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fujopup · 3 years

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AFAB!reader x sub Takemichi

(A/N: I havent written a ff in so long 😭)

CW: Femdom, edging, degradation, feminization.

You decided to bring your boyfriend Takemichi with you to the mall. You were some what nervous because this would be the first time takemichi goes to Victoria's Secret with you. Usually you would go with Hina or Mitsuya so they could help you find cute lingerie.

As takemichi was ranting about how annoying costumers can be at the dvd shop you spotted a familiar store just by the jewelry shop.

"Hey michi I need to stop by this store real quick, you can wait outside if you want to."

"Thats fine (y/n), I'll come inside with you incase you need something" he smiles and follows you inside. As soon as he stepped inside his face slowly became red, seeing all this lingerie in person was making him feel some type of way. He's seen it before in his porno mags but he'd never imagine actually being a store full of them!

As you guys walk around more you see a set of lingerie that peaks your intrest. It was this bra made out of ribbon and baby pink panties that came with a mesh mini skirt. Clutching your purse while thinking to yourself you let your mind wander for a bit. Thinking about how cute it would look on your precious Michi you picked up the set and grabbed Takemichis hand.

"Hey michi lets go to the dressing room okay?

He noded while you dragged him throughout the store to the dressing rooms. "Hey (y/n) let me know when your done changing-" You yanked him into the dressing room. "Silly michi I want you in here with me for a reason~" you said playfully before placing your purse down on the bench.

"Wait hold on (y/n) I know we seen each other naked before but I really should be waiting for you outside the room..." He nervously let out. Looking at him you saw his eyes dart around the bleek white walls of the changing stall, trying desperately to not see your body. It was cute seeing him all flustered. You walked up to him and got close to his ear, your voice barely above a whisper croaked out

"Take your clothes off now."

As you whispered that into his ear you gently blew on it. You gave it a nibble before giggling slightly and sitting down on the bench. Takemichi then became a stuttering mess while unbuttoning his shirt.

"(y/n) were in public though..." he meekly said under his breath. You caught what he said though and decided to show him how to be a good boy for you.

"Michi baby I haven't done anything so why are you saying that like we were about to have sex huh?~" you grab his chin and lift it up so your directly staring in his eyes. "Instead of complaining why dont you be a good boy for me huh?♡" the tone of your voice was sweet but laced with annoyance.

You could feel his heart thumping like crazy, granted you never did something like this before with him so its a reasonable response. You grabbed the lingerie and put it in his hands.

"Put these on kay?♡"

The look on his face was priceless. You couldn't tell which expression came first. The look of confusion on his face or the look of disbelief. That didnt matter for long though as you saw his cheeks light up in embarrassment as he took in what you said. You felt your cheeks warm up at this and started to feel giddy.

As he put on the lingerie set you couldn't help but fawn over how smooth he was. Takemichi really didnt grow body hair like that so seeing his smooth body in all baby pink lingerie while looking so embarrassed was turning you on as the seconds passed.

"Goodboy michi! You put it on without any issue, you look so cute in this♡" you pet his head for a brief moment and step back. His cute pink nipple were perked up and his cock looked so pretty behind the satin panties.

"(yyy/nnn)!" He wined out as he rubbed his legs back and forth. "Aww is my baby feeling embarrassed? Thats so cute" you walked infront of him and stuck your hand out. You then started to flick and pinch on his nipples making him sharply inhale and shake his body. As you kept tugging and pulling on them takemichis grunts turned into soft moans.

As you get ready to let them go you feel something poke your leg. You looked down and saw his dick peeking out of the panties, his cre cum starring to leak out. "What happened to your embarrassment michi? Dont tell me your actually getting turned on by being in womens lingerie." You smirked at him as your index finger flicked his tip.

"M'not getting turned on by tHAT-" he cries out as you start to jerk him off. You start to crush his dick a little bit loving the sounds thats coming out of him. Everytime his moans were getting higher and higher you'd stop completely and watch him desperately hump the air.

His legs started to give out on him so you guided him to the chair and resumed the edging on his dick. This time though you noticed his eyes getting wet with tears as his choked sobs filled the air.

"oh (y/n) let m-me cum please! I'll be a good boy just let me cum." He cried out. You looked at him and smirked. You let out a small giggle and started to stroke his cock twice as fast. Smearing his pre cum around his tip you brought your mouth 2 inches away from the head and blew on it. This made him jerk his hips up so high and you heard this long mewl come from his lips.

"Michi baby I'll let you cum okay?~ I pinky promise♡" The brunette was so overstimulated he didnt catch how your tone changed while saying that. You kept pumping his dick, the pre cum making squelching noises as you went faster and faster.

"Fuck (y/n) im gonna cum m'really gonna cum!" As he was reaching his climax he felt all warmth from his dick go away in a instantly.

"Now now we cant have you cumming just yet ta-ke-mit-chy♡~" you sung out in a playful yet sinister voice. You got up and brushed your self off. The noise your michi made made you cream on the spot. His desperate whine made you want to laugh in his face and tease him forever and ever. He started crying as he desperately tried humping you leg.

You slapped his dick swiftly and stared at him. "Bad boy! Who gave you permission to hump me like a bitch in heat." You wrapped your hand around his neck and squeezed slightly. "The next time you do something without my permission I'll spank your ass so hard everyone outside the store will be able to hear you." You let him go and handed him his clothes.

"Lets go michi! I'll pay for the lingerie with my card." You grabbed your purse and helped takemichi dress himself. It was very awkward paying for the lingerie as everyone saw takemichi leaning on you for support due to his boner still being semi erect. As y'all made it back to the car you realized that he was still erect.

Part 1 end.

#tokyo revengers smut #takemichi hanagaki smut #takemichi x reader #dom!reader

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flowerbeom · 5 years

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Go For Broke | 02

Im Jaebeom x Older Female!Reader

Genre: Fuckboy!AU, Aspiring Songwriter!AU, Slow Burn, Angst/Humour/Smut (loads)

Warnings: Incredibly mature themes, Asshole Jaebeom (because he’s a real asshole in this), Swearing, Explicit smut scenes.

Word Count: 5.3k

Concept: Premier fuckboy Im Jaebeom is used to getting his way. Though, he wants more, he craves more. He wants his music to be heard, he wants his music to be loved. So when he learns that the attractive woman he buys records from has an connection that’ll get him into the industry, he uses every trick in his book to get in. Seduction is his game, and he plays to win.

A/N: Enjoy. All GIF credits for this series go to @defsenses.

→ Mood Board → Series Index - Links to the Spotify Playlists are available in Series Index

Your eyes scanned down the column of the excel spreadsheet on the screen, lips screwing into your cheek at the numbers displayed. Standing slightly to lift your foot onto the chair, you pulled your knee into your chest before leaning back.

“Yo, when the hell did Arctic Monkeys get popular again?” Yelling into the back of the store, you watched the empty void behind the stockroom door for movement. You heard a few rips of plastic and a whack of the microwave door shutting; your eyes rolled at the sound.

“Hmmm, why?” Mark appeared, filling the empty void to lean a shoulder into the door-frame, pushing up the sleeves of his way-too-big-for-him hoodie.

“They’re my highest selling artist this week. After that it’s David Bowie, but I can understand David Bowie cause he’s…”

“Classic.” Mark interjected.

“Classic, yes. But Arctic Monkeys? And AM no less.” The 2013 seminal album proved the most popular purchase on your weekly report, and it confused you to no end. You turned to better hear Mark’s potential explanation, but he had disappeared into the void once again; returning a few breaths later with a reheated burrito in hand. Your jaw slacked open as you watched him proceed to inhale half of said burrito in one bite; eyebrows only furrowing when you couldn’t make out what he tried to mumble through a mouthful of brown rice and guacamole.

“Come again?” Mark swallowed loudly with a grunt and wiped his mouth with the back of his forearm.

‘Peaky Blinders.” You paused, eyes lifting in realisation and returned the nod Mark gave you once he saw it all click in your head. Lifting the pen you were twirling into the air, you puffed out your chest with your inhale.

“There is God.”

“And there is the Peaky Blinders.” Mark returned, burrito held high in salute. A moment of shared shame hung between you, you knew you’d never be forgiven for butchering the Cockney accent. Though your attention was stolen by the person strolling into your store.

“Good show.” There was an air of arrogance in Jaebeom’s voice that irked you, but you found yourself smirking instead. Pushing your pen into the messy bun tied high on your head, you shifted in your seat - tilting your head in defiance when Jaebeom smirked back.

“Day off?” Jaebeom nodded, sliding off his cap to push his hair back and away off his face and you caught the tick in his jaw as he did. You tongued your one of your canines, hoping you had stitched up that part of you that had snapped well enough to endure that moment and exhaled sharply when Jaebeom caught your eyes after placing his cap back on. Straightening his watch under the cuff of his hoodie, Jaebeom’s tongue found his own canine - his shoulders shifting to sit at their broadest.

Mark coughed from where he stood; coughed or choked, you weren’t too sure - but it broke the narrowed stare you and Jaebeom were exchanging. Angling your chin towards the stockroom door, you waited for Mark to swallow the last of his burrito before holding out your hand to him.

“Mark, Kid.” Then sweeping your hand over to Jaebeom.

“Kid, Mark.”

“Oh, you’re the Kid.” The way Jaebeom’s expression made his eyes slit with irritation made it hard to suppress the urge to laugh; especially with the smile Mark had plastered on his face. Jaebeom held out his hand, Mark eagerly reached to meet it; shaking once on contact then once again out of respect.

“Jaebeom.” He pressed. “Nice to meet you.” Mark winked, wordlessly gesturing that it was indeed, nice to meet him too.

“After some records, Jaebeom? Y/N here has the best selection.” Mark chimed, scrunching up his burrito wrapper and taking up a perfect Kobe stance to free-throw it into the bin behind you. Mark pumped a fist when it made it in and you raised a congratulatory eyebrow.

“That, among other things.” Jaebeom’s voice dipped into the territory belonging solely to seduction and let his eyes float across his bottom lashes as they stayed locked on yours when he stepped into the Hip-Hop section. You held his stare while he fingered through records while doing your best not to show how tightly your jaw was viced shut.

“And by other things,..” Yours and Jaebeom’s eyes both shifted to Mark. “You mean you’re keen on taking her out for a drink? Maybe show her a good time? Cure her of her loneliness.”

Jaebeom’s eyebrow cocked devilishly, eyes not lowering as he pulled out a record from the stack. Mark on the other hand, could feel your pupils branding him with a marker for impending death; contempt practically seeping out of your pores.

“Come on, Y/N. Admit you’re lonely. You crave my daily visits.” Mark crossed to the counter, digging a single knuckle into your arm.

“No, you just crave my Nespresso.” Standing abruptly to flick Mark in the ear, he swatted away your hand, just for his other hand to yank the pen out of your hair; you could feel your ears stinging as he sniggered.

Spinning on his heel, Jaebeom suppressed the need to laugh by pulling out another record from the Alternative section. Jaebeom scooped his selection under his arm and met you at the counter, gingerly placing the records into your outstretched hands.

“So what do you say?” Tone still bobbing on the surface of seduction.

“On these?” Musing over his choices. “Grandmaster Flash, Son Lux, L’Orange. Interesting choices as usual.” Scanning each bar-code without ever meeting his stare.

“No, on a drink.” Persistent.

“A drink?” Ringing up the total, you slid Jaebeom’s card out of his fingers - finding no protest from him.

“Yes, a drink. With me.” Tapping his card against the EFTPOS machine, you finally looked him in the eye once the transaction went through; subconsciously signalling that if he wanted your attention, he’d have to pay for it - in one way or another.

“Why don’t you message me when you want to take me out, and I’ll see if I’m free.” Handing him his records, you let your finger drag across his as he pulled them from your hands; you relished in the minute flicker of his lashes - in the tiny part of him you had somehow disarmed.

Tucking the records under his arm, Jaebeom swallowed. “I’d love to, but you need to give me your number first.”

“What? You don’t already have it?” Feigning disappointment with a hand pressed against your heart. “Well that’s just too bad.”

Jaebeom inhaled sharply through flared nostrils as you licked your smirking lips. Steadying to rebuke, Jaebeom halted when Mark pushed off the counter to the sound of 503 horsepower pulling up to the curb outside.

Jaebeom’s head whipped around, his potential meal ticket sitting in the driver’s seat as he did a few days prior, Rolex glittering through the tinted window and Jaebeom involuntarily stepped to the door like a greedy moth to a fluorescent bug trap. The driver looked out through the passenger window, not at Jaebeom, but behind him, at you.

“Gonna come out and say hi?” Mark asked as he slid past Jaebeom.

“I see enough of him at home, he’ll survive if I don’t grant him pleasantries this one time.” Mark shrugged, but nodded anyway and the driver pulled back his head from the angle it had been and looked over the steering wheel instead. Tapping the back of his hand against Jaebeom’s forearm, Mark gestured he should leave with a cock of his jaw.

“Her bite is worse than her bark, you should leave now while she’s still smiling.” Jaebeom angled his chin over his shoulder to catch you smiling with only one side of your face, hand lifted no higher than your shoulder - fingers wiggling their goodbye.

You watched him slink away, records under one arm; his other hand sliding into his jeans pocket after shaking Mark’s. You watched Mark slide into the Vantage, grinning a little too much but you shook it off. You could tell Jaebeom was watching the Aston Martin as it sped away. You didn’t need to see his face to know he was slurping up the drool that had pooled under his tongue; all boys were the same when it came to cars like that. Who you were you kidding? All boys were the same regardless. Yes, all boys.

Jaebeom finally breathed easy after twenty minutes of trying to shake off the girl he was dancing with after he determined she was a little nuts; no matter how hypnotising her ass was. Though nuts was a bit of a stretch, he just didn’t like the way she moaned whenever he grinded into her. Bit much, he thought; she didn’t have to try so hard, he still would have fucked her if she kept her mouth shut. But alas, he had lost his appetite.

Claiming he’d wait by the bar when she said she needed to go to the bathroom, Jaebeom counted the seconds it took for her ass to disappear down the dark corridor before he snapped around and through the back door.

To him, 1-AM always felt the same. Like how the air feels suspended just before it rains, but you feel weightless instead of suffocated. And that’s what he wanted, standing in the alley behind the club; and he had it for a moment before Bambam’s shrill laughter invaded his senses. Dropping his head from his gaze at the moon, Jaebeom turned to see Jackson and Bambam a few meters away, passing a cigar back and forth. Taking a pull then holding it in his mouth for a second, Jackson blew the thin column of smoke through his lips before handing it to Bambam.

“Cubans, they know their stuff.” Bambam repeated the motion, rocking back on his heels before shivering, the 1-something-AM air a little too cold for his liking. Jaebeom cocked his head when he heard another voice.

Further down, concealed in shadow, Jaebeom made out Jinyoung’s form; pacing between a brick wall and a dumpster. He took two steps towards him, then paused when he heard the ache in Jinyoung’s voice.

“What’s it to you what I do tonight? It’s not like you’re here to stop me.” Passing headlights lit the pain etched between Jinyoung’s brows before darkness hid it from view again, Jaebeom somehow felt it hammer against his chest.

“I’m going to do whatever the fuck I want, since that’s all you ever do anyway.” Jaebeom knew who Jinyoung was arguing with on the phone, though he never told him he did.

“Why don’t you call me when you’ve made up your mind.” Jinyoung couldn’t hang up fast enough, his thumb slamming against the screen before clawing his phone into a fist. Jaebeom took another step when it looked like Jinyoung was going to smash his phone into the ground, but eased back when Jinyoung’s shoulders dropped - his hand shoving his phone into his pocket.

“Hey, Nyeong!” Jackson heckled, completely unaware of the fight Jinyoung just dragged himself through. Jinyoung approached at a languid pace, catching Jaebeom’s glance but unable to read it.

“What’s eating you Gilbert Grape? You look like you need a fuck.” Bambam coughed through his exhale, the Cuban hit catching on his tonsils - Jinyoung merely grizzled.

“There’s a gorgeous brunette at the bar. She’s down about five vodka raspberries. I’ll warm her up for you if you want.” Jackson’s teasing slithered through a slanted grin; Bambam coughed through another exhale, smoke sputtering out through his chuckling lips. Jaebeom saw Jinyoung’s eyes narrow in rage, so he lifted a hand onto his shoulder; Jinyoung’s anger smothered under the weight of it.

“How about a drink? I could definitely use one. This one’s on me.” Said only to Jinyoung but loud enough for Jackson and Bambam to feel ignored. Jaebeom led Jinyoung back into the club - the music blasting through the open door to dissipate the thick tension that had clung to the night air.

“Hyung it’s alright, I-..I don’t want, I might just go..” Jinyoung stuttered, weaving through the crowd behind Jaebeom. Jaebeom didn’t want to turn around, afraid his resolve would break and Jinyoung would see the worry behind his eyes. Though, through a heavy breath, Jaebeom steeled himself; turning to square Jinyoung.

“One drink?” Jinyoung shook his head.

Jaebeom stood stoically where Jinyoung left him, watching as he left the club. Eyes following his friend pass the bouncer on his way out, Jaebeom almost turned away but froze as he caught sight of someone else slipping past the line and straight into the club.

Jaebeom clenched his jaw as he watched you place a kiss on the bouncer’s cheek and smile as you slipped out of his embrace; he swore he could hear you giggle when the bouncer, his bouncer, tried to snatch at your hand. His eyes slit suspiciously to better see you glide through the crowd; stopping every so often to greet regular attendees and staff alike. His mind was racing. If you could get in with only a smile and swat at the owner’s hand as it tried to place itself a little too low on your back, why had he never seen you before? Why did it seem that his club, was yours? All yours.

Jaebeom crammed his hands into his jeans pockets; eyes still fixed on your figure at it strolled towards the DJ booth. The crowd seemed to part for you - faces beaming when you approached and mouths gaping when you passed by. Jaebeom was enthralled. Confused, but captivated by the scene unfolding before him all the same.

You bounced up into the DJ booth, the skirt you wore riding up your thigh as you cleared the height. Jaebeom felt the driest swallow crawl down his throat. Again, he was thrown as his DJ threw his arms around you, greeting you like an old friend he hadn’t seen in years. Your expression mirrored his happiness, hands staying put on his shoulders as you spoke to him over the music. Jaebeom’s jaw was ticking, cheek flaring as he stared.

Watching you drop a hand into your bag, Jaebeom saw you pull a few records out to hand them to the DJ - his headphones falling off and onto his shoulders as he bounced with glee. You were pulled into another embrace before pulling back to say what looked like a few stern, yet lighthearted words to the DJ. And he nodded, agreeing with whatever you had ordered him to do and Jaebeom was floored.

Shifting his weight onto one foot, Jaebeom leant against the pillar beside him. He couldn’t take his eyes off you. He continued to stare as you jumped down for the booth and like the Red Sea, the crowd parted for you again, making way for you to approach the bar. Jaebeom’s seething curiosity flared, tongue clicking against his teeth when he watched the bartender, his bartender, place a drink on the counter even before you got there.

Your smile was tender, almost loving when the bartender refused to accept the twenty dollar note you held out to him - merely fanning your hand away and pushing the carefully prepared drink closer towards you. You accepted, not much to Jaebeom’s surprise, and drank the drink in one tip of your chin.

Another dry swallow scratched down Jaebeom’s throat when he saw you plant your hands on the counter to hurl yourself up - leaning over the marble to place a kiss on the bartender’s cheek. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t get excited at the sight of the underside of your ass, your skirt doing you absolutely no favors. But he was stuck trying to compute the entirety of your presence in his club.

He was still calculating who you could be to all these people, all his people, when he watched you leave as slyly as you entered. Gliding through the crowd and letting the bouncer give you the hug he wanted to give you moments before, you left a lipstick stain on his cheek before you slipped through the exit - the only trace you left before you disappeared into the night.

Jaebeom didn’t hear Jackson ask him what the fuck he was doing just standing there. He didn’t feel Bambam whack his shoulder as he walked past, or hear him yell at him about the girl that was checking him out. Jaebeom was fiddling with the piece of paper in his pocket. The piece of paper Mark slipped into his hand when he shook it outside your store.

Pulling it out, Jaebeom read the scratchy handwriting under the dim red light he stood beneath.

Good luck, Kid. +092 6683 9845

One hand sunk itself into the pocket of your denim jacket while the other tapped the back of your phone against your cheek. Head tilted to one side, you watched, bemused, as Mark stood hunched over, staring with wandering eyes at your key-less lock. He slid open the cover and watched the numpad illuminate and as if a switch flipped off in his mind, he slid the cover back down. Fanned fingertips pressed into your door, his whole body leaning forward in hopes the door would swing open - and when it didn’t, his hand fell limp by his side.

You watched, amused now, as he repeated himself - slid open the cover, gazed as the numpad lit up and slowly dimmed and then pulled down the cover; fingertips replaced with his forehead trying to push open the door. It was time to end his suffering, you thought, despite knowing full well you could watch him struggle until he passed out.

“You alright there, bud?” You tried not to let your question sound condescending but with the way Mark simply swiveled his head to follow the sound all without lifting his forehead from the door made it impossible to smother the squeak that escaped you.

“Y/N! Hey! I brought Thai food!” The fact that it was two in the morning did not escape you. The fact that Mark was three steps away from blind drunk did not escape you. And the fact that Mark still had his forehead pressed to your door while holding up the bag of take out for your inspection certainly did not escape you. But that was not the first time you had seen him, white girl wasted, trying to enter your apartment at some ungodly hour. You also knew, it would not be the last.

Curling your hands around his shoulders to pull him back, Mark dropped his head onto your shoulder; the unmistakable waft of Patreon XO Cafe spilled out of his mouth, and apparently down his shirt too upon a cursory glance. Probably when he was still six steps away from blind drunk.

“You gotta put the code in, stupid. You remember the code right?” Trying to balance his swaying head on your shoulder, you pinched his nose to focus his attention. Mark whined, but found his own balance; standing erect and holding out a finger to the numpad.

“The code, right..” Elongating a single syllable word into ten. “That’s what I forgot.”

You patted the top of his head. A slight stretch, despite the heeled boots you had on. Mark was tall. Real tall.

You watched his pupils dilate, laser like focus; and you screamed the code in your mind, hoping he’d telepathically hear you.

Four

“Four…”

Nine nine zero.

“Nine. Nine. Zee-roh.” Oh he’s doing so well.

But then he stalled; tongue poking into the corner of his mouth - searching for the last two digits.

Four Zero.

But he continued to stall, finger quivering above the numpad.

Four Zero!

Nothing. Your mind link with him had severed. So you took his hand in yours and keyed the rest of the code with your free one. Mark giggled deep in his throat, letting you push him through the open door and into your apartment. You watched him toe off each one of his shoes, one sock deciding it wanted to remain sheathed and clung to the inside of his shoe. Mark, valiant as ever, fought against the resistance, claiming back his sock and strolled victorious to the couch; one foot fully socked, the other holding onto it’s sock cover by his toes alone.

You muffled your laughter with bit lips and puffed cheeks, unzipping each of your boots to place them down beside Mark’s discarded sneakers.

“Tell me you went to Fresh Chilli.” Slinking one arm after the other out of your jacket.

“Of course I did. What do you think I am? A savage?” Mark plopped down onto your couch then carefully placed the plastic bag on your coffee table. He began to undo the knot in the bag, lips pursing as he pulled it apart with wobbly fingers.

“Red duck curry?” Mark nodded, pulling the first container out.

“Rolled omelette?” Mark nodded again, placing the second container next to the first.

“Coconut rice?” Mark began to whistle, liken to the sound of a missile about to collide with earth, he revealed the last container, dropping it onto the table along with a comical explosion blowing open his mouth.

“You cool to get spoons? I’m gonna get changed.” Mark took his cue, rising from the suede cushions and marched towards the kitchen drawers. A man on a mission.

Despite his completely inebriated state, you trusted him to navigate your kitchen with ease. You were roommates in college, and despite moving to the other side of the city, the layout of your apartment remained practically identical. Urban living at its finest.

“Where’s Eric?” Hollering from the inside of the sweater you were still pulling over your head. There was a delay in Mark’s response. Either because he was still figuring out how to answer your question, or because he had two mouthfuls of coconut rice and curry in his mouth.

“Probably still at work.” Every syllable muffled. Definitely three mouthfuls of coconut rice and curry.

Leaving your bedroom and sitting on the floor across from him, you picked up your spoon; tapping his away when it dove for the only lychee your favourite Thai restaurant ever put in the Red Duck Curry. A little nugget of sweet succulent semi translucent goodness.

“I messaged him and he said he has to meet with the A&R team. Something about a rookie group’s debut coming up.” You nodded while spooning a heaped pile of rice and omelette into your mouth.

You swore you were beginning to fade into a curry induced nirvana when Mark groaned. Your eyes shot up, widening as Mark angrily shoved half-ladened spoonfuls into his mouth; the metal clang it made as it hit his teeth on entry and exit made you cringe.

“People suck.” Breaking the silence between chews.

“Okay?” You uncurled one of you legs to lean an elbow into the bent knee.

“If someone messages you, you should, out of courtesy, message back!” Slamming his spoon onto the table, rogue grains of rice bouncing into the air.

“Well you said Eric’s with the A&R team, he’s probably stuck discussing some important shit.” Answering nonchalantly, picking up rice grains with your fingernails.

“And if you tell them you love them, they should, out of courtesy, answer back even more!” Mark’s hands were flinging around his body, explosive expression of emotions.

“I’m sure Eric knows you love him, as weird as that may be.. ” Nonplussed in your response, though Mark only withered into himself; flopping dramatically onto the couch; legs curling into his chest. Mark’s favourite position to wallow; fetal.

You rolled onto your knees, every intention to crawl to him and stroke his hair affectionately. Patronisingly, but affectionately. But the rattle your phone made on the coffee table halted you from displaying sympathy.

A message from an unknown number piqued your curiosity; though unknown numbers at 3-AM granted you more apprehension than interest.

03:09am +010 4522 2858 Weren’t you a vision walking into CREAM like that. But, next time don’t run off so soon. I’ll be happy to keep you company.

You scrabbled on hands and knees to Mark as if possessed, smacking the side of his head instead of lovingly stroking it like previously planned.

“What the fuck did you do?!” Enraged. Mark cupped his ear, mewling through his pout. Puppy dog eyes welling with tears on full display.

“What?!” Thrusting your phone into his face, your arm shook as Mark blinked to focus. He read the message. A few times over and once a moment of stillness had passed, clapped a hand onto his mouth and exploded in laughter.

“Fuck, the Kid has balls after all!” You smacked him again, Mark shooting up to scurry to the other end of the couch. You were quick to your feet, lunging onto the couch though Mark caught your wrists to save himself another beating.

“Hey, hey, HEY! Stop, calm the fuck down woman, fuck.. Fuck, stop!” Mark growled, his tenor vibrating down your spine and you rocked back. Sitting on your feet, you breathed in a few steadying breaths and once Mark was almost sure you weren’t going to hit him, released your wrists.

“So you gave him my number?” Voice steady, body shaking.

“Yes.”

“To the poster boy of all Fuckboys?” Voice still steady, but eyes twitching.

“He’s not a Fuckboy, probably...” Mark insisted, but with the way his face contorted proved he didn’t completely believe himself.

“Mark, it’s three-am. Who the fuck sends a text like that at three-am if you haven’t got your dick on permanent slut-scan?!” Mark flinched when you threw your hands into the air, exasperated to say the least.

“Okay okay, good point. But what’s done is done.” Mark clapped his hands together, a finishing move of sorts.

“Why the fuck did you do it?” Your voice cracked, body close to boiling point.

“Cause you need to get fucked.” Your body suddenly calmed, as if someone had thrown a bucket of ice water over you and doused your flaming rage. You blinked heavily, Mark’s eyes starting to show sober thought.

“Excuse me?” Quieter than before, meek even, would be a good way to describe your tone.

“When was the last time you got laid?” Your mouth opened and closed like a loose screen door caught swinging back and forth in a tornado.

“Like ten months ago? Like not since that rapper from Sydney broke your poor little heart?” Mark jutted out his chin, eyebrows raised awaiting your answer. And when you gave none, Mark shifted to cross one leg over the other and dropped an arm behind the back of the couch.

“Listen.” In that holier than thou tone you hated so much, but you were still struck dumb and Mark knew it.

“The Kid is practically begging to take you out. And from the look of the thighs on that boy, could be a good lay. Perhaps a great lay.” Rage started to simmer within you again, your cocked jaw and narrowed eyes giving it away.

“Don’t even get me started on those shoulders. He’s like a walking proverbial Schrodinger’s fuck ready for the taking.” Mark’s chest popped as he sneered, and you clenched a fist reactively, but kept it glued in your lap.

“So why don’t you..” Mark edged forward.

“Drop the ego..” Knocked a knuckle against your chin to straighten it.

“Uncross your legs..” Dragged his thumb down your bottom lip to pop your lips apart.

“And let the Kid show you a good time.” Waggling one brow to better accentuate his suggestion. You wanted to right hook the smug look off his face.

“Come on, tell me he isn’t the perfect guy for some harmless, casual, no strings attached fun! Good old fashioned hit it and quit it.”

Silence fell between you. Though after a pregnant pause of weakly angered contemplation, Mark saw the break in your resolve and unhooked his arm from the couch and leaned over you; grabbing your phone from where it fell when you wailed on him. Holding it out to you, Mark tampered down his smirk as he tapped his thumb on the screen to wake it.

“Harmless, casual, no strings attached fun, you say?” Tone skeptical but you couldn’t deny the lurid curiosity simmering deep within you. Mark nodded and tapped a patient finger against your phone one more time.

“Go on. Open the box.”

Jaebeom yanked at the fistful of hair in his hand, the chin of the poor girl he ghosted hours before digging into his kitchen counter. If you asked him why he hunted her down after unceremoniously ditching her, he’d tell you with Hail Mary conviction that her ass was actually far too hypnotising to pass up. He in no way, would admit that he was irrationally angry; broiling from the inside out.

He in no way, would admit that watching you prowl through his domain like some rogue Alpha turned him on as much as it irritated him. He’d never admit that he swallowed down his delicate sensibilities to message you, because of course, he had none. He would absolutely never tell you that after an hour of hoping, maybe two of waiting for you to message him back, had left him irate enough to peel the chick he found displeasing off Jackson just so he could claim her, so he could claim something.

So if you asked him to deny that he was rage-fucking some poor girl because he felt threatened by your complete indirect display of power, he would. He would tell you through gritted teeth and a smile that didn’t reach his eyes that seeing you tonight meant nothing and that in the end, that chick’s ass was indeed far too hypnotising to pass up. And he was going to prove it by hammering his hips into her as hard as he could while keeping her bent over his kitchen counter.

No, he didn’t learn her name. No, he didn’t listen when she told him. No, he didn’t care. He probably wasn’t even paying attention; every rut senseless, every deep drive into her dripping cunt, indifferent. He couldn’t hear her moan, he couldn’t hear his name spill out through her lips; drool pooling under her cheek onto his fake stone bench top. All he could see was you and your charming smile and vexing demeanor and the marvelous glance of your ass that he drank up.

You’d be tempted to ask him if he was imagining you bent over for him, taking his dick like a champion and filling his apartment with erotic noises. You’d be tempted to ask him if he was rearranging the poor bottle blonde’s insides to regain dominance that you didn’t even know you had taken. You’d be tempted to ask him if he enjoyed the thought of doing just that. On the surface it’d be a flat no; but deep down, it’d be a hard yes.

Jaebeom was getting closer to climax, and god was he happy about it. The sooner he could get what’s-her-name out of his apartment, the sooner he’d be able to actually deal with his emotions. If, of course, he even knew how to do that. But as release sprinted towards him, it was stripped away just as quickly when his phone blared harsh white light into the darkness of his apartment; your name flashing bold on the screen.

Jaebeom picked up the phone off the counter, not even pausing stroke to read the message. If anything, he snapped his hips harder into her; every thrust punctuated with a Kahlua scented moan. Jaebeom found euphoria as he read the last word of your message; spilling out inside what’s-her-name like a conditioned puppy finding pleasure in receiving even a smidgen of your attention.

03:46am Noona Alright, Kid. And only cause you’re cute. One drink.

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nadiineross · 6 years

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idk if you are still looking for prompts but I just thought of this one, so here you go: Nadine and Chloe are attending a party and have to arrive separately for some thief-y reason, and when Chloe sees Nadine walking in wearing a dapper ass bespoke suit she like, chokes on her champagne because holy shit soft butch Nadine?? Is so so hot??? Even if you can’t write it I just had to get that idea out into the world. Thx for listening!

listen……….. i actually have a wip thats set pre-tll from a year ago abt chloe meeting nadine at a fancy event and dying bc nadine looks So Good in her suit but i dunno where im gonna go with that so i just wrote a new thing so here u go:

Chloe would take mucking about in old ruins, dressed in a tattered old shirt and jeans, over attending a stuffy party in clothes that cost more than the rest of her wardrobe combined any day of the week.

She didn’t hate dressing up, she was actually rather good at it honestly, but she was the type of woman accustomed to tactile boots, ratty jeans, and heavy leather jackets. Still, she knew how to have her fun.

She took a certain joy out of shocking people in ways other than throwing a grenade at them — she’d done it with Nate when they first met, when she saved his arse not a day after kicking it, and even that first time with Flynn, before that whole Shambhala mess. (The times where she’d surprised him out of necessity didn’t count.)

The bottom line: she was bored, she looked amazing, and people were staring.

It was a corporate dinner party hosted in the biggest hall offered by the most expensive five-star hotel in England. This meant there were a lot of older white men milling around to impress which wasn’t what Chloe would call hard.

Her hair was twisted and pinned into an elaborate updo that had taken her an hour to finish. The dress she wore was burgundy and off-the-shoulder, scooping to reveal three-quarters of her wiry back. Fabric wound across her chest, exposing her collarbones, and around both her biceps. Button-sized red gems hung by intricate golden hooks from her ears, accompanied by less elaborate yet equally shiny jewellery through her second lobe piercings and her helix. In her nose, she had a single gold hoop. Her clutch was small and simple, and only contained her phone and some cash.

And, of course, she arrived barely under an hour late just to make a scene.

She’d made a beeline for the bar upon arriving and hadn’t moved an inch for the hour that she’d been there. Men and women alike had ventured near to brush by her elbows and many had attempted to strike a conversation with her, and the ones that were polite or interesting enough, she entertained.

A man, hair streaked with grey, eyed her from across the room. She fought not to roll her eyes and turned back to the bartender when she failed so he wouldn’t see.

“What’s the time, mate?” she asked, leaning over the table on her arms.

The bartender glanced at her watch. “Almost eight,” she said, topping off her glass of champagne.

Chloe sighed.

She knew Nadine had said she might be late, but two hours was just ridiculous.

They’d been together as partners for two years now and for half that time, they’ve been together as, well, whatever you called two people who flew around the world to find some treasure and then fucked wildly in a hotel room and departed again until the next time.

This time, they had been apart for almost a month and Chloe had been getting a little antsy in Nadine’s absence. She’d been scrambling to come up with jobs in an attempt to meet her again but Nadine had blocked them all with valid reason.

Finally, she found one with a good enough payoff to danger ratio that Nadine could not refuse: they were to find an architect who was under the employment of a filthy rich collector named Gregory Scripps and with the help of the floor plan of his home, they would rob him blind.

The architect, Cole Sanders, just so happened to be under contract with one of the big corporations sponsoring the event tonight. Scripps had been invited, his brother being an executive at the company that had hired Sanders.

Chloe’s part of the job was to get a general idea of what Scripps would have locked up in his to-be-constructed fortress of a home as well as nicking Sanders’ room card off of him so Nadine could sneak in to his room and steal the plans.

The woman in question was, evidently, feeling a bit sore about Chloe leaving her to wait in a war zone when they’d first met and was dishing out some revenge.

She knew for a fact Nadine’s plane from Johannesburg had landed barely a half hour after her’s from Darwin and Chloe had spent a good hour in her hotel room scrolling through her phone. She didn’t know what Nadine was getting up to in her free time, but she decided that there would be a stern exchange of words when she decided to actually show up.

Within the hour, she’d already talked to Scripps, the slimy bloke he was, and had formed a long list of things she’d have to steal from him just to patch her soul up after spending that time in his company.

And Nadine? Nowhere to be—

“Whoa,” the bartender gaped, eyes wide.

Chloe turned just to see what the racket was about, taking a slow sip of her champagne to seem uninterested.

Then, gracefully, like the refined woman she was, she choked and sputtered and nearly dribbled.

Nadine arrived, guarded eyes already boring into Chloe’s from across the room.

“Holy shit,” she wheezed, a napkin balled up in her fist.

Nadine was dressed in a three-piece suit, probably bespoke.

The bottom layer was a pale blue dress shirt, almost white if one didn’t pay close enough attention, and was buttoned up to the top until the stiff collars wrapped around the base of Nadine’s throat. Over it was a crisp black pinstriped vest, joined in the middle by three shiny buttons. The trousers and blazer were well-fitted to Nadine’s figure and similarly black and striped. The lapels of her suit were carefully cut and the material of her suit folding in ways that looked too deliberate to count as wrinkles, the shoulders sloping.

Her hair was untied, the curls and frizzes brushing the shoulders of her suit and tickling against her neck where the top of her scar was, the rest disappearing under the collar of her shirt. Her hair was a bit longer than the last time Chloe had seen her.

As Nadine approached, Chloe noticed that the suit wasn’t black, instead, it was a very dark grey, and that she wore a silver watch on one wrist and a plain silver ring on the middle finger of her left hand.

Chloe’s eyes didn’t know where to stay, so they just continued sweeping up and down Nadine’s body.

When Nadine stopped a step away, Chloe settled on her eyes, ringed with simple eyeliner.

“You’re late,” Chloe said, voice coming out raspier than she intended. She didn’t have the nerve to attempt another swig from her champagne.

“I took the long way,” she said, eyes flickering away from Chloe’s face to her dress, then back up. She swallowed. “You look… beautiful.”

Chloe would have blushed if she were the type. She pushed herself up to her feet, off the bar, and looked curiously at Nadine. “When did you get this?”

Nadine raised her eyebrow, head tilting ever so slightly. Chloe felt herself get a little wet—correction: a little wetter.

She reached out and hooked a finger under Nadine’s lapel, dragging the finger down to the top of her breast. “The suit. When did you get it?”

“Oh,” she said, looking down to where Chloe had her suit held in her hand, her thumb rubbing circles into the material. “This is old. You said we should dress to impress.”

“I know what I said,” Chloe scoffed, incredulous. “I’m dressed to impress. You are dressed to bloody murder me.”

Nadine laughed and pushed closer so Chloe had to move back into the table, the edge cold against her skin. She was shorter right now, her polished brown shoes incomparable to Chloe’s heels, but the air of authority that came with the outfit made Chloe want to bend over backwards for her.

Chloe figured she would do just about anything to and for Nadine right about now.

Nadine held a hand out in the space between them and smirked wider when Chloe took it immediately. The ring on Nadine’s finger pressed against Chloe’s hand.

“This isn’t a dancing kind of party, love,” Chloe said, allowing herself to be led into the crowd. “We could be doing something else tonight though.”

“We’re mingling. What else is there to do?”

Chloe scowled and yanked her around before she let go entirely. “What do you think?”

Nadine gave her a cursory glance before turning back to people watching over Chloe’s shoulder. “Where’s Scripps?”

“I spoke to him already,” Chloe said after a moment. If Nadine didn’t want to talk about whatever they were doing, then she wouldn’t press. She didn’t exactly know how fragile they were and wasn’t about to accidentally break it off by forcing a discussion.

“Hm.” Nadine twisted her lips in thought. Chloe resisted the urge to wrap a hand around the back of Nadine’s neck and drag her in for a kiss. “And Sanders?”

“Your eight.”

Nadine turned them towards him with a firm hand on Chloe’s bare skin. Once she saw Sanders, they moved closer to him and then bypassed him entirely only a moment later. Without stopping, Nadine led them towards the elevators near the lobby.

“I’ll go,” Chloe said. “I’m tired of those corporate types.”

“Are you sure?”

Chloe rolled her eyes and waved the key card she’d slipped from Sanders’ pocket between her index and middle finger. “I’ve gotten this far without your help.”

The elevator arrived before Nadine could say anything smart in response.

Chloe made it quick; up to the seventh floor, into his room, and back down, the picture of the Scripps mansion layouts in her camera roll. She’d even gotten quick snaps of Sanders’ other jobs in case they were ever in a tight spot and needed a rich home or two to rob.

She shot off a quick text to Nadine, not waiting for a reply before she tucked her phone back into her purse.

Nadine was waiting for her when the elevator door opened, her blazer hanging over her shoulder, showing off her wonderfully bulging forearms from the bottoms of her folded sleeves. She jerked her head to the bathrooms.

When they were inside, Chloe moved to the sinks in the guise of touching up her lipstick while Nadine bent to look under the stalls. Empty.

She stood behind Chloe, close enough for Chloe to feel the top of her blazer brush against her back.

Chloe moved her head to the side, looking down at her own shoulder, then, to spy Nadine out the corner of her eye. “Yes?”

“Did you get it?”

Chloe rolled her eyes and shook her clutch in the air. “Yes, you doubt me?”

Nadine took it and pocketed it into her blazer, smiling. “Never.”

“Liar.”

“Makes two, hey.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Chloe. “I’ve never lied to anyone about anything ever in my life.”

Nadine snorted and reached up to rake her fingers through her hair, moving it one way, then the other.

Chloe turned suddenly. She pulled Nadine’s arm away from her own head and gripped tightly, walking them into the wall by the stalls. She used her other hand to cup Nadine’s cheek, and then she kissed her, hard and open-mouthed.

Nadine’s lips were parted and curved into a smile. She placed a warm hand on the curve of Chloe’s lower back, her thumb pushing into the skin just above her dress.

When they pulled apart, Chloe sucked in a breath and grinned. Nadine just opened her eyes and smiled back, one hand on Chloe, the other in the pocket of her trousers. Chloe wanted to laugh at the whole thing.

“Hello,” she whispered, pecking the corner of Nadine’s mouth.

“Hi.”

“How was this past month?”

“Good.”

“In the mood for single word replies, are you?” Chloe asked. Nadine looked amused at that. “I can see—feel—that you’ve been working out.”

She gave Nadine’s arm a squeeze. Nadine hummed. “Ja.” A beat. “Nice to have work to do though.”

Chloe placed both her hands on Nadine’s front, deftly working the top three buttons so she could touch Nadine’s bare chest, and leaned in. “Did you miss it?”

Nadine watched her, carefully. Then, tentatively, she stilled Chloe’s hands over her scar and gripped them gently.

“I missed you.”

Instantly, Chloe grinned and curved her fingers around Nadine’s. “Oh god, me too.” She kissed Nadine again, relieved. “Meet me outside? I have a key card to return.”

Nadine huffed a laugh when Chloe took her blazer to drape around herself and nodded her assent.

It was November at the moment, the night air harsh and frigid enough to pull a faint mist from Nadine’s mouth every time she breathed out. Chloe stared at her for a moment after she had slipped the card back into Sanders’ pocket and entered the lobby in search of Nadine.

The sleeves of her dress shirt were rolled back down to her wrists and her vest was buttoned properly up. The shirt was still left open, the collar jutting out from the smoothness of her vest. It gave her a sharper look, her profile cutting into lines and obtuse angles. Her hands were in her pockets, examining her shoes as she rolled on the balls of her feet.

She looked vaguely like a teenager waiting outside for their date to the prom, gathering the nerve to actually knock on the door.

It was then that she looked up, catching Chloe through the glinting windows, and she smiled softly with no teeth. Chloe’s heart sped up and she twiddled her fingers in a wave, joining her outside a second later. She returned Nadine’s blazer, having gotten her own coat back from coat check earlier.

Nadine offered her an arm to take, leaving her blazer unbuttoned.

The walk to Chloe’s hotel started silently, apart from the occasional car speeding by. There was a bridge they had to cross, but Chloe stopped in the middle and looked out over the river.

“Nadine.”

“Yes.”

Chloe inhaled sharply and steeled herself, and very slowly she turned with her arms held out. They weren’t too high, because Chloe felt a bit embarrassed about this to begin with, but they were high enough to look awkward if nothing happened.

Nadine wound her arms around Chloe’s middle, thank god for that. Chloe slung her own around Nadine’s neck and sighed into her hair. She was engulfed in warmth and she didn’t want to leave it.

“Can you stay in London a bit longer?” Chloe asked. “I missed you.”

She felt Nadine nod against her. Then: “We should talk. About this, I mean.”

“We will.”

“Okay.”

Chloe pulled away. “Okay,” she replied and pressed a kiss to Nadine’s cheek. “Let’s get going then. A warm and empty hotel room is waiting for us.”

“Of course.” Nadine laughed and once again gave her an arm to grab onto.

This whole dapper gentlewoman thing, well, Chloe would miss it sorely when she inevitably stripped it off Nadine later. For now, she was going to indulge herself.

#chlodine #chlodinefics #nadine....... a whole stud..........#auntiope-3000 #ask

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