong, berry?”

“I hate that stupid nickname.”

He frowns, sitting down next to me, a step below. “Why’s that?”

“‘Cause she came up with it and s’not fair.”

“What’s not fair?”

“That she likes you. She always likes you. And I like you too, De, but this is so annoying like why can’t she love me! Why am I not enough to love? S’it ‘cause I’m not a man? I don’t wanna be a stupid man, I like being a girl. Why can’t girls just like me without me being a guy!” I cant even comprehend the words before they’re out and I just wish Dean would hold me and comfort me. Or maybe make Jo fall in love with me magically.

“Who likes me, berry?”

“Jo! Stupid Jo! And I’ve been the best friend ever and she still doesn’t like me. She’ll never like me and it’s ‘cause I’m a girl.” Deans beautiful face scrunches up into a frown and he shakes his head.

“D’ya tell her you like her?” No. “Well there you go. You need to tell her so you can know if she likes you back or not.”

“N’what if she doesn’t?”

“I’ll still love you.” I smile at the words, “and Jo will always be your friend.” Who are you and what have you done with Dean? “Oh, shut up.”

“Dean,” I whisper after a moment. “Can you tell Jo?”

He shakes his head.

“Can Sam tell her?” He shakes his head again.

“Tell who what?” Oh that’s Jo.

“Tell you I like you.” I don’t think I’ve ever seen Dean leave a room, or staircase, as fast as he just did. Ever. “Like you like you. Like i want to kiss you all day and I want to hold you— but I can’t ‘cause you like Dean.”

Her eyes are still wide which probably mean she hates me now but my legs aren’t working so I don’t stand up, just wallow in my guilt and failure in front of her.

“Berry, you mean it?” I nod once but keep my head down. Her soft fingers hook under my chin and I look up at her. She’s closer now. Very very much closer. Close enough for me to taste the vanilla perfume i got for her last birthday. She’s close enough to—

Jo’s kissing me. Jo Harvelle’s lips are moving against mine, gentle, but desperate. Hard and soft. Everything all at once and it’s better than I could’ve imagined. I think it’s so good i forget to kiss back because she stops to backtrack, small stutters of I’m sorry and I shouldn’t so I quickly stand up (wow, my legs are back) and kiss her a little too roughly I slip my tongue in there.

“Jo,” I moan against her mouth and she nods but doesn’t acknowledge it. I’m sobering up. Too sober to be in a situation I’ve imagined a thousand times a day for the past seven months.

“Jo, bedroom— please.” She nods quicker this time and pulls away enough for me to breathe and take the image of her kiss-flushed face in. She’s everything I’ve ever imagined and needed but I can’t do this.

“Jo, I can’t—” she stops right in front of her room. “I don’t— I love you. And I can be here for you if you’re… I don’t know experimenting but, you need to tell me. I can’t just be a phase, Jo.”

“M’not. C’mon, hey,” she presses another kiss on my lips, slow, “I love you too. You know that. You must’ve known that I’ve loved you ever since you and those idiots came into the roadhouse, but you’re just, you know so much and I didn’t know if you’d ever want someone who doesn’t even know their own sexuality or—”

Now it’s my turn to shut her up with a kiss and I push us into her room. “Shut up. So are we—”

“Yes.” She smiles against me. “You’re mine, berry.”

#jo harvelle #jo harvelle x reader #spn crack #supernatural #supernatural imagine #supernatural smut #supernatural rewrite #spn fanart #sam winchester #spn rant #spn cast #dean winchester #dean x reader #castiel #bisexual

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hourcat · 1 year

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pierre/charles and "Hot Single Parent and babysitter/nanny"

18. Hot Single Parent and babysitter/nanny

It's embarrassing, Charles thinks as he waits at the stoplight around the corner from his street, that he's on his way home now and not, you know, two and a half hours later than what he'd told the babysitter. He hadn’t even been out for more than an hour in the first place, including driving to the restaurant—

It’s the last time he lets Carlos set him up on a fucking date, so help him. You should stop using those single dad apps, he’d insisted while they were standing in line to pay for their cafeteria lunches, I know a guy.

And sure, Charles had been a little skeptical, especially because Carlos isn’t exactly known for his judgment around the office, but it’s been ages since he’s been out for real—Hervé is his life from the moment he wakes up to the moment he goes to sleep, and it’s been that way since he was born. There’d been no time for dating, or really anything that wasn’t his son.

But Carlos had been insistent that Charles would like this guy. He is fun, he’d promised, and Charles, because he’s terrible at saying no, had agreed.

Of course, that agreement had hinged upon his life-saving babysitter, Pierre, being available.

I'm going out tomorrow night, he'd texted after pulling into the preschool parking lot, are you around to watch Hervé for the night? Pierre, of course, because he is the most reliable babysitter Charles has ever known, is free—so it’d been set, and Charles had gone out after giving Pierre the usual walkthrough of the house even though they’ve done this plenty of times before. Pierre had smiled at him easily, nodded, promised that Hervé is in good hands (something Charles knows without even having to hear it from Pierre himself) and Charles had said I’ll be home by 11, you can use my card to buy whatever you like.

“Don’t worry, Charles,” Pierre had murmured, resting a comforting hand on his bicep. The warmth of his palm had seeped right through Charles’ dress shirt. “Go out and have fun.” His smile had gotten wider, then, and it’d only struck Charles there, moments before he was about to go out on his first date in over three years, that Pierre is handsome. Really, just—handsome is a tasteful way of putting it, which he’d begged himself to stick to because, again, date.

So Charles left. Drove to the restaurant that Carlos had texted him the address to.

And, half an hour in, he’d left. Max was—Charles is going to kill his coworker for this, making him think that it would be a good time. There’s no spark and Charles knew it the moment they’d sat down, but he’d tried to at least stick it out because, maybe he’s just rusty after all this time.

No. There’s no two ways around it, it is simply a bad date. Charles doesn’t even feel bad for excusing himself to the bathroom and then bolting because talking to drying paint would be more interesting than whatever had been happening between them.

He only remembers that he hadn’t actually told Pierre he was on his way home until now, though—five minutes away from his house, at the world’s longest red light. He grabs his phone to shoot off a quick omw back message only to realize, to his chagrin, that it’d died somewhere between the restaurant and here. Stupid Google Maps.

The light finally turns green, and Charles tries his damnedest not to speed the rest of the way back. He doesn’t care that he doesn’t have a romantic life right now. Hervé is the only thing that matters to him, really—he’s sure spending time making faces at his son and giggling with him over wooden puzzles would be a thousand times more interesting than whatever obnoxious commentary Max was trying to give about…shit, Charles doesn’t even remember. He’ll pay Pierre for the whole night anyway, because it’s only right, but…he just wants to be home. The sight of his driveway is a bigger relief than he could’ve possibly imagined. He all but tumbles out of the driver’s seat, locking his car haphazardly and practically skipping up his front steps to knock, once, on the door.

Wait, he realizes flatly, this is my house. He’s about to open the door himself when it swings backwards and…

There’s Pierre. The look on his face goes from at ease to surprised in a moment, and he shifts on his feet to balance Hervé on his hip, keeping him snugly held against him. “Charles,” he says, eyebrows high on his forehead. “I thought you were—on a date?” He steps aside and Charles enters his own house, entirely enchanted by the sight before him.

“Papa!” Hervé exclaims, reaching one arm out to grab for him. He doesn’t loosen his hold on Pierre, though. “Me ‘n Pear pizza!!” His face is so bright with joy, laughter twinkling in his eyes, and a lump forms in Charles’ throat at the sight of it: his whole world, babbling delightedly as the babysitter…is beaming his full attention right at him, both arms now keeping him carefully tucked close.

“Yeah, big man,” Pierre murmurs, and then turns to Charles, “I ordered pizza and thought you were, um, the guy.” He laughs softly, then shrugs. “It should be here any minute, now, so you two can—if you haven’t already eaten, I—”

“No,” Charles interrupts hastily, waving a hand. Pierre’s mouth closes, protest stopped. For a moment, he can only stare: Hervé with his cheek smushed on Pierre’s shoulder, Pierre’s hold so casual yet careful as they stand in the hall. His son is good with people, Charles knows, but this is different. The fondness rolling off of the babysitter in waves is different than anything Charles has ever felt before, even when he quirks his brows at the extended silence. Oh. “No, um, you should—you should stay for dinner, Pierre. It’s.” Why is he nervous? This is his babysitter he’s talking to, not some—some date he’s meeting for the first time. “I came back early, you should at least eat with us.”

Pierre’s eyes, already warm with affection for Hervé, light up even more at the invitation. “Are you sure?”

Charles is. “Yes, yes, of course.” He tilts his head towards the kitchenette. “I’ll pay you for the whole night, but you should at least stay for dinner. I—” he coughs. “I think Hervé would love that.”

“Pear, Pear!” Hervé exclaims in agreement. It only takes a few moments before Pierre is smiling hugely, nodding along. Charles feels like a whole ton has been lifted off his shoulders. He’s not entirely sure why.

#EHEHEHEHE #btw....got another one for this....get ready for role reversal....#piarles #10 x 16 #fic #romance prompt meme #girldads tag #even though charles does not have girls in this #ask reply #Anonymous

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spaceorphan18 · 2 years

Text

Five Times Kurt Talks About Sex and One Time He Doesn't (Part Six -- FINAL)

A/N: So, this was inspired the other day by a Nonny who was asking about how Kurt interacts with others on the topic of sex and this little idea popped in my head.

It’s a little mini-series, and I’ll post one part a day, then I’ll get it up on Ao3 after it’s complete.

It’s set in a post-canon-ish world when they’re all living in New York. The whole thing takes place over the course of a day.

YES I'M POSTING TWICE IN ONE DAY - GO BACK AND CHECK OUT PART FIVE IF YOU MISSED IT!!

****

Non-Conversation One: Blaine

Kurt sits on the edge of the bed swaying back and forth, attempting to keep his balance, as he holds a glass of water. He’s supposed to be drinking the glass of water, but his stomach feels a little full, and not like it wants anything additional in it. Still, he tries to sip anyway as he watches his husband -- his beautiful, sexy husband - come into the bedroom.

“Santana went out like a light,” Blaine says. He undoes his watch and puts it on the dresser. “She’s on the couch and snoring. I think she’ll be fine for the night. Just how much did you guys drink?”

Kurt hums happily. “Ten shots.”

“Jesus, Kurt, how are you still functioning?”

“She had ten, I had nine, I won.” He snorts into his water, attempting another sip.

“You both are ridiculous,” Blaine says, coming up to him. “Drink the water - I don’t want you vomiting on me in the middle of the night.”

Kurt pulls at Blaine’s hand, catching him off guard, and draws him in for a kiss. It’s sloppy and Kurt, admittedly, is probably using too much tongue, but he really doesn’t care. He wants his husband.

“You taste like raspberries…” Kurt coos as Blaine pulls away.

“You taste like vodka,” Blaine laughs.

“I want vanilla ice cream,” Kurt’s eyes are wide with desire.

Blaine gives him an odd look, though, not getting it. “How about we try the water first, and save the ice cream for when you’re sober.”

“Noooo,” Kurt cries. He reaches out to grope at Blaine’s dick through his pants. “Ice cream,” he says quietly. His own dick twitches with interest but with that much alcohol in his system, he doubts he’s going to get anywhere. Stupid Santana. Stupid shots. He could have ended his night by fucking his husband. And now he’ll have to settle for falling asleep.

His bed does seem nice.

Blaine laughs it off, and kisses his forehead. “Maybe if you drink the water and make it through the night, you can have ice cream in the morning.”

Kurt lets out a quiet, delighted ‘yay’ as he takes another sip.

“We can take a trip up to the grocery store tomorrow,” Blaine says. Kurt eyes him suspiciously - but there’s a twinkle in Blaine’s eyes that tells him Blaine’s being obtuse on purpose. “You guys finished all my Cheetos.”

“No Cheetos!” Kurt vehemently protests. “No, no, no!”

Blaine’s eyes grow wide. “Well we’re definitely going to come back around to that tomorrow.”

“I’m not ever going to have Cheetos again!” His brain is indignant about it - but at the moment, he can’t figure out why.

Blaine just smiles sweetly as he takes a step back to change. He’s out of his shirt first, revealing a layer of glistening sweat on his skin. Blaine always works so hard during his performances -- leaving his muscles firm and toned. He then undoes his belt buckle and the pants go. Followed by the underpants. He’s not making a show of it, even if he is aware of Kurt’s eyes on him. Not helping it, Kurt bites his bottom lip as he watches… Even flaccid, Blaine’s dick is the best dick of all the dicks. He laughs at the thought, wishing his brain wasn’t so fuzzy so that he could play with that dick.

In the mirror, Kurt can see Blaine’s ass - so round and scrumptious. See, Santana! He calls out in his head. The mirror was a good call! He could bite that ass if he wanted to. Blaine would let him. He has bitten it before.

“No!” Blaine playfully scolds.

“But…”

“Kurt, no. You need to sleep first.”

Kurt scrunches his nose, letting out a protesting little grunt, as he attempts more water.

Blaine puts on a clean pair of boxers, then heads back towards the bed. “Okay, let’s get you ready for bed. Sleep first. Then I’ll wake you up with whatever you want.”

Kurt grows excited. “Even vanilla and caramel?”

Blaine gives him a strange look, not quite following. “Even vanilla and caramel,” he gives anyway.

“Okay!”

Blaine takes the glass and puts it on the nightstand. Then gets him to stand, helping him out of his own pants, followed by the sweater (which takes longer than normal because it has a bunch of buckles on it). Blaine’s hands are warm and soft and he doesn’t seem to mind when Kurt falls against him as they get him out of his clothes.

The duvet is pulled back, and Blaine helps Kurt onto the bed. “You are really, really pretty,” Kurt says, not able to help gazing into those honeyed eyes.

“You are really; really drunk,” Blaine says amused in response.

Kurt pulls him down into another kiss - this time a little smoother. Blaine indulges, allowing for a little, light making out. Kurt closes his eyes and relaxes into the bed, feeling warm and buzzed and loved and cared for. He feels so good that he doesn’t quite mind when Blaine pulls away.

“I’m going to finish up in the bathroom - are you going to be alright?”

“MMmm-hmmm,” Kurt murmurs.

Blaine pulls the covers over him, then kisses his nose and his cheek and his forehead. “I’ll be back in a little bit, then we can snuggle, okay?”

Kurt’s eyes remain firmly shut, but he grins as he thinks about Blaine getting into the bed next to him, moving in close so his arms will be firmly around him, and he’ll feel Blaine’s dick snug against his ass. That’s just as good as sex anyway…

“Love you,” Kurt says softly.

Blaine gently kisses his lips. “Love you, too.”

Sleep is taking him quickly, but there’s one last lingering thing…

“Hey, Blaine?”

“Yeah?”

“I have a message for you?”

“What’s that?”

“Tomorrow - after ice cream and Cheetos you need to call Tina and let her know how to properly suck a penis.”

Kurt drifts off to sleep before Blaine is able to respond.

#s.o. writes things #five times #kurt hummel #klaine #klaine fic #kurt hummel fic #yay i'm done!#i hope you guys liked this little adventure!#:)#i have no idea why kurt is drinking in every single one - but it became a thing

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cluelessbees · 2 years

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Okay….

A concept— Dash and Lily Byler AU (I posted a part 2-ish)

Idk if you guys have watched dash and lily but it’s a very cute season-long like cheesy Christmas romance. The whole premise is that Lily puts this book in a bookstore that Dash finds and they essentially communicate through the notebook. They don’t know each others identities but they have to do a dare in order for the other to answer their question.

Im like not explaining it well but it’s very cute 😭. So like I was wondering ….byler au 👀?

So now enjoy my take on their notebook entries to each other—

(For context this one is Will’s to Mike after Mike proposed being called Blue + Mike’s entry afterwards)

Idk if it’s any good but enjoy—

***

Blue huh?

You really aren’t giving me any clues to your name? I guess you do really like the mystery aspect of this all.

I guess I’ll continue in the theme of colours. Call me yellow. Or…think of me as yellow. I don’t think yellow works as well as a name compare to Blue, but it’s my favourite colour.

It just feels warm….which feels sorta weird to say. How can a colour feel warm?

I don’t know. It just- reminds me of sun and how it would tickle my skin when I would lay on the grass in the park with my family. It’s just one of those warm memories. Something I think about when I want to escape.

That’s- a really weird thing to admit to a boy I’ve never met. But it’s just easier to tell you these things I guess? You’re easy to talk to- or write to.

I’m sorry if I’m being weird. I hope I’m not scaring you away.

Because ….i like talking to you blue. I hope you like talking to me.

Anyways, enough about me. It’s time for your dare.

You’ve mentioned never really being an artist, huh? I’m not buying it. I think you like being creative. You just hate showing it.

I’ve attached a drawing of a map to this art centre. Go to it. I’ve booked you for a 4pm painting lesson. Let me know what you draw.

Don’t focus on perfection just have fun, okay?

Give the book to the instructor, tall guy with a weird mustache you’ll know what I mean when you see it.

From,

Yellow (?) (i have no idea of yellow is working or not)

***

Dear Yellow,

I’ll have to admit- it doesn’t work as well as Blue, but that’s okay. I think I’ll continue calling you notebook boy. I like the mystery element behind it. You’re very mysterious to me. I cant help wanting to know more about you.

You do remind me of yellow though- the warmth that is. I don’t know how else to describe it you just seem like such a warm person. Which- is weird to admit because I don’t even know you but it’s true.

Also, you don’t have to worry about scaring me off. I’m far too intrigued in knowing who you are to be scared off by anything.

And….I happen to like you too, Notebook Boy

(See notebook boy just works better)

Anyways, a finger painting class huh? Have to admit I did not expect that. You’re always filled with surprises.

At first I thought you were just being sadistic. Like- you wanted me to stain my hands as some sort of punishment for a previous dare. But- I have to admit it was fun getting messy.

And I managed to get a sweet finger painted rainbow out of it. I’m sure I can’t compete with the art you make. You’re probably the most talented artist I know (I’m aware I haven’t seen your art yet but I’m still right.) But I like it- I think. It’s a decent painting.

Scratch that my friend just asked me if it was made by my little sister— okay so maybe not decent, but I had fun. Maybe…I do like creativity. Although no one will know but you.

I hope I get to see your paintings someday.

For now, i leave you with a dare and a question.

What’s your taste of music like, Notebook Boy?

Mine is a mixed of genres, but I thought it would be fun for you to try something new. You seem very reserved so…I’ve attached a ticket to a friends rock show. It’s for tomorrow at 9. He makes good music. I’ve always like the atmosphere of his gigs. They’re so loud and the energy just seeps through the veins.

I hope you like it.

Blue

P.S. hand the book over to my friend at the end of the show! He’s the guitarist. Tell him Blue sent you.

***

I have more if y'all want but yeah--- thoughts? (Part 2)

#byler #I need to post more content so #I've sent this to my friends and I thought why not post it here #byler ficlet #Byler fanfic #mike wheeler #will byers #Dash and Lily Byler Au

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ericbrandonrp · 21 days

Text

@dxsole cont. from (X)

“I’ll have to try and charm them then— they know me. I just don’t think they like how bubbly I am.” Maybe they were just mad because she beat them at poker the last time she saw them.

That’s usually how things went though. No man really cared for having their money taken in an underground game by a young woman. Especially when she hadn’t even cheated. Wendi always called it the luck of the local; you must be a little lucky if you grew up so close to the Strip.

And it seemed that luck followed her everywhere, even now as she’, apparently, gotten herself an invitation from a top-notch tour guide to travel to lands unknown. She blinks. She hadn’t even thought of taking a detour— it wouldn’t take too long, would it? Just a hop and a skip across some country lines— she looks to Sunny, who shakes his head in disagreement.

And that was all Wendi needed really. “That sounds like a fantastic idea!” Sunny groans. “I have a meeting late this evening with some dear old clients of mine and then a conference tomorrow afternoon— but I could just extend my trip back tomorrow, couldn’t I? Spend an extra half day in Munich at least— Sounds perfect.”

It is as clear as day that the man accompanying her doesn't want her to agree to his idea; but thankfully she seems to care as less as Eric does. Screw that guy - who is he even to tell her what to do? He can't help but give him a playful wink now that she gives in.

"I'll give ye the best tour ye can wish for. Jus' tell me wha' ye're into - calmer shite, or more adventure - an' I'mma give y'a tour ye're no' gonna forge' tha' easy." Well, at least he will try. There are a few places he thinks she might like, but of course he can't tell if it is even to her taste.

"Ye can't push tha' mee'in'?"

#dxsole #;ch:wendi

0 notes

outerbankies · 3 years

Note

You know how teenager rafe is gonna just be spiralling over reader going to prom with someone else? I’m going to cry cause like he’s a baby and he doesn’t know why he has these feeling for this one person that he’s always kind of orbited around?? And he knows she’s it for him but only deep down cause he’s trying to figure so much out and how could you know who you’re going to end up with at the age of 17 let alone 10 or 12 but he’s always known and aaaaah imagine that kind of love

an angsty little pre-series prom blurb partially inspired by this ^ ask that made me spiralll. thanks anon i hope u like this!

—

new light blurb: before we knew — rafe cameron

new light series masterlist

obv takes place pre-series in high school! referenced in part 1

warnings: underage drinking

“Top, it’s not fucking funny.”

“It’s kinda fucking funny, Y/n/n. Like, way more than a little.”

Rafe had ditched the last fifteen minutes of statistics when he finished his test early today, and he’d been messing around on his phone for ten minutes waiting for the rest of you to come and get in Topper’s Jeep so you could all go to lunch off-campus today.

Rafe stands up straight from where he’d been leaning against the hood when he hears your voice approaching, his smile matching yours once you see him. “Hey, Rafe. How did your stats test go?”

“Good, hey, Y/n. What’s not funny?” he asks, opening the passenger side door for you before sliding into the backseat behind you.

“Oh, get this, Rafe,” Topper says, laughing. You just groan again, clicking your seatbelt on. “Griffin is gonna ask Y/n to prom. Tomorrow.”

Rafe blanches. “Griffin?”

He knew Griffin thought you were hot. Certainly had to hear it enough times in the pool at practice every day. Rafe always found himself biting back a remark—well, almost always. As captain, Rafe was able to tell everyone to run another play whenever he felt like it. The extra exertion in the pool was nothing compared to having to tread water and hear his teammate talk about you like that.

But even after all of that, he still had no idea Griffin had the balls to actually make a move on you. Because Rafe could tell you’d seriously rather die than ever give Griffin the time of day. And Griffin had been pursuing you without luck for months, even though you’d been trying to gently show you weren’t interested. Half of the time, Rafe wished you'd just tell him to fuck off.

The other half of the time, Rafe was considering just doing it for you.

Rafe clears his throat after his outburst, a finger digging into a hole in his jeans. “How do you know?”

“He just told me in PE,” Topper says. “He said he has this huge banner, and speakers, and he’s gonna do it at lunch right in the middle of the quad—”

“Topper.” You cut him off a bit more seriously this time; Rafe can hear the shift in your tone. You've always hated being anywhere close to the center of attention, getting embarrassed by the smallest things others wouldn’t even think about. If Griffin actually knew anything about you the way Rafe does, he’d know you wouldn’t like something big and flashy. “Can you stop?”

“Hey, cut it out, Top,” Rafe is saying immediately. Topper just rolls his eyes, but Rafe doesn’t care. “You okay?”

“Yeah, Rafe,” you say, smiling over your shoulder at him. “M’fine.”

“Do you want me to tell Griffin to—”

Topper laughs from the driver’s seat, clearing his throat to cover it up when you look over at him. You look back at Rafe, and his heart breaks at the worry in your face. “Don’t, Rafe.”

“Are you gonna say yes?”

“No,” you immediately laugh, looking at him like the idea is preposterous.

“Oh c’mon, Y/n/n. Can’t say no to him in front of all those people,” Topper teases. “And where the fuck is Kelce? I’m starving.”

“You’re right,” you sigh. “I don’t wanna embarrass him. I’ll just find him after school today and tell him I’m going with Kelce.”

Topper’s eyes widen, Rafe catches it in the rearview mirror before he hurriedly looks away. Rafe clears his throat, settling back into his seat from where he’d been leaning into the front space to talk with you. “You—uh, are you actually going with Kelce?”

“Yeah,” you nod, distracted by your phone. “We said we’d go together if we didn’t find dates. Kelce didn’t really wanna ask anyone after what happened last summer. And after nearly being set up with Top last night, I’m about ready to throw in the towel.“

Rafe looks to his friend that sits in the driver’s seat, who's looking straight at his lap, the back of his neck bright red. “Wait, you two?”

“It was just our parents, dude. Went to dinner at the club last night and our moms brought it up,” Topper mumbles. You giggle at the idea, completely unaware of the energy in the car right now.

“Yeah, sorry, Thornton. But no thanks. You and Emily should be really cute, though,” you say earnestly, patting his shoulder.

Topper just stares straight ahead. “Thanks, Y/n/n.”

“And then this thing with Griffin—I’m just so over the idea of finding an actual date at this point,” you sigh. “Plus, I know Kelce won’t put up a fight about the color scheme. I’m thinking like, aqua. Or maybe pink? I don't think I'd look good in gold.”

You'll look good in absolutely anything, and Rafe will just have to watch you from across the floor of the Island Club, while Kelce twirls you around the dance floor or holds you close during a slow dance.

The guy in question opens the car door and slides into the backseat next to Rafe right then, sighing as he slides his backpack off. “Sorry guys, coach stopped me in the hall. Where are we eating?”

Rafe glares at him.

“I want a smoothie,” you declare from the front seat.

“Fine with me,” Topper nods, pulling out of his parking spot. “Guys?”

“Can we go to that place with the deli next door? I’m so hungry,” Kelce says.

“Yeah, I like their açaí bowls,” you say, twisting around to look at Rafe one more time. He must not be able to hide his emotions as much as he thought, because your smile drops when you see him. “Rafe? Does that sound good?”

He turns his body to look out the window, eyes flicking back to yours one last time. “Not hungry.”

—

Rafe meets Topper and Kelce at the dock later that night, the three of them intending to get drunk and maybe take Topper’s boat out if they felt like it.

Kelce is already there by the time Rafe pulls up, drinking a beer with Topper while they laugh at something on his phone.

And Rafe paces right down the dock, snatches Kelce’s phone out of his hand, and pushes him off the platform and into the water.

“Rafe, dude,” Topper says, immediately pushing him back by his chest.

“What the fuck?” Kelce sputters, spitting out water as he surfaces and climbs the ladder back up. “What is your fucking problem?”

“You couldn’t ask literally fucking anyone else? It had to be Y/n?” Rafe says, laughing indignantly. He looks down at where Topper is still keeping them separated. “And you—what the fuck—”

“I told you, man. It was just our moms. We didn’t even consider it,” Topper says, rolling his eyes.

“You both lied to me,” Rafe accuses. “Because you knew I’d be mad.”

“And why’s that, Rafe?” Kelce spits, reaching around Topper to try and push at his chest. “Why are you mad? Not like you were gonna ask her.”

“No,” Rafe says immediately. And he isn’t even lying; it’d never crossed his mind as a possibility. Which is why he can’t even begin to try and work out why he’s this upset about it. He didn’t do anything to stop this, but it’s still happening, and it’s making him crazy. “You know my dad’s making me take Reagan since we’re both on prom court.”

“That’s what I thought,” Kelce grumbles. “I was gonna tell you.”

“When?”

“Soon, I just—we made the plan so long ago, bro. Neither of us wanted to worry about dates… but I gave it time because I thought you might—I dunno,” Kelce trails off, shrugging. “I dunno.”

“Thought I might what?”

“Figure your shit out and ask her yourself,” Topper says, coming back from the boathouse with a towel that he passes to Kelce.

“Even if I could, Y/n/n would never say yes to me,” Rafe scoffs, shaking his head and reaching for the six-pack they were working through.

Topper scoffs back. “Oh, yeah ri—”

“Guess we’ll never know,” Kelce says, cutting him off while he dumps the water out of his shoes. He sighs at his soaked clothes before he looks back up at Rafe. “You know I’m not into her right? We’re just going as friends. It’s senior prom.”

“Why would I care what you’re going as?” Rafe says, shifting in discomfort, hand clutching his already-half-empty beer can a little tighter. “None of it even matters.”

“Whatever you wanna tell yourself, bro,” Kelce sighs, grabbing his phone out of Rafe’s hand and pushing past him to go change.

—

“Nice taste, Y/l/n.”

You whirl around from where you’d been adjusting Kelce’s boutonnière (you’d only pricked him twice, which was a personal record for you) at the sound of Rafe’s voice, plastering on a smile before you face him. Your eyes drop to his attire immediately. “Oh shit, Rafe. We match.”

“I know,” he laughs. “My step-mom wants a picture.”

You furrow your eyebrows, shifting in your heels, the tule of your dress suddenly itchy against your legs. “Um. Shouldn’t you take one with Reagan?”

“We already took a million. From every angle. With every possible fucking pose,” Rafe sighs. “C’mon, please? Before the limo comes.”

Rafe grabs your hand and you look back at Kelce who just nods, downing some champagne. “Take care of my date, Cameron.”

You can see Rafe just shake his head where you trail behind him, leading you back to where Rose is talking to one of the other moms. “There you are. Your dress is beautiful! I wish we'd found one like that for Reagan. It looks great with Rafe's tuxedo.”

“Uh, yeah. It's nice to see you, Mrs. Cameron,” you say politely, ignoring the last half of what she said completely. She pulls up her phone and Rafe’s bringing you into his side, his hand resting in the middle of your back.

“This okay?” he murmurs, his breath fanning over your neck as he leans down.

“Yep,” you say quickly, but you can’t help but look around and catch multiple of your friends watching you, including Reagan, who promptly rolls her eyes once you make eye contact with her.

“Y/n, sweetie, just a few pictures for the newsletter,” Rose says, reminding you of your purpose right now.

“Right, sorry,” you say.

“Hey,” Rafe whispers. You look up at him, feeling his hand bring you closer to his body. “Take this a little more seriously, Y/l/n. Don’t you know that the next issue of the Island Club newsletter will be completely ruined without this one specific photo, that will probably be squished into the corner of a terribly- edited collage?”

You laugh in surprise, hitting him on his chest for joking about his step-mom right in front of her. “Rafe. Be nice.”

He just grins down at you, before straightening up and turning back to the camera. “If I’m nice, will you save a dance for me later tonight?”

You’re glad he’s not looking at you anymore, because then he’d see the way your smile faltered before you turn back to the camera as well. “Sure.”

—

“How is my flask empty?” Kelce groans, tipping it over and shaking it out for emphasis.

“That’s what happens when you drink it all, bud,” you laugh, patting his shoulder. He rolls his eyes at you, linking his arm in yours as you both pass through the crowd to find Topper and his date, Emily. You all watch Rafe up on stage, waiting to inevitably be crowned prom king.

He was a shoo-in anyway, but you’d definitely distracted your English teacher with a conversation about the 1984 essay you just turned in while Topper and Kelce stuffed the ballot box he was meant to be guarding.

Rafe seemed like he couldn’t care less about stuff like prom court, just shaking his head when his name was announced over the speaker as a nominee three weeks ago at lunch.

And he’d dragged his feet through finding a date, just shrugging whenever you brought it up to him, prying partially for your own sake.

You couldn’t figure out why he seemed so averse to the entire event, but you supposed that was better than having to hear him go on and on about Reagan and how he asked her and what corsage he bought for her and if he was bringing her to after-prom—or anything else that would’ve dragged up some feelings you thought you’d firmly buried at this point, telling yourself for years that you never stood a chance with Rafe.

But the closer graduation got, the more you’ve been realizing that things with your friends would never be the same. Things with Rafe would never be the same.

“Kildare Academy, your prom king is Rafe Cameron,” the DJ says, snapping you out of your thoughts. Kelce and Topper cheer obnoxiously while you laugh, a little grateful they’re both drunk and distracted—so happy their plan worked (Rafe subtly flips them off behind his back as he’s crowned) that they can’t notice the way your shoulders slump as Rafe leads Reagan, just crowned queen, out to the middle of the dance floor while some Ed Sheeran song starts playing through the speakers. You’d roll your eyes at the terrible music selection if that was what you could focus on.

All you could focus on was wondering if Rafe would even remember that you promised him a dance tonight.

Kelce is dramatically bringing you into his arms as the prom court dance takes place, subtly turning you around so your back faces the stage and the court, smiling as he holds your waist. “C’mon, dance with me.”

—

Rafe’s letting go of Reagan as soon as the song ends and everybody cheers, dashing off to the DJ booth after telling her he’d be back in a bit. She merely shrugged before adjusting her crown and going off to some friends.

“Hey man, can I pull some prom king privilege right now?” he says, leaning in to speak into the guys’ ear. “I have a song request.”

“Playlist is set, approved by the school,” he says dismissively.

“Thought you might say that,” Rafe grumbles, reaching into his breast pocket before he can take the time to wonder if he’s really going to do this—if he’s really going to bribe the DJ to play a song by your favorite band before he goes to cash in on that dance together that you’d promised.

He hands him a crisp hundred.

The DJ sighs, snatching it out of his hand and pocketing it while Rafe smirks in victory. “Alright, what song, country club?”

And then it's practically a race to find you before the Kid Cudi remix currently playing ends. Rafe heads off in the direction where Topper and Kelce had been yelling when he was on stage, evening his pace when he spots you jumping around with Kelce, your dress fanning around you while you laugh, the string lights illuminating your face.

You’re smiling so big that it stops Rafe in his tracks.

Guys had always shown interest in you, and you turned most of them down. Not all of them; Rafe still had to see you with guys who absolutely did not deserve you giving them the time of day, sometimes at parties or maybe at the Club. Rafe could usually lie to himself, write off these feelings as some protectiveness over you, a nice girl who’d been a good friend to him his entire life. Rafe was protective of all the people he held close in his life, why wouldn’t he look out for you, too?

But something must have changed, because now—now Rafe’s looking at you, and he knows time is running out before you both set off on your futures. He has three weeks of school left with you, then a summer of seeing you around. And then... that's it.

And now he’s looking at you, those feelings less and less ignorable with every single second closer Rafe gets to not having you around him every day anymore.

Those feelings are crowding every corner of his mind, finally coming to the surface after all of the drama with prom dates had forced Rafe to wonder why he couldn’t stand you going with Griffin or Topper or Kelce. Couldn’t stand thinking about you ever being with someone that wasn’t him—a reality he knows he’d have to get used to you a lot quicker than it took him to even realize he’d fallen for you.

Because the future’s coming, and maybe in the future you actually end up with someone like Griffin, or Mateo, or that guy from the party that one time, or that touron from New England that your parents tried to set you up with, some hotshot you brought home from California after a semester, or Kelce—even Topper. Your parents would love that one. And one day in this future, you’re running into Rafe on the soccer field; your kids play for the same team together. Rafe ended up settling for someone he could never like half as much as he loved you, and he sees you across the field with a sweater tied around your shoulders, chatting with all of the other moms. The lucky asshole you finally chose just watches you the way Rafe always had, the way he is now as you dance with his best friend, the way Rafe will probably never be able to stop himself from doing.

Or maybe there's another future without you, where you move away to somewhere that suits you; the Outer Banks had never good enough for you, in his mind. Maybe you stay in California after school. And you bring home that hotshot that’s perfectly matched for you, who gets to hold you and kiss you and have you. Rafe only gets to see you every once in a while, when you decide to grace the Outer Banks with your presence for the holidays or for Midsummers. Maybe in this scenario, Rafe was never able to find someone else, maybe he shows up solo while you flash your engagement ring when the old crew gets together for drinks—no, you wouldn’t do that. You’d be absolutely smitten with whoever won your heart, showing the ring he got you to your girl friends with an embarrassed little smile pulling at your lips while they all gush over it. And maybe one of your friends jokes about how Rafe used to have a crush on you. You'll just laugh and shrug it off, nodding—because you knew all along. Of course you knew, everyone had to know at this point. And Rafe can picture you merely laughing at his feelings for you as the other guy gets to pull you closer on his lap.

The opening chords of your song snap him out of his reverie. He can see the exact moment you realize what song it is.

Rafe beelines for you, holding his hand out as soon as he’s in your vicinity, fully pretending he hadn’t just realized he’s fallen for one of his closest friends in the middle of prom. Like he hadn't realized that he wasn't just into you, didn't just think you were cute or like the way you made him feel when you remembered his stats tests or wore his shirt to his water polo games. Like he hadn't just realized that no matter how many times he'd told himself it didn't bother him that much that you'd never come close to giving him the time of day, that he'd never forget what it felt like to not even be on your radar.

“You promised me a dance, Y/n.”

You look at him and his outstretched hand and smile, then look back to Kelce, who's quickly letting you out of his arms, casting an accusatory glance at Rafe. But then he smiles a little. “I'm gonna hit the restrooms.”

“Too bad our one dance is gonna be to a song by a band you hate,” you laugh, accepting Rafe's hand. Rafe’s on autopilot, his hands resting on your lower back while yours move to his chest, swaying the two of you in little circles. The song is already through with the first verse.

“I don’t hate this band,” he lies. But maybe it’s not a lie—how could he hate anything you loved?

“Okay, prom king,” you laugh, fiddling with his pocket square a little, the one that matches your dress. “Still can’t believe we ended up matching.”

“Great minds, Y/l/n,” he shrugs, eyes trained on your face. Your hands slip up around his shoulders, and you nudge the plastic crown on his head before leaving your arms to rest there, fingers locked behind his neck. Rafe pulls you closer. The second chorus was already starting up. Time was running out.

“I’m not sure what the optics are of our matching and you leaving the prom queen to come dance with your friend,” you say, your small smile turning into a frown. “Reagan already seemed pissed earlier.”

“Don’t worry about her,” Rafe says. “It’s just you and me right now.”

“When we go off to college, I think I might just miss you, Cameron,” you say, smiling.

And Rafe might not ever get to tell you how he feels, or ever be with you the way he wants to, but at least he got to dance with you at his senior prom.

“I know I'm gonna miss you.”

—

@moniamaybank @downbytheouterbanks @littlementalpolaroids @fangirlvoice @chicagoblackhawkslover96 @pogueslandia @loveylangdon @oopsiedoopsie23 @sodasback @rafeseggplant @cooper8224 @rafeyybabyy @lemur46 @cameronsrafe @theepoguelandia @judayyyw @irlpadfoot @synonymforlame @tinawhynot @mildkleptomaniac @ilymarkchan @sofiatheseconf @hockeyshmockey @supersouthy @coffeeandcrimeshows @emptyloverofmine @infinitleyethereal @nerdypartytrashpsychic @mrs-cameron @tcmhollnd @nicavass @sakikos @catonthesideoftheroad @jemimah-b99 @serrendipiity @depressinq @svechnibrock @julianakawaja @ctrlcherries @lostaurorax @wildflower98 @babygirl2022 @lieswithoutfairytales @painlesslies @messagesinthesky @orrsoared @destourtereaux @sammywilscn @tylernagle @anonymousobxfan @lilacsandwhiskey @raphaelcameron @mardema @princesspogue @alwaysclassyeagle @brittlehe-art @drewswrld

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shigarakis-cumdump · 3 years

Text

An Unhealthy Obsession- Shigaraki x reader

https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shigarakiscumdump/works

(If you like what you read, consider supporting me on Ao3!)

Summary: Short yandere fic based off the song “An Unhealthy Obsession,” by The Blake Robinson Synth. Orchestra.

Cw: yandere and stalker tendencies

Word count: 1.9k

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.☆.*｡･ﾟ✫*..✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*..✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.☆.*｡･ﾟ✫*..✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

Many people would call Shigarki the creepy type if they saw him on the street. Slouched over, face always buried in his phone with his hoodie covering the rest. He looked like your local creep who hung around popular stores and malls by himself. He would go to one mall in particular, even more so after he realized they had a Game Stop there. He would frequently go in to browse, and while he was checking out one day, he met you behind the counter.

“Will this be all?” you ask in your sweet customer service voice, with your head slightly tilted. Shigaraki froze in place. No one this pretty has ever talked to him before.

“Um, yeah, that’s all.” he says quickly, looking down to the ground while you're bagging his games.

“This one’s my favorite; I’ve been playing non-stop since it came out, have fun with it!” you say as you hand the bag back. And you play games? Could it get any more perfect?!

“Thanks,” he managed before walking out of the store and finding the closest bathroom. He locked the stall door and sat down. With his heartbeat in his cock, he couldn’t stop thinking of how innocent your voice sounded, and how pretty you looked. He decided from then on you were his next obsession.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Shigaraki visited the store so often he learned your schedule. He would watch others make small talk with you, and it made him want to steal you for himself. His blood boiled when someone else would make you laugh. Soon enough, seeing you at your work wasn’t enough. He wanted to know more about you. So he followed you home one day. He kept his distance, being too scared of appearing creepy to people around him. You lived a few blocks away from him, who knew!This made it very easy for Shigaraki to stake out across the street and just watch you for hours. You always kept your windows open, maybe for the natural light? He appreciated it though; in his eyes, you left your blinds open for him. So he could watch as you dance around your room with your dog, and then relax and watch tv, hugging a pillow as you accidentally fall asleep. You were precious, and he realized all you wanted, all you needed, was someone like him to cuddle up into, to make sure you were safe. After all, there were too many creeps who could hurt you- he was just making sure they didn't get to you.

Shigaraki made it back to his place, but you never left his head. He went from sitting in the bushes, to sitting hunched over his desk, looking up your name on every search engine imaginable. “Bingo!” he says once he finds your socials. He scrolls down your page, seeing your stories about going to conventions earlier in the summer, spending time with your friends and- oh? What’s this? You were hugging a boy in this picture. Shigaraki zoomed in to get a good look at his face. “Why would you want a bastard like him?” he grunted angrily. He clicked on his profile and saw a post of you two eating at “your favorite restaurant” together for his birthday. The post was from the beginning of this year, so maybe you weren’t still with the guy. I mean Shigaraki didn’t see anyone while he was stalking you, which was a good sign.

Over time, his camera roll would fill up with screenshots of you off of your profile, shaky pictures he snapped of you while you were working, etc. He was in the store just when you worked now, because any other time he was following paces behind you to wherever your pretty feet were taking you. Stepping up to the counter with a few games, you began checking him out. His voice low and quiet as he asked, “Do you play games often?”

“Oh sure! Whenever I have free time, really. But lately I’ve been too busy. We should totally play together sometime!” you beam. Play together? He wanted to do a lot more than that .

“C-Cool, then I’ll see you through a screen next time,” Shigaraki scratches his neck awkwardly. You give him that practiced smile you show to all the customers. “Oh, what time do you get out?” he asks, and you give him a confused look. “S-so I know when to hop on! Just in case..” he drifts off, trying to keep cool. You tell him around 8, and he leaves. That’s perfect. Gives him just enough time to run some errands.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Shigaraki went to the hardware store and got the smallest cameras he would find. He hurried over to your place, and prayed the key was still under the rug where you left it. And it was! He unlocked your door, and your small dog ran up to him, jumping on his leg. “You’re a friendly little guy, aren’t you?” he says, leaning down to pet the dog. Don’t get distracted ! He reminded himself. He began by setting a few cameras up in your room, one facing each corner. This gave him a perfect view of your bed, desk, and closet. While he was in there, he picked up a piece of thin red fabric off the ground. He inhaled deeply, to smell a sweet and salty scent. He shoved them into his pockets for later, and finished placing the cameras.

Back out in the living room, your dog was following him around. Shigaraki knelt down and gave him a pat. He read the dog's collar; apparently his name was Shiro. Cute. “You want something, Shiro? You need some food?” he asked, looking around for his dog dish. He found it and filled it up and then sat on the couch. He took your panties out of his pocket, giving them another whiff. The smell shot straight down to his groin, heating him up. He pulled his phone out and went to his album just for you and scrolled through the pictures. He loved you so dearly, and one day you would know just how much he cherished you. He played back the small interactions the two of you had, and all the memories you’d have together in the future. He palmed his hardening cock, head leaning back on the couch.

It was 6:30, he still had a few more hours before you were back. He revealed his dick from his sweatpants, his tip leaking pre. He put your red panties in his hand, and started to jerk himself off- the soft lace brushing against the underside of his dick. His breathing became hitched and sporadic at the thought of you underneath him making the same noises. No, he wasn’t experienced, but you would teach him everything he needed to know!

“Y/N… god you’re so tight..” he groaned. His hips thrusting up into you as you let out lewd noises for him. He grabbed your face and whispered sweet nothings into your ear.

“God please- fuck, I’m close, Shiggy!” you whined under him, twitching with your back arched and a tit in his mouth. The thoughts that filled his mind went directly to his cock. Shigaraki humped his hand, wishing it could be you, waiting for when it was you. Maybe you’d even fuck on this couch, who knows. He quickly finished and made sure to leave nothing behind before heading out and staking out behind the bushes again.

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You throw yourself on the couch as always, sitting where he sat just an hour ago. You made yourself some tea as you turned the tv on. It wasn’t too late, meaning Shigaraki could watch you for a bit.

A little later, you make yourself dinner. You take the trash out and leave it by the road. Shigaraki, being the weirdo he is, makes his way across the street, dangerously close to your front window, to snoop through your trash. There had to be something good in there. . He rummaged through your trash to find empty take out containers, some paper, and- chapstick? He wasn’t big on using it himself, but if it was yours, it was automatically going on his lips. He thought of it like an indirect kiss from his one and only. It had a taste of sweet strawberries, probably what you would taste like if he ever had the chance to kiss you. One day, he keeps telling himself. He pulls out his phone to check your room cameras and he sees you starting up your pc. Right! You asked to game with him earlier! Shigaraki raced back home to load his game, praying he would find you in one of the local servers. There was FlameThrower2050 , TheRadicalDude , SuckItRight , and Shiro’sCloud online. You had to be the last one. He shot you a direct message, asking if you were up for a game, and you said yes. You actually said yes! Of course, you didn’t know it was him. You went into a private lobby and you turned on your headset. “Hey, can you hear me?” you asked innocently. Your pure voice went right through his heart. “Uh yeah, you sound great,” he blurts out. “Oh, Shigaraki?” you remembered his name?! This left him ecstatic. The game starts and you play a few rounds, Shigaraki being in heaven. You ended up beating him. In every. Single. Round. A bit embarrassing for him, but you laughed it off and didn’t make fun of him for it. Oddly, that stuck with him. You were so nice the whole time- he couldn’t wait to talk to you at work tomorrow!

It was getting late, which is why you had to go, which also meant Shigaraki got to watch you on the cameras. He pulled out his phone, switching to the view of your bed. You crawled in with just panties and an oversized shirt on, how cute. You scrolled on your phone for a little, until it dropped on your chest and you fell asleep. Your phone battery is gunna die, silly… Shigaraki thinks to himself. He could always go over and plug it in for you. No! That was too dangerous!! What if you wake up when he’s standing over you? Certainly that’s not a good impression to leave. He argues with himself for a bit before he’s out of the house, running down the street. His feet carry him all the way back to your place. He grabs the key and goes for the door. It was unlocked. You left it unlocked for him? How nice of you! He sneaks in and Shiro is quick to jump on him. Shiro took quite a liking to him. He tiptoed over to your room, looking at your sleeping body through the door crack. He opened the door slightly, going in and looming over you. He pried the phone from out of your hands and plugged it in for you. You would thank him later; tomorrow! When you’d see him next. Shigaraki zoned out, watching you sleep soundly for a good hour, stealing pictures of you while you were snoring, and getting a quick sniff of your hair. He had stayed there a lot longer than intended, the sun starting to rise. He snuck out of your room and locked the door on his way out.

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“Oh, hey!” Shigaraki hears your pleasant voice call out to him from the counter. “Last night was a lot of fun; how about we play again tonight?” you ask him. He immediately says yes, his heart doing flips in his chest. This was the start of something good.

#shigaraki #shigaraki x you #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki smut #yandere shigaraki #yandere shigaraki x reader #yandere #stalker shigaraki #an unhealthy obsession #no smut #drabble #shigarakithirst

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sluttyten · 3 years

Note

sicheng, 10

Sicheng + “you’re mine. and i’ll make sure you don’t forget.”

“You’re mine, right?” Sicheng asks you one quiet night. He’d been asleep the last you checked, and you were playing with his hair as you sat up in bed watching TV.

“I didn’t know you were awake.” You brush your fingers over his cheek, and look down at him to find he’s already looking up at you. “And what are you talking about? Asking if I’m yours? Who else’s would I be? You are my boyfriend.”

Sicheng hums happily. “I was just dreaming.”

“What kind of dream?” You comb your fingers lightly through his hair. “A good one?”

Sicheng sits up, reaching up to clasp your hand in his against the side of his head. He turns his head to the side, brushing his lips against your wrist. He explains, “You were leaving me.”

“Well, I’m here, and I’m not planning to go anywhere.” You sigh gently as he continues kissing along your forearm. “Must’ve been a bad dream to make you all affectionate like this.”

His mouth skips over to your shoulder, tender. “Don’t like the thought of losing you.”

“Sicheng,” you twist your hold into his hair lightly, dragging his mouth up to yours. “What are you talking about?”

You’re not going anywhere. Even if he doesn’t understand the full extent of that, you don’t understand how he could think that you would leave him. You’re here. You’re in his bed. You’ve been with him for ages now, you’re in love with him. The only thing that makes this worry over your loyalty to him make sense is jealousy.

And now, as he moves over you, as you both slide down the bed so you’re lying on your back, you smile at him. “Was I leaving you for someone else in that bad dream?”

Sicheng scowls.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” You laugh. “Who was it? One of the guys?”

You watch the green light of jealousy growing in his eyes. You prod him a little more, just wanting to see where you can push him.

“Oh,” you laugh again, “It was one of them, wasn’t it? Which one, I wonder? I mean, I’m close with Kun, so maybe he’s the one that would be able to—“

Sicheng crushes his lips to yours in a bruising kiss. “You’re mine,” he all but growls. “And I’ll make sure you don’t forget it.”

Sicheng has a thing for marking you up—living hickeys staining your skin, fingerprints bruised into your hips from holding too tight, raw red marks on your wrists and ankles from ropes that were just a bit too harsh on your skin, and the pretty drag of nails over your back or thighs or shoulders. He likes seeing his mark on you, and you like having them there, little reminders every time you look in the mirror, every time you feel the little twinge of sensitivity. Little reminders that he’s yours.

So the prick of his jealousy drives him to ravage you in the best way. His lips burning across your collarbones, chest, shoulders, over your breasts and ribs and your stomach.

“You’re mine,” he tells you when he comes back up for a kiss, and you cling to his hair, holding him there to taste his jealousy, rich on his tongue. “I want everyone to know you’re mine.”

“You gonna tell them?” You ask him. “Or are you going to let them hear me? Hear how good you make me feel? I’ve overheard Kun, that time when we came home early, babe, and he could—“

Sicheng slaps his hand over your mouth. “Hush.”

You open your mouth, attempt to say something else, but then Sicheng reaches down and grabs your ass. “Mine, baby.”

He flips you over smoothly, dragging your ass up by your hips. You moan, rolling your ass back against him. Sicheng palms your ass, thumb dipping down in that crease, down to your pussy.

“You know no one else can make you feel as good as I make you feel, baby.” He plays with your pussy, massaging your ass, grinding against the back of your thigh where you can feel him growing harder and harder as you push back into his touch and do your best to not let him hear the needy moans you’re holding back, let him think he needs to give you more.

And it works because he does give you more.

Sicheng’s tip presses against your entrance beside his thumb, and he just stays like that, not moving, just teasing you with what you could have, and at last you break, at last you moan his name.

“That’s what I thought.” He sounds so filled with pride as you moan and attempt to twist around to look at him, but then his hands are on your hips with his bruising grip that you love to feel still the morning after, and he thrusts into you.

“Mine, you’re all mine. I don’t want you thinking about anyone else.” He leans forward to say the words directly into your ear. “When you feel my hands on your hips still tomorrow, and when the bruises from my lips linger in your skin for a week, you’re gonna think of me, baby, won’t you? Not Kun. Not Johnny. None of them. Just me.”

Each word, he punctuates with a deep thrust, the smack of skin on skin. He straightens up, giving himself a better angle to drive you wild.

You get off on the ripple of slight pain as he drags his nails from your hips down the sides of your thighs, as he starts fucking you with sharp snaps of his hips against your ass.

You reach under yourself to touch your clit, and your moans leave your lips in raspy breaths. Your body rocks forward on your knees with each thrust, and the headboard of the bed rattles against the wall, loud enough that if anyone else was home in the dorm tonight, they would definitely know what was going on. But it’s just you and Sicheng, just the way you like it.

Sicheng cums first, quicker than you expected, though probably driven there by his jealousy, the idea of leaving you marked up and dripping with his cum. He pulls halfway out, so when he draws back to sit on his ankles, his cum oozes out of your still desperate to be filled pussy.

“No, no,” you moan, clenching, trying to hold his load inside you.

“You want more? Want my cum in you, stuffing you full? Say it, baby. Say it and I’ll give you more.” Sicheng drags his fingers between your legs, collecting his cum. “Whose are you, baby girl?”

“I’m yours. Only yours.” It is something that was never really in doubt at all.

“That’s right,” Sicheng says brightly. “All mine. Now turn over for me.”

You fall into your side, twisting quickly into your back with your legs still spread for him. Sicheng fingers his cum back inside you, swirling his thumb against your clit while his fingers keep working his cum back into your needy pussy, and when he’s satisfied with that, he takes his fingers away, and fills you with his still erect cock again.

Your nails drag over his shoulders and back, surely marking him up in your own way, and he buries his head against the sensitive skin of your chest, sucking and biting. His hips clap against your ass, and your thighs and hips ache as he pushes your legs higher and farther apart so he can hit deeper and

You cum with a cry of his name, fingernails pricking his skin, and that sharp pain brings about his second orgasm. Your bodies keep moving together on auto, chasing after the sweet ecstasy of each other, until at last Sicheng slips out of you, and he falls to the side, trapping one of your legs beneath him.

“How was that?” He asks you, “Do you feel good? You did good, looked so pretty on my cock. Took me so well.” He strokes some of your hair back out of your face, kisses your cheek. “I just hate the idea of you not being mine. Please, don’t ever leave me.”

“I love you, and you have absolutely nothing to worry about, Sicheng.” You kiss him again, pressing against his chest, sliding your arm over him. “I am at my happiest when I’m with you. In every possible way, I’m happy, and I know that I belong with you because like you said, I’m yours, but you know what, you’re mine too. You’re like the other half of me, the stars to my sun, the light to my dark. You’re mine, too Dong Sicheng.”

“I’m yours.” He kisses you, and squeezes his arms around you, embracing you tightly to his chest. His heart beats against yours, his stomach and chest and legs are so close to your skin that there’s not a space in between.

You know in the morning your chest will be covered in bruises the shape of his mouth, and you know that you should really check out the scratches you left down his back, but for now you stay like this, tangled together in each other’s arms, hearts pounding and happy in the knowledge that you belong entirely to each other.

Requests are now closed! Thank you to everyone who sent these in, I’m just finishing the last drabble requests in my inbox!

#asks #winwin drabbles #winwin smut #nct drabbles #nct smut #Dong Sicheng with a marking kink is like 10/10 what I’m here for

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missskzbiased · 3 years

Text

The Things We Don’t Tell

Summary: You were sure your life was written and directed to fit a sketchy Rom-Com and nobody could convince you otherwise. First, your boss was too hot to be true, and burning with desire didn’t even begin to explain the tingling sensations he left on you. Second, your coworker (a.k.a. Ex-About-to-be-FWB) insisted in turning your life into a living hell, which wasn’t the exact kind of hotness you were into. And if having these two hot men around you every single day of your life wasn’t enough to prove it, maybe the threat of your slutty secret identity about to be busted would be… But you couldn’t let this happen.

WC: 7,5 K

Genre: Smut, Humor (?)

AUs: Office, Enemies to Lovers

Pairing: Hwang Hyunjin X Fem!Reader X Bang Chan

(Not really a love triangle as Hyunjin is the Lead. However, Reader wants to Bang Chan)

Rebloggable Masterlist // Main Masterlist // Tag List

Warnings: Language, Thigh riding, Public space (Office), Exhibitionism, Possessiveness, Pet Name (Baby girl), Sir Kink

[If I forgot anything, please let me know! I’m kinda sleepy right now]

Notes: There will be at least one more chapter but I won’t do a tag list post for now, only if someone wants it, cuz I’m too lazy to think about doing it right now. This fic is an attempt to experiment with some writing style things that I’ve been wanting to try. I don’t think it worked, tho SUHAHUSAUHSUHA But that’s life

- I’ll quite possibly change the title in the future-

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You are a superhero.

Okay! To be honest, you may be exaggerating a little bit ─ a tiny harmless little bit ─ but that was how you felt every single day of your life, alright? You had this glorious and mysterious side of yours that you hid from everyone else in the world… That mask that you couldn’t let come to the ground and would fight for dear life to protect… That side to your persona that no one was allowed to meet… The fierce, bold, and dark aspects of your soul that—

“Y/N! I want those papers on my table!”

“Yes, sir!” You shrieked in an embarrassing (not even slightly bold) way.

— That you couldn’t show at your work.

Yeah… So maybe no one actually thought of you as a superhero, but you really believed someone should start to. Was there something that different between your life and those low-budget TV shows people seem to enjoy so much? You didn’t think so.

To be fair, sometimes you felt like someone wrote a questionable script and poorly directed your life to fit you as the leading lady of a sketchy rom-com. As if they just focused on checking out every point on a bullet list made up with rules for a successful superhero office drama that wasn’t even that good…

… And speaking of which…

Rule Number One: The stern (maybe kinda attractive) boss!

If you had to define Bang Chan with a couple of adjectives, you would choose undeniably beautiful ─ extremely professional of you because the right words to describe him were fucking hot ─ and committed. Fortunately, it wasn’t an “I have someone waiting for me at home and a bunch of kids I must put to sleep” kind of commitment, which would destroy your hopes of having this man one day. Unfortunately, it was an “I’m better than the header and gonna run this company by tomorrow night” kind of commitment, which destroys your hopes of a peaceful day at work.

Now, it’s not like you don’t want to do your job! It’s just that you didn’t sign up to be Bang Chan’s perfect little toy ─ definitely not the better words to describe it ─ and you didn’t expect to be joined by the hips ─ really? ─ with him or any of your coworkers. The thing is that Bang Chan wants to be on top ─ someone has to stop you ─ and he believes the only way to get there is to work as a team and be as perfect as one can be. In other words, Bang Chan wants absolutely everything and everyone to be neat, tight, and ready to be used ─ again… Not the better way to put your thoughts into words ─, but this just wasn’t who you were.

It also wasn’t the point right now.

The point right now should be the fact that Bang Chan was striding to his office looking like he owned the whole damn place… If this was a movie, the camera would be focusing on his expensive, black leather shoes before scanning all the way up to his waist in slow motion. The scene would zoom in on his fine ass only to go a little bit up and catch the shiny, black belt wrapping around his figure. The outfit didn’t leave much to the imagination, but you had a hell of a productive mind… You could think of a few things you shouldn’t really be thinking about right now.

Bang Chan didn’t seem to understand he was at work either.

He rolled his sleeve up in a sexy motion that should be illegal. It isn’t. You can tell by the way there are no cops bursting inside the building and arresting this gorgeous son of a bitch.

The lack of any authorities to stop this atrocious moment had you lowering your gaze to your desk ─ a vain attempt to ignore the way his forearms flexed as he gestured and ordered people around. If you were a little bit less professional, you would have some ideas of how he could do it in bed. With you. But you weren’t some kind of creepy perv who would be fantasizing about riding your own boss from dusk till dawn.

Not at all.

“Do you need me, Sir?” His secretary asks politely.

A question that you would love to ask him too… In a totally and strictly professional way, of course.

Rule Number Two: The (extremely unnecessary) nemesis!

The shiver running down your spine could mean only one thing: Hwang Hyunjin ─ your obnoxious coworker ─ was standing right behind you, just like a bloody damn ghost. There was no need to turn around. You knew he had his mocking eyes glued on Bang Chan’s figure, and you could feel the air shifting as he tilted his head in a silent sneer before leaning on your desk.

You refused to turn around and acknowledge his presence; painfully aware that he would flash a wide grin while looking at you with a knowing glint in his eyes. You wouldn’t give him the taste of seeing in your face that he was right; that you were staring at your boss as if you were a starving vulture. So you did the only thing you could do in this situation: You started to work. The sheets scattered over your desk wouldn’t walk by themselves to Bang Chan’s room, right?

And neither would you if it depended on Hyunjin.

The attempts to swipe the papers in your direction and gather everything you needed ─ to finally get rid of Hyunjin ─ proved to be vain as his hand took root on the desk. You pursed your lips in annoyance while glancing at his prominent knuckles and slender fingers; wondering if he would be so collected if he knew you wanted to crunch them. Probably not. But he gets off so fucking much on upsetting you that he might just want to take the risk anyway.

“What do you want, asshole?” You hissed; stopping your motions before turning around to stare blankly at him.

The face of an angel was the most accurate way to describe the sight in front of you. Plump, pink lips molded into a sweet smile and dark brown eyes morphed into cute crescents. None of those features fit his true self, though. Underneath the angelic façade, there was a demon called Hwang Hyunjin ─ who was resting his free hand on your shoulder for no reason besides driving you crazy.

It would be easier if he was just a pretty face, but Hyunjin had a good body too. The guy looked just like a model ─ slim, tall, and classy ─, and even though only his collarbones peeked out from down his shirt, you knew that there was much more than the eyes could see.

Well, you never saw it, but you had felt it.

As far as you could remember, each curve on Hyunjin’s abs was craft by God himself. The way his chest was built for you to caress would be forever craved on your mind. You might never forget how soft his lips were in contrast to his lap… How his thighs flexed just right when you pulled his hair… How reactive he was… How his moans sounded… And how he put everything to waste.

“Oh, nothing” He shrugged. As usual, his voice was just like sweet, hot honey; still, you could wipe the poison dripping down his chin, “I was just wondering if you had enough time to do your job while fucking your boss inside your head” He clarified sarcastically, cracking you a smile.

Sometimes you regretted not putting his mouth to good use… He really needed to learn how to shut up for a while and stop being so… Unbearable. The silence he met had him scoffing; body leaning even closer to the point his face was practically hovering over yours ─ smugness plastered all over it. You held his gaze to confront him; breathe mingling with his in a heated mix that matched the anger under your eyes.

Was he licking his lips as he stared at yours? Oh boy… He definitely wanted to get laid. It was your time to scoff as the frown on your lips turned into a smirk; eyes twinkling mischievously as you looked into his in a silent teasing. As if sensing that he was in trouble, Hyunjin tilted his head to look even more obnoxious than he was; face coming closer to yours to defy your newfound confidence.

“You know what? If you stared at him any longer, I think his balls might have fallen off…” He whispered in a tone loud enough for just you to hear “Unless he saw the way you were looking at him… Then I guess his dick would go straight up” He assured you with a ‘friendly’ pat on your shoulder as he finally let go of your papers and straightened his back.

“Are you saying it from experience?” You sneered; grimacing at him.

“Are you telling me that you want me to fuck you too?” He retorted gibingly; not even thinking twice about it.

“No” You tilted your head, trying to stay composed, “I’m reminding you that you couldn’t even kiss me without getting a boner… Just like a teenage boy” He arched a brow at your statement; pursing his lips as he hummed in wonder “I’m surprised you never came in your pants like the pathetic thing you are” He laughed; poking his cheek with his tongue before squeezing your shoulder in a silent warning.

“I must have been quite a sight if you can remember it so vividly” You pretended not to notice the way he sniggered, pushing away the urge to punch his face.

Nemesis was just a classy way to call him a pain in the ass.

Rule Number Three: The (plain and uninteresting) secret identity!

It would be impossible to miss the moment Hyunjin’s devilish smirk morphed into a bright, friendly smile. The snarky comment on the tip of your tongue was swallowed back in a bit; grimace dissolving into a wide grin as if you weren’t about to throw your fists at him. He giggled as his arms spread open before snaking around your body to pull you into a tight hug; holding you close and rocking your body side to side as a soft huff fell from your lips.

If you didn’t know any better, your knee would be buried between his legs.

“Way to go, Y/N!” He chirped, loosening his grip to take a better look at your face; eyes smiling as if the both of you were the bestest of friends in the entire world, “You’re awesome! I’m so proud… I can’t believe how lucky I am to have you as my teammate” He pursed his lips; dimples showing as he offered you nothing but affection in his gaze.

You did know better, though, and it wasn’t too hard to figure out who was standing behind your back as you opened your mouth to answer him: “There’s no one I’d rather be with!” You reassured Hyunjin in a sweet, mirthful tone; tilting your head to return the fondness in his look in an act worthy of an Oscar “We’re a team, you know? You can’t get rid of me so easily” He laughed wholeheartedly at that; ruffling your hair before leaning closer to you again, resuming the hug.

“We’ll see about that” He whispered in your ear, making you scoff.

“What are you gonna do? Cry to Daddy so you won’t work with me anymore?” You hissed back; breaking away from his hug with a tight grin before turning around to meet Chan’s gaze.

The surprise plastered over your face was millimetrically calculated; just like the way you pretended to be flustered as you stared into your boss’ eyes to see the pride shining on them. You brought the papers closer to your chest in what was meant to be an innocent, coy way ─ a technique mastered over the months you worked for him ─, and Chan seemed to fall for it as he giggled in delight. The poor guy had no clue all of this was as fake as your camaraderie towards Hyunjin, and he wasn’t about to discover it anytime soon if it depended on you.

Luckily, it did! You had taken some acting classes; just enough for your next words to be naturally convincing: “I’m so sorry, Sir! We’re just so happy that –” The words were deliberately drawled to give him enough time to interrupt you. Just like you knew he would. And it was a good thing that he did because you had no idea of how you were supposed to finish that sentence anyway.

You were a good actress, not a professional improviser.

“Don’t mention it” He cut you off giggly; detaching himself from the doorframe he leaned on as he watched the friendly scene taking place.

The amount of cuteness this man could deliver in his smile wasn’t fair, and it didn’t match the sensuality a simple gesture of his overflowed with, enchanting you. You gulped down as he gave both of you a silent order to follow him into his room, wondering if the duality he had in the office was remotely similar to what he could do in bed ─ a thought that shouldn’t be having a place in your mind right now.

Hyunjin seemed to pick up on it pretty quickly too, and as soon as Chan turned around to head to his office, he bumped his shoulder onto yours. The obnoxious action was followed by your elbow diving into his ribs; a retaliation that took you less than a second and, luckily, Chan ─ or any of your coworkers ─ didn’t seem to notice. Neither of you gave away your silent quarrel as Hyunjin closed the door behind him, smiling at you when Chan finally took his seat.

“It’s good to see that you guys have such chemistry” He confessed, and you had to suppress a scoff when you looked into his eyes. He had no idea… The chemistry between you two was enough to make you want to blow each other, “You know what I always say, right?” He boasted on a sing-song; much more at ease than he seemed to be earlier.

You weren’t about to put that on the line, though.

“You can’t have teamwork if you don’t have a team!” You warbled in unison.

“That’s the spirit!” Chan gurgled, heading to his desk in a visibly good mood.

What was going on? He wouldn’t be so happy just because you and Hyunjin were being friendly… Were you missing something? He didn’t seem in such a peaceful state of mind when he came in… It had to be something that happened after that. Perhaps he got some good news from his secretary? Or maybe… You narrowed your eyes as you caught a glimpse of Hyunjin’s hands fidgeting in front of him; his foot tapping the ground rapidly but quietly before moving slightly to step on your toe.

Or maybe Hyunjin had something to do with it…

“As I said in the email, Sir, I happened to hear some stuff around and… KQ managed to get an exclusive with Han Jisung” The sentence sounded just like a normal introduction to a report, but you knew it wasn’t. Hyunjin’s eyes darted to meet yours, glinting with anxiety and despair. He was informing you of what was going on, not Chan, “And as we all know, Jisung is a rising producer star, which is bound to raise their sales and might get in the way of ours…” He continued, swallowing dryly and widening his eyes ever so slightly.

He was definitely trying to warn you of something.

“Yes, I read the e-mail, Hyunjin” Chan agreed sternly; smile disappearing as his fingers intertwined to serve as a support for his chin. He looked classy and incredibly sexy, but your mind couldn’t afford to focus on it right now. You had to figure out what the hell Hyunjin suggested to Chan before blowing everything up, “You also said that Y/N might have the solution for this…” Oh, so that was it, you thought when Chan arched his brow; eyes connecting to yours.

And now what?

“So?” He encouraged you, detaching his chin from his hands so he could rest them on his desk “I’m waiting” He smiled gently; a closed-mouth smile that was supposed to calm your nerves, even though you could see how tumultuous his gaze was right now.

It was practically a silent threat.

In a normal situation, the predatory way he was looking at you ─ resembling a wolf when you were nothing but a sheep under his radar ─ would get you… Thinking.

Your job wouldn’t be at stake in a normal situation, though.

The pressure on your toes increased; the subtle way Hyunjin found to snap you out of your mind, despite your silence hanging in there for just a few seconds. It was obvious that he was freaking out just as much as you were, and you couldn’t help but blame him for this. Couldn’t he have told you about it earlier? What the hell was going on inside his mind?! Instead of taunting you about wanting to fuck Bang Chan, he should have warned you about that shit!

That’s not the time for this, Y/N.

The muscles on your face tensed as you tried to not give away everything going through your mind; lips twisting in a tight smile as you looked at Hyunjin: “Yeah, he was right” You answered calmly, even though your stomach was settled on becoming an Olympic athlete right now, “As I was telling him before coming here, Sir, I have someone in mind…” The relief washed over Hyunjin’s face; a genuine smile adorning his features as he withheld a sigh, “I happen to know I.N, and I think I can get us an exclusive” You confessed, shifting your gaze from Hyunjin to Chan.

“The writer?” He blurted out, astonishment plastered all over his face.

“Yeah… They’re a friend of mine…” You trailed off, embarrassed to say it out loud “They’re in the top trending now since their novel will become a drama and…” You cleared your throat, lowering your head to avoid his gaze. There was just so much of acting you could handle for a day, “I mean- It’s… Adult stuff, right? But they never—”

“I know! That’s perfect!” He beamed, getting up from his chair to walk your way “They’ve never been seen! Nobody knows anything about them, Y/N” He laughed ─ he genuinely laughed ─ while clasping his hands together “Han Jisung is good, but I.N is better! This is hot news… FrontPage… How come you never told me about that?” He chuckled, placing his hand on your shoulder “Rest assured that when I get my promotion, I’m gonna have you right here in this room” He promised you in such a serious tone that a shiver ran down your spine.

Rule Number Four: The (kinda horny) true self!

There was not a single soul in the office as you made your way down the hall; eyes focused on the mesmerizing view outside. The sky was colored in purple shades, so deep that you would have mistaken them for black if it weren’t for the dazzling, sleepless city and its dozens of skyscrapers lighting everything up. Not even the full moon would be able to compete with such a beautiful brilliance, but it wouldn’t be necessary either as your gaze was abruptly torn away from the night.

The darkness surrounding you didn’t allow your brain to connect the dots immediately, and you couldn’t help but wonder what happened when you bumped into something. The surface was much softer than a wall, yet firm enough to have you wincing for the impact; eyes snapping to meet the unlucky bastard that stayed until so late. The moonlight kissed his skin just enough for you to recognize the sharp features of your boss; clenched jaw revealing popping veins that distracted you for a fraction of a second.

Your eyes trailed the path from his jaw to his neck, and you couldn’t help but wonder how it tasted like; if you could savor it like the sins you wanted to commit with him. The closeness didn’t work in your favor, and the hint of his scent intoxicated your senses as you connected your gazes. Something must have given you off ─ maybe your hesitation, maybe the lust glinting in your eyes ─ because the next second, Cristopher had his hand placed on your lower back.

The warm sensation grew to a burning feeling as his eyes darkened while diving into yours; his stern, cold gaze contrasting to the feeling of his touch and sending a shiver down your spine. Could he have noticed the way your legs trembled as his grip tightened around you? The look on his face was indecipherable, and the intensity of his gaze made you feel too exposed and vulnerable to keep looking for an answer, so you averted your eyes away from him.

“Weren’t you supposed to come as soon as you got his answer?” The way his voice made its way to your senses had the embarrassment washing over you. The huskiness in his tone made you gulp down ─ throat dry from thirsting over him ─ and the calmness in his sentence alarmed you as it didn’t match the disapproval in his eyes “It’s so late that there is no one else here anymore” He added nonchalantly; mixed signals getting you confused to what he meant by it.

Was it just a way to scold you or was it an invitation?

“I’m sorry, Sir” Despite not having anyone around, you whispered the words as if you could be caught at any moment now, “It took me longer than expected, but we—”

“We?” His eyes were sharp enough to cut you off but the real reason why you couldn’t manage to finish your thoughts was the way he pulled your body impossibly closer to his “Were you with him this whole time?” He hissed right into your ear, letting his hot breath fan over your cold, sensitive skin in a silent threat.

“Working” You corrected, even though he didn’t say anything.

“Working” He hummed in agreement; hand going to tuck your hair behind your ear “As in how we work late at night?” He sneered, manhandling you to press your back against the cold surface of the glass wall that separated his office from the rest of the place “Or is it as in how he wants to work you on his desk?” He scoffed; soft huff almost as degrading as the way he held your cheeks with one hand and guided your eyes to his.

“Neither” You guaranteed breathlessly; voice quivering in excitement.

“Are you going to pretend that you didn’t notice his looks?” He narrowed his eyes at you; his knee making its way to the gap between yours before slowly rising to your thighs, “That you don’t know how much he wants to fuck you?” He laughed humorlessly, shaking his head in disbelief, “You better not, ‘cause I know you love it” He warned as he kicked your legs apart.

“He could never fuck me as you do” There was such seriousness in your tone that it had him chuckling, and he nodded in approval before burying his nose in your neck, “I-I’m yours only, Sir… I know my place” You promised quietly, trying not to give away how aroused his jealousy made you feel.

“Yeah…” His raspy laughter tickled your skin, and you muffled a whine as he grazed his teeth over your neck teasingly “But you like being reminded of it, don’t you?” He taunted, taking in your scent in a way that made you feel too small and helpless. He groaned as soon as you let a whimper fall from your lips, and you couldn’t help but struggle to stay still while knowing what was about to come, “Do I have to spell it for you, baby girl?” He snickered before sucking on the tender spot of your skin that he knew too well at this point.

“N-No” Somewhere inside your head, you acknowledged that your reaction was insanely humiliating. He just needed a couple of words spoken in a sultry tone and you couldn’t even form a proper sentence. That was the power he had on you. And you loved it. “Only yours” The rushed tone made him smirk against your neck, stopping his path of kisses for a second to look into your eyes “Sir” You panted; returning his gaze with just as much intensity as he had on his.

“Claim your place” His order was so tantalizing that you didn’t even blink before you finally let your knees give away, losing the support of your legs to earn the support of his thigh, “That’s right… You do remember your place” Somehow, this sounded like the best praise he could ever offer you, even under his amused tone, “But you have been such a bad girl lately…” He pouted as he caressed your cheek; hand stopping to grab your chin gently “And I don’t like bad girls… You know that, right?” He let his thumb reach for your lower lip, fiercely staring at it before grazing his finger on your teeth.

Your answer was as silent as his request; tongue welcoming his thumb before you sucked on his digit. He hummed in appreciation, pushing it inside your mouth as you looked at him with big doe eyes to show a coyness that wasn’t really there within you. The action was followed by a swirl around the tip of his finger; as if to leave in his mouth the taste of what he was missing and prompt him to give you what you really wanted: Him.

If he picked up on your plans, he showed it by giving like for like.

He didn’t say a word as he pressed his thigh against your heat; leaning closer to let his breath fan over your neck once more. He stood like that for what could have been seconds, maybe minutes, but nonetheless time enough for his warmth to creep into your senses. He was like a poison to you; the intoxicating presence clouding your better judgment and destroying any will you had to have him losing control. You didn’t even mind the way he scoffed as you started to grind his leg; brows twisting to shout out a needy plea for release.

“That’s a good girl” He approved, catching your earlobe between his teeth. The moan that fell from your lips was muffled by his finger and he didn’t seem to appreciate it, “I don’t hear you, baby girl” He complained, moving on to your jaw with a path of open-mouthed kisses that weren’t enough to distract you from his other hand “There’s no one here… Be loud for me” He allured you as his hand found its way under your shirt.

The temptation was great… Scream his name as he fucked you senseless in the office... No risk of being caught… Just you, and him, and your dirty little secret…

Your thoughts were all around the place, and you had no hopes of grasping them back as his cold hand brushed your side, contrasting to the warmth under your clothes. The way he touched you made shivers run down your spine; his slow, delicate motion enhancing your senses to every single second of his caresses. You held your breath when his finger finally managed to reach its destination; grazing over your nipple to have you succumbing to his wishes.

You fought it as you could, but you were never much of a fighter.

It was too easy for him to have you under his control, and he knew it. You could tell it by the way he chuckled as soon as you gave away how lost you were at this point. The moan that left your lips came all the way up from your chest, sounding crystal clear in the room as you let your mouth fall agape. Sucking on his finger and following his orders were the last concern you would have for this moment. The only thing worthy of your attention right now was the fact that you couldn’t get as much friction as you needed, and you had to do something about it.

So you grind on his leg for dear life.

“You’re so needy” The mockery didn’t have much effect on your mind anymore, so you just kept sliding up and down his thigh as if that was the only thing that could keep you going “You’re not even listening to me, are you?” He huffed in disbelief; thumb leaving your mouth so he could cup your face “That’s all you can understand, right?” He taunted, pinching your nipple to get your attention again, “Are you still there, baby girl?” He leaned closer to whisper in your ear.

“F-Fuck me” Was the only answer he would get.

“Manners” He warned; licking the sweet spot next to your jaw.

“Fuck me, Sir” You corrected yourself; wrapping your arms around his shoulders to look for some support as you practically bounced on his leg, “Please, fuck me, Sir” You repeated, forehead resting on the crook of his neck as you clawed his back, trying to bring him as close as possible to you.

“Louder” He demanded, and you didn’t need to look at his face to know that he was grinning, “Louder…” He instructed in a tone so low that you could barely hear him over the rustling sounds of fabric against fabric. Your breath hitched as his hand gently caressed your hair; moving some strands away from your face to take a better look at you. However, he didn’t get to see your teary eyes, “Come on, baby… Look at me” He asked in a tantalizing tone, alluring you to try and meet his gaze.

There wasn’t much you could see through your hooded eyes; vision too blurry for you to grasp what was going on inside his mind. You could tell he enjoyed it, though. He always did. That moment when he could pinpoint you had given up on your control, that you weren’t yourself anymore and would be willing to do whatever he asked… He lived for it, for that rebellious flame of self-control extinguishing from your eyes.

For who you become when lust overcomes you.

The grip on his hair wasn’t unexpected, and Cristopher offered you a small, wicked smile before you connected your lips. The kiss was messy and hurried; tongues exploring every corner they could find while your hands were occupied on getting rid of your clothes. Neither of you cared about anything else but feeling each other’s bodies as you ripped your shirts. The cold breeze hitting your bare skin wasn’t enough to cool down the heat consuming you, but it was enough to have you squirming and whining.

“Beautiful” Was the only thing he said before pushing your back against the glass and adjusting his grip to take your nipple between his teeth. The groan that escaped your lips was almost animalistic, prompting him to answer with a grunt of his own as he sucked on your skin. The vibrations ran from your flesh to your core, enticing another moan that seemed to fall into deaf ears, “Louder, baby�� I want him to hear you…” He pleaded, letting go of your breast just to grope it and give you a kitten lick on the next second “To know who made you like this…” He added before sucking on it again.

Perhaps it was the fact that he thrust on you, just to tease your senses and make you thirstier. Perhaps it was the fact you had to support yourself on just one leg as he pushed his hips against yours and you tried to seek for your balance by involving his leg with yours. Perhaps it was his hand sliding to meet your clothed core; finger pressing against your clit to add a delicious, needed stimulus for your orgasm.

Perhaps it was the words that slipped through his lips.

“W-What did you say?” You panted; hips faltering as you tried to keep riding him, but steading their pace as his finger circled your clit to goad you “M-Mhm… S-Sir” You cried; hand burying in his hair to pull it and translate the utter bliss waving down your body. The string of mewls and urgent pleas spilled from you like a chant, getting him more eager than before, “P-Please” You whined, even though you weren’t sure what you were asking for.

“Hold it” He ordered; straightening his back to look right into your eyes, but failing as yours rolled back to your head. His hand made its way to squeeze your cheeks, forcing you to look at him with a soft shake to catch your attention “Look at me” It sounded like a warning; stern enough for you to try your best to focus on him, “You’ll only cum when he walks right through that door… Do you understand?” He searched for any signs of stubbornness in your eyes, but his smile showed he didn’t found any.

“W-Who?” You managed to ask; body trembling as you tried to hold every single string inside your mind in place, even though each one of them was ready to snap and unravel the crashing pleasure that was building up.

“Why does it matter?” He scoffed, quickening his pace as the unmistakable ring of the elevator sounded on the room “You love being seen, don’t you?” He chuckled, watching as your body shook violently and your knees started to give away to the sensations running down your body.

“Y-Yes, Sir” You could bet your voice echoed inside the building, and Christopher seemed to agree with you as he grinned in approval.

“So look at your guest, baby… And scream my name” He instructed, pushing your face to the side. The doors opened slowly, revealing the lights inside the small cubicle right in front of your eyes “Let him know who you belong to” He whispered in your ear; hand pushing your underwear aside so his finger could come in contact with your core.

The mysterious figure detached from the corners of the metallic walls to finally reveal himself. You met his eyes for a half of a second; enough time for you to recognize the one who worked with you every single day of your life. For the past few years. Someone who would be your partner for years to come, and who would witness and engrave your face in your most vulnerable moment.

You came hard; probably the most overwhelming orgasm you had ever had in your life. It was impossible to hold back your voice, and you couldn’t help but howl his name; legs shaking and body collapsing into your boss’ arms. You squirmed and whimpered as you tried to recompose yourself; letting him help you ride you out of your orgasm and occupying yourself by staring into your coworker’s shocked eyes.

“Thank you, Sir…” You breathed out, gripping his arms for dear life while the shame sank into your soul.

Rule Number Five: The (grateful and satisfied) fans!

And… Post.

Oh, well… You did it. Again. There was something about displaying your deepest fantasies for anyone to see that was kinda thrilling to you. Your heart raced inside your chest just like a drum ─ well, if a goddamn drummer decided to do a solo but was too offbeat, to begin with ─ and you couldn’t help but stare blankly at the page without a clue of what to do now. It was out there… Why didn’t anyone say anything yet? Was it that bad? Should you delete it?

Well… People have to read it before commenting, you know?

Yeah, right… You just posted it.

Chill.

You licked your lips before biting them; feeling the rush that was posting about your boss online when no one else knew about it. If you were being honest, the best part of this wasn’t having the chance to live your fantasies throughout your writing. No. The best part was knowing that only you knew the true identity of Christopher… Or what you really wanted to do to him while he walked down the hallway. The best part was that no one would ever figure out that you were the author of the bestselling novel of the moment… That this steamy romance between boss and employee was nothing but your rawest desire.

Who would think that the boring, shy girl from the office would be a smut writer? Who would think that you would have a horny, interesting secret identity? No one else but you.

And this was priceless.

Or maybe… It was priceless.

As far as you knew, every single thing you cherished about being a secretive horny bitch could go down the drain tomorrow. It would be all fine if it was just a… Well, actually everything would suck. How would you look at Chan’s face if he knew you were writing about having sex with your boss while he was your boss? What would you do if they decided to fire you because of it? What would you do with your life from now on?!

Don’t panic, Y/N.

You had everything under control… Tomorrow morning you would be going to Jeongin’s house and interview him as if he were you. No one would ever suspect you after that. You would save your ass, Hyunjin’s ass, and Chan’s ass. And that was it. The perfect plan. Nothing to worry about. Just trust Jeongin to follow your script and make sure everything would go as planned.

Flawless. Totally safe. Perfect.

That’s right…

You just need to take a deep breath and rela—

The sudden sound caught you off guard; eyes focusing on the screen once again so you could understand what was going on. All of your worries vanished away as soon as you saw the notification on the top of it; announcing that you had just got a message from a fan.

Finally!

The weasel icon was so familiar that you chuckled while opening the message; a smile plastering over your face as you let your eyes wander around the words. There was nothing more fulfilling to your writer ass than seeing the way Weasel always had something to say about your story. Sometimes, he’d give you some feedback on your style. Other times, he’d freak out about how much he wanted to “try those things out”, as he usually said. There were also times when he’d just get excited over the characters and their conflicts, which always got you laughing.

It was fun to talk to Weasel.

He was just as mysterious as you… There was no name to his face, and also no face to his icon, but both of you were friends anyway. He had been keeping up with your stuff from such an early stage that it felt natural to have him around and getting his feedback. It was so comfortable, that you didn’t even mind when he slid in your DMs, embarrassed to let anyone else know that your smut made him… Feel things. There was no need to elaborate on what he did about those feelings or those things. But it was kinda hot to know he enjoyed himself throughout your fantasies.

His fantasies.

Well… For the number of times that you used them to write your stories, it was some sort of shared fantasies by now. As a matter of fact, you never intended to make Christopher a jealous character but Weasel made the idea seem too hot for you to ignore. Sometimes, he’d open up about that girl from his work that he really liked and how jealous he was of the guy she liked and then… Well, it felt… Interesting.

The thought of being desirable to the point a guy would want to claim you as his like this? Not that Weasel did it. He actually just mentioned that he hoped she was into this as a kink. You couldn’t help but picture the way he would touch her in such a greedy way… The possessiveness blinding him for a second… The grip tightening… The mean words and the humiliation… Oh, the sweet humiliation that would crush you as he whispered how much you would cum for him… How he was the only one who could make you like that… How he would ask you to say his name… To tell him that you were his…

You could drink holy water and still be shaking just by picturing it.

“That was such a good chapter… I didn’t expect you to use her friend like that. I thought it was a given that she’d end up with Chris” You read out loud, chuckling when he reached for your DMs to talk to you “Will we get a threesome or something, miss? 😏” He joked on the next line and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at this “I’m waiting for it”

“You’re just a horny bitch, aren’t you?” You typed, smirking as you stared at his messages “No spoilers for you, though, baby boy… You’ll have to wait like everybody else” Teasing him was always funny, and he never failed to amuse you.

“I’m not the one writing porn online” He pointed out, and before he could write anything else you shot him.

“Yeah but you’re the one getting off to it” You retorted, getting a whole set of gasping and shocked emotes that had you laughing.

“I have no words to express how offended I am” You chortled, shaking your head in disbelief.

“Alright, Drama Llama” Why was it so fun to mock him? You wished you could actually meet him offline and banter like this in real life “To fill your horny ass, I might write a dom!reader next time… I was thinking about torturing the 2nd lead a bit”

“First of all… I don’t think I want my ass filled, thank you for offering tho” Why was he like this? “And I was just joking” You frowned at that, confused by what he meant “Don’t you think that a threesome doesn’t go along with the characters? Her friend likes her a lot and Christopher is just a kinky son of a bitch… I thought he’d just show him that she was his and be an ass as usual”

“What do you have against Chris, dude?” You rolled your eyes, although he wouldn’t be able to see it, “He’s way better than her friend! At least, he does something about her”

“I have the 2nd male lead syndrome! You know that!” You chortled, very aware of this, “And isn’t that the perfect opportunity for him to do something about it?! I mean… I don’t want to be nosey but having a threesome is way out of character for them” He pointed out, and you had to admit he was right.

“No, you’re not nosey…” You sighed; shoulders dropping for a second “It’s just that I’m upset about something that happened at work today and you know that projecting my problems on those characters is my thing” You pursed your lips, staring at the keyboard for a few seconds before deciding to continue “Besides, I’m about to spend an entire day with a guy that kinda inspired the 2nd lead and… I don’t really want to think about a sex scene with him, you know?” You confessed.

“But thinking about torturing and having a threesome with him is easy” He mocked you.

“That’s because that threesome would never happen” You sent it before you could think about what you had just written.

“Ooohhhh!” Holy shit… The amount of emotes he had just dumped on that chat couldn’t be a good sign, “So having sex with this guy is something you want?! And that could happen?! ” Great, now you would have a Drama Llama-Weasel trying to get some juicy gossip about your inexistent sex life… WORSE! Your sex life with your nemesis! “Why don’t you go for it? I’m sure he’s into you if he’s anything like his character” Poor thing… He had no idea.

“Shut up, it’s not like that” You brushed it off.

“If you say so” You could almost hear him snickering, even though you didn’t know how his voice sounded like “I’ll just have you regretting this for the rest of the night” You snorted, shaking your head in disbelief. He was unbearable! “I have work early tomorrow but I’m gonna come back with questions, Miss… Wait for me”

“What I meant is that it’d be easier to happen than having a threesome, not that I want it to happen, moron” You defended yourself but he didn’t even get to read it as he logged off right away.

Great… He would never let you live it down.

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scuttling · 3 years

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Trophy Husband

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 2,188 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Dad bod Hotch, Insecure Hotch, Dry humping, Unprotected sex, a lil Daddy kink Summary: Requested by anon: “maybe some dad bod hotch smut? like where he’s newly retired and hasn’t been working out as much and the reader worships his body bc he’s been feeling a little insecure” I love some dad bod Hotch, so happy to fill this request! Link to A03 or read below!

“No, we’re not doing forced overtime again. If you want my team to put out more consults, then we need to hire more profilers.” You walk through your front door and into the kitchen, smiling when you see Aaron standing over the stove, holding a wooden spoon and stirring something that smells amazing. “With all due respect, I’m not concerned about the budget, sir; if my people are as valuable as you stated, then I expect them to be taken care of.”

Aaron looks back at you, wrinkles his nose, and you make a motion with your hands—blah, blah, blah—which makes him chuckle.

“I agree completely, sir. That’s a great idea. If you send down the requisitions tomorrow, I’ll start interviewing on Monday. No, thank you. Good night.” You lock your phone, set your bag on the stool closest to you, and sigh. “Was it this hard to get stuff done when you were the unit chief?”

“No, it’s definitely harder now, but you make it look easy. And sexy,” he says with a smirk, and you walk over to him; he offers a taste of what he’s making—it looks like paella, and your stomach rumbles—and you lean in to take a bite off of the spoon, looking up at him and flicking your tongue over your lips. His eyes get dark.

Even after ten years of marriage, he’s so easy to get going, it’s almost unfair.

“Delicious, daddy, thank you.” You stand up fully, and he turns back to the stove; your arms wrap easily around his waist, cheek pressed to the soft, worn t-shirt that covers his back. “How was your day? Are you still enjoying the life of a trophy husband?” He snorts, muscles tensing enough that you can feel it where you rest.

“Hardly.” He was in such a good mood a moment ago that this feels like a complete 180; profiler or not, you know your husband, and something’s on his mind. You tighten your embrace, and he shrugs you off a little, and that is practically unheard of. You stand, take a step back to look at him.

“What’s wrong? You aren’t getting bored of retirement already, are you? It’s only been six months.” He sighs, shakes his head. You’re sure you look confused.

“No, retirement is fine; it’s great, actually, it’s not that.” Typical Aaron, always making you drag this shit out of him. For being so sweet and kind, he’s still not that great at being open, even though you make every effort to encourage it.

“What is it, sweetheart? Something is obviously bothering you; we should talk about it.” Another deep exhale, and he turns off the burner, moves the pan of food off of the heat, and turns to face you fully.

“I imagine you already know.” You shake your head, shrug, and he gestures to himself, to his body. You feel stupid, like there’s something you’re missing.

“Aaron, love of my life, I don’t have any idea what this means.” You mimic his previous motion, and he rolls his eyes, which you can’t stand, and he’s well aware of that. “You’ve got to give me more than that, or I can’t help.”

“You can’t help, it just… is.” He sighs, and his shoulders deflate. You move closer, to touch him, comfort him, but he takes a step back. “I know I’m not the ‘trophy husband’ you probably expected me to be. I know this isn’t what you signed up for.”

You do your best to put together these cryptic sentences, the hand gesture, and when realization finally dawns on you, you can’t help it: you laugh.

Aaron turns away, and you know that was shitty, feel instantly terrible, so you reach out to put a gentle hand on his arm.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t laughing at you, it’s just… you don’t think you’re hot anymore?” He turns to face you, looking at you like he’s tired of your shenanigans, which… after this long, he should be plenty used to them, so the look does nothing for you.

“I’ve gotten… soft, I think that’s obvious.” At that, you smirk a little, move your hands to the button on his jeans.

“Oh, I don’t think there’s anything soft about you, Aaron. Why don’t you let me put your cock in my mouth, and we’ll check again.”

“You wanted me to talk, I’m talking.” His tone is a little admonishing, and you kind of deserve it, so you stop being horny for a second and take a deep breath.

“You’re right. Sorry. So… you’re exercising less, because obviously you don’t need to be as fit anymore, since you’re not working. Am I following?” He nods his head. “Okay, and you’re feeling… insecure about the way your body looks now, because of it.”

“Yes. Especially when you, Unit Chief Hotchner, are kicking ass and looking fucking delicious doing it, and then you have to come home to me.”

It’s like a switch is flipped in you, at those words. Oh hell no.

“Hold on here. I don’t have to come home to you, I get to come home to you; every night I do, it’s like a dream come true, and on the nights I don’t get to come home to you, I dream about it. I dream about being in your arms—strong arms, always, even if they’re less defined—and I dream about making love to you and fucking you and everything in between. You: not the Aaron of two months ago or six months ago or five years ago. You.”

He looks your face over—you’re getting fired up and you know it, and it turns him on and you also know that—and then the two of you come together for a deep, desperate kiss. Your hands fist in his hair, his roughly grab your ass, and when you pull back for air he turns you so you’re bent over the counter, searches for the zipper of your skirt.

“No!” He freezes, then steps back, and you stand up, flushed. “I’m sorry, not no—just, not here.” He blows out a breath, and you kiss him softly, sorry you scared him. “It’s just that… I want to lay you back on our bed, completely naked, and I want to put my mouth and my hands on you, everywhere. I want you to see what your body does to me, exactly as it is right now. I get that that might make you feel a little vulnerable, but will you let me?” You press your lips to his again, put your hands gently on his face. “Let me, baby.”

He nods, and you take his hand, take him to your bedroom. He’s visibly nervous, so you move his hands to your body, let him strip you naked first. He always takes pleasure in this, whether he is ripping the buttons off your favorite blouse or softly mouthing at your thighs while he drags your panties down your legs, and tonight is no exception.

“So beautiful, baby,” he murmurs as he finds that zip and drags it down, helping you step out of the skirt. You kick off your heels, and he unbuttons your top—carefully, tonight—then unhooks your bra, pulls you close and kisses your neck and chest so deliciously you almost forget what brought you here.

You lick your lips, shake yourself from the haze of submission you always feel when his mouth is at your throat, and your hands flick open the button of his jeans, tug down the zipper, guide his pants to the floor. He steps out of them, and you kiss his mouth.

Your hands move up, to the hem of his t-shirt, but you do nothing. He smirks, pulls it over his head, because he knows you love that hot guy way of pulling a t-shirt off with one hand, and he happens to be a master of it. You do your best not to drool.

“Mmm. You know exactly what I like, Aaron. There’s nobody in this world who could turn me on like you, who could get me off like you.” He licks his lips, and you get on your knees, running your hands down his body as you go. “Toes to nose, you are exactly who and what I want. Don’t ever forget that.”

You start low, press your lips to the tops of his feet, then his ankles, his calves, his knees. He takes a deep, shuddering breath, but you keep moving up, slowly, until your hands find the waistband of his underwear and you pull them down. His cock springs up—this in particular is never a problem, no matter his age—and you kiss up his thighs and then rise to stand.

“Baby,” he breathes, and you lean up for a kiss, drop your panties. He grabs a fistful of your hair, takes another, rougher kiss, then releases you; you’re panting hard, and your teeth sink into your bottom lip. God, he’s good. How could he ever doubt his sex appeal when he makes you this much of a horny, eager mess with just a kiss?

You guide him back to the bed because he’s too tall for you to reach everywhere standing up; you start at his right wrist, kiss your way to the crook of his elbow, over his biceps, to his shoulder. You trail your lips over his collarbone, his throat, pausing to nibble on his earlobes, to peck him on the tip of his nose.

“I love you so much, Aaron. You are and always will be perfect in my eyes. I barely even notice when you’re being a dick anymore,” you joke, and he laughs; steamy and sexy is really good, but it’s your favorite when he laughs.

You kiss down the other side of his neck, down his arm, but this time you bring his hand up and suck on his middle and ring fingers, taking them so deeply you can flick your tongue over his wedding ring. He groans, you groan, it’s really hot. Your pussy throbs.

“Fuck, baby.” You pull them out of your mouth with an innocent smile, and then straddle his legs, leaning forward to suck and bite kisses all over his stomach and hips, avoiding his cock altogether. “Oh, god, that feels so good,” he breathes, reaching for your hair, and you slide your arms up his chest, squeeze the muscles there that are softer, but still present, while you kiss wetly along his belly.

“Mmm,” you moan while you kiss, because you’re kind of… lined up tight against his thigh, and it feels really good.

You keep kissing, all over, sloppy, eager kisses, rubbing his chest and grinding against his thigh, and it’s a surprise to you both when you come, looking up at him with your mouth open and your nails digging into his skin.

“Holy fuck,” you sigh when you’re done—there’s no sugarcoating this—humping his leg, and he licks his lips, wraps his hands around your arms, and maneuvers you on onto your back, slides his cock easily inside you where you’re wet and warm. “Yes, Aaron.”

“Oh, baby. Fuck, I love you,” he groans, and he laces your fingers with his and tucks his face against your neck. You love when he gets like this, so desperate to come but so soft, so loving, and you squeeze him with your legs, push your body into his thrusts.

“Like that, honey, just like that,” you breathe, mouthing at his shoulder, your free hand clutching at his back. “Come inside me, daddy; pin me with your big body like you always do and come inside me. Love it, want it, need it.”

He moans into your throat, works his hips harder, faster, and you hold him when he comes, smoothing your palm over his skin. He looks down at you, and love shines in his eyes just like always; your heart melts a little. That’s something you’ll never get tired of seeing as long as you live.

He pulls out, replaces his cock with his fingers and brings you to orgasm again, still looking into your eyes, and he catches your last gasping moan with his lips.

You’re both tired after that, not as young as you used to be, and you pull him on top of your body again, a warm, reassuring weight; underneath him is your favorite place to be, always has been, always will be.

“Trophy husband,” you coo in his ear, scraping fingers through his hair. He chuckles softly, brushes his thumb over your lips.

“Badass wife.”

“Mm hmm, and don’t you forget it.” After a couple minutes, your stomach rumbles, and Aaron climbs off of you, returns with the whole pan of paella, two spoons, and a bottle of white wine. “No glasses?” you ask, teasing, sitting up against the pillows, and he shakes his head, wrinkles his nose.

“Nah, I like it better this way. My lips where your lips have been.” He leans in for a soft, slow, sultry kiss, and you sigh when it’s over, lean your head against his shoulder, and smile.

❤️ Taglist: @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix

#aaron hotchner #criminal minds #aaron hotchner fanfic #criminal minds fanfic #aaron hotchner x female reader #aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #hotch x female reader #request

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outsideratheart · 3 years

Text

When in New York (Kelley O’ Hara x reader)

Part 2

You had just finished post game media following your game against New York Liberty. You weren’t a huge fan of doing media but it made it easier considering Seattle had won.

You leave the conference room with Stewie who you had been doing the interview with.

“You seeing your family tonight” You shake your head.

“What about you?” She nods hers.

She bumps her shoulder into yours “Two New Yorkers beat New York in New York. Sounds like something to celebrate to me” She says and maybe she had a point.

You both walk into the locker room, some players have already left and some were still packing up.

“Y/N? Megan texted saying that her and a couple other teammates are at your parents restaurant and asked if we wanted to meet up with them” Sue asks.

Very few people knew about the family restaurant, you wanted to keep it a secret so that it could stay authentic. Your family was Italian and the restaurant was like a little piece of Italy in New York. The only people that knew where your Storm teammates and Megan, the honorary team mom.

You look at sue and she is giving you the look. After signing for the team she had taken you under her wing meaning that the two of you had got quite close.

“Ok, ok. No need to give me that look” You says.

After a quick shower and a change of clothes you leave the area, luckily for you the restaurant is only a few blocks away so you and Sue opted to walk saying that I would be your cool down / recovery.

“You said teammates” you says putting air-quotes around the word teammates “who’s there?” You ask.

“Alex and Kelley” she says which instantly bring a smile to your face.

“I thought that would cheer you up”

“Shut up”

You had a crush on Kelley, both Sue and Megan knew it. You met her last year when to US were playing in Seattle and Megan had invited you to a game. There was something about the defender that you really liked. You wasn’t if it was the fact that on the pitch she is a beast and off she is teddy but always had fun when you were with her.

You both enter the restaurant being greeted by your mom as soon as you come through the door.

“Mrs L/N nice to see you again” Sue says.

“Sue I have told you before, you can call me Maria” You mom says as she hugs you and sue makes her way to your friends.

“buon gioco dolce ragazza” (good game sweet girl) she tells you.

“grazie mamma” you reply kissing her cheek.

Meanwhile sue heads towards to table of soccer players.

She waves at everyone getting a mixture of hi’s and hello’s

“Hi babe” She says kissing her girlfriend on the cheek.

“Hi” Megan replies. “Where Y/N?” She asks noticing that you wasn’t behind sue.

“She’s in here somewhere” Sue says. She knew that you would probably been saying hi to your dad in the kitchen but she couldn’t tell them that.

“See Kel, you have a few more moments to get your crush in check” Alex jokes with her friend.

“Shut up!” Kelley replies.

“Hi guys” you say as to approach the table.

You notice Kelley staring at you so you take the opportunity to tease her.

“Like what you see?” You say making the defender blush.

“Have you ordered food yet?” You ask.

“No we were waiting for you. We know we are having though” Alex tells you as she hands you a menu.

“Thanks but I don’t need it” You say handing the menu to Sue who shakes her head letting you know she doesn’t need it either.

“You already know what you’re having?” Kelley asks.

“Not exactly” Sue says which confuses the others.

Looking around the restaurant you catch the attention of one of the waiters.

You let him know you are ready to order.

Each of the women tell him what they want and then it is your’s and sue’s turn.

You look at sue and she nods her head.

“dì a gianni che avremo quello che consiglia” (tell gianni we will have what he recommends) Sue says

“Certo” The waiter says.

You look at Sue and smile in approval.

“You getting very good, maybe time for a trip” You say.

“You speak Italian?” Kelley asks Sue.

“Y/N does and she has been teaching me for the past couple of years”

“Who is Gianni?” Alex asks.

“He is the chef here” You explain.

You start talking about the storm game when you mom bring across a bottle of limoncello hand you the bottle and 5 shot glasses.

“Grazie” You say

You pour everyone a glass and hand them out.

“You get table service here?” Kelley asks.

“No, I asked for it when I came in” You reply.

You raise you class and everyone copies.

“Here to us. We change the game and provide hope for the next generation of female athletes” You say and everyone takes a sip except Kelley who shots it.

“You sip it Kel. If not you’ll be on the floor an hour” Megan says.

“You would know” you tease causing you and the forward to laugh.

“I will pour you another but this here” you say pointing to the bottle “is the real stuff, not something you find in a liquor store. It comes straight from a vineyard in Italy where this restaurant makes it’s wine”

“You know a lot about this restaurant, the chef’s name and now where it makes it’d alcohol” Alex questions.

“What can I say, I have been coming here since I was a baby” you explain.

“that’s one way to put it” sue says under her breath, no quiet enough though as you send her a glare.

You look at Kelley as she takes a sip.

“Tastes better doesn’t it” She nods her head.

Your food arrives and you all say how nice it looks and smells.

“Oh.my.god” Kelley says between mouthfuls.

“I agree, this is incredible. Megan how did you find this place? Alex asks.

“Y/N” Megan replies and Alex nods remembering that you said you came here when I was younger.

Conversation is small and simple as you all focus on your food.

You thank the waiter telling him the the food was delicious as he clears the table.

“Y/N can I ask you a question” Kelley asks.

“Only if I can ask you one?”

“Why Italian and are you fluent” She asks

“I’m Italian so I had to learn in order to talk to family in Sicily”

“Prove it. Tell me something in Italian?”

“quando ci siamo conosciuti pensavo fossi la persona più bella del mondo”

“Sounds very romantic” Alex says.

“What does it mean?” Kelley asks.

“it means ‘when we met I thought you were the most beautiful person in the world’” You tell her making sure to look her in the eyes when you say it.

Kelley is at a loss for words, what is she suppose to say to that.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable” You say slowly regretting what you said, not that you didn’t mean because you did.

“I’ll go get us some more drinks” you says excusing yourself from the table.

“Kelley” Alex says trying to get her friends attention.

“Does she say that kind of thing to everyone?” Kelley asks sue.

She shakes her head “She isn’t that type of person Kelley”

“You should tell her how you feel” Megan suggests.

Kelley shakes her head “what if she doesn’t feel the same way”

“You honestly think that after hearing what she just said” Alex says not believing her friends blindness.

You walk back to the table with two bottles of red wine.

“Dessert wine anyone?” You say trying to avoid the awkwardness. “trust me, this will be the best you tasted”

“It’s what they make in Italy right?” Alex says, you nod pouring her a glass.

Out of all the woman at the table to knew that Alex was the one that drank wine. You wait eagerly to see If she likes it.

“Nice right”

Alex nods her head.

You all sip on your wine talking about everything and anything, for a moment you forget that you are all major athletes and it just feels like a group of friends catching up.

Once you are done Alex gets the attention of the waiter for the bill but he tells them that it has been settled.

She looks around the table confused but notices that Megan and Sue and looking directly at you.

“Y/N”

“What? We don’t do this very often. Let me treat my friends”

“Thank you” Alex and Kelley say at the same time.

You are just about to leave when your mom comes to the table.

“Did you all enjoy your meal?” She asks.

“It was incredible, I cannot wait to come back” Kelley says.

“I agree, I will definitely come back whenever we are in New York” Alex says.

“I’ll see you two soon ok” she says putting an arm around Sue and Megan. She had met them numerous times when she came to Seattle but her comment stumped the other two.

“Of course, next time your in Seattle you have to show me how to make your lasagne, I always eat the ones you make Y/N” Megan looks at you when you realises what she said.

It looks like your secret was about to get two new keepers.

“Alex, Kelley” your mom says now directed her attention to the other two soccer players “Any friends of my daughters are always welcome here”

“Wait, your daughter?” Kelley says looking at you confused.

“Meet my mom Maria” you say.

“This makes more sense. It is why you know so much about this restaurant” Alex says.

You nod your head.

You all make sure your way our of the restaurant. You had learned that Megan, Alex and Kelley were all staying in the same hotel as you and sue so you walked back together. Sue, Megan and Alex walk ahead leaving you and Kelley alone.

“I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable earlier, it’s just that whenever I am near you I feel this connection and thought maybe you felt it too. I wouldn’t have said what I said if I didn't” you say

“I wasn’t uncomfortable, you caught me of guard. Nobody has every said something like that to me, definitely not in Italian” Kelley explains.

“I find that hard to believe, I mean look at you, you are beautiful” You say.

Kelley blushes again which you find adorable “ You were right before. I feel the connection too but I never did anything about it because we live so far away from each other”

“Can’t we just let ourself be happy even it it’s only a short period of time. We focus so much on the bigger picture that we don’t see what is right in front of us” You tell her.

“What do you have in mind?” She asks and you smile, you had wanted to do this for a quite a while.

“When do you leave New York?”

“Not until the day after tomorrow”

“Perfect! Have breakfast with me?”

“I would love to” she replies.

Kelley stops walking “for the record, I find you very beautiful too”

You smile holding you hand out and she takes it.

You walk back to the hotel hand in hand, not talking just making the most of each others company whilst you can.

#uswnt x reader #uswnt one shot #uswnt imagine #kelley o'hara #kelley o’hara x reader #kelley o’hara imagine #kelley o’hara one shot

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sodasback · 3 years

Text

Bet

JJ Maybank x Reader

Reposting from my deleted account with minor edits.

Not my photo. All credit to original poster @pop-punk-maybank <3

"You wanna put some stakes on this, Maybank?" You asked, feeling especially cocky.

"You think you can beat me at beer pong?" JJ asked incredulously. You had to admit it was pretty arrogant of you to think you could beat JJ, aka beer pong king of OBX.

"Oh, I know I can babe." You doubled down. JJ smirked.

"Alright, what do I get when I win?" JJ asked confidently, putting his hands on the table and purposely flexing his muscles as he leaned forward.

"Whad'you want?"

JJ smiled. "After the game is over, you have to jump off the dock, into the marsh." You frowned. You were a little let down by the anti-climatic nature of his dare; it was unlike the blonde.

"I didn't bring a bathing suit." You quickly retorted, shaking your head, knowing that wasn't an option.

“Yeah, I know. You aren’t wearing a bra either.” JJ smiled devilishly. A chorus of “oohs” came from the group that was gradually gathering around. Your mouth dropped open a little.

You closed your mouth and glared at JJ for a second. “Bet.” You said and gasps of disbelief and giggles left the small crowd. Even JJ raised his eyebrows, a little surprised at your answer, but he regained his confident front quickly. “And if I win, you have to show me the video Pope took of you from last weekend.”

JJ immediately dropped his smirk. Pope and John B shared glances, obviously knowing what JJ says/does in the video. “Yeah, that’s not happening.” JJ said looking away.

“Only if you lose.” You reminded him and JJ looked up at you. “What? Is JJ Maybank scared to lose at beer pong to a chick?” You challenged.

Laughs and more “oohs” came from the small group of party-goers.

JJ looked at you for a minute. “Fuck it. Fine. Let’s do it.”

The game got set up.

“Last chance to back out, Y/L/N. You ready?”

“I’m always ready for your JJ.” You teased. He shook his head, knowing the tactic of trying to distract him with flirting all too well. You looked at each other in the eyes and took the first shot at the same time to see who would go first. Your ball bounced off the rim of the solo cup and of course, JJ’s sunk in one. You took a breath in and JJ smiled and cocked his head at you.

“Get used to passing those back to me, Y/N/N, because you’re not gonna keep them at all tonight.”

“Yeah, keep talking shit, JJ. We know this is the only way you’re scoring tonight.”

JJ’s first shot of course went right in. “Drink up, babe”

You smiled and grabbed the first cup, downing it easily. “How’s losing taste?” He asked, getting cockier by the second.

“Just shoot your shot.”

He does and sinks another one, shit-eating grin only growing more. “Balls back.” He smirked. You glared for the umpteenth time that night, but matched his smirk as you rolled the balls back and downed another cup.

“You regretting this bet now?” JJ asked as he sunk another one.

“There’s a lot of game left, Maybank.” You continued feigning confidence.

Finally, JJ misses one. “Fuck” JJ whispers under his breath. “Alright, Y/L/N, let’s see what you got.”

You shot and made it, grinning at JJ. “Okay, okay. it’s just one.” JJ says and gulps down the first drink. You sink another one. “Balls back.” You smile.

You waste no time sinking the 3rd one. “Getting nervous, J?” You ask. But before he can answer, you’re missing your 4th shot, “Not really.” JJ replies cooly.

The game went on and of course... JJ won.

“Never shoulda bet against me, Y/L/N.” JJ gloated smugly. “I definitely should have raised the stakes though, because jumping into the marsh with your clothes on isn’t really that satisfying for me.”

“Who said I was gonna keep my clothes on?” You asked seductively as you shimmied out of your denim shorts, but leaving your cheeky underwear on. JJ gaped at you for a second before regaining composure and smirking at you. You turned your back to him and took your top off before swan diving off the dock.

“Fuck that’s cold!” You yelled when you resurfaced and approached the ladder to get back on the dock. JJ had a towel ready for you, but when you went to grab it, JJ pulled it back, just out of reach with that shit-eating grin on his face. You shot daggers at him with your eyes.

“First, say: ‘JJ is the sexiest, funniest, smartest guy I know and I was completely wrong for thinking I could beat him at anything.”

If looks could kill, JJ Maybank would be one dead pogue from the scowl you were giving him.

“Fuck that. JJ, give me the fucking towel.” You said reaching for it again and not realizing your bare chest was coming out of the water. JJ smirked down at you and licked his lips, before you threw your arm over your chest to cover your boobs. He chuckled to himself, “The water really is cold, huh?” he teased,

“JJ.” You said sternly.

“You gotta say it.”

You inhaled deeply, “JJ’s the sexiest, funniest guy and I was wrong for thinking I could beat him.” You muttered and slurred quickly under your breath.

“What was that Y/N/N? I didn’t hear you.”

“Fuck you ...JJ is the sexiest, funniest, smartest guy I know and I was wrong-”

“Completely!” JJ clarified.

“-completely wrong for thinking I could beat him. Now give me the fucking towel, Maybank.”

JJ held the towel out, unfolded so it completely covered the view of you climbing the ladder so no one could see you, but he didn’t turn away, instead he kept eye contact with you even as you struggled to cover your boobs while climbing up the ladder. Once you emerged, he wrapped the towel around you and smiled. You held the towel around you as you kept eye contact with JJ a little longer than usual. You looked away first and cleared your throat. Getting nervous, you stuck your hand out for a handshake. “Good game, Maybank.”

“Good game, Y/L/N.” He said sweetly. And with his guard down, you easily pushed him off the dock and into the water. You laughed as did a lot of the party who witnessed it.

JJ surfaced, “Oh you are so dead, Y/N! You know that right?” JJ said dangerously as he quickly paddled over to the ladder and you started to retreat.

You and JJ ended up in a tickle/wrestling match, after he chased you. And as the party continued, JJ only seemed to cling to you more. You couldn’t help but think that maybe the relationship between you two was more than just shameless flirting, that maybe it could be something more. JJ let you borrow some of his clothes after you both ended up in the marsh, so you could be warm and comfy. You were in his lap with is arms around your waist, sitting around the fire, when your brother texted that he was on his way to pick you up.

“Time to go?” JJ whispered to you, resting his chin on your shoulder as he read the text on your phone.

“Yep, it’s that time.” You sighed and leaned into him for just a second before standing up. JJ followed you away from the fire. “So I’ll see you tomorrow night at the movie thing? I’ll bring back your hoodie all washed.”

“Oh no, don’t worry about it. Looks better on you anyway.” JJ smiled as he brought a hand up to your cheek and ran his thumb along your jaw. You couldn’t suppress the butterflies swarming your stomach. You both looked down at the other’s lips when a horn honked loudly.

Both of your heads snapped in that direction and JJ’s hand immediately fell from your cheek. “Y/N let’s go!” Your brother yelled from his truck

Now, Jj was the one who cleared his throat awkwardly, “Okay, so yeah, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You laughed at the awkwardness of the situation, “Bye”

JJ bit his lip, shoving his hands in his pockets and smiling before turning back to the party.

You walked over to your brother’s truck. “I’m just gonna go inside and go to the bathroom real quick.”

This earned an eye roll from your brother.

When you walked out of the bathroom and out of the Chateau, you saw JJ grabbing a drink from the cooler ...and he wasn’t alone. Your heart sank as you saw him handing a girl you’d never seen before a drink, both smiling and laughing before JJ followed the girl and sat next to her around the fire.

Maybe it was all in your head. Would JJ Maybank actually be more interested in you than just a friend he flirted with? He did flirt with everyone after all. You just thought maybe it was different with you. Did it really only take 5 minutes for him to move on to the next girl?

“Hey, you okay?” A voice asked, pulling you out of your heartbreaking thought spiral. It was Pope. He was headed inside to get some water. Pope followed your gaze to where JJ and the girl were, the tears in your eyes threatening to slip out.

“What?” You asked after not really processing what he said as you finally broke your gaze off JJ and looked at Pope who gave you a sympathetic smile. “Yeah, I’m fine!” You said wiping your eyes. “My brother’s waiting to take me home, so I gotta go. I’ll see you tomorrow?” You sniffled.

Pope smiled sweetly, “Yeah, see you then Y/N.”

You got into your brother’s truck and he started driving back to your house when you got a text from Pope.

Pope: I know you lost, but I’m gonna show it to you anyway.

Then another text came through, this one was a video. The video of JJ from last weekend.

In the video, all 3 boys were out in the hammocks, visibly drunk, or high ...or both. JJ being the worst of the 3.

Pope was holding the phone. “So JJ, your turn: who’s the one girl on the island for you?”

JJ scoffed drunkenly and it was clear that he didn’t know Pope was filming: “Bro, obvusly it’s Y/N/N dude. Y/F/N fucking Y/L/N. I’d simp so hard for that girl. ...I just want to buy her flowers. I think she likes peenie...ponies...pennies ..whas it called?”

“You mean peonies?” Pope clarified. John B looked at Pope and realized he was filming and gave Pope a knowing smile.

“Yeah those. Penonies, pen- whatever. I just want to treat her like a princess. Like sleeping beauty ...Y/N loves taking naps. Or Belle... she reads a lot n stuff ...or ooh Ariel, that’s the one. She’s just like Ariel ...like a mermaid.”

“Y/N has y/h/c hair” Pope stated but JJ ignored this.

“Yeah anything else, J?” John B asked wanting JJ to continue.

“I dunno dude. I just want to brush her hair n feed her grapes.”

John B and Pope couldn’t help but laugh, “Feed her grapes?” John B asked laughing.

“Yeah, dud-” and with that JJ finally turned and realized Pope was filming, “Arr you fucking recording this?!” JJ asked starting to reach over and wrestle with Pope.

“Oh my god. I cannot wait to show this to Y/N.” Pope laughed.

There was more wrestling between JJ and Pope before the video stopped.

You smiled down at your phone. “Thanks Pope <3″ you replied back.

Taglist: @railmerafe @moniamaybank @hernameisnoell @moonrisebeach @october-cameron @abbyj1822

#jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x y/n #jj x reader #jj x y/n #JJ fluff #jj outer banks #Outer Banks #outer banks imagine #obx #obx fanfiction

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myherowritings · 4 years

Text

PART 3. ACCIDENTAL SUGAR DADDY?

SUMMARY. Todoroki Shouto was a wealthy, young CEO who inherited his father’s enterprise. You were a barista at a local cafe who wouldn’t mind some extra cash. One day, Shouto came in during an early morning shift and tipped you such a large sum of money, you were certain it had to have been an accident. To your surprise and complete pleasure: It was not.

PAIRING. ceo!todoroki shouto x barista!reader

WORD COUNT. 2.4k

GENRE. ceo/barista au, fluff, eventual smut

WARNINGS. none in this chapter

A/N. happy new year y’all! :3 i hope you have a good 2021 and here is some flirty ceo!shouto for u to enjoy as we enter the new year hehe ;) thank you for reading and i hope you enjoy! xx sof

SERIES MASTERLIST

“I heard you dropped by this weekend,” you said as a greeting, a playful smile on your lips. “Looking for me?”

If the tips of his ears didn’t tinge pink, you would have guessed Shouto was completely unaffected by your words.

“Mn.” He drew his attention away from your gaze and pointedly adjusted his cufflinks. “Good morning to you too.”

You laughed, accepting you wouldn’t get anything out of your attempt at teasing. “Morning, Shouto. How was your weekend?”

The cafe was quite busy this hour, but Miyazaki took over the other register to alleviate the stress (though, what she really said was so you and pretty boy—who happened to be rich rich—could talk). Whatever the reason, you were glad for a small break whenever you could get it.

“You could say it was busy,” he replied, sounding a bit tired. For the first time since you met him, you actually noticed how exhausted he looked. You wanted to put cucumbers on his eyes and lay his head down on your lap to coax him to sleep. Nonetheless, he smiled softly at you. “And yours? I hope you were able to have time to rest and relax.”

You nodded. “I just slept a lot and caught up on the shows I missed throughout the week.”

“The real way a weekend should be spent.”

His voice was teasing but he didn’t sound mocking. Just...somewhat playful. There was something about his tone that made you want to hear it again.

“Something tells me you need a weekend away where you could just relax and do nothing,” you commented, tapping the back of your pen to your chin. “Do you not have any days off at work?”

He considered this. “Depends what you mean by day off.”

“If you have to ask that, that probably means you don’t have a day off, huh?” you said with a frown, holding your hand over your chest as you sighed dramatically. “You poor thing. Overworked and tired. Maybe I should steal you away one weekend and get you to just relax.”

You were only half-serious.

“Maybe you should,” agreed Shouto, sounding full-serious.

“Maybe I will,” you blurted before you could stop yourself. Maybe you could if you actually had his number… Then, feeling shameful you said, “But, ah, anyway, what can I get for you today? We actually have cheese danishes again!”

His face brightened. “You do? I’ll take five dozen.”

With a laugh you took down his order. You really weren’t sure where all these pastries were going when he bought it, but judging from his expression, you figured it must be somewhere good.

“And for your drink?”

“This time I’ll have a large green tea with almond milk, please.”

You nodded but tilted your head to the side in question. “No coffee with extra shots of espresso today?”

“I add too much sugar and creamer to my coffee,” he admitted sheepishly. “And with all the baked goods I’ve been eating I realized I may have had an excess amount of sweets lately.”

With an understanding laugh you patted his hand that was resting on the counter woefully. “I can definitely relate to that. If too many sweets are bad for you they shouldn’t have made it taste so good.”

Shouto glanced down at where your hands touched, an expression you couldn’t quite discern on his face. Averting your gaze, you quickly pulled your hand back. Was that inappropriate of you? Did he find it too pushy?

“Oh— Sorry about that,” you said, rubbing your elbow with your opposite hand. “Got a bit ahead of myself there.”

“No, it’s fine.” He blinked once. “I didn’t mind.”

Unsure if he meant anything by that and unsure if you were reading too much into things, you simply brushed the topic off and moved on to getting his order in telling him the price.

“Paying by card again, I’m assuming?” you asked before hitting the appropriate button on the screen.

“Correct.”

By now the sight of the sleek and pretty credit card was one you grew rather fond of as he scanned over the payment terminal and signed his name. Was it weird you wanted to examine his signature more closely? Shouto seemed like the type of person who would have a fancy signature that somehow looked like art.

As per routine, you told him his order would be ready for pick up at his right and, before he left the register, he thanked you and gave you another $100.

Did it feel any less strange than the first time he tipped you? Not really, no. But you still weren’t going to complain about a generous tip from a willing customer.

Before he left with his cheese danishes and cup of tea in hand, he stopped by next to you with a small smile.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Y/N.”

You grinned back. “Can’t wait, Shouto!”

— ✩ —

This went on for a whole other week. By this point, he had given you over $1,000 in tip and you were starting to feel like you should give him something in return despite him assuring you he didn’t expect anything.

When you told your friends about the nice guy you met while you were working and they asked for the details, the first thing they said in response to your situation was, “Sugar daddy?”

Before they planted that thought into your head, you just took it as a rich businessman who hated the rich and believed in redistribution of wealth—you couldn’t complain about that. That made him even more appealing, if you must say. But once Kaminari and Ashido whispered those two words, you couldn’t help but see the comparisons.

You had no issues with sugar daddies or sugar babies; as long as they were two consenting adults, what did it matter to you? It just wasn’t something you were looking for at the time and you didn’t want Shouto to get the wrong impression or involve yourself in something you weren’t ready to.

As you commuted to work for your next morning shift, you told yourself today was the day you’d thank him one final time for the tips, but tell him you couldn’t accept anymore. You were sure he’d be understanding but you also hoped it wouldn’t deter him from coming to see you. That was the last thing you’d want.

“Mrs. Miyazaki,” you said between customers. “When Shouto comes in, do you think I can step away from the register to talk to him for a little? I promise it’ll be brief!”

She waved her hand dismissively. “That’s not a problem. Are you finally going to ask him out or something?”

You scratched the back of your neck. “Or something, yeah.”

Thankfully, by the time Shouto arrived today, it was later than he normally came, meaning rush hour was almost dying down.

“Good morning! Someone’s a little late today,” you teased. “Overslept?”

“I wish,” he sighed wistfully. “I had a meeting early this morning and it just ended. Didn’t have a chance to pick up some coffee or pastries beforehand.”

You frowned. “I’m sorry to hear that. I hope whoever was hosting the meeting at least provided you guys drinks and snacks!”

He paused. “He did, but… I just thought yours were better.”

Smiling at the compliment, you preened. “Well, I can’t say I’m not surprised. And I’m glad you were able to drop by still. Would’ve missed you too much otherwise.”

Again, you were only half-serious.

“Hm. I would’ve missed you too.”

And again, he seemed full-serious. Not that you minded.

After taking his order and watching him pay, you pulled him to the side, looking over at your boss so she knew what was going on. She gave you a brief nod as you turned your attention to Shouto.

A lapse of silence went by and he spoke up, “Did you have something you wanted to say?”

“Yeah, actually.” You wrung your fingers nervously, hoping you wouldn’t say anything to offend him since you knew his actions were coming from a kind place. “I just wanted to say… I’m not really looking for a sugar daddy right now.”

He blinked once. Then twice. “Pardon?”

You stared at him, unsure what to say.

“I— Sorry. I wasn’t… It’s not my intention to be a...sugar daddy either.” Shouto’s face flushed a bright pink that made your own cheeks warm up in response.

“But the—the money? I just… I guess I thought…” You winced.

So he wasn’t trying to pick up a sugar baby… Well, this was awkward. But regardless, you think you’ve gotten close enough to him to the point where it would feel weird accepting money from him.

“I’m sorry if I was unclear. It really is just a tip to show appreciation for your service here.”

You shook your head. “No! Sorry, that makes sense! My friends just said… And then I…” you trailed off, feeling a million times more flustered than when you started. “Sorry about that. The sugar daddy mishap aside, I still wanted to say that I really appreciate the tips you gave, but I don’t think I can accept them anymore.”

Slowly, he nodded, adjusting the collar of his dress shirt. “I understand. Did something happen?”

“No, nothing happened!” you were quick to assure. “I really am thankful, but… I think we’ve gotten too close for me to be comfortable accepting that much money, you know?”

Shouto tilted his head to the side, listening intently.

“Like,” you tried to explain, fiddling with your apron, “over the past few weeks I just think we’ve gotten to know each other more and I think of you as a friend of sorts now.” You peered at him through your lashes, hoping your words were making sense. “I think as a relationship develops—for me, at least—adding money into the mix can cause weird power imbalances if not communicated properly. And I just don’t want that for us.”

He thought through your words for a while before agreeing. “I get what you mean. I wouldn’t want to unintentionally make you feel like you owe me anything, so if you’re not comfortable with it, I can stop.”

“Thanks, Shouto,” you said with a beam, glad he was so receptive. Really though, what else did you expect? From your interactions with him you took him to be kindhearted and open. Of course he wouldn’t be upset over this. “But just to be clear, this doesn’t mean you should stop coming! Right? I don’t want to stop being your friend or anything!”

With a small laugh, he nodded. “Sure. I wouldn’t want to part with my favorite cafe. And I’d like to keep being friends as well.”

Those words warmed your heart. You really were nervous about this confrontation earlier; you didn’t want voicing your opinion to mean ending your friendship. (Although, if you sharing what you were comfortable with was enough to end a relationship, then you supposed it was bound to be a toxic and stifling one in the long run and it was good to know in the beginning to end it before it could grow.) Turns out, however, that you didn’t even need to worry about that. He was understanding and sweet and you were glad to have gotten this out of the way.

“Well, as new friends,” you said, gently nudging his side, “maybe we should get to know each other more? Exchange numbers… Hang out outside of this cafe…” You ran through some suggestions, almost bouncing on your feet in excitement. “I mean, I know you’re always so busy and might not have much free time to hang out. But— If you’re ever free one weekend…”

“I’d enjoy that,” he cut in, saving you from blabbering your mouth off and accidentally embarrassing yourself. “Didn’t you say you’d steal me away from work to relax? I’m still holding you to that.”

The beginnings of a smirk formed on his face as he looked at your flustered expression. Was he teasing you?

You huffed, pretending to be insulted by his playful mocking. “Guess I’ll really have to do it then.”

“Guess so.”

“Maybe you should give me your number first so we could plan it.”

“Okay.”

He handed you his phone and you handed him yours, both of your adding your numbers to the contact list. Smiling, you held the phone in front of the two of you to take a contact picture of yourself for Shouto’s phone. To your complete surprise, he laughed before promptly following suit and taking a selfie for his contact image.

“Cute,” you said when he handed you back your phone.

“You too.”

Placing your device back in your pocket, you looked at him, hand on hip. “Since when did you become such a smooth-talker? Am I going to have to guard my heart now?”

His only response was a shrug, but you could see hints of a smile playing on his face. The two of you seemed to be smiling a lot lately, you couldn’t help but notice.

“I should probably let you go to work now—and I should go back to mine.” You gestured to the growing line at the front of the store. Your manager looked like she had things under control, but you didn’t want to take advantage of her kindness. “You should text me later though. If you want.”

“I’ll do that,” Shouto promised, picking up his drink and pastry boxes from the side counter. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Y/N. And… I’ll message you soon.”

As you watched him leave the store, you were certain you had a silly look on your face as you stared in a trance.

“I’ll turn my phone off silent just for you!” you said to his back, hoping he understood what a momentous occasion this was. Your phone was always on silent (unless you were playing a game, of course). But for Shouto, you could handle hearing the obnoxious ringtone and text tone.

With an amused expression he nodded before waving goodbye.

Later on that day, at the end of your shift, you noticed a new message from a certain someone that made your stomach flutter.

Shouto: Hi there. It’s Shouto :)

You never knew those four simple words would be enough to keep the grin plastered on your face up until the moment your head hit your pillow to fall asleep. But, damn— Were you glad that happened to be the case.

a/n: whY WAS SHOUTO AND Y/N EXCHANGING NUMBERS SO CUTE idk that scene got me all blushy and :DDD HFJDKSF like taking a selfie with shouto and getting his number? only goal in life BFHFGF,, also y/n said no more tips how we feeling? ;o

what to expect in the next part:

an unwanted visitor ಥ_ಥ

shouto has a...proposition for y/n

FLIRTING FLUFF SO MUCH CUTENESS U MIGHT CRY

y/n struggles with their fEeLiNGs~

2K notes · View notes

nctsworld · 4 years

Text

spin me right ‘round

✩‌ johnny ‌x‌ ‌reader‌ ‌|‌ record store owner!johnny | fluff | smut | 4k‌ ‌

SUMMARY‌ ‌⇾‌ buying from the local records shop leads you to eventually bed the hot owner on the night of your first date. WARNINGS‌ ‌⇾‌ ‌smut (in the second half), oral s*x (f and m receiving), f*ngering, johnny has a big d*ck and f*cks you hard???, office s*x in the epilogue (kind of) RATING‌ ‌⇾‌ explicit TAGLIST ⇾‌ @infnteen @sehunniepot (thought you might be interested in this nikki 👀)

⇾ gif created by me, please don’t share or repost without credit!

Opening the store’s door, the ringing of the bell above you signals your entrance.

You moved into the neighbourhood recently and since someone gifted you a record player for your last birthday, you thought it’d be a quaint idea to drop by the local records shop that you always pass by on your way home.

Rows and rows of vinyl records, organized both alphabetically and by genre, welcome you with open arms, along with a faint musty smell, likely due to the faded, vintage records hanging between the posters on the cream walls.

The outside of the store is misleading to its size; there’s enough space here for at least thirty people easily. However, besides you, it looks like there’s only one other customer in the shop.

Although your surroundings captivate your senses, the striking blond man bent over the rock section in the middle of the shop is the true cynosure of your eyes.

His long fingers flutter seamlessly over the records, seeming to be on a dedicated search to find one in particular. He towers high over the low stacks and oozes coolness with a thumb stuffed in his front pocket and donning a stylish green beanie atop his medium cut locks.

Not to mention that his jeans tug perfectly over the curvature of his prominent ass, but you merely steal a glance or two at his backside as you stroll towards the pop section.

Okay, maybe three glances.

With your back facing the man, several minutes pass as you rummage through the sea of mainstream music, ranging from recent to old, but all the while pleasing to your tastes.

“See anything you like?”

Your eyes meet the figure standing nearby with a hand on the edge of one of the stack dividers. His smooth voice matches his strong aura and his gorgeous face, which you’re now blessed to be viewing up-close.

Your gaze pursues downward, soaking up his sturdy frame hidden behind his flattering clothes. Darting your eyes up his lengthy body back to his face, you lick your lips and swallow, in hopes to dampen the sudden dryness in your throat, and naturally raise the corners of your mouth.

“Yeah—” You, you think in the back of your head and execute a nod, “—there are a few things.”

He smiles endearingly towards the floor before glancing back up to you. You wonder if he can read your thoughts, or maybe it’s simply written all over your face.

Releasing his grip, he says, “Take all the time you need. If you need any assistance, let me know."

Your eyebrows perk up in realization. “Do you work here?”

“Yeah.” Bobbing his head, he runs a hand over his beanie. “I’m the owner of the store.”

“Oh, wow,” you exclaim, jaw hanging slightly. “You’re so young, I wouldn’t think someone in their 20s would have their own store, especially one like this."

A frown falls over his face, and in that moment, you knew you fucked up any chance you had with him.

“Yeah, 26 to be exact,” he shrugs, tight-lipped, prior to the folding of his arms. His eyes become slits of bitterness. “Thanks for the ageism."

Immediately shaking your head at the misunderstanding, you stammer, “I didn't mean it like that—"

The owner’s expression melts in an instant and a warmness emanates from him once more. The knot in your chest loosens at the sight and relief waves over.

“I'm just playing with you, don’t worry."

He opens his mouth, about to continue, but his attention is interrupted by the ringing at the door, and you turn to see another customer over your shoulder. The attractive individual begins to stroll over, but still faces your direction, beaming.

“Well, if you decide to get anything, you know where to find me, and I'll ring it up for you."

With puffed cheeks, you nod and watch him greet the incoming patron. Trying to leave the embarrassment behind you, you shift toward the records again and browse for a little longer.

Finally deciding on a few choices, you walk toward the front register and peer over at the beanied blond. In the classical section, he’s listening intently to the bumbling customer. Not wanting to disturb them, you lay the vinyls on the counter and thankfully find a pen and a stack of sticky notes upon it.

After sticking the following note on the top vinyl cover, you head out of the store:

“Put these on hold for me? I'll be back for them. Thanks! -Miss Ageist”

“Well, if it isn’t Miss Judgmental."

A couple of days later, you drop by the store again and find the spirited owner at the front counter. Today, he’s channeling his inner grunge style, adorning a half-up, half-down ponytail and a loose white t-shirt over a tight, long black sleeve shirt. Is it possible for him to look even cuter than he did last time?

“Sorry again for that,” you scrunch your nose at the memory. He grabs your records from beneath the counter and rings them through. “You just look so young to own a store.”

The blond airily laughs, “I'm gonna take that as a compliment."

He spots you twisting your mouth to one side and nodding shyly. “It is."

As you pay for the items, he gestures to your vinyls on the counter. “Good choices, by the way.”

“Are there bad ones?” From the pay pad, you glance up at him and he’s feigning a hurt look.

“Oh, most definitely.”

You banter with a tilt of your head, “Isn't music subjective though?”

“Not to me. I am the king of music taste."

Both parties exchange laughter while you wait for the transaction to process. Once it finishes, he rips the receipt and places it into the bag with the records.

“I mean, I do own a records store, so I think I should know."

Flashing you his pearly whites, he hands the filled bag over to you.

“Here you go, Miss Judgy Pants.”

“Actually, you can call me—” You properly introduce yourself.

He leans back a little, straightening himself and tucking his thumbs into his pockets.

“I'm John, but you can call me Johnny."

With a glimmer in your eye, you question, “Is Johnny exclusive to me, or does everyone else also call you Johnny?”

His eyebrows raise, impressed by your straightforwardness. “I only let the pretty girls call me Johnny, if that’s what you’re asking.”

The wink he gives is short-lived, but it’s enough to cause heat to blossom over your cheeks. You brush some hair behind your ear.

“So, Johnny,” you enunciate, indulging in his name. “When does the store close?”

You lift up your bag and cheekily add, “Gotta know when to break in to steal more vinyls."

Johnny chuckles, and your heart bursts knowing you’re the reason behind it. Looking aside, his hand rubs the counter casually and you can’t help but stare at his large palm dominating the surface, along with his elongated fingers. Eyes blinking rapidly, you attempt to break the fantasy assembling in your brain—his hands are the guest stars alongside (and within) your body in the leading role.

“I can close whenever I want to, but thanks for the heads up; I'll make sure to keep you away from the store,” he jokes.

Catching your gaze, one of the sides of his mouth lifts. “Why do you ask?”

Shrugging nonchalantly as you play with the handles of your dangling plastic bag, you reply, “Just wanted to know when the cute worker got off so I can potentially go on a date with him.”

You scan around as if someone else is there in the empty store besides the two of you and point your thumb to one side, whispering teasingly, “Not you, but the other guy.”

His tongue grazes against his bottom teeth, nodding understandingly with a deeper smirk. “The store closes at nine usually, but I can make an exception for him to get off earlier."

Satisfied with Johnny’s answer, you bounce your head and make your way backwards toward the door.

“Sounds good, I'll be here at eight for him tomorrow night. Maybe I'll see you around then, too.”

Granting him a wink of your own, you turn on your heels and leave. Intrigued, Johnny watches you disappear down the street through the store window.

At 7:58 the next evening, you show up to the store.

A customer is at the front counter finishing a purchase. As they pay for the products, the worker takes notice of you, smiling in recognition. You return the same, beaming back at him, and casually stride over to a random section to wait until they’re done. They make some small talk, so you delve in the opportunity to admire Johnny’s outfit for tonight—a tight black t-shirt that showcases his blatant pecs and a loose red plaid shirt overtop of it.

When the customer exits, you make your way over to him as he puts on a light jacket. You lean your elbows onto the counter.

“Surprised to see you here.”

“Likewise," he jests back, snaking out of the counter to be in front of you. You glance at him, consuming the tall drink of water.

Nodding to the door, you ask, “Ready to blow this popsicle stand?”

Johnny hums affirmatively and you follow behind him outside as he flips the open sign and locks up the store.

“So, where we heading off to?”

Informing him of what you had in mind, the two of you decide to take his car to the downtown pier. Once there, both of you grab take-out and eat together at a bench table under the clear sky and dazzling stars. Conversation comes easy, making the night fly by fast.

While talking with him, since his hair flows freely today, he sometimes shyly brushes some of it behind his ear. Although you’re listening intently, you also ponder how it’d be if you ran your fingers through his soft, silky locks.

Dinner eases into dessert, with the two of you having ice cream side by side on the pier railing, looking out towards the twinkling water. By the time you’re halfway finished with your cone, you hint at not wanting to end the night just yet. Agreeing with your sentiments, Johnny makes the suggestion of going back to the store.

After finishing the ice cream, you head together back to his car. The back of your hand brushes up against his. Taking a chance, you curl the tips of your fingers around his, half-holding his hand.

Pressing up against his arm, you whisper, “Thought you said you gotta keep me away from the store."

He peers down at the partial hand holding and the grin he gives you reaches his eyes. He gives your hand a small squeeze, ensuring the burgeoning attraction is mutual.

He whispers in reply, “At least this way I can keep an eye on you."

At the shop, Johnny locks the door from inside, in case of any wandering bodies, and blasts some upbeat, electronic music onto the store speakers. Intercepting your hand, he guides you to the back corner of the store and starts to dance with you.

At first, your bodies are separate vessels, grooving to the beat of the music, but as the songs play on, you gradually gravitate towards each other. Soon enough, one hand settles comfortably upon your waist, the other on your hip, while yours are hooked around the nape of his neck. Before you know it, you merge together as one with parted lips, finally satisfying the tension in the air and within your bodies.

The kissing is intense, electrically charged and sending currents to the tips of your fingers. Although you’re barely acquainted, you two kiss like you’ve been deprived of each other your whole life—every kiss and every touch quenching your thirst for one another.

Wanting to change it up, you step over to an empty counter and hop onto it. Johnny steps in the space between your legs and his lips meet yours again. You cup his face, clutching onto his strong features, and occasionally run a hand through his hair to caress his head.

You answer inwardly to your previous thoughts, confirming the silky texture of his hair, and your touch relishes in his golden locks.

Suddenly, his mouth channels hunger onto your neck and the electric currents divert directly to your rising arousal. At the sensation, you rashly grind your hips into Johnny’s body, and he groans heavily in the crook of your neck.

He mumbles into your skin, “Do you wanna take this further? My place is nearby."

Sighing further into his embrace, you half-jokingly reply, “You know, I was really looking forward to getting fucked in a records store."

He easily breathes, “We can do that next time, I promise."

You snicker. “Aren’t you a little presumptuous?”

Tugging his shirt by the neckline, you force him to leave your neck and to greet your mouth instead. Pressing the top of your forehead against his, you match his gaze.

“And what if I don't like you after tonight?”

Something in you already knows that won’t be true, but you mischievously ask regardless.

The simper Johnny flickers is enough to send another wave of bolts downward to your core.

He peels his head away to bring it beside your ear. His thumb on your thigh may be gently rubbing you, but his following assurance is hoarse, absolutely drenched in pure lust.

“Oh, you're definitely going to like me after all the things I do to you tonight."

You barely have an opportunity to scan around his bachelor pad because his lips capture yours upon arrival. In his entryway, Johnny entangles with you, pushing you up against the wall. Impatiently, he drags you to his bedroom for the long-awaited spectacle of the night.

After hurrying to turn on his bedside lamp, Johnny presses his weight against yours on his bed, embracing the full body contact. His lips continue to attack the terrain of your skin as he denudes you. You hum softly as he pursues south to your aching desire. Hoisting your backside and with his assistance, you’re finally completely bare.

Sitting up at the edge of the bed, Johnny pulls his top layers off, revealing a sculpted physique, the kind that artists muse and obsess over. You knew he was fit from how his clothes constantly hugged his body, but this was just insane.

“Holy fuck,” you murmur, staring blankly.

Chuckling, he does the same bashful gesture from dinner—tucking some of his hair behind his ear. The gentleness is a contrast that nicely compliments his Adonis qualities. His soft side is flipped onto its backside in a second as he begins to creep his way over between your legs, his eyes darkening.

Upon resting on his chest, you didn’t notice it before, but there’s a hair tie on his wrist, which he uses to effortlessly make himself a quick ponytail.

With anticipation, you sigh into the kisses he leaves on your inner thigh, making his way toward your pulsing sex. When his tongue issues the first swipe, you inhale sharply with fluttering eyes. Johnny isn’t in a rush, taking his sweet time to lazily lap up your slick and learning what incites you.

Once he has a better understanding of your desire, he dives in and devours you whole.

Realization sweeps over as to why he has to put his hair up.

In accompaniment to the painting of your folds, Johnny spreads them gently and ensures he dunks his tongue in your wetness. One of your hands drift away from the bed sheets to one of his snaked around your upper thigh, clutching onto his fingertips in reaction to the swift rotational swirls on your raw flesh.

He draws back, lips lustrous from your nectar, and hastily replaces his mouth with two fingers.

Your half-lidded eyes shoot wide open. His long, thick fingers fill you greatly, scissor you so far in your sex, so much that you fear what his cock is like if this is how his digits feel.

You’re overcome with bursts of pleasure. Further bursts ensue as Johnny tongues your clit alongside the fingering. Your throaty cries and the squelches of your pussy is melodious to his ears, better than playing his favourite vinyls on the best record player he owns. The lewdness of it all overwhelms his jean-bound arousal, so Johnny retaliates by grinding against the bed.

After Johnny retreats, he stands by the foot of the bed and starts unbuckling his belt and pants. You crawl your way over, still panting and reeling from the rush of your high. As you reach him, he drags his pants and boxer-briefs towards the floor in one-go, freeing his unsurprising lengthy girth.

On your knees, hunched over his cock, you chuckle in disbelief. “Now that’s unfair.”

He watches in amusement as you examine his desire with delight, before taking it into your hand, pumping it languidly. “What is?”

You peer up, cocking an eyebrow. “Seriously? You’re hot, own a record store, really funny, and you’re packing. God really has his favourites.”

Johnny’s about to respond, but his brain short-circuits momentarily at the pad of your thumb rubbing his precome over the tip of his blunt head. He cranes his neck back, exhaling a groan.

“Well, what can I say? Guess I’m just-fuck—”

You suck the words out of him. Literally.

Your warm embrace encompasses his entirety, possessing a strong hold over him. Since you can’t possibly take him fully into your mouth, your fist solves your problem by stroking him by the base. Aiming to please, especially after his oral act from earlier, you slurp and bob your head mercilessly, disregarding the saliva leaking down the sides of your mouth.

One of Johnny’s hands arranges your hair in a make-shift ponytail to get a clearer view of the obscene display. His hazy eyes skim over the gorgeous curves of your bent back and ass jutting high up in the air. His breathing turns heavier and he’s about to tug on your hair, motioning for you to slow down, but you thankfully come up for air just in time.

The stately figure attacks your lips with urgency. The kiss is wet and messy from going down on one another, but it merely adds to the intensity. While lip-locked, he lowers you into his pillow once more, then stretches an arm out to his bedside stand to fish out a condom.

He nimbly rolls on the cover, but is confused to find you back on your knees instead of laying on the bed. You grasp him by the wrist and press your fingers against his firm pecs, indicating to him to recline backward. In awe, he obediently obliges.

Hovering over him, you suck in a breath as you line your sex up with his, cognizant that you need to acclimatize to his size. You steadily sit onto his length and when it finally reaches the end, you release a piercing groan at the deep sensation.

For a bit, you don’t move too much to get used to his great desire. In the meantime, your fingers wander over the chiseled flesh in front of you—his defined, veiny arms; his solid chest; and the valleys of his abs.

Once you think it’s been enough, you transfer more weight onto your knees and slide on his cock with more vigor. You throw your head back in pleasure.

On the other end, Johnny’s gaze wavers between the main action, your bouncing breasts, and your supple neck. He can’t see your face clearly, but he knows you must be enjoying this as much as him by the breathy moans that follow each thrust.

When your legs start to tire, Johnny tries to hold you close and roll you over onto your backside. You both giggle at the unsuccessful attempt to keep himself still inside of you, but that’s an easy fix. Despite just having him within you, you gasp again at the penetration. Him being on top hits you at a different angle and you truly feel the length of his inches.

Johnny reaches down to meet your lips. You brush your fingers over his pulled back hair as he consumes your existence. In addition to each passing drive of his body into yours, you also grip harder onto his hair in ecstasy, which leads to the unraveling of his long locks upon your face. The gold ocean of silkiness drowns your senses, the strands stroking your skin like extra caresses.

Retreating back onto his knees and raking a hand through his tousled mane, his hands then attach to the flanks of your body and he pounds you breathless, leaving you heaving for air.

In your dazed state, you desperately grab on to whatever you can—the sheets, his upper frame, his ass, anything. Throughout it all, your core contracts even tighter over the way his clavicle, tendons, and muscles protrude and flex like they’re about to break through his skin.

At this point, you’re beyond delirious and definitely beyond gratified. You assume he’s about to finish when he decreases his pace and bends closer to you, but instead, he continues to still move inside of you.

“Jesus. Fucking. Christ,” you gasp and grunt between his rough, buried thrusts. “How are you not close?”

“I’m not ready to be done with you yet, beautiful,” Johnny rasps into your ear. You catch a glimpse of his cocked eyebrow and smirk. “Unless you can’t handle me?”

Denying his accusation, you haul his cheeks to yours and kiss him fiercely.

And with that, Johnny’s weight is on his knees again and he fucks you like there’s no tomorrow.

However, Johnny might’ve been right because it doesn’t take long for you to beg repeatedly for him to come.

“So, what’s the verdict? Still like me after that?”

Both individuals are still nude on the bed, but now covered by a blanket. Resting on his chest, you drum your fingers over his skin in thought (as if you need to even think about an answer besides the obvious).

Pouting up at Johnny, you say, “I’ll only like you if you keep your promise on fucking me in the store next time.”

“Of course.” He palms your cheek and inches forward, preparing to kiss you tenderly.

“A gentleman never breaks his promise.”

EPILOGUE

One month later, the record store’s business has been growing, so Johnny decides to hire one of his friends, Mark, to be a part-time worker.

Which means that Johnny has more spare time to do other things... like taking you from behind in the back office over his desk.

“Shit, fuck,” you grip harshly onto the edges of the worn-out wooden desk as he thrusts endlessly. Even after a month of dating, your pussy still isn’t fully accustomed to the size of his girth. You’re unsure if it ever will be.

No matter, it always feels amazing.

“Johnny, Johnny—”

“Johnny!” Mark’s voice suddenly cuts in and calls from outside of the office door. You immediately bite down on your lower lip to shut yourself up. “Someone’s asking me about a limited edition vinyl and I don’t know how to answer.”

“Uhhh,” Johnny drones absentmindedly, yet jabs into you with more rigor. You bite down harder, but you can’t control the rising volume of your stifled moans. “Give me five minutes.”

A silent beat passes.

“Dude, are you fucking in the office again?!” the part-timer exclaims. You can practically see him shaking his head in disgust. “Ugh, I’ll give them the store’s card. Hurry up, though.”

As he walks away, you hear him faintly say, “Sometimes I think this is why you hired me...”

Simultaneously, you both giggle heartily. Your lover pecks you lovingly on your shoulder prior to diving again into the wanton moment.

In the end, Johnny actually spends ten more minutes with you. But he can afford the extra minutes—he is the owner of the shop, after all.

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