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bonny-kookoo · 8 months

Text

Jungkook

𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐎𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫 | Changes

What do you do when the person you once were becomes the person you miss being the most?

Tags/Warnings: Aged up!Jungkook, Younger!Reader, Age Gap (9 years, JK is mentioned to be 34/35), Angst, Mature romance, Jungkook's ex wife, mentions of past physical abuse, mentions of alcohol abuse, fluff, flirty Jungkook, no smut in this I'm sorry pls still read it :( there's some tension tho!!

Length: 6.5k words

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"Thanks for picking him up." Taehyung sighs, his son happily in the living room, taking a nap from school as he tucks himself in on the couch while his favorite show plays on the TV.

"I would've asked her, you know, but I feel like I'm relying too much on her again." The young father sighs. "I'm basically treating her the same as I did years ago, just without the pay."

"I heard about that." Jungkook says, drinking his coffee at the kitchen table where he sits across Taehyung. "She used to nanny while you lived separately from your wife, I think it was." He hums, setting his cup down. Jungkook isn't on bad terms with Taehyung's wife- but he tends to not say her name, because he honestly harbors quite a bit of distaste towards the woman who refuses to properly take care of her own child.

"Well don't you seem to know a bit about her now." Taehyung squints his eyes in suspicion. "What happened to 'she's too young for me anyways' huh?" He teases, and Jungkook sighs.

"Well, things.. happened. And we talked." He shrugs. "We're not.. really a couple, but we agreed to spend time with one another." He explains.

"So you're friends with benefits?" He wonders, drinking his tea while Jungkook leans back.

"No." He shakes his head, even though deep down, it does kind of feel like that to him, now that he thinks about it a bit more. "It's.. a bit more complicated than that. We're simply talking, seeing where it goes." He says.

"Hmhm." Tae nods. "Just don't break her heart. I still got basically nightmares from her last relationship." He mumbles a bit angrily to himself, clearly a bit irritated even just by the thought of it.

"I.. wondered what happened." Jungkook says. "Dae said he was a drinker?" He wonders, and Taehyung nods.

"Drinker, druggie, abusive asshole." He huffs, crossing his arms. "It's the main reason she moved away when Daehyun was younger. She wanted to protect him- make sure he won't get hurt."

"Was he violent?" Jungkook wants to know, because honestly, he has a hunch that that might've been the case. Taehyung seems on edge now, clearly torn between probably saying the truth, and respecting your privacy. "I was intending to ask her anyways. But she seems like the type to downplay her problems in order to make things seem less serious, so I thought you might be more honest." He adds.

"Yeah, she is like that." Tae agrees softly. "I'm not too sure what exactly went down. But I do know that she.. distanced herself out of fear that Daehyun might get hurt." He tells his friend. "Greg started to pick her up every time she'd babysit Daehyun at my house, even after I told him I didn't like that. He still did, still argued, turned up drunk multiple times at my doorstep." The young father remembers. "I kept her with me, of course. I'd never let her drive home with that alcoholic- but I guess something must've happened because she just.. suddenly cut contact." He shrugs. "Sent me a text, changed her number, moved out her old apartment."

"When did she come back?" Jungkook wonders.

"According to Yoongi, a few weeks before the aftershow party." Taehyung responds.

"So that's why you didn't recognize her?" He figures, and Tae nods.

"She changed a lot. Not just visually. She's.." His eyes lower to the cup in his hand. "..a lot more quiet. Cautious. Jumpy." He informs his friend. "And at the same time, she seems to mask a lot of it- get's irritated easily. She's trying to be who she was, but it's obvious that something changed, and whenever someone notices, she becomes defensive."

Jungkook doesn't really know what to think. Looking at Daehyun on the couch, he can absolutely understand your standpoint back then to get away from Taehyung's family in order to protect them- but that means there must have been at least some form of fear against your former partner to make you believe that he could potentially be a danger to the young boy and his father. It could also just be jealousy, of course- but Taehyung is right. You are a little odd sometimes.

And he doesn't know if he wants to know exactly why, or if he wants to let sleeping dogs rest.

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Jungkook leans back in his office chair, headache already almost too unbearable to him, especially considering the woman who's making her way up in the giant corporate building to see him.

She wants money again, he knows it. Evelyn only ever visits him if there's something she wants, after all.

"One might argue they'd know me by now." Evelyn huffs as she enters the office, hair a bit wet as she throws her coat over the chair in front of his desk, before she sits down. "How're you doing?" She wonders, and Jungkook doesn't look away from his laptop's screen whatsoever, still looking through his e-mails. He doesn't have to put too many thoughts into this conversation after all- she's most likely just here to leech off of him again.

"Cut it." He simply says. "What do you want?" He asks, phone on his desk vibrating and chiming with a new notification.

'I can just drop something off for you? I just got off work myself, so it's no hassle.' your message reads, an answer to a former rant from him about his headache, and the fact that he's 'locked in like a dog' in his office and without any proper food ever since this morning. It makes him softly smile a little, the fact that you want to bring him something to eat even though you're probably exhausted from your shift as well is something he's not used to. And he didn't even have to ask for it.

'Only if it's really not an issue for you' his answer reads, and you send a thumbs-up emoji as an answer, before you finish typing your proper answer.

'DW, is anything okay or do you want something specific?' you question, and he immediately types a response.

'Just whatever, really. Nothing too spicy though, please.' he offers, when a hand knocks on the table in front of him, the woman in his office dragging him back into reality with force. He signs, locks his phone before he puts it down, opening a chat with the front desk downstairs to let them know to bring you up when you arrive.

"You know, this was always the issue, Jungkook." Evelyn whines, leaning back in her chair with her arms crossed. "You're so consumed by your work, it's crazy." She shakes her head.

"That wasn't work, actually." He bites back with a monotone voice, not really offering her any emotion whatsoever- there's nothing left in him anymore he could offer anyways. She took it all, sucked it out of him like an insect, and now she's constantly upset that he's empty inside.

"Anyways, I got this letter recently stating that there was an issue with the bank transfer?" She says, giving him the letter to read- which he does, flying over it just to remember why that bank transfer did not go through. "I told them that they'll get their money by friday." She hums, leaning her face on her palm while he gives her the letter back.

"What do I have to do with it then?" He asks, and she sits upright again, tilting her head a bit in irritation. "You said they'll get their money by friday. Good. Why are you here then?" He asks, arms crossed, office chair squeaking a bit as he leans back into it.

"Well, it's your bank account!" She laughs a bit unsure. "I don't even know why there was apparently not a sufficient balance on it." She argues.

"I resigned the automatic transfer rights." Jungkook tells her, face not moving an inch as he breaks the news. "The letter doesn't mention an insufficient balance at all, Evelyn. It states that there's no bank account set for the automated transfer option at all." He informs her.

"What the fuck Jungkook?!" She barks. "And you didn't even tell me?!" She yells, standing up to slap her hands on his desk. "You can't just make these changes and not inform me about it! Do you know how expensive that was?!" She accuses, and he shrugs, noticing something move behind her, milky glass front of his office hiding what's going on inside and outside, only letting shadows be seen if someone's close enough. "I'll text you the invoice later, and you better fucking pay, you asshole!" She says, when she whips her head around, someone opening the glass door.

"Thanks." You tell the office lady having let you in, before your eyes widen, door closing behind you and instantly drowning out all noise except the very slight sound of the fan in the corner of the room.

"Ah, there you are." Jungkook sighs, suddenly feeling a lot lighter as he looks at you. "Come here- is it still raining a lot?" He wonders easily, taking the white plastic bag from you to set it on his table, before giving you a small hug to greet you. "I think that was all you wanted, wasn't it?" He asks Evelyn, who hasn't even gotten up from her seat, instead clearly studying you now.

"Actually, no." She tells him. "And it's kind of private, so it would be real nice if your assistant would leave." She tells you with a smile that reminds you of a snarling dog.

"Then come back a different day." Jungkook answers her however, offering to take your coat from you to hang next to his own on the wall close to the large windows. "Right now I'm really not in the mood for whatever it might be. Especially not with my girlfriend in the room." He bluntly says, and something seems to flash over her face at the mention of your alleged role in his life.

She slowly stands up to take her coat from the back of the chair, movements a lot slower now, a glare sent into your direction. "Don't get your hopes up, sweetheart." Evelyn tells you, slipping into the sleeves of her coat. "His first love will always stay his job." She almost threatens, before she takes her purse and leaves through the door, leaving a confused you, and a clearly exhausted Jungkook behind.

"Please, sit down." He offers, and you do so, watching how he leans back in his chair, hands running over his face before he sits up again. "I'm sorry. That timing couldn't have been worse." He sighs.

"Ah, here. Do you have water here?" You wonder, and he nods, pointing towards a water dispenser in the room. "Oh, fancy." You laugh, walking up to fill a cup to put in front of him. "I take them myself, they usually help really quickly. Not trying to murder you." You tease, and he chuckles, taking the medication and the cup for himself.

"Thank you, really." He sighs out before taking the pill, washing it down with half of the cup's contents before he closes his eyes for a moment. "God I hate her so much." He suddenly breaks out laughing, before he shakes his head, digging through what you've bought for him.

"I assume that was your ex wife?" You wonder, and he nods.

"I'm also really sorry for telling her you're my girlfriend when we haven't even talked about that yet." He tells you a bit.. shyly almost, while you pull the bag closer to take something out for yourself.

"It's fine." You shrug. "Got a nice ring to it, you know?" You joke, and he smiles, starting to eat.

It's quiet, but not oddly so. He enjoys this a lot, this company without any pressure, no eerie sense of something being about to happen. You're clearly here because you want to be, there's nothing you want from him, nothing you need, nothing you could gain from this. It's just what it is, nothing else, nothing to red between the lines.

"You can ask why she was here, by the way." He offers you, wiping his mouth with a tissue.

"I don't have to know." You say, however. "It's got nothing to do with me- right?" You ask, and he nods. "Then it's none of my business. You can rant to me about it, sure, but I can't really give you any opinions on it since I don't really know her, or the situation around you and her." You tell him.

Jungkook watches you for a moment, before he nods. "You're right." He agrees, letting go of the topic entirely for now. He know it's only fair to talk to you about it at some point- but right now is not the time for that, he decides. "Do you want me to drive you home later? I really only have to answer this one E-mail and then I can clock out." He tells you between bites, wiping his fingers before he taps away on his keyboard.

"If it's not a bother, sure." You shrug. "You said you got the weekend off, right?" You ask him, and he nods a bit absentmindedly. "Then how about you stay over?" You ask, and that definitely seems to catch his attention.

"Stay over?" He asks, just to make sure he heard it correctly, and you nod.

"Yeah." You nod. "It's, you know, what boyfriends do with their girlfriends." You tease, making him roll his eyes. "We could cook something, watch a movie. Oh, and one of the lightbulbs in my kitchen broke, so maybe you could fix that for me?" You chirp, and he suddenly smiles brightly to himself, clicking something on his laptop before he shuts it down. "What's that grin for, mister?" You ask, and he just shakes his head.

"Nothing, really." He tells you. "I'm just really happy." He confesses, and you smile the same, now a bit shy.

"Well, what's your answer then?" You wonder, watching him pack the leftovers back into the bag, before he walks to get both his and your jackets, helping you into yours.

"My answer is yes." He says, voice very close to your ear as he leans over your shoulder from behind you, hands on your arms for a second. "I'd love to stay over and fix that lightbulb too, of course.-"

"Since I heard that's what boyfriends do with their girlfriends."

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"There we go." He says, slowly climbing down the plastic kitchen chair you're holding onto just in case. "Anything else while I'm here?" He genuinely asks, and you shake your head, moving the chair back to the small kitchen table.

"No, that was all. Thank you, really." You say, before you move to open the fridge, taking out some things while he stands around with his hands in his pockets. Your apartment is pretty small- living in it together with you would most likely prove to be way too much, but he still thinks it's better than his own, in terms of.. quality.

His own home feels empty. There's nothing in it, it's way too big for a single person, and the view from so high up above the clouds has long lost it's charm to him.

He sits down at the kitchen table, leaning on it a little as he watches you wash some vegetables before you grab a cutting board and a knife. "Daehyun said you're a little lonely without your dog." He says, and you giggle a little, smiling to yourself. "Have you considered getting another one?" He wonders, but you just shrug.

"I'm too busy at the moment." You deny. "I used to bring him to work with me, since he was a very quiet and calm dog, which fit perfect into our office." You remember. "He'd always sleep under my desk, right on my feet. Always kept them warm." You softly say, and he notices that he might've struck a still hurtful topic if only from the sound of your voice becoming somewhat tighter.

"I can imagine. I always wanted a dog too-" He sighs, leaning back. "But.. Evelyn, the woman you saw today, she doesn't like them. So it was out of the question."

"Really?" You wonder, cutting up the vegetables. "I mean, I guess, if both of you were really busy then it probably was for the best." You hum, tension leaving you again. "Gotta look at the bigger picture."

"Yeah, maybe it was for the best." He agrees. To be honest, Evelyn would've probably fought over the dog as well, just like she did over the apartment, and other more petty things like fucking furniture. She wanted to ruin him, if financially then emotionally, and somehow, she somewhat did.

It's quiet again, when you, surprisingly to him, cut into a topic he did not expect.

"His name was Greg." You say, filling a small pot with water before you place it on the stove, turning it on. "You probably talked about him with Taehyung."

"I did." He admits. "But there's not much I know." He offers. "And like you said about my situation, I don't have to know about things that don't concern me. However-" He begins, getting up to now stand closer, find your gaze that's turned downwards onto the cutting board. "-I don't want to accidentally do something that might make you uncomfortable due to past experiences." He says.

"What a tactful way to ask me if I've got any trauma from that guy." You chuckle, moving to put the cut up vegetables in a bowl before you continue the preparations for dinner.

"I'm trying to be gentle here." He attempts to lighten up the mood, and you indeed smile at that.

"And I'm very thankful for that." You offer him, before you sigh, setting down the knife. "I don't.. think we're at a point where I should be dumping all of what happened onto you." You inform him, and he nods, accepting that. "I don't like yelling. If I feel uncomfortable, I'll probably try and get myself out of a situation by any means necessary-" you admit, turning a little to look at him. "-and that will probably include some nasty words thrown your way, if that get's you away from me." You tell him. "And I don't like alcohol. Even if you hand me full on medical evidence that you can't even get drunk, the moment I smell it- I just can't trust you." You say, and he nods.

"Alright, I respect that." He nods.

"I'll also get pretty clingy over time." You add on, making him nod. "And I can be annoying. I'll text you a lot." You continue, and a small smile sneaks itself onto his lips as he shrugs, crossing his arms. "The moment you invite me into your home I'll practically steal half of your closet contents-"

"Is that what he told you?" He wonders, and you grow quiet, eyes avoiding him. "I'm obsessed with my work." He begins his own rant, standing up to walk closer to you. "I never have time for anything else. I'm boring. Sometimes rude, and immature. I'm a perfectionist, but I'm also lazy. I snore, and I work out too much to the point where I'm sweating buckets. I'm a little messy." He tells you, hugging you from behind, though not very intimately- giving you a clear way out if you so want to.

"…is that what she told you?" You answer, and he smiles.

"Let's just agree on getting to know each other just the way we are, not the way someone else described us in the past." He offers, and you nod.

"Alright." You hum, before you push him a little playfully. "Now go and let me cook in here, boyfriend." You tease, making him grin impishly, his tongue running over his bottom lip as he does not walk away from behind you, hands now flat on your ass. "Hey!"

"What? I'm out of your way like this." He tells you almost innocently, hands moving to hold your waist now.

"Sit down there and let me cook!" You laugh.

"But we wanted to cook together, no?" He wonders. "Like.. boyfriend and girlfriend." He leans his chin on your shoulder.

"Well, boyfriends let their girlfriends cook in peace." You threaten, making him chuckle as his fingers squeeze your hips a bit.

"Not if their girlfriend is this attractive." He purrs, making you roll your eyes.

"Jungkook…" You wonder, suddenly way more serious, making his stand up straight again so you can face him. "Is.. that what we are now?" You ask, and his lips part for a second, unsure of his own answer. "I mean, it's fine if we're just playing around. Just.. I'm scared that we might end up in some.. unnecessary drama down the line if we're blurring the lines too much without properly discussing things first." You say.

"What do you mean?" He asks, and you sigh.

"What if you end up calling me.. your girlfriend just as a joke? But I start believing it at some point- thinking we are something serious when we're not. Or the other way around." You explain. "I don't want us to get hurt again. Neither of us."

Jungkook takes a deep breath, and from this close proximity, you can make out two odd dots near his bottom lip you're not too sure of. You might ask him about them some other time.

"Let me take time off of work. Next week, three days." He offers, catching you off guard. "Let's go on a trip. Together. Someplace no one knows us, and we don't know either." He tells you.

"I mean- I would've had friday and the weekend off anyways but-"

"Okay, great, perfect. I'll cancel my Friday meetings." He tells you, hands moving- at first, they seem to attempt to hold your cheeks- but it's like that feels too intimate yet, so he settles for your shoulders. "Let's get to know each other. The real you and me that got.. buried at some point." He offers.

"Why on a trip?" You ask.

"Because it's perfect." He chuckles. "Close proximity of the hotel room we'll share, stress of navigating the unfamiliar environment, the tension of not being able to just 'escape' any uncomfortable situation right away forcing us to talk things out as they happen-" He begins, and your mouth shapes an 'o' as you realize what he's talking about.

"It's a stress-test." You say, and he nods, grinning.

"Exactly." He nods.

"…to be honest you're already stressing me out." You jokingly reply-

Jungkook laughing, and you have a feeling he's not done that in a long time, with the way his ears turn red and his hand covers his mouth in embarrassment of that outburst.

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When Taehyung opens the door, he instantly greets his son who Jungkook has put down the moment he'd noticed the young father arriving at the front door to let him in.

"Oh wow." Taehyung laughs as Jungkook walks in, almost nervously running a hand through his hair. "Is the world ending? Apocalypse? Or am I high?" He jokes, making Jungkook roll his eyes. "No, seriously! I didn't even know you could still put those piercings back in!" He laughs, taking Dae's school backpack to take out his lunchbox so he can sort out the leftovers and wrappers from his snacks.

"It was a bit tricky, I won't lie." He laughs a little. "But they didn't really close all that much since I had them for so long, so it wasn't a big deal." He shrugs.

"What's the occasion?" Tae wonders, throwing the wrappers of Daehyun's snacks in the trash. "You most certainly don't look like you're gonna go to a meeting like that. What happened to 'I'm not in my twenties anymore' huh?" He jokes.

"I'm honestly not sure." He answers, hands in the pockets of his pants. "Just.. felt like it. And I'm not going to the office- I took time off." He confesses.

"Okay, are you running a fever?" Taehyung asks, and Jungkook laughs to himself. "Are you gonna meet up with your.. friend?" He air-quotes, and Jungkook nods, checking the silver watch on his wrist.

"Yeah- we're meeting up later, she's currently packing her things last thing she texted me." He nods. "Our flight is in about three hours from now, but it's her first time flying, so we wanted to be there a bit early just in case." Jungkook shrugs.

"Oh, fancy." Taehyung laughs. "Why though?" He wonders, washing the colorful lunchbox of his son in the sink.

"Stress testing." Jungkook offers. "We just want to see if we can handle each other under pressure." He says, and Taehyung sighs.

"My god Jungkook, can you just once try and not make everything more complicated than it has to be?" He worries. "Just spend time with her. Go out for a coffee or something, watch a shitty movie at home and let her suck you off during the commercial break or something, you know, like NORMAL people!" He whines. "You're acting as if this is some million-dollar business discussion. It's really not." He huffs out in frustration. "Listen, I know Eve fucked you over bad, and honestly you've always had a shit-taste in women to begin with because holy fuck if I think back to Lucy-"

"Can you get to the point?" Jungkook complains, a little embarrassed as his friend brings up his admittedly terrible dating history.

"-yeah, sorry." He laughs. "But, trust me-" Taehyung says, drying his hands before he puts them on his friend's shoulders. "-she's honestly perfect for you. Once you help her get her confidence back up, trust me, you've got yourself someone who's not a raging cunt for once." He finishes his rant, and Jungkook takes a deep breath.

"You think?" He worries, and Taehyung nods.

"I do." He says, patting his friend's back before he leads him to his front door. "Be yourself. And I mean, your real self. Be that goofy dude who cries during disney movies and folds his laundry to Depeche Mode at 3 am."

"Why would I do that?" Jungkook cringes, thinking his friend is joking- but he's surprised to find Taehyung with a soft gaze instead, an encouraging smile on his lips.

"Because that's the Jungkook I know." He offers, a somber look on his face.

"And I miss him."

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"Let me take that." He offers, taking the suitcase from you. It's small, scratched up, and he can't help but notice the stickers on it. "You good to go?" He wonders, and you nod, closing the door before locking it, walking next to him out the apartment building towards his by now familiar car, his own luggage already in the trunk where he puts yours now as well.

The moment you sit next to him inside, is when you notice how.. different he is today. Not only from looks alone- but it feels different, oddly enough. Lighter. Not as serious as he usually is. "I wondered what those.. spots were." You say, looking at him from the passenger side, and he raises his brows while stopping at a red light, turning his head towards you, who points to your own lower lip.

"Ah, yeah." He chuckles, a bit bashful. "I.. got them done in my early twenties. Took them out though, because.. I don't know." He shrugs.

"You don't know, of do you just realize that the reason was stupid?" You giggle, and he sighs, with a smile on his lips however.

"Caught me." He confesses, changing lanes as he makes his way to the airport.

"Why'd you put them back in?" You ask, leaning against the car door a bit.

"Because I wanted to be myself." He explains. "I.. like I said. I want you to get to know me. And not the person I became to please others around me." He tells you.

"I assume your.. ex wife didn't like the piercings?" You ask, testing how far you can pry into his past and how much you can poke until he tells you off. But much to your surprise, he seems rather unfazed by the topic.

"She hated my tattoos as well. Wanted me to get them removed constantly." He chuckles, and you're intrigued.

"You've got tattoos as well?" You ask, and he nods.

"Maybe I'll let you see them later?" He flirts, and you grin to yourself, adjusting your legs a little as you stay quiet. "Either way, Evelyn didn't like a lot about me."

"Then why did she marry you?" You ask, noticing too late how mean that question could come off.

"Probably for my bank account." He simply laughs. "I was.. stupid. I thought she was fixing me." He shakes his head. "I thought she only had my best interest in mind." He says, setting his turn lights to enter the airport parking area. "But she always hated me. Still does." He sighs, searching for a proper parking spot.

"Well, I don't hate you." You tell him.

"Yet." He mumbles, before he finally parks the car, turning off the engine. "Do you have your passport and everything on hand? Don't wanna have to unpack everything in a rush later at check-in." He tries to change the topic, but you look at him with eyes so soft that he becomes scared of them.

"Jungkook." You say his name, and he hates how kind it sounds. "As long as you're not like him, I won't hate you. Honestly, I don't even hate him." You tell him, and he nods a bit stiffly, before practically escaping the car, instead putting on his jacket before helping you take out your suitcase and handbag.

Inside the airport, he notices your nervousness, hand constantly reaching out but never holding on to him at all, in any way. It makes him chuckle a little as he watches you fight with yourself for quite a while, before he helps you check in.

You're clearly a bit overstimulated by everything going on around you, looking around anxiously, biting the inside of your lips constantly, even as you both sit down to wait for your gate to open for boarding. "Hey-" He reaches out to tug your lip from your teeth with his thumb, before he smiles in reassurance. "Okay?" He wonders, and you nod, though you're not looking at him. "Come here. You can hold onto me, by the way, if that helps you." Jungkook suggests, and you move your arms to wrap around one of his, body scooting closer to lean your face against his shoulder, sweater soft against your skin. He moves his arm around your shoulders to keep you closer, hand offering itself for you to hold instead, and you do so, fingers cold. "What's that scar?" He wonders, thumb running over a faint scar over the palm of your hand.

"A shoelace." You say, a little quietly.

"A shoelace?" He repeats, and you nod.

"Yeah." You confirm. "I had.. I was in the midst of changing the laces of.. Gregory's boots, because the dog had chewed them. But he got mad anyways, and pulled them out of my hand." You remember. "It happened really quickly, but I remember that it hurt badly." You chuckle. "It was an odd pain. Like my body couldn't decide whether or not I was burned or cut."

Jungkooks hand on your shoulder starts to move a little in a soothing motion, fingers circling around. It's his first confirmation that something did indeed happen, and he's almost convinced that what you just told him was probably not an isolated incident, but simply one of many that went down during your entire relationship.

"I didn't want him to get mad at Yogi. He already hated the poor dog enough." You sigh, closing your eyes as you settle against Jungkook's side. He enjoys this close proximity, the domestic feel of this moment, even though it's out in public and for everyone to see. He doesn't care.

"You can heal with me, you know?" He says, and you look up at him from where you're leaning against his body. "I can't promise you that.. our time spent will be all smooth sailing, but I can assure you that it will be nothing like what you've experienced." He hums towards you.

And you smile warmly, sighing. "Don't worry-" you giggle, closing your eyes.

"-It already is."

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The hotel room is spacious, expensive looking, nothing like you've seen before.

Usually, you only really get to see things like these on vacation photos your friends show you- you yourself don't really travel, you technically don't take time off at all, rather always asking to have your off-days paid out instead if possible. You've got no reason to treat yourself with anything, be it time off or a full on vacation.

Your sense of self worth has shriveled up like rotten fruit over the years, now thrown out like the garbage it is.

Jungkook meanwhile clearly has a routine in him, as he walks through every room first to check if everything's okay, just to then place his bag somewhere near the bed, a big yawn escaping him as he opens the balcony door wide, letting the air of the seaside in. It's odd to see him dressed rather casual, simple but expensive sweater stretching over his broad back. His face still shows the clear stress he's accumulated, and it makes you wonder.

"Do you.. go on vacations often?" You wonder, and he shakes his head.

"No, usually I only fly out for business trips." He explains, watching you sit on the edge of the twin-sized bed. "I originally thought I should book two single beds, by the way. I just.. thought it might be more intimate like this." He tells you, leaning against the small balcony's edge outside, glass door open, as the wind blows through the curtains a little.

"It's okay like this." You nod, making him smile softly.

"Do you want to rest a little?" He asks, and you shrug, unsure. You only have three days- if you sleep now, it's probably annoying to him since he most likely planned something on this trip for you both to do. He at least comes across as someone who likes to have everything set out and structured- not like you, who dives in head first without any real plan. You don't want him to stay hidden inside the hotel room just because you're tired from the flight. "Hey." He asks, and you didn't even notice him squatting down in front of where you sit, his hands on your knees as he finds your eyes from where he's looking up at you. "Don't hesitate to speak your mind. If we want this to work, we need honestly, first and foremost." He encourages, and you nod.

"I'm tired- but I don't want to be boring." You worry.

"How would taking a nap be boring?" he chuckles. "I'm actually glad you're tired. I didn't want to come off as an old man who needs a break because he can't keep up." He laughs, standing up before he moves to lay down on the bed, patting the spot right next to him.

You lay down where he wordlessly suggested, taking in a deep breath while focusing your eyes on the collar of his sweater for a moment. It's when your gaze roams around that you notice something poke out on his wrist as he turns back around from removing his watch from the other arm. Your fingers curiously lift the fabric of the sleeve, making him chuckle quietly, before he moves to push the fabric up to his elbow, exposing different colors of ink underneath his skin.

What was Jungkook like when he was younger? Has he always been somewhat like this- or has he changed into this instead?

"Got them done in my early twenties too." He explains quietly. "Just.. lineart at first. Black and white." Jungkook remembers as he watches you trace some of the lines with your finger. "Then it got more. Over time, it looked a little messy- so I added color to it, this time actually going to a professional who specifies in forming sleeves." He tells you.

"Do you regret them?" You wonder. "Like.. your piercings and your tattoos?" You ask, and he shakes his head.

"It's not like I regret them." He denies. "I still like the look of them. The aesthetic of it. It's just.." He sighs, inked hand turning around palm up, and you put your own on top of his, making him move to compare your hand sizes palm to palm. "..they don't feel like me anymore." He shrugs.

"Maybe because they aren't." You offer, now holding his hand with both of yours, your eyes on the blurred ink underneath the skin. "Maybe.. you changed. Even though you didn't want to."

He did. He knows that he did- but what he struggles with, is the question if he can even go back now. He wants to, but at this point, he feels like he's crossed that line by now, too far to step back and take a different path. Most people around him nowadays only now this Jungkook, not the one he used to be. If he just reverts back to who he once was, will he lose every friendship and connection he's made after he married?

Marriage. The moment he changed.

Love can make someone truly blind to a lot of things. He overlooked so many warning signs, pushed old friends and even family away just because they saw what he did not- or more so refused to. He's not spoken to his own parents in years, by now too ashamed to admit that he'd been wrong for the entirety of his past relationship, that his mother was right about her. What would she think about you?

She'd like you, he's very sure about that. His father would probably be a little suspicious of the age gab, and his brother would most likely tease the living daylights out of him, but he knows you'd fit right in. Do you have a good relationship with your parents? What would they think of him?

He wants to ask you, but the moment he becomes aware and snaps out of his thoughts, your eyes are already closed, breathing even. You're still holding onto him, and he realizes that he's never actually had a moment like this with Evelyn in the past, not even when they were just a regular couple, and definitely not after they got married. He feels.. free. No pressure on him, no obligations awaiting him, nothing needed or expected from him. You're simply sleeping, and yet the act itself makes his pride swell, because of your display of trust towards him.

He knows you've been hurt. He knows that he's been hurt-

And maybe, just maybe, together, you can finally begin heal.

Change once more, for a final time, into a happier version of yourselves.

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagine #bts jungkook imagine #jungkook x reader #bts jungkook fanfic #bts jungkook x reader #bts jeon jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook fanfic

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going-to-ikea-for-the-fries · 1 month

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Bait and Switch. || Scammer!Reader x Victim!Ghost

Rating: M Words: 2.6K~ Pairing: scammer!Reader x victim(but not really)!Ghost CW: phone scams/conning (reader never actually cons him), financial issues?, threats (Simon threatens to find reader), degradation?. other tags: crack, OOC Simon., you/your pronouns (gn!reader but uses a female fake name), obviously fake names (pun/funny), lying, joking, the weirdest meet cute? a/n: this started out as a joke/crack and turned serious/dark at the end? idk how i did this.

Simon Riley would say that being legally dead is the best thing to have happened to him and that's because it allowed him to escape a bunch of responsibilities that regular men have to uphold.

He gets paid covertly, in full, and does not have to pay taxes on his income.

He rented a flat from a sweet ol' lady, who didn't run a background check or ask for a copy of his birth certificate (terrible choice on her part), and he pays her by dropping an envelope of cash in her mailbox on the 1st of every of the month.

He not only is old enough to drink but also sounds and looks old enough as well, which means he doesn't need I.D. to buy alcohol (not that any shops or bars really care enough to check).

He doesn't have a credit card. Or a debit card for that matter. Hell, he doesn't even have a bank account, so he doesn't have to pay maintenance fees.

He doesn't have a smartphone. And up until recently he only had a pager. In fact, the only reason he doesn't have a pager anymore is because it got shot in the crossfire during a mission... so Price forced him to get a jitterbug.

In short... Simon Riley can escape a lot of things (death, taxes, Philip Graves...). But telemarketers and phone scammers are not one of those things.

That's how, on a boring Wednesday afternoon, his new phone ends up ringing, like it had been doing multiple times a week for the last four weeks.

Telemarketers.

He never got telemarketers on his pager.

He hated telemarketers.

But that didn't mean he blocked them-

"What?" He answered as soon as he picked up the phone.

An automated voice came over the call, one of those typical Siri-esque robot voices, delivering a prepared speech: "Congratulations! You've won a free cruise to the Bahamas! To claim your prize, press 1."

Oh, now, this was different. He didn't need to hear more to know it was a scam call. But that didn't mean he was going to hang up.

So Simon pressed key 1, which caused a beep to sound over the call.

"Thank you!" The automated voice continued. "We are now connecting you to a live operator to claim your prize!"

Barely a millisecond went by before you took over the call. "Good afternoon, this is Stella Gormoni with Blissful Blessings Inc.! Who am I speaking with?"

As stereotypical as it is, Simon had expected a different voice on the other end of the line... maybe from a scammer in a foreign country who'd speak heavily-accented English...

But instead, he got a sweet and professional sounding person... It almost made him second-guess the scam that was being pulled on him.

His mind moved quick at coming up with a fake name. Not just a fake one, but a pun one too. "Wanh'a, first name Aiden." He replied, his gruff voice reverberating on the call.

"And how do you spell that?" You asked him politely, and, through your headset, he could hear your keyboard keys clacking in the background.

"That's A-I-D-E-N." He replied as he entered his kitchen, spelling his first, as if that was somehow what was causing you difficulty.

"Uh-huh!" You acknowledged in a peppy tone. "And... your surname?" You asked him.

"W-A-N-H-'-A." He continued spelling as he crossed the small kitchen, hearing your fingers tapping away at your keyboard in his ear.

For a moment, you didn't talk, as if stunned into silence. Had you just picked up on the fact he was trolling you by giving you a name that, phonetically, sounded like 'I Don't Wanna'? Probably. But you hadn't hung up yet.

"Well, congratulations, Mr. Wanh'a, you just won an all-inclusive, two-week long cruise to the Bahamas!" Your peppy tone made him bite his lip to contain a laugh. Well, at least you were dedicated in continuing the scam. "How are you feeling?"

"Very well, and yourself?" Simon asked casually as he leaned himself against the door of his refrigerator, leaning down to look inside and find a snack.

"I'm doing very well, thank you, sir." You replied in a cheerful tone. "So, let's process the information so we can get you your prize, shall we?" You announced in a polite tone.

"Go right on ahead, sweet'eart." He murmured as he grabbed a yogurt and closed the fridge with his hip, sitting at the table and peeling open the lid.

"Well, for us to start, I'm going to need your-"

"Actually, I have a question, before we start." Simon interrupted your speech, cutting off your silver-tongued lies.

You went silent for just a moment before you replied with a sweet little: "Of course, what can I help you with, Mr. Wanh'a?"

"I want to know how exactly I signed up to receive this prize." Simon replied before he placed a spoonful of yogurt in his mouth.

He was trying to accomplish two things by doing this: 1) throw you off your game and make you stammer and stutter, and 2) see how long it took for you to get annoyed, and hang up on him.

"Well, that's what I was going to explain, you see-" You replied, a smile behind your voice, but his trained ears could pick up the slight frustration. It made Simon smile.

"Oh, then, I'm sorry for interrupting you, sweet'art, please go ahead." He replied and gestured with his spoon, as if giving you the stage, unnecessarily so, because you were not there to watch it.

"As I was saying... You were entered automatically into the draw by buying a cereal box of any Kellog's cereal at Tesco. I'm sure you saw a 'Win a free cruise!' sticker on yours?" You asked in a professional and sickly-sweet tone.

He could see right through your scam, he had already done that. You name a famous brand, one people trust, to trick naive or impressionable ones into believing you...

Normal people would tell you they no longer have the cereal box, many of them naive enough to believe your scam despite the fact they hadn't even bought one of those boxes in the first place...

Next, you'd ask for the card used to make the purchase, and some people were dumb enough to read their number aloud to you...

Oh, how he hated scammers. Even more than telemarketers.

"I do remember seeing something like that..." He murmured, his voice deepening, before he popped another spoonful of yogurt past his lips, loudly smacking them right against the receiver of his jitterbug.

"Well, all I need is for you to get the box and read me the code that's imprinted on the inside of the flap!" You announced.

"Well, you see, I would, sweet'art... But my sight isn't so good anymore..." Simon replied. "I'm getting up there in age, you know?" He continued eating his yogurt.

"I understand, sir." You replied. "I'm sorry to hear that. One of my cousins also started losing his vision pretty early." You announced.

Huh.

There was no hint of forced sympathy in your voice.

No, you were being genuine. That was a real story of your life you were telling him...

But you had picked up on the fact he was trolling you, right? So why were you-

"Good thing though, about this system of ours, is that you can just confirm your credit card details so we can double check them and get you that prize!" You had, your tone right back to the scamming silver-tongue you had held until now.

Secretly, Simon had to admit that he admired your commitment to the bit. He couldn't help but smile a bit, amused.

"Oh, of course. Let me just set you down while I get my card." Simon replied and got up, finishing his yogurt and tossing out the plastic container, popping the spoon into the sink, and, after setting down his phone, he walked out of the room.

Simon glanced down at his wrist watch, noting the time on it, then, approached his bedroom door, grabbing his over-the-door pull-up bars, and began doing a quick set, leaving you to 'wait' for him in the kitchen.

After a few sets, he waltzed back into the kitchen and grabbed his phone again. "You still there, da'lin'?" He beckoned in a gruff tone.

You sighed, your politeness sounding slightly more forced. He had kept you waiting for over ten minutes after all. "Yes, sir, I am. Did you get your card, Mr. Wanh'a?"

"Oh, please, enough of this 'sir' thing, Mr. Wanh'a was my mother." He replied, then went silent for just a beat, almost like he could hear your frustration sizzling on he other end.

He was being more and more obvious with his trolling... And it pleased him immensely to imagine a parasite like you seething on the other end of the line, reaching your wits' end.

"You can just call me 'Ai', it's what my friends call me." Simon continued, a smirk forming on his lips. "And we're friends now, right? You're giving me a cruise and everythin'." He added, his tone just as charismatic and peppy as his had been.

"I guess we are!" You replied, returning the overly cheery tone. "So, 'Ai Wanh'a', then?" You asked, but he could hear the mix of frustration and amusement behind your voice.

"Yeah? What d'you want, babygirl?" Simon asked, unable to resist making a more impish remark. And, unfortunately, it had the desired result. It genuinely caused your brain to blue-screen for a moment.

Sure, you'd experienced plenty of people getting angry at you when you attempt to scam them, or even trolling you the same way this bloke was doing but...

It was definitely a first, to have someone flirt with you, even if it was still part of his trolling attempt.

"Your... credit card details?" You ended up adding, your voice still showing the surprise and light meekness that came from him catching you off-guard.

"Oh, of course. Are you ready? It's a very complex number." He replied.

"Ready when you are." You added as you steeled yourself for another smartass response or run around from him.

"Here it is: 1234-5678-9987-6543." He replied, reciting the numbers 1-9 in order and then backward. "And the three digits on the back are: 210."

Oh, he was so fucking annoying! He didn't get to troll you, even if it was pretty amusing of him to do so, then flirt with you, then go back to trolling.

"Sir, if you're not interested in the cruise, just say so. There's no need for this mockery." You replied, your tone serious and professional though you were definitely seething on the inside.

Simon could tell. And he reveled in it. "Oh, but I am interested!" He replied with a smirk behind his voice. "In fact, I want to know more. Will my cabin in the cruise have an ocean view?"

Simon heard you inhale aggressively on the other side of the line, steeling yourself not to hang up on him, or down right berating him on the phone. "Yes, Ai, of course!" He heard your fake cheeriness through your clenched teeth. "It'll be a luxury cabin, actually. Isn't that great?"

"No, it's not that great, actually. I get very seasick, you see?" Simon murmured. "Not to mention, ever since my pet goldfish died, I've just never been able to look at the ocean the same..." He added in a forced pitiful tone.

You went quiet again on the other side and Simon knew he had finally worn you out. He waited to hear the clicking sound of the call falling, but, instead, he just heard you let out a sigh.

"You're very frustrating." You murmured.

"Oh, my, is this how you speak to all your prize winners?" Simon gasped dramatically.

"Shut up... You didn't have to be a smartass, you know?!" You scolded him, as if you had any ground to stand on.

"No, I fear I did, sweet'art." Simon replied as he leaned casually against the kitchen counter. "You called me, interrupted my day, and wasted my time with a scam, of all things. I have every right to be a smartass and have some fun with it." He added, a smug tone obvious in the dulcets of his deep voice.

"Okay? You could've just hung up on me?" You were truly grasping at straws to justify your behaviour. It was comical.

Simon laughed dryly. "And waste an opportunity to annoy a parasitic leech like you?" He quipped.

That stunned you into silence for a moment and you couldn't help but pout a bit.

"Not to mention, what you're doing is illegal, you know that righ'? And I'm military, I could get you arrested for this." He added.

"For that, you'd need to know where I am." You retorted, maybe a bit bratilly. "Besides, I knew you were a soldier."

"And how did you know that?"

"You used the NATO phonetic alphabet while spelling 'your' name'." You replied directly. "Nobody spells 'Aiden' as 'Alpha-India-Delta-Echo-November'."

"So you knew I was military and you still went ahead with your little scam attempt? You're not that bright, are you?" He defied you, which earned him a scoff from your end.

"No, I already knew you were trolling me."

"Oh, so you just wanted to waste my time?"

"That's exactly it, Aiden."

"Sounds to me like you're just looking for trouble, da'lin'." He quipped, his voice having lowered to a gruffer tone.

Rolling your eyes, you scoffed. "Am not. I'm just enjoying myself. You're not the only one that can make jokes at people's expenses."

"No, you really are..." He tutted his tongue and shook his head. "Need I remind you you were trying to scam me, and other people?" He added in a tone that sent a shiver down your spine.

"I know what I was doing."

"Yeah? And are you proud of that? Proud of being a conniving little cunt who tries to take people's hard-earned money?" He taunted you.

You didn't reply. Of course you weren't proud. You still had a conscience! But you wouldn't tell him that. He wouldn't get the satisfaction of hearing you apologise.

"I see. You don't like what I'm saying, so you give me the silent treatment, is that it, sweet'art?" He teased. You could hear the smirk behind his words.

"I wonder if you'd still act like this if you had to face me and had to answer for yourself."

Closing your fists tight, you steel yourself again to gain some edge and reply to him. "I guess you're going to keep wondering then. Because it's not happening."

"You know, it's a shame your little computer spat out my phone number for you to call..." He trailed off.

"And why's that?"

"Because instead of anyone else, you got me... And that's just... really bad luck for you. Any other service member, you would've been fine..." He trailed off.

"What, are you some sort of General-Major-Chief thing, super high up the ladder?" You taunted.

Simon simply chuckled dryly on the other side of the line. "No. But I'm definitely the worst person you could've tried to play with."

"Oh, big scary man, what are you gonna do? Gonna come teach me a lesson?" You added, taunting him some more, clearly feeling comfortable behind your laptop, with your smartphone, sitting at home, comfortable and warm, with your pet at your feet. "Oh, I'm so scared!" You added, feigning fear in a dramatic tone.

"Is that a challenge I'm hearing, sweet'art? Inviting me to come pay you a visit?" Simon asked you, his brow cocking, despite the fact you couldn't see it.

You don't know what it was about the way he spoke. The way he said that. The way his voice sounded.

It sent a shiver down your spine, a cold sweat, like he was, for the first time, not joking around anymore.

"No...?" You murmured in reply, feeling your shoulders tensing in an unpleasant way.

"Yeah... That's an invite I'm hearing..." He disregarded what you said and chuckled. "Maybe I'll come pay you a visit then, hey? How does that sound, little leech?"

#ikea writes 💚#tw phone scam #cod mw2 #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley #cod fanfic #masterlist #ghost x reader #phone scammer #crack fic #ddne #dead dove do not eat

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shoot-the-oneshot · 2 years

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Friends Don’t

Max Verstappen x Reader

Anon 30 "I'm not your friend. I'm your boyfriend, get it right.” 55 “ you’re on my side. move.“

the one where a friend accidently calls Max your friend and he decides to have some fun

“Oh this is your friend Max right? It was an innocent question honestly it was, seeing as you haven’t talked to your old friend from school since you and Max had become official so to her knowledge he was just your friend. Max however, did not like that. His eyebrows were practically in his hairline as he looked to see what you would say. Of course you corrected her but you knew Max wouldn’t let it go, and would have his fun.

“Here you go.” He said pushing the check towards your side of the table, a cheesy grin on his face. “Really?” You deadpanned, its not that you minded paying, its just you just knew where this was coming from.

“What? I just thought you could be a good friend and buy me dinner.” He shrugged, trying to act innocent but the amusement in his eyes couldn’t be missed. You sighed.

“Baby i-“ “Woah I’m baby now, do all your friends get pet names like that?” Your lips pursed at his interruption, trying again. “Max, i promise she just didn’t know.” He sat there nodding along with what you were saying, thoughorly enjoying your groveling as you tried to make up for your friends misunderstanding. Which he knew it was but he was lying If he said he didn’t like the cookies you made him or extra cuddles he got, so yeah he’ll stretch it out.

“You know what I’ve got it this time my treat, buddy.” He grabbed the check back not even trying to hide his wide smile.

You wre getting ready for bed you’d never get tired of seeing the Mediterranean Sea through the window. Throwing on the shirt Max left on the sink you ventured to your shared bedroom stopping short in the doorway.

“What?” Max had asked seeing you pause with your hands on your hips. His shirt forgotten as he laid in bed scrolling through the tv, trying incredibly hard not to let the laughter building in his chest out at the expression on your face.

“You know what.” He bit his lip shaking his head, Max made a show of looking around the bed. “I don’t know what you mean?”

“You’re on my side, move.” Walking to the side in question you made a shooing motion, the stubborn man just rolled flat on his back, successfully taking up more space and looking up at you, his blue eyes wide. “Friends share don’t they?”

Shanking your head with an amused huff, you shucked off your shorts and jumped over him to ‘his side’ of the bed, leaning back against the headboard, he followed shortly after, his arm brushing against yours. His hand finding its normal spot gripping your thigh. Pushing it off as quickly as it came making him look over at you shocked.

“Friends don’t do that.” You smiled innocently as his groan echoed around the room.

You both were finally back in the paddock after summer break, normally you would wait in Max’s garage and people watch seeing as the mechanics loved you more than they did him as Max would always joke. They never minded having you in the background. And that’s why Max was confused not seeing you in your spot, but seeing you walk out completely. Ending his conversation and chasing after you catching you gently by the arm outside his garage.

“Where are you going, are you alright?” He asked, you having his full attention his race suit sleeves tied around his hips. Nodding your head.

“Yeah I wanted to go support Daniel.” You explained making him lean in closer as if he didn’t hear you correctly, “Huh?”

“He’s my friend i should go support him too.” He knew you were close with Dan them being teammates when you first got together but you would never go to his side of the garage let alone other side of the paddock. “But I’m your boyfriend.” He slowly explained.

“Oh i thought we were just friends, and as friends i should be able to support another friend.’ You shrugged, and Max now understood, this was payback for the last week. And he wasn’t ready to give up the power yet. “You can go support Checo,” he offered, trying to steer you back to the Red Bull Garages. But you stood firm. “But Daniel is my little honey badger.” You hummed with a smile seeing his jaw clench. Nodded his head staring straight through you, taking a deep breath, hands on his hips.

“Okay.” You were momentarily confused at his words until he bent down throwing you over his shoulder, carrying you back through his garage as you beat on his back playfully. “Max!”

Hiding you smile when he set you back down. “I’m not your friend I’m your boyfriend get it right.” He said pressing a kiss to your forehead when Horner started yelling he needed to get in the car, “Better be here when i get back!” He shouted putting his helmet on, not knowing how far you would push your payback.

“Or what?” You teased, seeing his eyes light up at the challenge Christian pushing him back towards the car when Max took a step in you direction. Your turn, you thought to yourself.

Hope you liked it if you did check out my F1 masterlist for more

#max verstappen imagine #max verstappen x reader #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #charles lecrelc imagine #Charles lecrelc x reader #carlos sainz imagine #daniel riccardo imagine #carlos sainz x reader #pierre gasly imagine #pierre gasly x reader #mick schumacher imagine #mick schumacher x reader #lewis hamilton imagine

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i984 · 1 year

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A Scarlet Touch | Part 2

|Pairing|: Wednesday Addams x gender neutral reader.

|Warnings|: Ooc! Wednesday Addams, brief tongue shoving, study dates, Wednesday holds grudges, poor attempt at displaying all 5 love languages, reader turns out to be a sucker for physical touch, but gets so embarrassed in front of other people, reader doesn't understand triangles, Wednesday never loses; she has a plan B: Enid.

|Summary|: Wednesday investigates what makes you tick just so she can give you a pay back.

|Word count|: almost 1k words

|A/n|: This is a part 2 to "Sweet Words Make a Lovely Shade" (please go to my masterlist in the description), see replies for more. Enjoy!

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

At last.

Wednesday had found your weakness.

Ever since you 'harassed' Wednesday with compliments the other day, the raven-haired girl has declared war between the two of you; and she's determined to come out as a winner.

Quality time. Acts of services. Gifts. Words of affirmation. Wednesday has tried it all—to the best she can—and none seem to have affected you at all.

Of course, at first, you were caught a little off guard.

When Wednesday finally brought up your request for her to tutor you for the upcoming math exam, you had been ecstatic—though admittedly a little suspicious. You had practically begged her to do so for ages, but after your most recent revelation the other day, she had said no to any offer to spend time together, just the two of you.

But now? She's the one who asks if you still want to do it, and when you have said yes, she wastes no time, practically dragging you to your dorm room.

You half-expected Wednesday to pull you in for a make-out session as soon as she slammed the door after you. But nope. She went straight to the balcony to grab the extra chair you put out there and took a seat next to your desk.

Huh. Guess you really are studying.

"-so the angle of the special right side of the triangle is 183?"

Wednesday scoffed irritatedly. "No. Absolutely not. The total angle of a triangle is 180. How would one single angle of a triangle exceed the total number? Do it again."

To your brain, what Wednesday has said only sounds like an incoherent string of jumbled sentences. You groaned out loud and banged your head against the desk.

"I don't want to do this anymore," you dragged out the last word, "lets just do something else that's more fun and less..." Your brows furrowed as you tried to find the right word, "...numbery."

"Numbers are fun. Formulas and logic ties in together pleasantly and produce a definite answer. A right answer."

Unlike you. There's no 'right' answer for you.

You huffed in frustration. "Of course, you'd think that, Wens."

The damned nickname.

"You're smart and beautiful, and you use words that I don't understand—like just now—so of course you'll always come up with a right answer." You toy with the pages of the trigonometry workbook Wednesday had 'gifted' you earlier, missing the dark crimson color painting your girlfriend's cheeks.

"I can never do that," you sigh as your head looks up at the ceiling, "I can't find the right answer."

Wednesday can find answers in even literature and paintings—the fruits of human thoughts that are up for various different interpretations with no set answers. But even works like Mona Lisa can't dream of rivaling the challenge you presented her.

A challenge to break you.

Wednesday tapped at your desk, demanding your attention. You disobeyed, eyes too busy trailing the movements of the spider hanging from your dorm room ceiling.

You're driving her crazy.

"...look at me," Wednesday calls out your name with an icy tone, and you snap your gaze at her, body tense. "Now, listen. You're hopeless-"

"Yeah, yeah, I know. No need to rub it in, geez."

"You're hopeless," Wednesday repeats her words, but this time her gaze stays on yours, unrelenting. You shut up.

"and I don't think I can help. Nobody can." Her voice carries an unnerving certainty as she continues, "Except yourself."

"Wait, did you try to encourage me just now?" Your voice is dripping with mischief, eyebrows raised teasingly.

If not for the internal war she desperately needs to win against you, Wednesday would've stuck the pen she's holding and jammed it in your eyes.

Priorities, Wednesday reminded herself. Maddening priorities.

"Think of it however you want," Wednesday unwillingly chokes out, "but I will not let you come out of this room. Not until we're done."

"That's cute, love. It really is." You scribble on the paper absentmindedly, "but even with your sweet, sweet words of encouragement, I doubt I can claw myself out of the hole I've dug myself into, unless..."

Wednesday sees your gaze slowly moving to hold her own; there's a glint of perversity in your eyes, and she knows you're about to say something that would make her wretched black heart pumps uncontrollably and burst.

"...you kiss me with those tempting burgundy lips of yours."

No, no, no. Not this again.

"And not just a quick peck, I mean a kiss. A full-blown make-out session where our breaths would mingle, and I could feel your nose bumping against my cheek. That kind of kiss."

You chuckled lightly, brows raising in challenge. And that's all Wednesday needs before she makes up her mind.

It has finally come to this. The dreaded physical touch. The one Wednesday had oh-so-desperately tried to avoid, hoping that it wouldn't be the one to work on you.

But here she is, about to make the devil's pack with her disgustingly cunning lover.

Wednesday's about to lose, unless—

—a knock. Followed by a "Wednesday! I've got your note from Thing. Can I come in?" from outside the door.

Your smug face drops and the colors drain, contrasting Wednesday's eery victorious leer, and she grabs your arm and pulls you flush into her embrace.

"You know what? Your wish is granted, mio caro." The term of endearment sounds vicious in her low voice, and you shudder; eyes tearing apart from Wednesday's sharp gaze.

"Yes, come in, Enid." Wednesday shouts loud enough for her roommate to hear before gripping your jaw—your scarlet face now so close to Wednesday's you can feel her warm breath tickles your face as she whispers;

"I win."

Wednesday shoves her tongue in, and the door blasts open.

Shit.

#wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams x you #wednesday addams fanfic #wednesday addams imagine #jenna ortega x reader #wednesday addams #wednesday x reader #wednesday series #fluff #fanfic #my story

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strawb3rrystar · 2 months

Note

AGH YOU CAN DO THEN WHENEVER UR NOT BUSY!!!

can i get a platonic Angel x Fem! sinner where she was a loser in her life (no bitches, no money, no game etc. etc.) and feels so awkward about having not done anything further than holding hands (kissing a partner or even sex)

so she runs to angel and confides in him and he is like “lol pookie thats an easy fix” and smooches her (i am a firm believer in platonic kissing with consent but u can remove that) and tells her that she doesnt need to rush to do those things, esp if its her first time? he could also prop her to pay him for the kiss (about 200 dollars kekw)

(totally isnt self projecting kekw)

Better dead than never.

Pairing: Angel Dust x Fem! Sinner! Reader

Warnings: Platonic kisses, Reader is implied to have sold their soul

Word count: 486

✰Masterlist

You were a loser in your life. That much you knew. Constantly being bullied your whole childhood. Never being able to get more than a first date. Having no money to your name. Dying alone and cold in an alleyway behind a bar. That was your existence. A lonely one.

You don't know what you did exactly to get into Hell, but here you were anyway. Might as well make the most of it, huh?

One day, while polishing the banisters of the hotel, you were thinking about your life before death. How you were unhappy, so you drowned yourself in alcohol. You realize that you had never had your first kiss. Even in death you hadn't kissed anyone yet. So you went to the one sinner you knew had lots of experience. Angel Dust.

You walk into his room without knocking, walking in on him combing the fur on his chest. You walk up next to him and tap on his shoulder, making him jump and throw the comb at you. He calms down when he realizes it's just you. "Jeez toots. Don't sneak up on me like that."

You mumble out an apology, but he reassures you it's okay. "So, you gonna tell me why you snuck into my room?"

"I've never had my first kiss." You reply. Angel raises an eyebrow. Why did you need his help with that?

"So? It's not that big of a deal." He shrugs, turning back to look at himself in the mirror. You grab onto the robe he's wearing, shaking him a little. "It is a big deal, Angel!"

Angel's eyes are wide as you shake him. He grabs onto your hands and holds them in his. "Toots, calm down."

You take a deep breath, doing as he asked. "I wanted your advice."

Angel blinks in surprise for a few seconds. "On what?"

"How to get guys to notice me!" You raise your voice slightly. Your soulless black eyes stare into his, pleading for help.

"You don't need a guy, trust me." Angel rolls his eyes, then puts on a comforting look.

"Well.. I still want to have my first kiss." You sigh, shaking your head. You look away from Angel, but he grabs your jaw and turns you back. Before you have time to react his lips are on yours. It only lasts a second before he pulls away again, leaving you dumbfounded.

"There. No need to rush into things, toots." Angel gives your head a pat as you slowly blink. "I think it's better that you haven't done anything like that."

"Huh..? Why?" You question, slowly coming back to reality.

"It gives you a better chance of gettin' into heaven." He turns back to the mirror again.

"Really?" You cock your head to the side. Angel responds with a shrug, looking at you with a grin. "I don't know. Probably? Heavens fucked up like that."

Star's notes -> PLATONIC KISSES >>>>

(Thank you, @sweetadonisbutbetter for requesting!) (Requests are open!)

Taglist -> @alexandria-fandom @corruptcoder @astrolovedy @perfectlycraftychaos @stressedbleach @ghostdoodlen @idontreallyexistyet @roboticsuccubus83 @blood-heart22 @cirrus-sampling-sanity @onyxxtheghost @sugarplumz100 @myamythos @hazbinhappy @samohxt2-0 @mollzaj @sunshines-bright @saints-wrapped-in-plastic @sweetadonisbutbetter @little-miss-chaoss | Join the taglist

#☆strawb3rrystar answers requests #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel angel dust #hazbin angel dust #angel dust x reader #angel dust #hazbin hotel x y/n #hazbin hotel x you

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sorreysorren · 23 days

Text

shoulder angels don't exist

the cause of your misery at ungodly hours.

you hate (love) him for it.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

“ –what the hell! you said this was a date!”

you hadn’t been paying attention to the scene in front of you until you heard the sound of a slap. you’d been standing behind isagi when you chose to look up.

“don’t touch me, you cheater!”

“aiku?” isagi and his friends questioned out loud.

“huh? oh, hey guys.” this ‘aiku’ spoke casually, while rubbing his cheek.

you remember giving the hardest side-eye. it was instinct, really.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

that was the first you ever heard and knew of oliver aiku.

due to that, of course, your first impression of him was sour. so sour you think of a green apple. you even visualize a green apple considering his hair dye choice– that stupid yellowish-green shade he was so passionate about.

you tried to push the thoughts of aiku away as you tied the laces on your boots. you deemed it pointless as the thoughts would soon resurge since you were getting ready to pick him up, after all. it was a disturbance of your precious time.

he calls, you answer. he asks you for a favor, but can you refuse?

…maybe.

but it’s hard to do so when it’s oliver. not because hearing him plead tugged on your heartstrings, but because he’s your friend. you knew what you were getting yourself into by including aiku in your life. those other girls didn't. which is why you knew not to date him.

you grabbed your keys and shut the door, texting aiku that you were on your way.

it was a 20-minute drive to the house party and the music could be heard down the neighboring street. you scrolled mindlessly through your phone. you checked your social media, but there was nothing new. you checked the weather app– summer always had the worst weather.

sighing in frustration, you waited in your car another 5 minutes hoping he’d finally see the <come outside> text you’d sent. you didn’t think you’d actually have to go inside.

inside the house, it was loud, not hot– but warm, and humid. the smell of alcohol, weed, and sweat mixed in the air. it was disgusting. you’ll never understand how he enjoys going to these things.

you tried avoiding any sort of contact with anyone but ended up having to push past people anyway. some random chick had even spilled some of her drink on you. sure, she apologized hastily, but you ignored her and continued looking for aiku.

and there he was.

standing on a table, being the life of the party.

he didn't drink much.

but when he did, he drank like it was his last day on earth.

you reluctantly walked up to the table, holding on to your keys as tightly as you could, as if they were the one thing grounding you.

“aiku.” you called.

he continued his conversation with the people in front of him. you assumed he didn’t hear you, so you began preparing yourself to call his name a little louder.

as if on cue, you heard him yell out, “y/n!”

the people around him turned to look at you.

“aiku, get down.” you spoke through lightly clenched teeth.

you thought this would be a quick and easy ‘let's go!’ and ‘ok!’, but you now knew it wouldn't be. it never had been before, so you don’t know why you’d been expecting any different this time. you needed to stop assuming.

at least he did get down. he walked up to you with a funny expression on his face. “have you been drinking?” he asked.

it was then that you noticed you reeked of alcohol. “no, there was–”

you were cut off by the music suddenly stopping and screams filling the room.

“some bitch called the cops!” a voice yelled.

you took a deep breath. “fuck,” you muttered, “aiku, we have to leave now . you can’t be caught here.”

if he were to be caught at some stupid party like this, drinking underage, it could ruin his future.

the both of you looked around the house. an officer stood at the front door calling for backup, as the back exit was crowded with people trying to leave.

you pulled aiku’s arm, rushing upstairs. you stopped at the first window at the end of the hallway. you opened it.

“okay. i know this is pretty high, but just…” you trailed off. you don’t know how to use words of encouragement.

“chill. i’m not afraid of heights” he leaned on the wall.

“stop acting so casual! hurry! and i know you aren’t, just don’t be an idiot and fall. you have to be extra careful considering your state.”

“yeah yeah” he climbed out of the window.

it was slightly quiet. you turned around once you heard footsteps rushing up the stairs, along with the static of a walkie-talkie.

i can’t believe i’m doing this, you thought as you took a deep breath and quickly turned back around to shut the window. i’m gonna kill him if he fucking falls.

when you turn around again, you’re met with the face of an officer.

you were sure you heard a thud from outside. you visualized aiku rolling down the roof in continuous thumps, and then landing on the grass with a final, softer thud.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

you'd imagined going to jail before for many different reasons and you'd be lying if you said it never crossed your mind that you'd have to go to jail because of aiku.

if you could kill him, you would.

in the cop car, you thought of elaborate plans to murder him in the cruelest ways possible. again, not that you actually would. it's aiku.

and, you know. you had to re-emphasize that in your head just in case this cop happened to be a mind reader and was hearing every thought you had.

you kept looking out of the window. at the moment, it was funny seeing the cop lights flash red and blue and seeing hordes of people in the street run from whatever they were doing, though you were also hoping none of them would get arrested since you didn’t want to spend the car ride seated next to a stranger.

---

you had to spend the night in a little cell and god, you had to pee but there was no way you were going to piss in a place with a free for all view. more than one is a crowd and this was not an orgy.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

community service. court-ordered community service.

you got inside aiku’s car.

just a few days ago, he’d shown up at your door during an ungodly hour of the night, apologizing profoundly over a dozen times until you finally said you forgave him. (you’d already forgiven him the night of the incident, while you were in the jail cell.)

he was driving you to the facility where you were supposed to… do service to your community? you don’t even know what the place is. aiku, out of pure “generosity” (more like guilt), had decided to sign up along with you.

the first floor was the dressmaking section. it was filled with dressmaker's dummies and naked mannequins. you cast a look at him, already knowing the vulgar jokes he’d make before he even began speaking.

“hey, i didn’t say anything”

“but you thought it.”

the both of you took the elevator to get to floor c, as instructed by the sticky note in your pocket. the smell of burnt food immediately met your nostrils as you stepped out of the elevator.

the entire room was built like a large kitchen,

you turned to look at aiku, but he’d already been looking at you, equally as confused.

“you must be the new people!” a man with a chef hat exclaimed once he noticed you and aiku.

---

you were stuck washing dishes, or as aiku liked to call it, “busboy duty.”

at least gloves were given to you.

you died inside a little at the thought of touching dirty dishwater.

the good news, though, is that as soon as you’re done with the dishes, you get to join aiku and the others out in the kitchen, cooking actual food.

the bad news? you weren’t sure if the good news was actually good news because you’re a terrible cook.

---

you were next to aiku, watching him knead the remaining dough. he told you to cut the pork while he focused on getting the dough right.

he was surprisingly good at cooking.

you know, considering most of the time he’s eating spicy ramen. cup noodles, to be specific.

“if you take a picture, it’ll last longer” he teased.

you scoffed, but you didn’t say anything. you only continued to chop away.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

the past 2 months passed by quicker than you realized and you finally completed your 100 hours of community service.

you were just about to sleep when as if on cue, you received a call. of course, you already knew who it was, and by the time you knew it, you were already out the front door.

---

sometimes it genuinely pisses you off. not just because you’re the one he calls– (and you’re always the one he calls) – but because when he drinks, you’re always the one who has to take care of the mess. and you’d also thought he learned his lesson after last time, but of course he hadn't.

he stumbled into your car, without a word.

you had the radio playing at a low volume, making up for the silence in the car.

“you know, throughout the entirety of these 2 months, i haven’t slept with anyone” he blurted. as if he just had to clarify that.

“i know, oliver.”

the car was silent for a while until he spoke up again.

“i’m hungry.”

“great, what do you want me to do about it? i’m dropping you off straight home”

“can we get food?” he asks, “please?”

fine. fine. you answer only in your head.

you stay silent, but he hums happily, knowing you gave in.

---

you stop at the first food truck you see.

you walked while he followed behind and the both of you waited in line.

once it was your turn, you turned to oliver to ask him what he wanted.

first, you had expected him to make some sort of move on the lady, but he didn’t– which if you had to admit, weirded you out.

second, usually, he would order, but right now, the only thing you wanted to do was get this over with and go home.

third, you might as well order something for yourself.

you turned back to the lady taking the order and said, “two pizza pretzels, and two dr.peppers.”

“alrighty, cash or card?”

“card,” oliver answered for you while taking out his wallet.

the woman told both to wait by the side.

“excuse me?” the concession lady called for your attention, “we only have one pizza pretzel left. i’m sorry about that, but is there anything else you’d be interested in getting? or would you like a refund?”

“a refund is fine.”

the lady handed you the drinks and the single pizza pretzel, “have a nice day, the two of you!”

“man, that sucks. here” he extended his hand, offering you the pretzel.

“no, you paid. you can have it”

“but i owe you”

“you don’t”

he did want the pizza pretzel a lot , but he also wanted you to have it. so he did the next best thing. he split the pizza pretzel in half, “okay then still, i want you to have it.”

you happily took the other half of the pretzel, “thanks.”

once inside the car, you changed the radio station. then again. and again.

“you could just connect your phone instead”

“don’t feel like it.”

you finally stopped at some random classic rock station, having vaguely recognized the song.

you heard a tap, then another beside you, and another above you, and then multiple in all directions. you realize it started to rain. the rain quickly turned into a heavy downpour.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

you were initially going to deny oliver’s request.

but your apartment was pretty far and the rain was supposed to worsen.

he suggested you stay at his place, just in the meantime.

“just… just until the rain stops” you tell him.

---

“it’s surprisingly clean in here” you observed out loud.

oliver crashed on the sofa as soon as he stepped inside. “yeah, had to” his voice was muffled by the pillows, “my family visited. birthday stuff. higher flight prices in the summer and stuff.”

“hm.” you took off your boots, shivering slightly, due to the cool air conditioning.

“you can change if you want. you know where my stuff is.” he yawned.

“ you should change too. you’ll get sick or something.”

you changed first. you took the first clothes you grabbed, and by the time you were back, he was sitting up on the sofa. he went to his room to change, but he didn’t return.

you knocked on his door, unsure of whether you should open the door without notice or not.

when he didn’t reply, you slowly pushed the door open, and you found him sleeping soundly in his bed. he was snoring lightly, but you found it (endearing? amusing? you weren’t even sure of the right word yourself.) you quickly snapped a picture, then went back to the living room.

you checked the time on your phone: < 2 am>

it was still raining. not as heavy as before, but still.

you were unsure of whether to go home or not. you stood up and paced around the living room in a circle. you made a beeline to the pantry. it was stacked with spicy ramen cups which didn’t surprise you in the slightest.

you put water in the cup and microwave it for 3 minutes. to be fair, thinking on an empty stomach wasn’t ideal. you sat on the counter, listening to the tv play in the background.

*BEEPBEEPBEEP*

you rushed to the microwave, quickly pressing the ‘stop’ button. you’d meant to stop it when there were still a few seconds left, but you ended up forgetting.

at least oliver was a heavy sleeper.

you skipped through random channels on the tv, yawning, and eventually stopping at one playing some wild kratts episode about snakes.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

you opened your eyes, suddenly sitting up after you remembered where you were.

you didn’t remember falling asleep– you didn’t even remember being too tired (tired enough to fall asleep.) the tv was off, the cup of noodles was gone, and there was a blanket covering you.

you took notice of the sticky note placed on the tv remote on the small table in front of you.

you grabbed it, squinting at the terrible handwriting. it read:

“thanks for helping (again). i meant it. i owe you (again). i’ll be at practice by the time you see this, so make sure you lock the door. "

you snickered as you noticed the handwriting getting smaller. he started running out of space because he wrote too big at first. you continued reading:

“p.s. i made you breakfast (even though i was running late) i added a shit ton of chocolate chips, you’re welcome.

p.p.s. i love you, but don’t eat my ramen again.”

the pancakes were cold, but you ate them with a smile on your face.

#blue lock #bllk manga #blue lock manga #bllk #oliver aiku #bllk aiku #bllk oliver #oliver x reader #aiku x reader #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #blue lock oliver aiku #blue lock oliver #blue lock aiku #blue lock anime #bllk x you #blue lock x you

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deliciousangelfestival · 1 year

Text

3 Billion Divorce - Lloyd Hansen Series (Completed)

Character: Lloyd HansenxFem!Richreader

Summary: Reader became a rich heiress after her grandfather chose her as his successor. This reason was enough to make her relatives want her gone. Our reader is a fighter; when she finds a chance, she offers a fake marriage proposal to a sociopath mercenary.

Words Count: 1750

A/N: Finally, I'm back. Never thought that I could make a post with Lloyd. It's been a while since the last time I posted. Hope you like it. Feedback and Reblogged are appreciated. Thank you!!!

The Italic font shows a flashback scene.

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist

buy me ko-fi

Sometimes, simple things like waking up from a good sleep and having a coffee in the morning sound easy. To you, it sounds impossible.

Because of everyday…

Dangers always come to you. You must pay this price when you accept your grandfather's will.

Four years ago,

Your grandfather wrote your name on his will to become his successor and owner of all his assets. But you have to be 35 years old before you get everything.

After the lawyer revealed the will, your relatives wanted you dead, so the grandfather's money would go to charity, and they could use it.

Since then, your quiet life has turned to hell.

Your relatives have hired multiple killers and assassins to kill you or make it look like a suicide. It's been four years of living like this.

And there's only one more year left, the chasing getting more intense that you can't bear it anymore.

Like today, you’ve been hiding in the back seat inside your car because a black Cadillac has been chasing you all day.

“I had enough with everyone who wanted me to die. What a family huh? They were born as elites but they’re monsters.”

Your old bodyguard Jimmy, an ex-Navy hired to protect you who was busy shooting the other car, said, "Y/N. To beat a monster, you have to make yourself a monster."

His words got you thinking. You want revenge on your relatives, but you don't have the ability since they have already bribed the police and judges. You are already powerless; the only person who always stays beside you is your old bodyguard.

Before you could even get any idea, another car appeared from nowhere and hit yours.

“Jimmy!” You screamed the name that protected you before you lost consciousness.

When you woke up, you already being tied down on the chair.

You look at your surrounding where you got kidnapped. It’s different than usual. Usually, it’s a dark basement with a horrible smell.

But right now, you’re inside a nice room with a marble floor and Roman pillar. There’s also Renaissance painting and sculpture. It seems like you’re in a mansion or something like that.

The door suddenly opens, making you nervous because you are mentally unprepared to meet someone who will kill you.

A group of men who wear bulletproof come inside the room. Lastly, a man who wears a black turtleneck and light brown pants. But you can see everything he wears is from a luxury brand.

He leaned down and smiled at you.

"Hello Princess, my name is Lloyd Hansen. Welcome to my home”. His voice was low and deep.

‘His mustache looks ridiculous.’ You thought.

His hand grabbed a screen tablet to show you the money that had been transferred.

“Someone really wants you dead. Look at the money they gave me. This is the biggest payment that I have received." You could feel the joy when he explained while you have a life crisis.

You wonder how much your relatives pay to make you go. When you saw the number…

Ooh, it made you fume with rage.

40 Million Dollars?!

Your life is only worth 40 Million?!

With all the money you will get from your grandfather, your life is worth more than 40 Million.

‘You have to make yourself a monster.’ You remembered those sentences from Jimmy.

That gave you an idea.

This man Lloyd Hansen, you could use him to be the monster to finish all relatives that want you dead.

"Mr. Hansen, I don't want to die."

He nodded. "Me too sweetheart. But I've already got the money. They really want you to be gone quickly. Such a shame."

"If I gave you a proposal to make you richer, would you listen to my offer?"

Lloyd tapped his watch. "You have 3 minutes, sunshine."

“First of all, are you single Mr.Hansen?”

Lloyd let out a big laugh.

But you didn’t laugh; you studied his character. After spending time with your bodyguard Jimmy, he taught you how to read people. You figure this man Lloyd is a sociopath, and seeing him acting childish like this, you take a bet that he is still single.

With this, you took a chance and gathered your confidence. “I assume you are, that made my plan easier.”

You took a moment before offering the proposal because he would end your life if he didn’t like it.

"3 Billion Dollars."

'WHAT!' His soldier gasped when they heard the number.

Your offer got the attention, "I will give you 3 billion, but I want you to do something for me."

Even Lloyd never expected that. He did a background check on you.

You’ve been trying to stay alive for 4 years. That's when he knew you're an extraordinary woman.

One of his soldiers steps in, "I volunteer Miss Y/N."

Before you could see who it was, Lloyd had already shot him.

He smiled. "I could swim in that money, what can I do for you?"

"Marry me."

Lloyd's brain circuit stopped for a second. He laughed again, but he stopped when he saw you being serious.

"I didn't expect I would get proposed like this."

"You know I'm a rich heiress, and I will get my money next year. While waiting, I need someone to protect me and keep me alive. After that we will get a divorce and you will get other 2 billions. Right now, I could give you 1 billion. What do you think?"

There was a moment of silence. You could only hear the clock ticking. After he hears your offer, Lloyd turns his back and looks at the big French window. You couldn't see his expression.

Suddenly he turns around and walks towards you. Lloyd got on his knees and grabbed your hand. "You got yourself a husband, Mrs. Hansen."

'Yeah, you caught a monster.'

-One year later-

Lloyd arrived at your company and saw your bodyguard, Jimmy. Lloyd clicked his tongue. “Where’s my wife?” Jimmy pointed to the door behind him.

Lloyd pushed the door and saw you look busy signing some documents, not glancing at him.

He told your secretary, who was already scared, "Get out shithead."

After your secretary left, he turned around and saw you had crossed your arms while looking at him. Ooh, so you’ve been waiting.

He always loves your confidence. This trait must be one reason your grandfather chose you as the successor.

Lloyd smashed a piece of paper on your table. "What the fuck is this?"

"It's a divorce paper."

"Yeah, and you didn't even think to discuss it with me first ?"

"It's been a year Lloyd, we made a deal. Remember?"

It made Lloyd silent.

Of course, he remembered.

Lloyd wishes he could stop the time.

After he agreed to marry you, his life became more exciting.

Lloyd always dealt with different hitmen, politicians who wanted to steal your assets, assassins, and taking revenge on your relatives who wished you were dead.

With the 1 billion, he could get all the resources and finish his job quickly and quietly. He got new clients every day.

But most of all, Lloyd cherished the time spent with you. He loves every moment. You have a sharp mouth, don't take No for an answer; he likes it when you act like a boss to him. He wants to obey your order.

And…

The sex was also excellent. You weren't tempted at first. But who can't resist the charm of Lloyd Hansen? At first, it was just pretending to act like husband and wife. Give each other kisses on the cheeks, then move to the next step because of the alcohol effect that leads to sleeping together.

When you fell asleep on his chest, his fingers brushed your hair. You gave him a soft kiss on his forehead; it made him like a teenager who was drunk in love.

You were there every time he got hurt. You hired the best doctor to treat him. No one ever does that to him. He knew because you needed him to stay alive. But when he saw you holding his hand while he was bleeding, Lloyd knew you cared for him.

He likes having you near him and can't bear letting you go.

Lloyd realised his feelings when Jimmy came and gave him the brown envelope.

Lloyd knew what was inside the paper, so he ignored it. But that damn envelope keeps coming after you get the inheritance and you have left the house that you two shared. He felt like a used rag that you could just throw away.

He can’t imagine seeing you being single, and another man will try to pursue you.

"If you sign it today, the other 2 billion will be transferred to your account."

"I don't want to."

"6 billion then."

Lloyd's hand touches his left chest.

"What hurts me more is that you have the money and could finish this as soon as possible."

Then both of you will be strangers; NO, he didn't want that.

"After you use my body, you throw me away? You hurt my feelings sunshine."

You walk away from your table to stand in front of him.

"Lloyd, that's part of our deal. You protect me and I owe you one.”

You couldn’t believe he’s the same man who wants to kill you, and now he’s begging you not to leave him.

“And I paid my debt with money that I promised."

He sighed and said, "I do love money."

Lloyd held your hand that still wore the wedding ring; he rubbed it gently.

"But my dear wife, I love you more."

Your breath hitched when you heard his sudden confession. You were stunned to speak.

Lloyd grabbed your chin and gave you a passionate kiss. "I won't let this marriage end with divorce."

Lloyd kissed your forehead before he left you. Before he reached the door, he saw from the mirror your reflection. Your fingers touch your lips. At that moment, he knew you shared the same feelings. He will give you an offer that you can’t resist.

A/N : This Series has Completed.

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist

buy me ko-fi

#lloyd hansen x fem!reader #lloyd hansen x reader #lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x you #lloyd hansen x fic #lloyd hansen imagine #llyod hansen x y/n #lloyd hansen one shot #the grey man #chris evans characters #chris evans x reader #chris evans x y/n #3billiondivorce

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runnning-outof-time · 9 months

Note

Congratulations K 🎊

So for the 3 word sentence

“Are you jealous?”

With any Shelby brother of your choice

Thanks so much for sending this in, Juli!! I chose to write it for Arthur because I actually got this prompt for both John and Tommy also - it’s going to be fun to try and think up different scenarios for them…so if you didn’t like the direction I went here, there are the other two brothers coming! Enjoy! :)

PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK!

Part of my 3.5k Celebration — find more stories here!

What A Chain of Events

Arthur Shelby x Reader

Warnings: language, drinking

Word Count: 985

Summary: Dancing at the Garrison turns into arguing at the Garrison, which then turns into…feelings being confessed?

(Y/N) didn’t know the name of the man that was currently spinning her around the floor of the Garrison, but she wasn’t letting that stop her from having the time of her life.

She loved when the energy would be high like this; when the patrons of the establishment would drink and dance and be merry. Events like this seemed to be occurring more frequently ever since Tommy assumed his duties in Parliament…not that she was complaining.

As she was being spun around on the floor, Arthur was sitting in the corner booth, sulking. Finn was sitting by him, but the brothers were paying no attention to each other. Instead, Arthur had his eyes fixed on the dancers, one in particular.

(Y/N), a longtime friend of the Shelby family, was smiling and holding on tight to the man who had swooped her away from the table she was at and, for some reason, Arthur hated it.

Deciding he had had too much, he grabbed the bottle of booze from the table, forgoing the cup and bringing it right to his lips to take a large drink. His eyes rolled to the ceiling as he tried to look anywhere but at the dancers.

But his eyes just couldn’t stray away for too long. They returned at the worst time possible. Just as the song was finishing, (Y/N) pulled the man she’d been dancing with into a hug.

Now he really had had enough. After one more swig of alcohol, he got out of the booth and made a b-line for the snug. A huffed breath left his lips once he was behind the closed door.

(Y/N) sent one last smile to the man she’d been dancing with before they parted ways. Immediately she searched for Arthur. His usual spot was now empty, which confused (Y/N) because he’d been sitting there only a few moments ago. He wasn’t behind the bar either, which meant that there was only one other, plausible place remaining: the snug.

That’s exactly where she found him; sitting with a scowl on his face as he stared at the table. The energy he was throwing off made her brows furrow. “Arthur?” she said his name hesitantly. “Has something happened?”

“No,” his answer was abrupt as he shook his head.

“Why’re you in here then?” she asked another question.

“Does it matter?” he countered with a question of his own, his one eyebrow raised as he shifted his gaze to her.

“Yes, it does,” she answered with an exaggerated nod, her eyes widening. “I was looking for you.”

“Oh?” Arthur sounded surprised, “I thought you’d be too busy with your dancing partner.”

(Y/N)’s brows furrowed at his statement. “What do you mean my dancing partner?”

“The man who’s been spinning you around the bloody floor all evening,” he clarified.

“It was only for two songs, Arthur,” she corrected him.

“Two songs too many,” he mumbled, but she heard him.

His words made her drop her hands to her hips as she got to work on putting the pieces together. She’d never really seen him act like this, and the chain of events that just occurred was really stumping her. Until a lightbulb went off. “Are you jealous?” she just had to ask.

“What?” his question came out as a snort, and he hoped that his facial expression didn’t betray him. “Why would I be jealous, huh?”

(Y/N) bit on her cheek to conceal her smile. “Well I asked because I thought that maybe you were upset by that man getting me to dance with him,” she explained her reasoning.

“I was upset by it,” he answered in a matter of fact tone.

“So you were jealous of him…?” she trailed off, her eyebrow raising.

“Jealous? No. I just know that you can find far better men to dance with, (Y/N),” he defended his thought process.

“Like you?” she suggested.

“Like me,” he affirmed without second thought.

The smile spread across (Y/N)’s lips at his response. Silence hung in the air for a few moments as she let him keep the upperhand for just a bit longer. “You’re jealous, Arthur,” she then delivered the blow.

“Fuck, alright, so what if I’m jealous, huh?” he conceded dramatically, throwing his hands up in the air. “I couldn’t take watching him spinnin’ you around any longer and that’s why I came in here. Seein’ you with that man bothered me, (Y/N). It bothered me because it was him out there with you and not me.”

(Y/N) kept her eyes on him as she let his words seep into her mind. The fact that he felt that way about her made the butterflies in her stomach flutter uncontrollably. She bit her lip to stop the wide grin from forming on her face, hoping not to fully give her thoughts away.

Arthur’s heart hammered in his chest as he tried to gauge (Y/N)’s reaction. He’d been harboring those feelings towards her for too long now. It felt good to let them out, but at the same time he was worried that they’d be unrequited. He knew that the ball was in her court now though…he just had to wait for a response.

To his luck, it came sooner rather than later. “Why don’t you ask me to dance then?” she asked him, effectively returning the ball to his court.

He wasn’t going to miss his shot this time. He stood from the booth and made his way over to her, stopping in front of her before he asked his question: “will you dance with me, (Y/N)?” He accentuated his question by holding his hand out to her.

(Y/N) let the smile form full on his face this time, and she wasted no time in placing her hand in his. “Yes.”

Tagged: @the-anxious-youth @mystcldydrms @look-at-the-soul @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @lilyrachelcassidy @shelbydelrey @theshelbyslimited @peakyswritings @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry @stevie75 @dark-academia-slut @zablife @cillmequick @letal-y-poetica @depxiety @shelundeadxxxx @areyenotfondofmelobster @padfootdaredmetoo @crabat-the-queen @sebastianstangirl01 @everythingelseisextra @kmc1989 @papichulo120627 @brummiereader @adaydreamaway08 @kissforvoid @raincoffeeandfandoms @peakyltd @johannelis2302nely @just-a-blackhole @anotherblinder @christinasyellowflowers @insanitybyanothername @daisyblinder @wotcherpeak @call-sign-shark

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#arthur shelby #arthur shelby x reader #arthur shelby x y/n #arthur shelby blurb #arthur shelby fanfiction #arthur shelby fanfic #peaky blinders #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders x y/n #peaky blinders blurb #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #k’s 3.5k celebration

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reduxulousoctopus · 1 month

Text

Logan: “Whatever Chuck did in there, it worked. I don’t know how he faced that thing. He never loses his cool.” Rogue: “Forget it, hon. In our business, we all get shook up every now and again.” Logan: “I don’t.” — X-Men: The Animated Series, season four, "Proteus"

~4500 words, immediately Post-Episode, Morpherine established relationship, The Most Traumatized Man in the World dealing with the fact that he is now Slightly More Traumatized

If you missed my last fic, Morph has in-universe (he/him) and out-of-universe (they/them) pronouns because I think that's funny.

After watching waves crash against the island’s rocky shore for a moment, Logan stuffs his hands into his pockets and starts walking in the direction of the tarmac where they left the Blackbird. He’s ready to go the fuck back to Westchester, find his favorite seat at the bar, and drink until he forgets he even exists. Plenty of ye olde pubs to be found on the mainland, of course, but he’s had more than enough of bonnie Scotland for one day.

Too bad some force out there—be it God, the Devil, or the whims of an uncaring universe—seems dead set against ever letting Logan have what he wants.

“I think the professor’s gonna want to stay a while longer,” Rogue pipes up behind him. “Y’know, to make sure Kevin’s really okay, and to make sure Dr. MacTaggert’s doin’ alright, too. We probably got at least an hour to kill before it’s time to head home.”

Holding back an enraged scream, Logan instead grunts out through gritted teeth, “Uh-huh.”

“Why don’t you pay Morph a visit?” Rogue suggests with a smile. “That might make you feel better. Even if you don’t wanna talk to him about what happened, he always puts you in a good mood.”

Despite her words, Logan’s mood somehow turns even more sour at the thought of seeing Morph again. He crosses his arms and grumbles under his breath, “Morph’s already got more than enough to deal with—he doesn’t need me dumpin’ a load of my garbage on top of everything else.”

Rogue rolls her eyes. “For some reason, Morph actually seems to like your garbage. I already told him you’d come see him before we left. You gonna make a liar outta me, or do I have to throw your sorry butt in through his window?”

How in the hell did Logan end up surrounded by so many females who think they can boss him around? Jean, Storm—even Jubilee’s gotten real bold about demanding rides to the mall.

They’re completely right, of course, but they don’t always have to rub his nose in it.

“I can walk.” Logan gives her a mocking bow. “By your leave, ma’am.”

“Go on, now, get,” Rogue says, nodding her head towards the research center’s entrance. “Surly ol’ polecat. Don’t know how Morph puts up with you.”

Thing is, Logan thinks as he grudgingly makes his way back inside the building, he isn’t so sure Morph wants to put up with him anymore. Three times now, he’s had to watch Morph walk away and not look back, even as Logan called his name.

Kinda hard for a fella not to start taking that personally.

Upon entering the laboratory where the others have gathered, Logan immediately locates the cause of his bad day—across the room, playing some kind of hologram puzzle game with Cassidy, too busy to notice him—before very deliberately looking away and approaching Dr. MacTaggert instead. “Hey, Doc. I’m gonna head upstairs. Unless now’s a bad time…?”

She’s understandably reluctant to tear her eyes away from her son. Even when she manages to meet Logan’s gaze, it takes her a second to actually register what he said.

“Oh! Of course you’ll be wanting to see Morph.” She checks her watch. “He should be nearly done with his morning round of mnemotransience therapy. I’ll call the supervising nurse to let her know you’re on your way.”

Logan frowns, wondering what the fuck ‘nemo-transients’ are, but nods politely when she tells him which room Morph’s in. Not that he needs directions—as usual, Logan opts to trust his nose, letting Morph’s familiar scent lead him through the building, instead. But when he arrives outside the closed door at the end of the trail, something makes him hesitate.

He reaches for the knob. Pauses.

Reaches again, before pivoting on his heel and walking back the way he came.

Stops. Runs his hand through his hair. Returns to the door.

Hesitates again. Growls in frustration.

“Just leave him alone, old man,” Logan mutters to himself. “He’s here to heal.”

Not listen to a whining, yellow-bellied coward like me.

With that bitter self-recrimination, Logan turns away from the door again—only to nearly jump out of his skin when he hears it suddenly open behind him.

“Are you that ‘X-Man’ come to visit Morph?” asks the middle-aged woman with frizzy grey hair and coke-bottle glasses. “Sorry love, Moira called ahead but I only just remembered the door was locked. Must not have heard your knockin’ over my headphones, either. Come on in, love, he’s almost done with his treatment, shouldn't be more than a minute or so.”

Now there’s no chance he can sneak away without word getting back to Morph. Reluctantly, Logan follows the nurse into the room. As soon as he’s through the threshold and he hears the door automatically lock itself behind him, his breath catches and a bolt of sick terror shoots through him, followed quickly by rage.

He hates hospitals, and he really hates laboratories; this room is some hellish combination of both. Sterile metal walls, acrid chemical smells, computers and machinery blinking and blooping with obscure purpose in stalagmite-like clusters rising from the floor. Seeing Morph unconscious on a slab, hooked up to those machines—it makes him want to break things. His pulse is a war-drum in his ears.

This can’t actually be helping Morph get better. They’re hurting him, experimenting on him maybe. Ripping him apart to learn how his shapeshifting powers work. Maybe that’s how MacTaggert figured out how to make her son look normal, because that’s all humans ever want from mutants: to use them, or make them normal.

His claws itch at the underside of his skin. He’s gotta get Morph out of here, run away as far and fast as they can because if they can’t trust MacTaggert then they can’t trust Xavier then they can’t trust the X-Men—

Logan closes his eyes. His thoughts are spiraling in on themselves like a dog chasing its tail; he grabs that dog by the chain and forces it to heel. Maybe he can’t trust MacTaggert—the fact she managed to hide her mutant son from Xavier all these years proves she’s good at keeping secrets, who knows what other skeletons may be hanging in that woman’s closet?—but he damn well knows by now that he can trust Xavier and the X-Men. There’s no point in speculating to the contrary. May as well start doubting that the sun will rise or the tides will turn; may as well send himself to the funny-farm, too, while he’s at it.

“You can sit in that chair while you wait, love,” the nurse says suddenly. Logan’s body jerks in surprise as his eyes snap open. She doesn’t seem to notice, though, already taking her own seat behind a desk not far from the door and picking up a well-worn paperback romance novel. “That one there, by the window.”

“Thanks,” Logan grunts.

The nurse puts on her headphones and presses the play button on her portable tape-player. Logan blinks as his acute hearing picks up shredding guitars, crashing drums, and guttural, growling vocals.

He would not have guessed from looking that she was a metal fan.

Although he moves towards the window the nurse mentioned, Logan doesn’t sit down in the squashy-looking armchair. Instead, he slides the window open and just stands there a while, breathing deeply. No ocean-view this side, but he can smell the brine and feel the cold wind against his face. He can hear crashing waves.

He can still smell Morph, too, which is always a balm—even if he can’t bear to look at him while he’s hooked up to those machines. He can hear his heartbeat and his calm, soft breaths.

Eventually, the room stops feeling quite so much like a trap snapping shut around him.

Morph trusts Dr. MacTaggert. Trusts this place, even if it makes Logan’s skin crawl. He clearly feels safe enough to recover here. Safer than he felt at the mansion, apparently.

Safer than he felt under Logan’s protection.

Some ‘protection.’ Not even one whole day back and I let him go up against Sentinels again.

Yet even when confronted by his worst fear, Morph ran in literally guns-blazing and faced an entire squad of Sentinels almost single-handed to save the team. A true X-Man, through and through.

And what does that make me? Just the guy that turns tail and runs while his friends are in danger, all because he let himself get spooked by a snot-nosed teenager with daddy-issues.

Logan hasn’t forgiven Morph for leaving again—hell, he might even hate him a little—but he’s still so proud of him. That pride only deepens his own shame.

Bamboo and steel, like Master Oku used to say. Guys like Morph, like Xavier and Beast and Nightcrawler, too: they’re bamboo. Strong enough to bend, able to grow back when cut down. For all that Logan’s bones are plated in adamantium, as often as he’s tried to change his nature, he knows he’s made of steel. Tough. Unyielding. Inflexible. Beaten into the proper shape, ground down to a razor’s edge. And if even one crack appears—he breaks.

Even reforged, a broken blade will always be weaker than it once was.

Something beeps on the console by Morph’s bed. Eerily, he seems to instantly snap from asleep to fully alert, like he isn’t so much waking up as activating. His eyes open and he takes a single, sharp breath, which he holds for a moment before releasing it in a sigh.

Logan crosses his arms and leans back against the window-sill, content to watch that long, lean body stretch and those pretty brown eyes flutter.

When Morph eventually sees him standing there, to Logan’s relief, he smiles. That’s gotta count for something. “Hiya, Logan…”

“Hey, kid,” he says softly.

I miss you.

I hate you.

Something terrible happened.

Come home.

I don’t know how to be afraid. I don’t know how to bend.

I don’t deserve you.

“Nice helmet,” Logan says. “You look ridiculous.”

Morph laughs as he sits up and starts to remove the strange device strapped to his head. “You think this helmet looks ridiculous, you should have seen my first and only attempt to design my own costume. There’s a reason why I opted to go with the generic uniform, instead.”

“Well, now I’ve gotta see it. You can’t say that and not show me.”

“And lose what little respect for me you have left? No thanks.” After setting the odd helmet down on the side-table, Morph taps it with his finger. “This is a new thing we’re trying out. Moira says it might help make my nightmares and flashbacks less intense.”

Logan nods like he knows anything about anything. “Nemo-transients therapy, right.”

Morph laughs again. “Right.”

“What’s it do?”

“No idea. Moira tried to explain the science but there were a few too many five-dollar words,” Morph admits. “Basically, it’s meant to make some of my bad memories fade away a little over time, the way the memories of other people do.”

“That perfect recall of yours givin’ you trouble?” Logan guesses with a regretful sigh. It’s a necessary side-effect of Morph’s powers. He can just glance at someone and remember every single detail of their appearance; listen to a brief recording of a voice and replicate it flawlessly; watch anyone perform a physical skill, from a martial arts maneuver to a complicated dance-step, and immediately add it to his own repertoire.

He could probably tell you how many rivets were used to construct the Sentinels that killed him. Or remember the exact moment—month, day, hour, minute, and second—when he realized that no one was coming to rescue him from Mister Sinister; that the X-Men, his friends, the people he trusted most in the world, really had left him for dead.

“On the bright side, I never had to study back when I was in school. You win some, you lose some.”

“Morph…” Logan uncrosses his arms and takes a step towards the bed, but stops himself from getting any closer. Although the nurse is thoroughly distracted by her kissing book and her metal music, she could glance up at any moment. Besides, there’s a security camera looming in the corner of the ceiling, pointed directly at them.

As much as Logan might want Morph to come home, he won’t do it by making this place unsafe for him, should someone at the research center react poorly to seeing two men be a little too affectionate with each other. His hands fall uselessly to his sides.

“I can’t say I like the idea of you lettin’ people tamper with your memories,” Logan admits after a moment.

“It doesn’t erase anything. Just sorta gives me a little breathing room, so the other therapies actually have a chance to stick. That’s all,” Morph assures him. When Logan still looks unconvinced, he adds, “The professor helped design it, if that makes you feel any better.”

It does, actually. Logan can’t understand any of this modern, high-tech psychology mumbo-jumbo. Back in his day, when a fella got a case of shell-shock, the brass would just put a gun in his hands and shove him back in the fight. If Xavier and Morph both agree that this is the best way to help Morph get better, who is Logan to question it?

“I don’t know how much longer we’ve got before it’s time to catch my ride back to Westchester,” Logan says.

“Oh.” Morph shoots him a knowing smile and a wink. “I get you.”

Well. That wasn’t what Logan was getting at, but he definitely isn’t going to say no…

Morph yawns and stretches again. This time, there’s nothing innocent in the arch of that spine or the flex of those lean muscles. “Goodness, these sessions sure take it out of me.”

“How ‘bout I walk you to your room,” Logan offers.

“Thanks, Logan,” Morph says with a shameless grin. “You’re a good pal, y’know that?”

As they walk towards the exit, Morph pauses to drum his fingertips across the nurse’s desk. She jumps and removes her headphones with a slightly guilty-looking smile. “All done, then, love? How was the session?”

“Good. How are Fae and Tavish?” Morph asks. After a moment of confusion, Logan realizes those must be the names of the woman with the heaving bosom and the oiled-up, tartan-clad highlander and on the cover of the nurse’s romance novel. “Have they sorted out that little misunderstanding at the clanmeet yet?”

“Aye, things are finally heating up again,” the nurse replies with a grin. “So if you wouldn’t mind maybe holding off telling Moira you’re done with your session, that’d be grand.”

Morph literally zips his lips shut. After Logan and the nurse have a good laugh, he unzips to say, “Don’t work too hard, Doreen.”

“You know I’m in no danger of that, love!” she calls after him as they leave the room.

Although the two of them don’t speak as Morph leads Logan through the halls of the research center, their eyes keep meeting as anticipation builds. It’s been too long—even longer, if you don’t count that cramped, awkward quickie in the mini-jet en route between Morph’s welcome home party and the trashed polymer factory.

When they arrive at Morph’s guest room, Logan doesn’t have long to re-familiarize himself with the scenery. The door is barely shut and locked behind him before Morph slams him up against it with enough force to rattle the hinges. Logan growls appreciatively around the tongue in his mouth and slides his hands down Morph’s back to grab his ass.

There’s surely no better cure for what ails him.

–

Glaring up at the ceiling several minutes later, Logan thinks he’s going to kill someone. Possibly himself.

“It… it’s fine, Logan. Really.”

“Shut up,” Logan snaps. He flops back against the scratchy hospital sheets covering Morph’s bed and hides his eyes in the crook of his arm.

“Everybody has trouble, uh, performing sometimes,” Morph insists. “Especially older—er, I mean—”

“Stop. Talking.”

Morph sighs and turns away, looking frustrated, worried, and worst of all, guilty. That last one breaks Logan’s heart a little. This sure as hell isn’t Morph’s fault. He doesn’t deserve Logan’s anger.

Too bad anger is just about all he ever has to offer.

“I should go,” Logan says, wishing he’d stuck to his guns and stayed away instead of letting Rogue bully him. He’s no good for Morph like this.

Not enough of a man to stand and fight. Not enough of a man to fuck. What good am I for anyone?

Logan stops in the middle of looking for his clothes to shut his eyes, clench his trembling fists, and wait for the wave of rage to pass over him before resuming his search.

“Oh… okay,” Morph says. Logan can’t bear to look at him. He has his jeans buttoned and is in the middle of shrugging on his flannel shirt when Morph asks, “How’d the mission go, by the way?”

A pure, wimpering-animal dread creeps into his chest. Morph keeps talking—Logan hears Rogue’s name, and the phrase ‘made of glass’—but nothing else sinks in. His stomach turns. Sweat beads on his brow. Although he can feel air rushing in and out of his lungs, he can’t breathe.

“Why do you care?” Logan snaps. He can barely hear himself over the blood rushing in his ears. “Thought you turned your back on that life.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Morph demands. “Of course I care—you’re still my friends, I’m still an X-Man! Do you think I wanted to leave?”

“I… I don’t know why I said that,” Logan lies. His vision blurs, but he can still see his own body being ripped apart, melted down into slag. He presses the heels of his palms into his eyes as hard as he can. They have to be playing tricks on him. He’d be able to smell that monster coming.

Right?

“Besides, I didn’t turn my back on you! You turned your back on me, left me to—” There’s a soft thud behind him as Morph punches the mattress. “No… no, that’s not true. Especially not about you. You did more than anybody to… But don’t you see? That’s why I had to leave! I’m no good for the team like this. I thought you understood that.”

Logan nods, although gun-to-his-head, he couldn’t say what he’s agreeing to. He stands up and staggers a few steps away from the bed on legs that feel like jelly. He needs… he needs… to button his shirt. Find his boots.

Grab your gun and head back out there, soldier. The war ain’t over just because you’re scared.

“Logan…?”

“What?!” Why can’t he find his fucking boots? Why can’t he see anything besides his own body being ripped apart, melted down into slag.

“Why are your claws out?”

Logan blinks. Looks down at his hands.

His claws hiss back at him like angry snakes.

He retracts them, feels them squirm all the way back up into his arms, alien and repulsive in a way they haven’t felt since they were brand-new.

He blinks again, and suddenly Morph is standing in front of him, between Logan and the door. Wrong, wrong, wrong. Logan should be the one closest to the door. When that monster comes in here—

“I think you’re having a panic attack,” Morph says. He offers a smile completely devoid of amusement or joy. “And I’m heading that way, too, so lets see if all these boring counseling sessions I’ve had to sit through are worth the time I could have spent watching TV.”

Closely observing Logan to gauge his reaction, Morph takes his hand and guides it to his bare chest. His heartbeat is a little too fast, his breaths shaky and hitched. Holding Logan’s hand in place, Morph takes as slow and steady an inhale as he can manage, holds it for a few seconds, then releases a sighing exhale. Again and again. In, hold, out. In, hold, out. Although Logan doesn’t mean to join in the breathing exercises, he finds himself subconsciously matching Morph’s pace.

Over the course of what somehow feels both like several hours and no time at all, Morph’s heartbeat gradually slows to something approaching normal. As it does, the worst of Logan’s terror fades, leaving him exhausted, angry, and embarrassed in its absence.

The monster—the kid is still downstairs with his mother, Cassidy, Beast, and Xavier. The only thing tormenting him is a few bad memories.

“Sit down,” Morph says, pushing him a few steps backwards until the back of his legs hit the edge of the bed. Logan doesn’t sit so much as collapse. His muscles twitch uselessly with unspent adrenaline. “Easy, big guy. A panic attack can really take it out of you. Believe me, I know.”

“You take it easy,” Logan snaps without any heat. “I don’t get panic attacks.”

“Uh-huh,” Morph says dryly, not buying what Logan’s selling even at a discount. Standing between Logan’s spread knees, Morph reaches out and runs a hand through his hair. Logan nearly growls at him—until he feels blunt fingernails scratch over his scalp just right. All the fight bleeds out of him until he can only slump forward and rest his sweaty forehead against Morph’s belly.

While he continues to play with Logan’s hair, Morph speaks again: “You and I aren’t great at this mushy stuff. And I know you too well to bother asking if you want to talk about what’s wrong.”

Logan shakes his head.

“Just… know that if you did want to talk, I’d listen. Okay? I know what it’s like to go through this stuff, and I know it feels like you have to tough it out alone, but—”

“You don’t.”

Morph’s hands go still. “…What’s that?”

“You said you know what it’s like. But you don’t,” Logan repeats, gritting his teeth, “because nothing happened to me.”

“What do you mean, ‘nothing’?” Morph asks, taking a step back so he can look Logan in the eye. “Wait, so this isn’t about Weapon X, or Sabretooth and Fox, or—”

Of course Morph would assume that, because that might actually make some goddamn sense, but no. Some of the worst things that ever happened to him, yet they only ever made him tougher and stronger and angrier. Instead, it’s a kid throwing a temper tantrum that finally managed to break the Wolverine.

—he’s falling apart, weeping at the feet of a stranger he nearly killed, begging her for answers she can’t give him. Why did they do this?—

—pretty brown eyes stare up at him, brutalized and afraid. What’s the matter, punk? Can’t take care of your woman?—

—he sees his own body being ripped apart, melted down into slag. Where are you, Logan? Wolverine!—

“I ran away during the mission,” Logan snarls. There it is, the ugly truth.

A long, terrible silence hangs between them, until—

“Oh.”

Logan cringes and looks away like a scolded hound. Shame burns acidic in the back of his throat.

After a moment, Morph moves to sit next to him on the bed. Logan watches out of the corner of his eye as he leans forward, braces his elbows on his knees, picks at his hands.

Then, to his dismay… Morph quietly chuckles.

—high, mocking laughter echoes through the dark jungle. Who could ever love a freak like you?—

“Funny,” Morph remarks. Unlike the corrupted thing he became under Sinister’s control, there’s no sign of cruelty in his voice, his face, his pretty brown eyes. “I used to think you weren’t afraid of anything.”

“I’m not,” Logan insists, before amending: “I shouldn’t be.”

“Why? Is it so terrible to find out that you’re just as human—er, so to speak—as the rest of us?”

Logan frowns down at the floor between his bare feet.

“Or was all that stuff you told me after the Sentinels came back just bullshit to make me feel better?”

His gaze snaps up to meet Morph’s cold, flat stare. “It’s not the same.”

“How do you figure?”

“Because…” Logan starts, and then doesn’t know how to finish.

Morph, the absolute bastard, smirks like he’s already won the argument. “So you ran away. So what? Did you come right here, afterwards?”

“No,” Logan growls.

“In the time it took you to turn around and get back to the mission, was anyone killed or maimed?”

“The professor fell in a pit of fire.” Morph’s eyes go wide, which is a little gratifying at least. All the more unfortunate that Logan has to tack on a reluctant, “Dr. MacTaggert and I caught him.”

“Jesus… Don’t scare me like that, you asshole. Okay, you almost let Xavier fall in a pit of fire; I almost let Xavier’s brain get stolen by Sentinels,” Morph says with a shrug. “We’re as bad as each other. Anything negative you have to say about yourself, you may as well say about me, too.”

It’s a tidy little trap Morph’s caught him in, without a doubt. Hell of a catch, that catch-22.

“Alright, put it away,” Logan grumbles, and covers Morph’s entire smug, cackling face with one hand.

“What, my dick?” Morph asks, muffled against Logan’s palm. “Talking about some guy’s emotions while my whole hog is out. I feel like I’m in a student film.”

Logan laughs. “You coulda changed that at any point, shapeshifter.”

“Hey, I wasn’t complaining.” Despite his words, Morph shifts back into his uniform as he rises from the bed. “Alright, no bars on the island, but there’s probably a boat somewhere we could steal. Or I can turn into a whale and swim you across to the mainland.”

“Can’t,” Logan says regretfully, shaking his head. “My ride home is leavin’ soon.”

“I’ll buy you a plane ticket. Even better, I’ll pull a guilt-trip on Scott that'd put a Jewish grandmother to shame, get him to come visit me tomorrow, and you can fly back with him after. In the meantime, we’ll rent a hotel room for the night and see if Little Logan has recovered from his stage-fright.”

Logan chuckles. Seeing Morph play Summers like a fiddle would be worth the price of admission alone; that he’d be doing it so Logan can play hooky and drink beer and have sex is just gravy. Still, he can’t help but ask: “You sure it’s a good idea for you to leave?”

“I don’t imagine we’ll see Mister Sinister or any Sentinels having a pint down the pub in a random seaside village in Scotland,” Morph says with a laugh. “What about you? Any chance we’ll run into whatever freaked you out?”

Logan thinks of young Kevin MacTaggert, happy and safe with his mother and Xavier—the man who’s been a better father to him in the past two days than Joe MacTaggert has for the boy’s entire life. In a strange way, maybe that makes the kid a bit of an X-Man, too. “I’ll take my chances.”

Morph grins as he pulls Logan to his feet. He doesn’t let go of Logan’s hand right away, almost absentmindedly stroking the thick, rough callouses, the knots of scar tissue, the bulky pugilist’s knuckles.

Steel is tough. Unyielding. Inflexible. Beaten into the proper shape, ground down to a razor’s edge. Even reforged, a broken blade will always be weaker than it once was.

Luckily, for all that Logan’s bones are plated in metal, he isn’t made of steel. Flesh bleeds, flesh breaks; then it heals and grows back stronger.

Logan is pretty damn good at healing.

#x men #wolverine #morph #morpherine #my stuff

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softspiderling · 9 months

Text

but i need your lips on mine | d.h.

summary: derek hale is a mystery you have yet to solve

pairing: derek hale x reader

warnings: none

word count: 1,9k

author's note: hello guys the teaser for the long awaited college au is finally here. i hope you guys like it :) tagging @stilinskiderek bc i’ve been annoying charlotte about this fic for ages and i know she’s been waiting for a derek fic😭 side note: this is a teaser/accompanying fic to the actual fic boy, you write your name (I can do the same) which will be out on thursday! meaning this is NOT an excerpt of the fic, but offers more background of the relationship derek and the reader have, and also where the nickname CJ comes from

“Are you actually washing the car or are you just waiting for someone to pay attention to you?”

“Oh ha ha, you’re hilarious,” Derek said dryly, wringing out the sponge and tossing it in one of the soapy buckets. You grinned at him, tossing him a water bottle, which he easily caught, drinking quickly as you leaned your hands into your waist.

“Thanks.”

“Sure,” you replied, looking around. It was quite busy, every single member of the frat seemed hard at work. “Pretty nice turnout, huh?”

Derek shrugged in a way that meant he was agreeing with you, but he didn’t want to look like he was bragging. He was humble like that. You scoffed, brushing your hair back over your shoulder, and Derek zeroed in on the bikini strap under your top, a grin forming on his face.

“You come here to lend a hand?”

“Oh please,” you rolled your eyes at him with a snicker. “I was thinking ahead. With you standing in the sun for the whole day and Isaac around buckets full of water? I was bound to end up soaked, thought I’d save me a trip to the laundromat.”

“Now you’re basically begging me to drench you,” Derek drawled, picking up the sponge soaked full of water, advancing on you.

“Don’t you dare!” You hissed at him, giving him a shove.

“Are you doing a special?”

While you and Derek were wrestling around, ending up with both of you getting a soak, you hadn’t noticed the Mini pulled up next to you, windows down, a pretty girl smirking at yoi.

“Nah, I’m just here to support my friends,” you said, gesturing to Derek, wiping your wet forehead with a laugh. “It’s his frat that’s organizing this car wash. Derek, this is Amanda, she’s in my Women’s Writing class. Just transferred from Palomar.”

“Hey,” Derek said, leaning against her car. “You here for a full wash?”

“Sure am.”

Derek nodded, leaning back. “Isaac! Grab some boys and a couple of buckets, we got another one.”

Isaac saluted Derek, his wet curls hanging in his face. Glancing over to you, he grinned, wagging his eyebrows when he caught you staring at his bare chest, turning on his heel to grab the buckets, but not without teasing you.

“Take a picture, CJ, it’ll last longer.”

“CJ?” Amanda asked, raising a brow. You groaned internally when Derek only smirked at her, clearly ecstatic that he got to tell the story again.

“Right, you’re a transfer, so you don’t know where her nickname comes from. Well, let me tell you, you’re in for a treat. It was a really nice summer day-”

“Derek, I’m not letting you tell the story again with the exaggerations,” you scowled at him, though in jest, shoving him gently. You turned back to Amanda, sighing softly. “Anyways. It all started when I was a freshman, a couple of weeks into the semester. I was taking Deucalion’s class for Intro to Ancient History….”

An incessant ringing pulled you out of your deep slumber, but your head barely rose from the pillow as you poked the screen of your phone until the alarm stopped, leaving you to your slumber again. You had fallen asleep around 4:30 because it had taken you that long to finish your paper on Caesar. Usually, you never left your assignments for the last minute, and to be fair, you didn’t really. Leave it to the last minute, that is. The assignment was done, sitting in your folders waiting to be printed for about a week or so. But then you caught up with your study group, where you found out that Deucalion always knocked you down a letter grade if he didn’t agree with your opinion. And he loved Caesar. You didn’t. Which you made exceptionally clear in your essay. So being the freshman that you were, wanting to get good grades in your first semester, you decided to rewrite all 8 pages with the deadline looming in less than 10 hours, because he insisted on collecting the assignments right at the beginning of the class. Not the smartest thing you’ve done. Around one am, the library had closed, in the middle of your hot streak, and by the time you reached your dorm, you lost your train of thought and it took you two hours to find it again. And it was not because you fell asleep for 20 minutes. When the alarm blares up again, you groaned loudly, reaching for your phone to silence it, stilling when the phone pinged, announcing the arrival of a text. You narrowed your eyes at the screen, your eyes bleary as your vision slowly cleared.

[Stevie]: where r u???

Your heart plummeted when you read the text, and while you checked the time, you had to resist the urge to throw yourself out of the window.

08:13. Deucalion’s class started at 08:15.

“FUCK!”

Scrambling up from your bed, your legs tangled in the blankets and you nearly brained yourself when you fell to the floor. Getting up, you located your paper on your desk, making sure it was still where you left it, before you headed to the bathroom, quickly brushing your teeth. With your toothbrush in your mouth, you tugged some jeans and a shirt out of the closet, laying it on the bed to get changed when there was another ping.

[Stevie]: hes l8 if u hurry up u mite make it in time

Your eyes widened, the gods must’ve heard your silent prayers and you rushed to the bathroom, spitting out your toothpaste, and splashing some water in your face for good measure before you grabbed your stuff, backpack on your arm, phone and paper in your hand, running across campus to get to the lecture hall. When you finally skidded to a halt in front of the doors of the lecture hall, you slowly opened the door, peeking into it. There were two lines down the stairs, so the other students must be in line to drop off their papers at the front. Sighing a deep breath of relief, you squeezed yourself through the gap in the door and inconspicuously walked behind the last person in line. As the line moved forward, you dropped your backpack in between the seated rows, making it seem like you’d been in the class from the beginning. As the line slowly moved forward, you caught a glimpse of Professor Deucalion at the front. Only, it wasn’t him… Narrowing your eyes, you eyed the guy that was standing by the desk, his arms crossed. He had dark hair, a faint stubble and a scowl on his face. Must be Deucalion’s TA, though you didn’t remember ever seeing him during lectures, though he did look quite familiar. By the time you reached the front desk, you lifted your head, your eyes meeting the TA’s. He raised an eyebrow at you as you dropped your assignment on the stack and the way the corners of his mouth curled up made you furrow your brows.

“What?” you asked defensively and he uncrossed his arms, leaning his hands on the desk.

“Nothing… Just. Cute jammies.”

You heard the class let out laughter as you stared at him before glancing down at yourself, flushing when you realized you were still wearing your pj’s, which was just a tank top and arguably your worst pyjama pants: Teal and pink Hello Kitty pants. Snapping your head up, you glared at him, but before you could say another word, the side door opened, and Professor Deucalion walked in.

“You better take a seat, CJ,” the TA said with a smirk, collecting the assignments in his hand and you bit back a retort, finding an empty in the back row as Professor Deucalion started the lecture. As he droned on, your eyes kept flitting over to the TA in the first row, glaring at the back of his head. Even hours later, when you were at some fresher party a frat was throwing, the incident was a topic with your friends.

“It was crazy. I couldn’t take my eyes off of you.”

Stevie nodded as you only rolled your eyes, taking another sip of your drink. “Seriously, she was staring with her mouth open and everything. Which I get. I just have more self-control.”

“You guys are ridiculous. He was making fun of me,” you pointed out and Audrey stared at you, her eyes nearly bugging out of her head.

“Dude. He wants to bang you.”

With a snort, you shook your head at your friends and their crazy conspiracy theories.

“Come on, I didn’t come here to talk about our lecture. Let’s go find something to do. I think they’re playing beer pong in the backyard,” you suggested, dragging your friends through the house and out into the backyard, which seemed to be just as crowded as inside. Walking over to the beer pong table, it looked like they were in the middle of the game, so you just tapped on the shoulder of one guy.

“Hey, is it possible for me and my friends to play a round?”

“Sure,” he replied without turning around, throwing the ball and scoring. “You guys can just- oh hey, CJ!”

Of course it was fucking him*. The TA from Deucalion’s lecture was standing in front of you, an amused grin on his face.*

“My name is-” you started, but he waved you off snickering.

“I know what your name is. But CJ is fitting, isn’t it?” He took a sip from his drink, giving you a brief once over and you ignored how Stevie’s grip around your arm tightened for a second. “I see you changed, though I must say I did like the pants.” You gave him a look and he offered you his hand.

“Derek Hale.”

“There were a lot of people at that party. And I guess the name just stuck.”

“Huh. So everyone just calls you CJ?”

You shrugged. You didn’t really mind the nickname, it was cute. At this point, it was odd to hear someone call you by your government name unless it was a professor or someone from the faculty. Everyone addressed you as CJ. It was just the story that bothered you, mostly because Derek liked to add details that were unimportant. Also because he cracked up all the time telling the story like it was the funniest thing he’d ever experienced, that jerk.

“You have to admit it’s a cool nickname,” Derek cut in, and Amanda laughed.

“Guess so… So how does that work with you being a TA and you two dating?”

“We’re not dating.” “He’s not actually a TA.”

Really? That was what he chose to correct? You side-eyed Derek but he just gave you a subtle wink as Amanda perked up, looking at you curiously.

“So, you’re single?”

Even before you replied, you noticed how Derek clinked himself out of the conversation, walking over to the waiting cars leaning against the door. Every time you thought you had figured him out, he went ahead and did something that confused you even more. Sometimes you thought back to what Audrey and Stevie had said to you about Derek before you even really knew him. You glanced over to him as you handed Amanda your phone so she could put her number in, and it was as if Derek could feel your eyes on him, he turned his head in your direction, giving you a small smile, flashing his teeth at you. Some day you will just flat out ask him.

But not today.

#derek hale #derek hale x reader #derek hale fanfiction #teen wolf #teen wolf fanfiction #teen wolf fic

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sacredthefran · 1 year

Text

Cream & Sugar

Pairing: Jake Kiszka + Female Reader Warnings: Sugar Daddy, Some Drinking, Oral Sex (M receiving). 18+. Minors DNI Word Count : 10.2k Authors Notes: The recent pics of Jake have been giving me sugar daddy vibes. This is my first smut. I’m scared. I’m thinking about making this a series but I’m not 100% sure yet Enjoy :)

Part 2 (x)

Tick tock.Tick Tock. You glanced at the clock on the far wall from your cubicle. Just two more hours, you kept repeating to yourself. See, your job wasn’t horrible, it’s just been a hell of a day. Monday’s, gotta love them, right? You woke up late, your car wouldn’t start, spilled coffee all over your favorite blouse and heels. But the thing that really topped your morning off? Receiving a letter stating that you had a week and some spare days to pay your rent up to date or you were going to be homeless. To be fair, your landlord has been an angel for the past couple of months. Your payments have been consecutively late or you just haven’t paid for a couple of months. You guessed they decided that enough was enough. As close to homelessness as you were, none of your friends or family would let that happen, they would take you under their wing in a heartbeat. But the last thing you needed right now was your father giving you the lecture of a lifetime.

“Now y/n, you know damn well that if you were falling behind on bills that you could’ve told us. We have no problem helping you out.”

Your mother and father still viewed you as their little girl– constantly ignoring the fact that you were a grown twenty-five year old college graduate and one of the only women actually holding a position other than “secretary” at your law firm. Granted you were just an intern, still-it felt like a huge accomplishment. American Justice wasn’t the biggest firm in Chicago. None of the lawyers here have yet to receive a big case or have any big name clients. Slowly but surely, American Justice was starting to gain more attention. But, that didn’t really matter to you. You were willing to do anything it takes to make a name for yourself.

“Hey, fuck face. Come take a smoke with me.”

Oh Beth, she always had a way of making a grand entrance. With a swift roll of your eyes, you grabbed your pack of Marlboro Menthol Ice and headed towards her.

“You okay? You’re looking a little stressed. All that stress is going to make you need botox.”

You turned to her with a quizzical look.

She backtracked, “Not that you need it right now, but you keep furrowing your eyebrows. Those wrinkles are going to catch up to you sooner than you realize.”

Grabbing Beth's arm you started a brisk walk towards the doors, “Yeah, yeah. You got a lighter or am I going to have to ask one of the pricks upstairs?”

“You know I always have a lighter.”

You inhaled the nicotine and exhaled the stress. Silently hoping that all the comments about your stress were over. It turns out Beth wasn’t finished with that conversation quite yet. After taking a long drag - she speaks her mind once again.

“C’mon y/n out with it, I can tell that something is going on with you. Lie all you want but I know when something is eating you up. What is it? Guy issues? I thought you kicked the last guy to the curb. Or were you lying to me about that? You better not have been. Wait, I know exactly what it is!” She exclaimed. “It’s money issues isn’t it?”

Dammit, she was always so good at reading you. While being at the ripe age of thirty-six, Beth has experienced some things. She has a habit of telling people bits and pieces, but never the full story.

“Okay, okay. If I tell you, you have to promise not to tell anyone. I mean anyone.” You looked at Beth with hope that she would promise you to keep her lips sealed.

“Damn kid, did you kill someone or something?” Beth chuckled, but it dropped the minute she saw how serious you were. “Cross my heart and hope to die, I won’t say anything”.

You took a deep breath and mumbled.

“Huh? You know I’m old, I can't hear you.” Beth spoke.

“I’m so far behind on all my bills! I'm going to be homeless in a week if I don’t pay my rent. I can’t be homeless, I can’t move back in with my family. I can’t do it Beth, I just can’t do it.” You finally lifted your eyes to meet Beth’s.

“Hey, it’s going to be okay, you can always just move in with me and my family.”

As much as you loved Beth, it wasn’t ideal. She had a nice little townhouse filled with her husband and three kids. You loved kids– actually, you absolutely adored them. You couldn’t wait to have your own, but you just didn’t want to deal with them in your twenties.

“Beth you know I love you, but I can’t do that.”

Beth started chuckling “Oh, I know. I wouldn’t want you to deal with those little crotch gremlins. They make me want to rip my hair out and I’m their mother. I can only imagine what they’ll do to you.” She always had a way of making you laugh when you wanted to cry. It just wasn’t working this time.

“Beth……I’m serious. What the hell am I going to do? I’m scared.” You felt teardrops starting to leak out of your eyes.

“It’s easy. Just become an escort,” Beth shrugged her shoulders as if she was just mentioning what she wanted for lunch.

“I’m sorry, what the fuck did you just say to me?” You huffed.

“Easy tiger, maybe not an escort but a sugar baby.”

Beth must be out of her mind.

“Look, I know it's not an ideal situation for you. Trust me, there are good men out there who just don’t have time to date, they just want someone to talk to. Maybe occasionally fuck, and they just so happen to pay you for your time.”

You looked at her with so many questions in mind. “How do you know so much about being a sugar baby?”

Beth started chuckling once again. “Wipe that stank look off your face. I used to be one. I did it for two years before I started law school. I was able to make enough money to put myself through school and I didn’t have to work. I know it sounds crazy, honestly, you should just try it. I’ve been out of the game for a long time, but I’ve kept in contact with one of the girls, Deandra. She’s still in the business and I bet that she would help you out.”

Beth kept on rambling.

“Matter of fact, she asked me if I would be interested in this one guy, but obviously I turned it down because I have Dean now. I can send you this guy’s number. That’s all she supplied me with. Deandra does a background check on any guy that comes across her radar - weeds out the bad ones and handpicks all the ones that seem promising. He’s too young for her to deal with. You know what? Y/n you don’t have a choice in the matter, I’m sending his info over tonight.”

She put her hand up quickly before you could retort. “Do not try to fight me on this. You won't win.”

With a roll of your eyes you and Beth hooked arms and headed back inside, you to your desk and her to her office. She’s crazy, you thought. Glancing at the clock, you sighed happily knowing you only had one hour and forty-five minutes left.

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

A couple of hours later and just a little tipsy off of some Cabernet, you were finally taking a relaxing bubble bath. Probably the last bubble bath in this apartment, that thought kept replaying in your head. A flash of light caught your attention, looking over onto the floor you noticed it was text from Beth. Realizing that she actually did it, she actually sent you the contact information for this man. At least she gave you a name this time ; Jake. Jake, okay that’s not an old man’s name. Maybe you could do this, maybe you could go on a couple of dates with him, listen to him bitch about how hard his life is and make a couple of thousand. Fuck it, what’s the worst that could happen? After downing the rest of the blood red liquid, you managed to draft up a text. Even after the three glasses of liquid-courage, you still felt yourself having trouble finding the right words to say. Here goes nothing.

Y/n- Hello, I’m not really sure how to go about this…. but I’m y/n. I got your number from Deandra. She mentioned to me that you were looking for a special type of arrangement.

After sending that text, you decided you weren’t going to sit around and wait for a response. He probably won’t respond anyway, he’s probably going to wonder about why Deandra pawn off his info to someone else. You decided to put your phone on airplane mode until you were finished with your nighttime routine. However, it was almost as if Jake knew that you were planning on not waiting around for his text..

Jake- Y/n, what a pleasure it is to finally hear from you. I was wondering when you were going to message me. Deandra informed me Beth had a gorgeous woman that would reach out to me

Fuck. How in the hell were you supposed to respond to that? Maybe you need another glass of wine.

Y/n- Charming. I wanted to text you and see what kind of a deal we could make. Or how this whole process goes. Sorry. I’m just new to this whole type of arrangement.

Great, now he’s going to know that you’re inexperienced. Way to go y/n. The time seemed to tick by at the speed of molasses. Finally, your phone dinged with the familiar text notification.

Jake- No need to apologize. Deandra already mentioned to me that you wouldn’t know how to go about this whole situation. You’re a smart girl, we’ll figure it out. Besides, everyone has to start out somewhere. I think that we should ease into this relationship. Since you’re new to it. I don’t want to scare you off before I get to experience the lovely y/n in action. Matter of fact, how about we meet Friday night for dinner?

Breathe in, breathe out y/n. It’s just a simple dinner. You can do this, just pretend you’re meeting up with an old friend. It’ll be easy.

You- That sounds perfect. What restaurant do you have in mind? What time would you like for me to meet you there?

Jake- Don’t worry about the restaurant. I’ll make a reservation. I will have a driver come pick you up. His name is Taylor. He will be there precisely at 5. Sharp. Make sure you are ready to go. Please make sure that you are wearing a green dress. I think that it compliments your skin tone well. I look forward to seeing you.

You- 1)How do you know what the hell I look like? 2) How do you know where I live? 3) I don’t wear green, I prefer purple.

Jake- Like I stated before, make sure the dress is green. I don’t do well with people disobeying me. Don’t worry about how I know those details, I know a lot of people in this city. It’s late, you need to go to bed. Have a goodnight Ms.y/l/n.

What the hell am I doing?

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

The next couple of days seemed to fly by. Jake texted you off and on that week. It seemed as if he was excited to see you, but you didn’t want to get ahead of yourself. Tuesday morning you were met with Beth’s beaming face proclaiming that she wanted to know all of the details. Who are you to refuse Beth? It felt nice just to get it out of your system and express all your worries. Of course, the biggest worry was that this man already knew your last name and where you live.

“Oh, that’s easy. I had Deandra tell him your full name and I guess he did his own research to figure out your address”.

Beth then proceeded to tell you that this was normal in the industry, especially as someone of his status. Having little to no details about Jake, you decided to trust Beth’s judgment. She kept promising that he was a good man all throughout the week. Almost like a broken record. Every time you would ask for more information about Jake she would shut you down. Apparently he was the type of guy who wanted to keep all his details private until a deal was made. Cause that’s not sketchy at all.

Wednesday came and went. Thursday morning you walked into work to see a bouquet of flowers on your desk. Attached to them was a little note “I hope that this finds you well, in the envelope there’s a couple of hundreds. Like I stated before, I'm expecting you in green. Wouldn’t want for you to receive a punishment during our first meeting. I look forward to seeing you tomorrow - Jake” .

There was no way this was actually happening. Peaking into the envelope, reality started to hit you. You were actually going to meet this mystery man and let him pay your way through life for the next couple of months. Your inner feminist was screaming at you, it told you to run–preferably away from this whole situation. Your conscience was begging you to just forget about this and go back to your parents. Deciding against your better judgment, you ended up taking Beth out shopping to find a little green number that would drive this man crazy.

“That’s it!” Beth proclaimed. You did a final look in the mirror acknowledging Beth's statement.

After going to countless stores; trying on every green dress possible. You finally opted for something short and lacey. Usually you want to cover every part of your body, but if you were going to commit to this sugar baby bit, why not buy something that is guaranteed to keep all of his attention on you? The dress came just below your fingertips, thank God for dresses that cinch around the waist, it accentuated your hourglass figure. Every curve on your body was looking right and let’s not forget how the cups in the dress were pure lace. Looks like there was no way for you to wear a bra, fuck it.

Friday morning came faster than you could imagine. Maybe it was the nerves or maybe it was the fact that you wanted to make sure you looked perfect for Jake tonight, after all, your life was betting on how dinner would go. It’s been a while since you had to dress for male validation. You were putting on your shoes when a knock on the door startled you.

Looking out of the peephole, you noticed a man standing on the other side of the door seemingly to look directly in your eyes through the small glass circle. “Uh hello?” You opened the door with a shaky breath.

“I work for Mr. Kiszka. I’m Taylor. I’m going to be your driver for the night. I was given specific orders to be at the restaurant by five-thirty ma’am. Let's get a move on. Mr. Kiszka doesn’t take too kindly to people wasting his time. I’m sure he’s mentioned that to you before”.

No. Fucking. Way. It can’t be. There’s no way that Jake is Jacob Kiszka. He was one of the most notorious lawyers on the scene right now. Jake was a practicing lawyer at New Horizons Family Law. It was the biggest firm in Chicago. Jacob Kiszka was a force to be reckoned with, he rarely lost a case. Word on the street was that his clients were actually a part of organized crime, instead of “family law”. Standing in your doorway, you prayed that you wouldn’t stick your foot in your mouth and ask him about his clients tonight. You figured that it would scare Jake away more than anything. You were pulled away from your overthinking to Taylor clearing his throat and pointing at his watch.

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

Much to Taylor’s dismay, you actually arrived at five thirty-five. Exiting the car you came to the realization that you have no clue if you should wait out front for Jake or if you should already be seated when he gets here. Turning to Taylor you asked him what option would be best, with a huff and puff he told you to go to the host and tell them you’re with Mr. Kiszka. No questions would be asked.

Following his directions, you were shocked at how fast the host was scurrying to get you to a table.

He led you past all the tables in the restaurant, noticing the look of fear in your eyes, he mumbled “Mr. Kiszka is one of our high profile guests. He likes to have all of his meetings in a private room.”

It was all starting to click with you. Jacob Kiszka is the man that you have been texting all week leading up to this moment. Once you finally were seated, the host froze as the door on the left was whipped open. Something was telling you that he wasn’t supposed to be here when Jake arrived..

Oh. My. God. All your suspicions from earlier were true. Standing in the doorway was Jake Kiszka. Before you could get a good look at him the host ran out of the room mumbling a quick “I’m sorry”.

Slowly making his way over to you, you were observing as many details as you could. The first thing you noticed was his hair was pulled back, giving you a perfect view of his angelic face, he was wearing black dress pants with a white shirt unbuttoned all the way down to the beginning of his torso. He wore a golden pendant that rested gently in the middle of his chest, you just wanted to reach out and touch him. He didn’t seem real. Once your eyes finally met his, Jake gave you a smirk. Hopefully he didn’t see you looking at him like an art collector finding an undiscovered Davinci.

“Well, I hope you’re done checking me out. I’m ready to have a seat now,” Jake said smugly.

“Oh, of course. Have a seat. I’m y/n. It’s nice to meet you.” Not only did Jake call you out for ogling him, his smile grew tenfold when he realized how rosy your cheeks were getting under his gaze.

“I know who you are and you know who I am. I think we can skip past all this small talk and actually start to get to know each other. I also wanted to apologize for being late. I had a meeting with my client run over. But, I guess that doesn’t really matter since you were late too.” Jake replied with a smug grin.

“I, uh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be late. I couldn’t find my shoes,” you stuttered nervously.

“So you want to start our relationship off on a bad note?”

You gave him a quizzical look.

“Taylor told me that you were ready to go but you just couldn’t stop daydreaming about me. So much so that it made you late. I don’t do well with people who are late. I expect proper punctuality from now on. It’s okay, I'll let it slip this time. By the way I noticed that you followed my request and wore green. Good Girl.”

You’d hate to admit it, but those two little words had you squeezing your thighs together. No one could blame you for that. This man practically dripped sex. It’s like he knew what he was doing to you.

“Tell me princess, or do you prefer y/n?”

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you finally met his gaze. “Princess works for me.”

Jake grinned at your acknowledgement of your pet name already. “Do I live up to your expectations? Or should I pack it up and send you on your merry way?” He already knew the answer to that question, he just wanted the confirmation from you that you were attracted to him and willing to do anything that he wanted.

“No, you definitely meet my expectations.” Fuck, that wasn’t supposed to come out. Good Job y/n. Now he’s going to think you’re desperate. Jake kept beaming at you, he really was as cheeky as all the rumors stated him to be. As he was about to answer, a waitress came through the door. Saved by the bell.

“Sorry to interrupt, I was wondering if you guys were ready to order?” She offered both of you a smile.

Without breaking your eye contact Jake responded, “We’ll have a bottle of Cuvee Indigene and the chefs special. Thank you.”

You looked at him with an open mouth.

“What?” He looked at you confused.

“Cuvee Indigene? That’s an expensive bottle, I don’t want you to feel like you have to impress me.” You stated matter of factly.

Jake interrupted you by sucking his teeth. “I’m not trying to impress you, I know you like Chardonnay, so why not get you top of the line? I’m about to wire some money into your bank account so I wouldn’t be worrying about how expensive the bottle is if I were you. Also, close your mouth unless that’s an invitation for me to put something in it."

If it wasn’t possible before, your jaw was practically on the floor. Who the fuck does he think he is? Your inner feminist wanted to smack the hell out of him. But as much as you didn’t want to admit it, he was making you feel things that you weren’t supposed to. Judging by how dark your eyes got, Jake could sense it too.

Little to your knowledge, Jake was trying to see how turned on he could get you and how far he could push his limits.

Once again, the door to your left opened and you could hear the noise from the outside. Something to distract you away from this awkward conversation. You noticed in her hand that she had the bottle of wine and two glasses in her hand. Thank you, Jesus. As she went to pour some wine in your glass Jake waved her off and insisted on doing it himself.

“Now, now. What kind of gentleman would I be if I didn’t take care of my girl?”

My girl. You barely know this man and he's already staking his claim. Taking the wine glass in your hand, you reached it out towards him to fill up. Even though there was clearly a power imbalance in between you two, you still wanted to make it known to him that you weren’t some run-of-the-mill sugar baby. You actually would let him boss you around and ruin you, but you didn’t want him to know that yet. You had to keep some semblance of composure.

“Relax Princess, no need to start getting hostile. I just want to show you what it’s like to have someone take care of you.”

Aaaand there the cheekiness is again. He kept filling your glass until it was a half inch from the top.

“Drink up, we have a long night ahead of us.”

Yes, Sir.

Once again the room was filled with silence, it was like neither of you knew what to say to each other. It didn’t feel like it was the proper atmosphere for you to ask him what his favorite movie or color was. Think y/n. Think. You were sweating bullets thinking about what he was implying with “long night”.

If you knew anything about Jake, you would be able to tell that he felt like he stuck his foot in his mouth. He didn’t want to come off too cocky, Jake was attracted to you and wanted to make you aware of it, but he wasn’t sure how to do so. Just as Jake parted his lips to speak, he was interrupted by the waitress coming back into the room.

“Sorry, to interrupt you guys again, but the food is ready.” She glanced at the couple with a nervous smile. You felt bad for the poor girl. You could pick up that Jake’s demeanor made her nervous. As she set down the dishes, he kept a stone cold stare at the back of her head. You waited until she left and then cleared your throat.

“Mr. Kiszka, what are these dishes exactly?”

“Please, call me Jake. Have you ever had French before?”

You quickly shook your head no.

“Why didn’t you tell me when I suggested French? And this dish is called Bouillabaisse. The chef is a personal friend of mine, I made sure that he used Cod instead of Sea Bass, it tastes better.”

You kept your gaze down.

“If you don't like it, I’m sure I can speak to him and have him make you something different.”

When you finally looked up at him, he was biting his lip–staring at you intently.

“No, no. I’m good with it. I didn’t even try it, I was just wondering what it was.” After you stated that, you quickly took a bite to ease his nerves. Damn y/n, you barely know this man and you’re already aiming for his approval.

Jake smiled at this and kept making small talk over the course.

“So what’s the main reason why you wanted to be a sugar baby, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Well, it looks like that was the end of the small talk. You gulped down the remainder of the first wine glass and started motioning for him to fill it up again.

“Do you want the real reason or do you want me to give you some bullshit excuse?”

Jake was in the motion of filling up your glass and looked you dead in the eyes. “I always want the truth, if we are going into this type of relationship I need you to be a hundred percent honest with me. At all times. Do I make myself clear?”

Clear as crystal.

“Does the same apply to you?” You asked him in a venom-ridden voice.

“Of course it does. I know you don’t know how these types of situations work, but I like to run all my relationships based on honesty and trust. If you don’t have trust with your partner, then there isn’t a relationship. That applies to business and personal. You should know that, being a lawyer and all.”

So Beth wasn’t lying. Someone of his status does their research. Well, there goes the thought about being able to lie about why you needed the money. You finally pulled your gaze away from the floor and made eye contact.

“I don’t come from a wealthy family, as much as my parents say they would love to help me, they wouldn’t be able to handle it. If they paid my rent and the bills that I'm behind on, that would put them in the hole. I can’t do that to them. As you know I’m a lawyer, well not yet, technically. I passed my bar but American Justice wont let me practice yet. They want to keep me as an intern. So obviously, they’re not paying me enough. Ever since this damn pandemic, I haven’t been able to support myself. Everything is just starting to add up. Monday I got a letter threatening to evict me if I couldn’t pay the past two months rent by next Thursday. Frankly, I’m just scared. I don’t want to come across as a failure to my parents.”

Jake interrupted your rambling “How would you be a failure?”

You looked at him like he had three heads, “How wouldn’t I? I left for school telling them that I was going to be somebody. I can’t show up on their doorstep years later begging for a place to stay.” You could feel the tears starting to well up in your eyes. Jake noticed this, in an attempt to stop you from crying he reached across the table and rubbed your arm.

“American Justice just wants to keep you as an intern?” You slowly nodded your head at him. “Have you thought about applying to different firms?”

“Of course I have. You don’t think I’ve done that already?” You huffed back at him.

“First off, watch your tone when speaking to me. I’m just trying to help you. After all, this whole arrangement is about me helping you. If you don’t like the way I speak then feel free to leave. The door is right there, princess. Nothing’s holding you here.”

Except the fact that you needed his money.

After realizing that you weren’t attempting to flee the scene, Jake cleared his throat. “I read over your essays from law school. Specifically your thesis about Women's Rights. I’m friends with Roxanne from Sisterhood Movement. Have you tried there? Roxanne would take you under her wing. She would help you build your cases. Roxy is all about empowering women.”

Jake was studying your face. He couldn’t make out your expression.

Looking down at the table, you took a deep breath. “I can’t apply to Sisterhood Movement. Are you kidding me?”

“Why can’t you?” He countered back.

“They’re all powerful names over there. They take on the most high profile cases. I don’t mean just the cases in Chicago, I’m talking about the cases that they take all across the States. As much as I love Roxanne’s work, I don’t want to go over there and ruin everything she’s worked for. I’m just not ready to take on cases of discrimination and sexual harassment yet. I just can’t do it, Jake” God, you sound so insecure right now. Pull it together.

Jake could see the tears forming in your eyes again. He understood that he had to wait until he knew you a little bit better before he could keep pressing the issue with you. “Okay, okay. I won’t keep pestering you about it.”

After that statement, you felt like you could look him in the eyes once more.

“Thank you.”

He smiled weakly at you. “Of course. Now, is there anything that you want to ask me?”

Well there is one thing.

“Out with it. You’re biting your lip. If you’ve got something to ask then just ask.”

You weren’t sure if it was the wine or your nerves but you quickly blurted out “Are you actually a defense attorney for the mafia or is that just a rumor?”.

His eyes turned ice cold at that moment.

“I don’t think that’s anything for you to know. You should know that I do not disclose my clients information. If you were worried about me being connected to the mob, you wouldn’t be sitting here right now, would you?” You hated the fact that warmth started to flood all over your body.

He sensed a change in your breathing pattern. “Now, anything logical you want to ask me? Or do you want to keep sticking your foot in your mouth?” Your jaw dropped open again.

“Princess, I thought I told you earlier to keep your mouth closed. You’re practically begging for me to put something in there.”

Instead of replying to that comment you decided to lean forward just enough that he could see your cleavage. Two can play this game.

Innocently, you traced the rim of the glass. “Mr. Kiszka, I didn’t mean to offend you. I was just asking a simple question.”

Jake could feel himself harden. He wanted nothing more than to bend you over the table at that moment. Jake wasn’t dumb, he knew what you were trying to do to him. “You should really finish your wine right now,”

You tilted your head and in the most innocent voice you could respond, “And why is that Mr. Kiska?” Sitting back you smiled sweetly at him. It was at this moment that Jake registered you weren’t wearing a bra. Your nipples were peaking out of the lace at him, begging to be touched.

“Because, if we're going to continue this conversation, I want to be in the privacy of my own home. Plus, I want to play with my new toy.”

You were positive that your cheeks were painted red at the mere thought of him referring to you as a toy. Without hesitation, you gulped down your wine and smiled at him. “Good Girl,” Jake reached his hand out towards you.

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

Jake Kiszka wasn’t a man to waste his time with words, when his actions could do the talking. The whole car ride back to his penthouse, he kept inching his hand further up your leg while driving. Which is kind of ironic to you because he sent you a driver but he preferred to drive himself.

You weren’t sure if it was the wine talking or your subconscious, but you could feel the sexual tension. You could practically cut it with a knife. Unbeknownst to you, Jake was feeling the same way.

Once arriving at his place, he dismissed you from following him into the kitchen and instructed you to “sit still and look pretty” on the couch. After five painfully long minutes he came back into the room with two glasses filled with an amber liquid. Offering you the glass, you winced as you smelled it. Jake chuckled, “Not a fan of Bourbon? This is Guadalupe. It’s good, take a sip.”

Jake then proceeded to raise the glass to your lips and tilt your head back. Opening up your lips, you realized that you were ready to swallow whatever this man would give you. Jake soon realized this was a mistake as you started coughing up a lung after taking a pull of amber down your throat.

“You good over there?” Jake gave you a wicked grin.

“Uh, yeah I’m okay. I'm just more of a wine drinker.” You replied shyly.

“Noted, I'll be more careful next time when I make you swallow something”.

You were sure that your eyes were the size of golf balls. Acting like he casually just asked about the weather, Jake circled back to the conversation at the restaurant. “So anything else you want to ask me?”

Taking another small sip of bourbon, you found the courage to speak again. “Why are you a sugar daddy?” Peaking over the glass at him, you noticed Jake furrowed his eyebrows. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m just curious. You're Jake Kiszka. You could get any woman you want. I know women throw themselves at you all the time.”

Interrupting you, Jake sighed from his spot. “You’re right. I probably could have any woman I want. I always sucked at dating. Just never had the time to give to someone. To be honest, I frankly don’t have the time right now. I basically only have the time for a casual dinner and a quick fuck. A couple of my friends do this and suggested it to me. I have the funds to give to a pretty lady. So why not try it?”.

It was surprising that he even gave you the answer that he did. Jake didn’t seem like the type to open up to people even a little bit.

“A quick fuck? That’s what I’m here for?” You stood up, you knew you were here for his money, but he didn’t have to talk to you like you were nothing. Like you weren’t a person. Fuck That.

“Sit back down. You and I both know that you’re not going anywhere.” Swallowing your pride you took the spot next to him on the black leather couch. You hated that he was right.

“Obviously it’s not going to be quick. I have stamina. Did you miss the part where I said casual dinner too?” Jake was chuckling. “I didn’t think I had to go into details. There is going to be communication between us. You will be taken care of y/n, as long as I’m taken care of. At any moment you can walk away from this. If you're uncomfortable we can just forget that this meeting ever happened. Anytime you feel uncomfortable, you tell me to stop and I will. No questions asked. Now, are you okay with this?”

You shook your head yes.

“Y/n, I need to hear it.”

“Yes, I understand.” you breathed out, shakily.

Jake beamed at you. “I’m assuming that this is the time where we talk about your payment? I was thinking of a weekly allowance of $1,500 to start, then if you’re a good girl for me we can up it. I’ll make sure to wire you the money on Monday.”

You nodded along, “Jake, I'm grateful for this, don't get me wrong. But is there any way I can get an advance? $1,500 isn’t going to pay my past due rent.” You felt embarrassed even asking him this. He knew you needed money, but you didn’t want him to see you grovel for it.

Jake then picked something up off the table. As he got closer to you, you recognized that it was a check. “I knew that you were going to bring up the rent situation, so I went ahead, called your apartment manager and wrote you a check for the next two months. I already paid your past two.”

You were shocked to say the least. You couldn’t help it but your jaw dropped at the thought of how much money that is, even though it's probably spare change for him.

“You must really want me to put something in your mouth, princess. All you have to do is ask.” Jesus. This man is going to be the death of you.

“Anyway, I know we talked about the weekly allowances, but there’s some other things involved as well. Of course I have benefits, galas and public appearances to keep up, you will be attending them with me. No excuses, obviously with that comes all the shopping that you could want. I need you to be dressed to the nines when we go out. It comes with the territory. I’m sure you understand. Think this is something that you can do?”

You nodded along with what he was saying. “Yes, Jake. I’m positive I’ll be able to handle all of this. Are you sure I’m the one that you want? Don’t you want to shop around a little and see what other options are out there?”.

He looked at you like you were crazy for even suggesting the thought. “No, I’m sure that I want to do this with you. The minute I saw your picture, I knew I wanted you and wouldn’t stop until you agreed to this deal.”

This man was persistent, maybe it was a trait that he formed being a lawyer. It didn’t matter, you couldn’t get over the fact that he saw a picture of you before you locked eyes at the restaurant.

“How did you get a picture of me?” You quizzed him as he finally took a seat next to you.

“I have connections, don’t worry about it. '' He was looking deep into your eyes while licking his lips. You couldn’t help but drop your gaze to the spot that he just wet.

“You know, it’s okay to go after what you want y/n,” leaning into you. He was giving you the option to lean into the kiss or pull back.

“I don’t know, I’m just a little nervous,” Jake seemed to smile at the small confession.

“Nothing to be nervous about, darling. It’s human nature.”

That right there sealed the deal, you closed the gap between you. Your lips melted together, it was like he was made for kissing you. Just as you were about to pull away to admire the man in front of you, you felt a hand making its way to the nape of your neck. It wasn’t aggressive, he was just holding you into place, giving you the option to stop if you wanted. Jake noticed that you weren’t pulling away. He took this as a sign to deepen the kiss, there was only one problem here. You were fighting him for dominance.

Jake broke the kiss and pulled you to straddle him. “Stop trying to take control.”

Pressing his forehead against yours, he gave you a lustful look. With a simple nod of your head, you felt yourself losing control. He took your nod as reassurance to continue, and you watched as he moved closer. His hands grabbed your thighs as he lifted himself up towards your face, capturing your lips again. From your outer thigh, his hands began to travel upwards until you could feel the heat of his palms drag up your waist, then the small of your back. You melted with his touch, feeling yourself lean deeper into the kiss. Your skin tingled as he reached your breasts, protected only by the lace cups of the dress. You could feel your cheeks reddening as you followed his lead. Fuck, he just brushed against your nipple. You jolted at the sudden sensation, and he sensed you were feeling it. He swiped his thumb against the other one. While you were distracted, he moved his mouth lower, to the crook of your neck–kissing a trail all the way to your shoulder. His breath was hot on your skin and you moaned at even the slightest of touches. Was it the wine from dinner? The bourbon? Was it him and his obsession with being suave? Or was it the way he kept looking at you with lust filled eyes?

“I like you best when you’re at my mercy,” he said before closing his mouth around the lace that covered your nipple.

The first thing you felt was the heat, then the pressure–and finally, the pleasure. And you wanted more. Instead, Jake lifted his head. You opened your eyes, suddenly realizing that they were closed all this time. You met his gaze, wanting to open your mouth, hoping he’d say something about filling it again. But you didn’t. Instead you wet your lips.

“Show me why I should pay your rent,” he whispered in your ear, oozing with lust.

“Wha-what do you mean?” you stuttered nervously.

“I want you to show me why I’m spending my money on you. Show me I made the right choice to choose you out of all others.” As he was distracting you with his rugged voice, Jake was sneaking his hand underneath your dress to feel the puddle of warmth that was forming between your legs. “Damn, princess. All this for me?” he licked your ear and then blew on it.

“Yes Jake, it’s all for you”.

You felt a sharp stinging pain on your ass and when you went to lift up off his lap, he pulled you back down in a sharp motion. You could feel his cock struggling against his pants.

“Looks like I’m not the only one enjoying myself,” finally, it was your moment to tease him.

“I would enjoy myself more if you would take my cock out of my pants and show me how much you want it,” he growled out.

You could feel yourself looking down at him with hooded eyes. It was at this moment you knew that you were always going to be at his mercy. This man knew how to turn you into putty.

Instead of giving into Jake, you decided to tease him a little bit more. Grinding down on him and reaching down to pull your dress over your head. You felt strong hands grabbing your wrists.

“Nuh-uh, only I get to take off your clothes, you do as you're told.”

You moved back and forth on him a little bit harder. Leaning forward, you whispered into his ear, “But I thought you wanted me to show you why you’re paying my rent.”

Jake paused for a minute, before deciding to grab onto your waist and flip you around. He realized that having you on top made you feel like you were in charge - you never were going to be when he was around.

“Is that back sass I hear? That won't get you far with me, darling.” He was staring you down like a hunter stalking his prey.

“Darling? I thought my name was y/n?” You replied coyly.

“Keep talking and I’ll have no choice but to punish you.”

You involuntarily felt your pussy clench. Jake could feel it too, his cock was nestled right in between your folds with just a thin layer of lace separating the most intimate parts of yourselves. “Oh, it seems like you like that idea,” he smirked.

You moaned in response, there was no way to keep you quiet. Just with Jake’s talk alone, you were ready to orgasm right then and there.

“But I don’t want to fuck you yet, I want to see how badly you want me.” You're doing the best you can to keep your composure- well, what was left of it anyway.

“I want you, I want you to fill me up, I want you inside of me,” You mumbled into his neck.

“Princess, you really don’t listen do you? We’re going to have so much fun with all the lessons you need to learn. I said I’m not going to fuck you. Trust me I want nothing more than to feel this tight little pussy around my cock, but I don’t think you’re ready for that yet.”

Your body felt like it was on fire. It was like Jake was just casually asking you what you wanted to eat, all of this just seemed to roll off his tongue. Before you could stop yourself you found the words slipping past your lips “Can I put your cock in my mouth?”.

“You know that’s not how you ask for what you want.” he reapplied smugly. ”Beg for it.”

“Ja-” A quick swat on your thigh stopped you. “Sir?”

Jake shook his head, “You’re getting closer, but that's not what you should call me, princess.”

You had one guess left in your mind. “Daddy?”

Jake didn’t think it was possible for him to get harder, but hearing your sweet innocent voice and doe eyes peering up at him, he couldn’t hold himself together. “Daddy, can I please suck your cock?”

“You want Daddy’s cock in your mouth?”

Instead of answering him, you pushed on his shoulder, flipping both of you around and then pinning his shoulders to the couch. Jake didn’t fight you on this, he wanted your mouth on him just as much as you wanted him to fill your pussy. He wanted you to feel like you had a little control–for now–it gave you confidence.

“Go ahead baby, take it out. Show Daddy how much you want his cock.”

With shaky hands, you undid his belt and started to pull his boxers down. Jake could feel you starting to hesitate. He gently put his hands over yours and helped you pull down the fabric- freeing his cock. You couldn’t help but shiver at the thought of his cock going into your mouth and eventually your pussy.

“Aw, is my princess speechless? Don't worry, it’ll fit in all the holes you want. Right now we’re just gonna focus on putting it in the back of your throat. Then we'll focus on it fitting in that sweet cunt of yours. I can just tell it's a ripe pink and I bet right now it's just aching for my touch. Isn’t it? You want me to rub on that sweet little clit to give you some relief?”

You couldn’t hold back the little whine that escaped your throat. “You like the sound of that huh? Daddy touching you? Just wait until I put my tongue in your pussy. Oh baby, I can tell that you’re going to taste divine.”

At this point you were melting into him, you started to move your hands in a twisting motion, hoping to bring Jake as much pleasure as he was giving you with these filthy little thoughts spilling out.

“Sorry, it’s not going to happen, it’s all about you putting my cock into that sweet little mouth of yours.”

Jake didn’t give you any time to respond to that, he lifted up three fingers to your mouth, urging you to open up and let them in. You did as he asked and wrapped your mouth around his fingers, but Jake noticed something, you were so nervous that your mouth was dry. Pushing you down onto your knees, looking at you with lust blown eyes he pulled your hair, forcing your head to tilt back.

“Open your mouth now.”

“Why?”

Jake gave you a stern look. “Trust Me. Open. Now. “

Sitting in front of him, you watched in amusement as he took a sip of the amber liquid. Making eye contact with you one more time, he leaned forward and spit the liquid directly in your mouth.

“Swallow.”

Starting to gag a little on the taste, Jake chuckled. “Princess, that wasn’t even a lot to swallow, we’re really going to have to work on that, aren’t we?” After watching you swallow he grabbed your jaw, “Ready for more?”

Nodding your head wasn’t going to work–Jake had you in a grip that wouldn’t allow you to move. “Yes, Daddy.”

“Good Girl. Now open up for me again.”

Per his request you opened it up again. “Wider princess. C’mon. My cock wont fit in that tiny little opening.”

Fuck. You were drooling for him. Jake didn’t come this far with you to not have you put your mouth on his throbbing cock.

“That’s my good girl. You’re listening to Daddy so good.” Jake looked like he was debating on doing something. After a moment of contemplating, you watched in fascination :as a solid string of spit left his mouth and fell on your tongue. He dipped his fingers back into your mouth and spread the fluid all around your mouth.

“Don’t close your mouth yet, it’s not wet enough” He spit back into your mouth with a firm: “Don’t you dare swallow.” You didn’t want to disobey him, you wanted to do everything that he said, word for word.

“Good Girl, keep your mouth open, we’re not done yet.” Jake then directed your head towards his cock.

You caught a second glimpse at it and just had to admire it. It was long, thick and had the perfect pink tint. His mushroom tip leaking precum- begging to be tasted. Jake didn’t stop until his cock was right in front of your mouth, with a hand wrapped around his base, he gently eased it in. He kept going until he hit that little sweet spot in the back of your throat that makes you gag. Jake finally let out a groan as he felt you wrap your lips around him.

The groan that Jake left out was unholy. It sent a shock all the way down to your core. Once your mouth got used to the feeling of his cock stretching you out, you slowly started to bob your head up and down. In need of a breather, you released Jake out of your mouth with a solid ‘pop’. After sitting back for a couple of seconds, you dropped a thick bead of spit on his head, while using your left hand in a twisting motion, staring at Jake’s face. You started at the base and worked your way to his tip, getting a good feel of every single little detail of his throbbing cock. From how thick it was, how you needed to use two hands, and last but not least, the way he would twitch when you touched the underside of his head right where a prominent vein is. His mouth was opened in pure bliss while he was looking down his nose at you. God, you wished you could see Jake like this everyday.

He had had enough of your admiration and was starting to yearn for the feeling of your mouth again. Jake ran his fingers through your hair again and yanked you upwards. Chest to chest; forehead to forehead. Feverishly, your neck was whipped to the side and you felt the presence of hot air hitting your ear.

“I think that's enough princess. My cock is missing your mouth already. Show it how much you love it. I want you to suck me dry, I want to cum in the back of your throat and I’m not stopping until I do. Do you understand?”

Not wanting to waste anymore time, you quickly nodded and tried to free your hair out of his grip. Jake didn’t budge. “Do you understand?” You nodded again.

Jake wasn’t taking that as a response. “I need a verbal answer princess, before we go any further”. Locking eyes with him you said, “Yes Daddy. I want to make you feel good.”

With a quick groan, Jake let go of your hair and pushed you back down so your face was right at his cock. You wanted to be a good girl for Jake, hell, you wanted nothing more in life than to hear those filthy noises coming out of his mouth. Taking his cock into your hand again, you sunk your mouth onto him slowly. Taking him inch by inch. As much as Jake wanted you to go fast, you were going to take your time. You wanted to work his cock like your life depended on it, after all, it did. You were taking your time with him, as he was filling your throat back up, you kept swallowing around every inch. Once your plump lips reached the bottom of his cock, tears started to form in your eyes. Jake could sense that you wanted to move your mouth off of him again, so he put his hand on the nape of your neck holding you there.

Looking up at Jake through your tears, you saw him smirking. “Oh, is my baby starting to gag on Daddy’s cock? You want to take it out for a second?” You moaned around him. The vibration from that alone had Jake ready to shoot his cum down the back of your throat, he just had to hold on for a little bit longer.

“That's too bad princess. You’re going to keep my cock in your mouth for as long as I want. Here let me move your hair out of the way.”

Doing as he said, Jake took the elastic band that he keeps around his middle finger and moved all your hair back. Jake wanted to enjoy the show, he wanted to see all of you, trying to take every inch of him. But those watering eyes were doing something to him, your eyes looked so clear and filled with lust. Grabbing the base of your ponytail, he decided to start moving your head up and down. The sound of you gurgling around his cock was deafening. While Jake was busy with not trying to blow his load prematurely, you successfully snuck your hand down into your underwear in search of some type of relief.

You dove your fingers through your folds hoping to gather some moisture. When you finally gathered enough, you reached up to circle your clit a couple of times. Silly you for thinking that you could get away with doing this in front of Jake Kiszka. After the third swirl on your clit he noticed that your moans were starting to change octaves. He quickly opened his eyes and realized what you were doing. He snatched your hand out of your underwear in an instant.

“I don’t think so princess, this is about me getting off tonight not you,” Jake growled out.

You looked back up at Jake with tear glossed eyes. This only made Jake yearn for you even more. You pulled your hand gently out of his grip and cupped his balls lightly. With a slight movement of your fingers, you felt him start to twitch. “C’mon baby, just like that,” he sputtered out as he started to feel the pleasure really begin to take over his body. Moving your head wasn’t enough for Jake.

Holding your head steady, he started bucking his hips off the couch. With every buck your nose was touching his pelvic bone; breathing in the woodsy smell of this man deeply. The more you tried to move your head back the more force would be pushed onto the back of your head to keep you still. Jake could feel your throat start to tighten up and try to push him out.

“Keep that throat relaxed for Daddy baby. He’s almost there.”

The mixed noises of your gags and the praises that Jake kept slipping out were taking over the atmosphere. You could tell that he was close to his peak. His thrusts were becoming sloppy, the sweat was starting to roll off his torso and drip down to his pelvic area. Jake’s breath was becoming unsteady, every other moan kept getting hitched in the back of his throat. You went into overdrive at the mere thought of his release coming, with every thrust towards the back of your throat, you were sticking your tongue out in search for his balls when you reach the base.

Jake finally felt the tip of your tongue grazing that soft spot on top of his balls. A deep guttural moan spilled out of him. “C’mon princess, just a little bit longer. Daddy’s gonna give you his special little treat.”

As soon as those words fell from Jake's lips, you hollowed your cheeks as much as you could and put all your effort into just breathing in Jake. Placing your hands on both thighs, you let him take full control over your mouth. You could tell that Jake was ready to come any second, the tip of his cock kept swelling up in size. Jake was in a frenzy he couldn't stop. The thing that pushed him over the edge was you looking up at him one last time. He pushed himself all the way into the back of your throat, let out a loud groan and emptied his load down your throat.

“Stay right there Princess. Don’t swallow yet. I’m going to take myself out of your mouth now, I want to see it in there.”

Jake slowly slid his cock out of your mouth. Looking down at you to make sure that you were listening to him and not swallowing anything. He pulled you up to his height with a single hand around your throat.

“Open up princess, let me see.”

As you slowly opened your mouth, Jake slid two of his fingers in there and pulled them out. He was mesmerized looking at the cum threading through his fingers.

“Look up at me” he jerked your head up with a hand under your chin. “Now you can swallow,” he closed your mouth with the force of two fingers pushing your jaw up. Jake beamed at you as he watched your throat move up and down, proving to him how much of a good girl you can be for him.

Jake took your hand and led the way to his bedroom. He finally found his own little sugar baby, there was no way that he was going to let you get away that easy.

“Hey Jake?” you spoke up.

“You okay? What's up?” He turned around to face you.

“Nothing, I just wanted to know if I could use the bathroom?”

Jake gave a jerk of his head towards the door on the right, without speaking another word you headed in that direction. After opening the door, you startled yourself. Looking at the reflection in the mirror you couldn’t recognize yourself. Mascara was running down your cheeks, lips swollen and your hair looked crazy. Jake was kind enough to move it back from your face, but he seemed to pull out over half of it when he was holding you down to his pelvis area. Fuck, these knots are going to be a bitch to get out. Running your fingers through your hair, you peeked into the bedroom once again in search of Jake. With no luck you called out for him. He came out of his closet with a pair of sweats and an oversized t-shirt.

“Here. Change into these, it’s late. Taylor will drive you home in the morning.” Glancing from the clothes in his hands back up to his face you didn’t quite understand.

“What are these for?” Jake looked a little bit taken back at your comment.

“Like I said, change into them. There’s makeup wipes in the one drawer. You don’t have to stay here. You can stay in the guest room if you want. Once again, it’s late. Taylor will drive you home in the morning.”

At this point Jake was shoving the clothes into your hands, he didn’t give you any room to protest. Once you closed the door you slid down it and just kept thinking to yourself.

What The Fuck Did I Just Get Myself Into.

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