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remi-thirsts · 2 months

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𝐂𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐂𝐓 !

pairing: gojo, geto, nanami, choso, and toji x fem!reader (separate) summary: when you catch them with a suggestive piece of clothing from your wardrobe... content: kinda suggestive, established relationships, toji has no shame at all, allusions to sexual themes, jerking off, pillow humping(?), roommates to lovers (for geto's) pet names, cursing. lmk if I missed anything. wc: 2.5k

♡ 𝐒. 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎

The house was awfully quiet when you arrived home with your shopping bags in hand. "Satoru?" You call out setting all of your stuff down. Nothing. No over dramatic gasps, no 'babyyyyyy you're back!!!!!!" Absolutely nothing.

Satoru hadn't told you he was going anywhere, had he? Sometimes the man talks so much that you drown out his voice, so you can focus on whatever you need to get done. Which means you could have missed something.

Or maybe he's asleep? Only, Satoru doesn't nap if it isn't with you. So... where could he be?

Before going deeper into your home, you remove your shoes and place them neatly on the wobbly shoe rack he built. He insisted he could build anything, when he'd never even picked up a screwdriver in his life. That's kind of what happens when you belong to a wealthy family, but you didn't want to hurt his pride, so you let him build it.

You tread quietly toward your bedroom in hopes of finding him there. The door is cracked open suspiciously, with caution you slowly push the door open, "Satoru are you- uhhh what are you doing?"

The man in question tenses up when he hears your voice. As if you hadn't seen him he hides your lace panties behind his back.

"I was uh," He does that little coughing thing to make him look less suspicious, but if anything it makes him even more suspicious .

"You were 'uh' what?" Satoru thinks you look like a mother scolding a child the way you stand with your hands on your hips.

"I- I was hah- are you really gonna make me say it, baby?" He looks so red, cute.

"Yeah, go ahead and tell me what you were doing snooping through my underwear drawer." He sighs, but it's soon replaced with a sneaky smile.

"Ineedednewjerkmaterial." He says all jumbled up and quietly.

"Speak up, 'Toru." A whine leaves his lips. What a little baby he is.

"I needed something to help me when I think about you while jerking off." He spoke clearly this time, so you stop teasing him.

"Well you can't use those ones, 'cuz those are my favorites. Let me find you a different pair." He's in shock the whole time while watching you dig through the dresser.

"Really? You're just gonna give me a pair?"

"Why not? All you had to do was ask. I'm sure you'll buy me more anyway, knowing you." He snorts at that. It's true, Satoru likes to buy you anything and everything, sexy underwear is no exception.

♡ 𝐒. 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎

You've noticed that some of your favorite bras have gone missing since you asked your roommate, Geto, to do your laundry when you get too busy. It was a little suspicious when he seemed more than happy to do your laundry, but who were you to think anything of it when he was making one less chore for you?

Sweet, little, and innocent you, didn't suspect that Geto could be the one stealing your bras, though. He's too much of a gentleman, you think. He always opens doors for you, lets you use the bathroom before he does, and when you aren't up to make something, he'll cook you dinner.

He's a picture perfect roommate so there's no way he could be the one. You'll still ask him his opinion on the matter though, because your bras are not cheap, and if they keep going missing you'll have to buy more.

It's Wednesday, which is the day Geto usually washes your laundry for you. There is a very important job interview you have to leave for in ten minutes so you rush to get your hamper to him.

"Suguru- I um I need your help with something." Geto cannot help but stare you down. You're dressed in a black blazer with a white dress shirt underneath, and a pencil skirt that should reach around to your knees, but because you had bend down earlier to pick something up, the skirt hiked up just a little bit.

"What's up, princess?" The first time he had called you 'princess' you just about had a meltdown. He told you not to think too much of it, it was just a nickname.

The smell of his lotion fills your nostrils and his hair is still wet from his shower. There's also no shirt covering his perfectly built body.

"Well.. uh. Some of my bras are going missing. Can you keep an eye out to make sure there's no pervert at the laundromat stealing my bras?" A chuckle almost leaves his throat. You are too cute for him, of course you wouldn't blame him for the disappearance of your bras.

"Of course, I'll keep watch." Since you are running short on time you give him a tight lipped smile and quickly make a run out of your apartment.

"Cute." Slips from his lips, although no one hears it.

-------

There's hope. The interview had seemed to go great, the woman interviewing you said she'd give you a call letting you know if you got the job or not.

To celebrate the potential job, you bought yourself a pint of ice cream on the way home.

When you unlocked the door you didn't even announce yourself, assuming he might have been out or napping.

Before going to your room, you grab a spoon from the kitchen in order to eat the deliciously sweet treat you bought for yourself.

Your room was at the end of the hallway so you would have to pass Geto's room to get to yours. As you walk past his room, you almost drop your spoon in shock when you hear your supposed goody two shoes roommate moan out your name.

A series of grunts and 'fucks' leave his lips after the sudden call of your name. Curiosity killed the cat, huh? Well you don't care enough to let that stop you. It's rude not to knock but when Geto's calling out your name like that you think you have plenty of reason to barge in.

"Suguru what are you-" You should have just went to your room. The sight you walked in on had you dropping your ice cream and spoon on the floor. Geto is not as innocent as you thought he was, not when he's got your favorite laced bra attached to his pillow while he fucks it like they're your tits.

You would think he'd have the decency to stop when you caught him, but you catching him only made him speed up, his hips snapping at an extraordinary pace.

"Fuck, princess. Didn't want you to find out like this. Shit- need your tits so bad." He cums with no shame over the part of the pillow that would be the crevice of your breasts.

You can't even be mad at him, it's hot, but you'll still give him a peace of your mind.

"Suguru! That's- that's my bra! And you- gosh you are so perverted!!!! I never would have thought-" It takes him a minute, but when he comes down from his high, he apologizes sincerely for taking your bras.

And now that you know he wants you just as much as you want him, you indulge in his fantasies of fucking your pretty tits.

♡ 𝐊. 𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈

He was going on a business trip for a few weeks and took a pair or two with him so he wouldn't have to bother you.

It doesn't even register that any are missing either, because he picks the pairs that you don't care too much about. They don't have to be sexy, Nanami loves anything you wear.

The only reason he does get caught is because he allows it to happen.

It's the second week, day two of his business trip and he decided to have a drink with his coworker, which he never does, but he misses you and a drink would help, even if only for a little while.

Nanami's toleration is high, so one drink turns into seven and he starts to feel the effects around the 8th one, which his coworker cuts him off after that.

"Dude, that's a lot, even for you." He says to Nanami, which he has to agree with, but his drunk mind doesn't want to.

"'s not nearly the 'mount I drink when 'm at home." His coworker chuckles and pays his tab along with Nanami's. (nanami will pay him back in the morning when he's in his right mind)

Said coworker drops him off at his hotel room and makes sure he gets in okay, he also reminds him to, "Call your wife, she might get worried if she doesn't hear from you."

He will. He'll call you as soon as this boner goes away... just thinking about you along with the alcohol in his body has him hard.

He stumbles through his suit case looking for the panties he'd packed in there. A smile graces his face when he finds them, they aren't cute, at all by any means.

He chose them not because they're sexy but because they're just normal, meaning you wear them a lot more often.

His steps are heavy as he about marches to the bed he's been sleeping in for the past two weeks. His conscious starts screaming at him not to jerk off with your panties but in the end, his dick wins.

-------

It's about 11:43 pm when you receive a face time call from your husband. He called you earlier, telling you about his day, so you find it a little unusual for him to be calling at this hour.

When you slide the accept button, you're met with your husband's dick and your panties covering his tip. For a second your eyes widen trying to register what exactly is going on, once you do, arousal pools in your gut.

"What's this honey?" He strokes his dick faster when he hears your voice.

"Keep talking, pretty." He's completely gone, you notice. His cheeks flushed a pretty pink and his eyes rolled back.

"I see you have my panties, what's that about?" A low groan leaves his throat but it's cut off by his words.

"Knew I would miss you. Packed them in my suitcase." The chances of him remembering any of this in the morning was low. Nanami usually has a hard time remembering anything from when he was drunk.

So, being the tease you are, you take a screenshot of him in this state.

"Fuck fuck fuck, gonna cum, please keep talking, Honey." You do as he wishes, saying random little things to help him reach his orgasm. It happens so fast and he's got you rubbing yourself through your shorts.

"You still with me baby?" You ask after he goes quiet for a few seconds. It doesn't take a genius to realize that he was knocked out.

You

[image attached] pervert 😊 sent 11:58 pm

My love 💖

I'm not going to drink anymore on this trip. sent 7:39 am

You

You should, it's hot when I get phone calls from my needy husband 😝 sent 7:40 am

♡ 𝐂. 𝐊𝐀𝐌𝐎

He can't hide it. In fact, he gets caught before he even makes it anywhere with them.

Last night was another night shift so you got home at the dawn hours of the night. A shower and a hot pocket later you were in bed. You made the assumption that Choso had gone out to see his brother, since you didn't see him anywhere in the apartment.

The sound of rustling around awakes you from your sleep.

"Cho? Is that you, baby?" It didn't sound concerned or anything, just a sleepy mumble.

"Oh uh- yes. Hi, good morning." His words are rushed like a kid who's trying not to get into trouble for something they did.

Your pretty eyes peek open to see Choso digging through your drawer for something.

"What are you looking for, babe?" He starts to stutter and try to come up with something you'll believe.

"You were picking out a shirt for me in my bra drawer?" His cheeks turn a bright red as he tries to explain himself.

"It's not what you think-! Okay it is what you think... but I haven't been seeing you much, since you always work late so I wanted to take one of your bras..." He's so cute. Gosh how could you not give him one.

"Okay, pick one out and I'll tell you if you can take it or not. You have to bring it back later though, it's not for you to keep.

He shakes his head furiously fast like a bobble head, and you can't help but laugh.

Choso is the most adorable thing to walk this earth.

♡ 𝐓. 𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎

He doesn't even try to hide it, AT ALL. Today was the day of your once a week girls night with your friends. It was usually just some karaoke and dinner and on the occasion; shopping.

Instead of the usual your girls had taken you partying at a club. It was fun to dance around with your friends and scream song lyrics while being slightly intoxicated. Luckily, you aren't the designated driver.

When you had clumsily slipped your shoes off in your drunken stupor you realized that it was quiet in the house.

Too quiet, even for your husband. Toji's definitely up to something, because he'd usually be waiting on the couch for you to return home, and he's not.

"Oh baby~" It's slurred tremendously but you still get it out. Silence returns your call, so you take it upon yourself to find him.

The first and most obvious place to look is the bedroom; you'll start there and keep going. The door was closed but you could still hear him. Upon contrary belief Toji is loud during sex. He probably couldn't shut up to save his life.

His loud groans and moans start to cut off meaning he must be close. Is he watching a video he's recorded of you? Potentially.

Most would probably leave their boyfriend alone to finish so he doesn't get embarrassed, but this Toji Fushiguro we are talking about; he does not care.

You slowly pull the door open only to find out that your husband is not in fact watching a video, but getting off to your panties around his dick.

"Tojiiii, without me?" It doesn't even click that he's using your underwear at the moment.

"Fuck- I thought you weren't gonna be back until-" You must have shocked the shit out of him, because he stops touching himself to check his phone.

"Oh. You're home on time." He throws his phone down onto the bed and sighs.

"Waita' minute," It finally registers that those are your panties he's jerking off too.

"Toji, why do you have my panties? Pervert." And to nobody's surprise, Toji gets off to that kind of stuff. He likes when you call him out.

"Hah- shit. Don't ask such stupid questions... are you gonna come over here and help me finish?" A little smirk covers your face as you walk over to the bed.

©𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐈-𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓𝐒 All works are written by me! Please do not copy, translate, or upload onto other sites thanks!

note: lmaoooo geto's got a little bit out of control

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nubisaureus · 1 year

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when you wear their jersey

how the haikyuu boys react when you wear their volleyball jersey

character(s): Oikawa, Tsukishima, Kuroo

pairing(s): fem!reader x timeskip!Oikawa, Tsukishima, Kuroo (separately)

contents: very suggestive language, nakedness, taunting, established relationship, shared house, implied marriage proposal

a/n: not proofread! I am currently sick so apologies if it's not that good but it's been such a long time since I had written about the haikyuu boys T^T

─────────────✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰ ───────────

Oikawa

(a/n I'm completely whipped for this fucker, I literally can't stop writing about him sdjkaskddks)

It had absolutely been a dream of yours to wear his jersey, ever since you two had started dating, so one time before a match you snatched it from his closet, and showed up at the game wearing it.

As he scored his first point, his eyes instinctively scanned the crowd, looking for your face. As he finally detected you, he was surprised to see what you were wearing, but ultimately smiled brightly, giving you a meaningful and eloquent look.

You gave him an innocent one, casually tying it in a knot, revealing your abdomen to him. His smile quickly turned into a grin, and you gave him a naughty smile.

Maybe it was just your impression, but during the rest of the game you noticed he was ever so slightly faster, more powerful and precise

Who would've thought wearing his jersey would've riled him up so much?

After the match, you two went home, but not before Tooru having to deal with a very feisty army of girls that were desperate for his attention.

Some of them did have his jersey as well, but it couldn't even compare to yours: it had Tooru's smell on it.

«So..someone wanted to show off today, huh?» he started, hooking a finger under the knot you had made, pulling you closer to him.

You looked at him through your lashes, faking an innocent attitude.

«I have no idea what you're talking about..I just liked this random t-shirt..» you faked even more, playing dumb.

He smirked, leaning into your charade.

«Oh, so if it's just a random t-shirt, then you wouldn't mind taking it off, right..?»

You panicked a bit, not wanting to take it off.

«To be honest, I'd like to keep it, thank you very much.»

«Oh, so you want to keep it on while I fuck you senseless?»

Tsukishima

You decided to wear his volleyball jersey to bed. It was just a random choice really, but when he came home later that night, you were met with his arched brows.

«Interesting choice of night outfit.» he commented, putting his duffel bag down, and slowly undressing, basically getting ready to shower.

You looked at him, your insides burning at the way he nonchalantly remained naked before you, except for his boxers.

«I hope for your sake that you're not wearing anything under it.»

And you weren't. You were feeling naughty that night, and besides, his jersey was so big compared to your body, that it was enough to cover up to halfway of your thigh anyway.

«Why don't you find out for yourself, Tsukki?» you taunted him, lightly stretching, making the hem of the skirt slide up, almost revealing your intimate parts.

He gave you an intense look. Even through his glasses, you could feel the intensity of his lust, and you were going to rile him up even more.

You beckoned for him to get closer, and he did, leaning his weight on the bed.

Your body was halfway covered by the bed sheets, but it didn't last long: he slid them down, and grabbed you by the ankles, making you slide all the way towards him, since you were so short compared to him (a/n who isn't though? boi is fucking 1.90 m, ffs).

The motion made the jersey slide all the way to your waist, revealing your lack of underwear.

«Would you look at that. Exposed, aren't we?» he taunted you, fingers trailing your thigh, making you shiver.

Maybe you would've worn his jersey more often, after all.

Kuroo

You wanted to surprise him a bit, so you decided to dig in the closet for his high school jersey.

«Found it.» and you put it on, finding out the Nekoma color scheme complimented your features quite well. What a nice added bonus.

As he came home from work, he found you casually working from home in his high school jersey and jeans, making your silhouette look phenomenal.

«Do my eyes deceive me, or are you wearing my high school jersey?» he asked, not sure whether to be confused or flattered, but then the latter option won.

He set the briefcase on the table, coming to you to hug you from behind.

«So?» he urged, wanting to know.

«I don't know, I just wanted to surprise you I guess? And having your surname on my back kinda feels nice too..»

«Oh?» you blushed, not sure how you had managed to actually say it out loud.

«Forget I said anything, I just don't know what got into me.» you swiftly take it back, but you can feel his smile on your neck, as he kisses the crook of it, in a sign of affection.

«Well, if you want my surname so badly, how cruel of me would it be to deny your request, my dear?» and you felt him take something out of his pocket.

You ended up crying of joy that night.

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marlynnofmany · 1 year

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Schrödinger’s Poison

Mending the spaceship’s extra cargo net was difficult. Too many strands. I held a couple in my teeth while both hands struggled with the rest, and it wasn't enough. I was considering getting my feet involved (or maybe a crewmate) when I heard excited voices in the hallway.

“Welcome back! Find anything good?”

“Yes! I met someone who wanted the expired heatpacks!”

“What, seriously?”

“You owe me a shrimp stick. Pay up.”

Good-natured grumbling followed. I was pretty sure these were the Frillian twins, who looked like fishy bodybuilders with a fashion sense that always caught me off guard. Either drapey veils and skirts, matching their own flowy fins, or strategically placed stretchy bands. No middle ground. And they were very competitive.

“What did they even want with old heatpacks? You told them they were expired, right?”

“Of course I did! You think I would cheat like that?”

The indignant one was Blip, I was pretty sure, the female of the pair — or the closest thing to female, since their species seemed to handle gender a little differently than humans did. Her brother was Blop.

“Ah, ‘course not,” he admitted. “What are they going to use them for, though?”

“Something about separating the components and putting them to other uses. But look what I got in trade! Human food that’s not expired!”

I looked up at that, mouth still full of cords, but of course the cargo bay door blocked my view. I listened, though.

“What kind is — OH, GET IT AWAY!”

“What? Why?”

I froze, just as curious.

“Do you know how many humans that stuff kills every cycle??”

“What are you talking about?” Blip demanded. “It’s food. It says so right here.”

“Don’t touch me with it! Put it in the containment chamber and get yourself scanned for poison!”

I wove quickly, rushing to finish so I didn’t lose my place; we needed all the nets, and we hadn’t been able to get a new one at the space station; this was important; but Oh man, what do they have out there?

“Humans are omnivores who eat anything! How is this deadly?” Blip was demanding when a new voice arrived.

“What’s the shouting?” asked Paint, her usual cheer dampened by worry. I could just picture her with hands clasped anxiously and her scaly tail held stiff: the very picture of lizardlike concern.

“That’s poison!”

“It’s food!”

“Poisonous food!”

Any hope I had of Paint calming things down was dashed when she asked for a closer look, then slammed into the cargo bay door in her panic to jump back. “I’ve heard of that! It killed an ambassador!”

“See? I told you—”

“We need to get you both scanned, and maybe me too,” Paint said, hyperventilating already. “Maybe the whole ship! Is it airborne? CAPTAIN! CAPTAAAIN!”

I threw the net to the floor and lunged for the door button. It banged open and startled Paint even more; she spun from where she’d been about to dash off in a streak of orange scales.

“What is it?” I demanded, making the pair of Frillians back up a step. I probably looked like some unhinged demon, slamming out of the bay like that. They were both wearing veritable clouds of neon green silks, so the surprise was at least a little bit mutual.

Blip held a jar over her shoulder, clearly torn between showing me the label and keeping it at a safe distance. I squinted, expecting alcohol or some unregulated drug.

Spaceman Spiff’s Chunky Peanut Butter, said the label.

I stared for a long moment, while everyone was silent. Then I’m afraid I startled them all by bursting into laughter.

“It’s not poisonous!” I managed to say.

“But it killed an ambassador!” Paint objected. “I read the report!”

“I am sorry to hear that,” I said, leaning against the wall for support. “The ambassador was allergic to peanuts.”

It took a bit of explaining, and I had to go over it all again when Captain Sunlight came running up, but I did get things settled.

“I can’t believe there are humans allergic to food,” Blip said. “I’ve heard of overreactions to mild toxins and venoms, but really, food? From your own planet?”

“Yup,” I said, putting out a hand for the peanut butter. “Not me, though. I like peanuts.” The jar was a hefty one, manufactured for long voyages. “We can still scan it to run through the medical systems, just in case one of you guys might react badly to it. But it’s not officially toxic.”

“Well, that is good to hear,” said Captain Sunlight, standing as tall as her little lizardy frame allowed. “How about you do that now, and anyone who came in contact with it goes along?”

Blip and Blop agreed immediately, not needing Paint’s waving hands to usher us down the hall.

I looked over my shoulder at Paint as I walked. “Once we get everybody checked out, you should try some. It’s good on toast.”

“Toasted what?” Paint asked, still shooing away.

“Bread.”

“Oh no,” she said. “I heard about that ‘pizza’ you talked people into eating on Kamm’s ship!”

“Some of them liked it!” I objected.

“Not Bopburt.”

“No, not Bopburt,” I admitted. “But this is totally different. Thanks for getting it, Blip!” I turned to wave the jar at the Frillian in the lead.

“My pleasure,” she said, and it almost sounded like she meant it.

“Want to try some once it’s safe?”

“No, I do not.”

“Your loss.”

~~~

The ongoing adventures of backstory for this book! More to come.

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chooseyourownavenger · 2 years

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[START] [ABOUT AND WARNINGS] [FAQ]

IRONHAWK/ Try going public.

You sigh and snuggle in between them both. “I guess - yeah. Let’s try going public properly. It’s worth a shot. If it gets worse and I can’t take it, at least we know we tried everything we could.”

Clint smiles and nuzzles into your neck. “You’ll see. It’ll be great.”

“How will we do it?” you ask.

“I don’t like the idea of doing a press release,” Tony answers. “Maybe instead we can just go out together. That thing is coming up in a couple of weeks. I know we were going to go separately. So how about we just all go in together?”

You nod and pull both Tony and Clint’s arms around you. “That sounds perfect,” you agree.

The next few weeks go by in a bit of a blur. It’s similar to the time you attended a gala as Tony’s date. You find a dress and have it tailored to fit perfectly. You see a stylist and you are waxed and plucked and polished until you barely even recognize yourself. However, this time it feels like there is more at stake. Before you were just being arm candy, it didn’t matter what other people said about you - you were just another in a string of women Tony Stark was seen with once and then never again. This time it did matter to you. This time you’re making a statement. These are the people I’ve chosen to spend my life with and you all need to accept it. This time if they didn’t and things got nasty - it would mean the end of your relationship.

It means you’re much pickier choosing your dress and jewelry. You want something that speaks to your connection to both of them.

You find a dress in silk-lamé. It has an embroidered corset in iridescent reds and purples. There’s an overlay of soft metallic blue fabric that drapes from one shoulder, cinches at your waist, and then cascades down to a split floor-length skirt. The blue fabric falls behind you at the shoulder like a cape, and drapes of red and purple lamé spill from the slit at the side. It’s adorned with fine crystals, so that teamed with the metallic shine of the fabric it shimmers like the night sky. You wear an arrowhead around your neck that glows in a blue that matches Tony’s arc reactor, and a thick gold bracelet with a round-cut blue tourmaline set into it.

They’re both wearing tuxedos, though Tony’s seems to fit better and he looks much more at home in it. Clint has paired his with a white shirt and a bowtie in a very dark shade of grape. Tony is wearing head-to-toe black. Black tuxedo, black shirt, black satin tie.

You, Tony, and Clint take a stretch limo together. It’s a little unexpected but you can’t help but enjoy yourself as you stretch out in the back with your two men.

Tony grabs a bottle of champagne. “Alright you two, we’re celebrating. And maybe with all this space, we can celebrate in multiple ways too.”

“Well,” you say as he pops the bottle open and pours the glasses. “Let’s see how we go first.”

He smirks and quirks his eyebrows at you. “Then here’s to everyone just accepting that what we have is none of their business,” Tony toasts, raising his glass.

You and Clint raise your glasses together. “Here, here,” Clint cheers.

You haven’t even finished your drink when the car begins to pull up to the red carpet. “Last chance to change your mind,” Tony says.

“Nope. I’m all in,” you say.

“Me too,” Clint agrees.

Tony gets out of the car first and right away the cameras start going off and people start calling his name. He turns to help you out of the car which increases the interest a little, with people calling out for the two of you to pose together. Only you turn again and take Clint’s hand. Clint takes it, kissing your cheek when he gets out and then taking Tony’s hand and pulling him in for a quick but heated kiss.

The press goes crazy. It’s like every single other person on the red carpet is immediately forgotten about as they swarm to the edge of the barriers, screaming out to Tony.

“You’d think I wasn’t an Avenger too,” Clint complains.

Tony pats him on the back. “You’ll be A-list now, bird boy.”

The three of you begin walking up the red carpet together, posing for photos as the press calls out questions, none of which you could make out.

“Okay, let’s stop and answer some questions from one person,” Tony says. “Make sure they know for sure that the three of us are together.”

He guides you both over to a reporter from the Bugle who looks like they’re about to vibrate into a parallel universe, they look so excited. “Tony, I see you have two dates,” she says.

“I do,” Tony answers. “I think you recognize them both. We thought that the Clean Ocean Coalition was a good cause to get behind.”

“It is a great cause,” the reporter agrees quickly, obviously wanting to move away from the cause and back to the triad in front of her. “How long have the three of you been an item?”

“It’s been a while,” Tony says and ruffles the back of Clint’s hair as he pulls you closer. “They look good tonight don’t they?”

“You all do,” she agrees. “Should we expect to see more of you together?”

“I’d say so,” Clint answers, tugging you and Tony away much to the reporter's chagrin.

“That’ll do, I think,” Clint says. “Don’t want to give away too many details.”

Tony laughs. “Alright, alright. Let's go make money for clean oceans then.”

The event is a success if not a little stressful. No one comes out and says anything negative to you, but you know all eyes are on the three of you, and you catch people whispering behind their hands to each other regularly. The people who speak with you either just congratulate the three of you on the relationship or ask how the three of you got together.

You go home exhausted and anxious to see the reaction on social media.

Because you all share the same anxiety, you wake early. Tony is already up and on his phone when you and Clint start stretching beside him.

“Lots of backlash?” Clint asks as he reaches over and grabs his hearing aids.

Tony grins at you both but waits patiently for Clint to get his hearing aids in before he speaks. “You’re not going to believe this,” he says. “People are almost overwhelmingly loving it.”

“What?” you say in disbelief, as you grab your phone.

“Seriously,” Tony says. “I mean; yes there are the typical tight-ass republican assholes who always think what I do with my dick is their business, but they’re being drowned out by people being excited about seeing the representation of polyamory by a famous family and people loving that Clint and I are finally out as bi,” Tony says. “There’s a bunch of just ‘good for them, that’s not our business,’ but seriously - honey-” he nudges you “- most overwhelmingly everyone is saying congrats girl, get it.”

You open up Twitter to see your mentions have completely blown up. There are the haters you expect, but most of your mentions are just people talking about how lucky you are or how learning about an Avengers polycule was the highlight of the year.

You turn and grin at both men, and they both wear the same excited expression you have. “I can’t believe it,” you say as tears prick your eyes. “I can’t believe they all switched like that.”

“I told you so,” Clint says. “People like this kind of shit these days.” He looks up at you like a little puppy. “You’re gonna stay with us, right?”

“Yeah,” you agree. “You’re both stuck with me.”

Tony and Clint pull you in close, and you relax in between them, excited for the life you are about to lead with them.

~ END ~

5 notes · View notes

vngelis · 3 years

Text

You're going to play now - Shigaraki Tomura

Pairing: Shigaraki Tomura x fem!Reader

Summary: Quirkless!AU. Your boyfriend will give you the attention you want but don't you dare lose his progress in his game.

Content warnings: NSFW. Minors DNI. Fingering. Edging. Praise kink. Pet used as a pet name. OOC Shiggy.

A/N: I wanted this to be slight praise kink but no lo logré lol, sorry for the extremely ooc Shiggy that I created. Also my brain stopped working and forgot how English works so the writing is probably trash.

WC: 2.1k+

Masterlist

You look up from your phone and see the same you’ve been seeing for the past three hours; Your boyfriend sitting in front of the screen of his computer playing that stupid war game. You sigh. You were absolutely bored.

“I’m bored.” You say, with the hope that he will give you attention now.

“Yeah.” Was his only answer. You sigh again.

You let your phone fall in his bed, where you were laying and push yourself up, stretching your back and arms and letting out a satisfied moan, Shigaraki didn’t hear or he just didn’t care, the later was most likely. You started walking in his room, observing the few things he had. A couple of action figures in his shelves, one poster so old that it looked like a blank paper, some clothes in the floor and a mirror. You paused in front of the mirror and looked at yourself. Today you had put a little more effort in your appearance, with the hope that that guy who was ignoring you paid you a little attention.

You brushed your hair with your fingers and huffed, letting your arms fall at your sides.

You looked at him and walked the four steps it took you to stand behind his chair and made eye contact with the back of his head for five second before taking a hold of his hair and pulling it so his head was inclined against the head rest. He locked eyes with you with an annoyed expression on his face.

The both of you opened your mouth to say something but were interrupted by some shooting sounds and a change of colors in the computer screen.

A banner that said “you were killed” appeared in the middle of the screen.

“I was going for a flawless victory, pet.” He said with such a monotonous voice that it made you shudder a little.

“Sorry.” You said. He rolled his eyes and tried to look at the screen again to continue his game, but you pulled at his hair again. He groaned annoyed.

“What?” He asked harshly.

“I’m bored.” You repeated your sentence from minutes ago. He rolled his eyes and sighed, after looking at you for like ten seconds he sighed one more time before pulling his chair back. You smiled, thinking he was going to stand up and finally spend time with you, but he just took your hand that was still on his hair and pulled you until you were standing in front of him but facing the screen. All this while muttering something along the lines of “So fucking annoying.”

“What ar-“ You were interrupted as his hands on your waist pushed you down into his lap.

“Grab this.” He handed you the joystick and started pointing at some buttons. “This one is to aim, this one to shoot. This one right here is to move and this one is to recharge.”

“What do you m–” You tried to say again, but your boyfriend interrupted you once more.

“You’re going to play.” He said, with a firm voice.

“Oh...okay?” You pressed the button to resume the game and slowly and insecurely started moving where you thought you had to.

“You’re going the other way.”

“Shit, sorry”. You chuckled nervously and started to move the other way.

“You better not lose.” He said lowly as his thumbs stroked your waist. “Or I'll be really pissed.” You gulped.

As soon as he finished speaking someone started shooting your way. You clumsily aimed where you thought the shots were coming from, when you spotted an opponent you pressed the bottom without thinking.

Headshot.

“Oh my god, look!” You squealed happily. His hands in your waist gave a short squeezed before descending to your hips, where they squeezed again. He leaned his head against your shoulder to have a better view.

“Good girl.” He praised softly in your ear, making your face heat up. “You better not lose.” He repeated as his hands went even lower, reaching your thighs and going under your skirt.

“Sh–Shiggy.” You muttered nervously, looking down at his hands. He pinched your thigh lightly, just enough to keep you looking up.

“Eyes on the screen.” He said firmly, returning his hand under your skirt. ''You wanted my attention, now you have it. Don’t lose.”

You looked up and continue to roam the area, searching for other opponents. Hard task with his hands slowly approaching your panties tho.

Not long after, you noticed someone looking away from you. You aimed and shot, this time it took you two shots, but you managed to kill them anyway.

“You’re really good at this.” He murmured, kissing your temple at the same time his fingers grazed the edge of your panties. “Maybe I should had let you play sooner.”

“Maybe you should had.” You murmured back. He scoffed pinching your inner thigh again, making you squeal.

“Don’t get cocky.” You let out a little giggle at the same time you killed someone who started to shot your way. This time his fingers grazed softly over your clothed clit. You shuddered and Tomura laughed softly. “Keep playing.” He murmured in your neck before giving a small kiss.

His fingers started to rub against you more firmly now. You let out a choked moan as your legs tried to close but he avoided that putting each one of your legs over one of his, keeping them spread. You tried to kill another one, but you missed and they managed to escape. Tomura let out a discontent groan and his fingers left you and rested on your thighs again. “N-no. Don’t stop.”

“Keep playing then.” Was his only response.

You started searching for more opponents slightly desperate so he could be happy and return his touch, but you couldn’t find anyone. “Where the fuck is everyone?” You muttered lowly. He lightly chuckled behind you.

“Look in the small map in the bottom left, the red dots.” He guided you. You looked at the map and started running to where the nearest dot was. Aim and shot. Another kill.

“Yeah, that’s more like it.” He praised as he moves your hair from the side of your neck so he can start leaving open mouth kisses there. One of his hands went up your shirt and started stroking your navel as he continues kissing your neck, the other one rest over your clothed clit again, without enough pressure to get you off but enough so you know his hand is there.

You killed one more and you started to get more confident in the game, starting to get the hang of it, and without the touch of your boyfriend you could starts to get focused. But without your cute sounds and reactions, he was the one that started to feel neglected.

His hands went to your underthighs and roughly pulled them even more separated, your eyes waver between the screen and what his hands were doing, but some shootings made you keep your focus on the game. You started to shoot back but failed. At least the other person failed too and you manage to escape. When another group of people came near your position your boyfriend pulled your panties to the side and made direct contact with your slit.

“Fuck, you’re already so wet.” He whispered as he dragged his fingers up to your clit.

“Shit, I can’t concentrate like this.” You cried out and blindly shoot around you, surprisingly killing two of them.

“Too bad. Try.” He used your slick to push one finger inside of you and you let your head fall against his shoulder. “Hey, hey, eyes on the screen, you are doing good, don’t stop now.” The hand that was on your navel went up to your jaw, positioning your head straight.

“You say it like it’s easy.” You said in between moans.

“You were the one crying for my attention, now deal with it.” He finished his sentence with a pinch in your clit and a squeeze at the bottom of your neck, making you moan.

He moved his fingers down your slit again and this time pushed two digits inside of you, he groaned as you squeezed around them. “So tight.” He muttered against your neck again.

His fingers started to drag against your walls just like he knew you like it and your eyes fell shut for a couple of seconds, enough seconds for the other players to find you and kill you. Your eyes opened immediately when Tomura stopped the movement of his fingers inside of you.

“You can only die three times per mission before it makes you start from the damn beginning. Don’t you dare lose all my fucking progress.” He says with a low and threatening voice. “You only have one life left.”

“Yes, sorr-Ah!” You’re interrupted with the touch of his other hand’s fingers in your clit. “No! Tomura! Too much! I’m going to lose” You squeaked as one of your hands left the joystick to grab at his wrist,

“Both hands on the controller.” He warned without slowing his movements. You loosened your grip and bring your hand up again while your legs began to shake.

Both of his hands started to move in that complex synchrony that you never manage to do on your own and your moans got louder. Your hips were bucking down into his, your grinding making your boyfriend moan underneath you. “Fuck, don’t- Look, look at the screen. Focus.”

Even though he could easily get lost in just your movements on top of him, his hands never falter, and you began to feel your climax approaching.

“Shiggy, I- I can’t.” You whined trying to keep all your focus away from his fingers inside you.

“Yes, you can, look how far you managed to get. You’re doing. So. Good.” Every word is emphasized with a deep trust of his fingers, aimed at that one spot inside of you that makes you cry in pleasure. “You’ve been doing so good, I know you can manage a couple of minutes more.”

“Yeah.” You cried. “I can.” With that you killed one more person in the game, winning a kiss in the temple from your boyfriend.

“Good girl.” He whispered in your ear, and that caused you to clench around his fingers, making him groan. That sound brought you even closer to your orgasm.

“Fuck, don’t say shit like that.” You whined, making him laugh softly. “I want to cum.”

“Not yet.” You whined once more. “Come on, keep being my good girl and kill one more.”

You half conscious started to search for more players so you can make Tomura happy. You killed one more, and you won one more kiss on your temple, at the same tame his movement sped up, your moans and whines getting louder.

“I’m gonna cum.”

“Look, there’s 30 seconds left, just hold it. You’re always so good for me, I know you can.” His words were not helping you, nor did the fact that his movements sped up even more. “Just don’t die, okay? There’s still 15 seconds.”

“I-I can’t.”

Once the chronometer in the screen got to 10, your boyfriend started to count with it. You were trying so hard not to cum before you were allowed, but his fingers just felt so good.

“Three, two, one. That’s it, you can cum now, pet. It wasn’t that hard, was it?” He murmured in your ear. His word fell in deaf ears as you felt like you fainted once you let it go. You were letting out moan after moan. Your legs were shaking over Tomura’s and your hips couldn’t stop grinding against your boyfriend’s hands. He couldn’t help to slightly buck his hips up into your ass.

“Fuck.” You sighed once you started to get your senses back.

Shigaraki took his fingers out of you slowly and you hissed because of the sensitivity. He started to stroke your still shaking thighs with his still slightly wet fingers. “Did you like the game?”

“I mean- Yeah?” You said unsure, you just killed people after all, didn’t know shit about the game itself. “I did’t catch anything of the story, that if it even has one.” You glared at him accusingly.

He ignored you and tapped you legs, signalizing for you to stand up. You complied and smiled at him when he also stands up. It instantly disappears when he makes you sit again, this time alone.

“What happened?”

“Read what is says in the screen. There’s still four missions lefts.” He starts kneeling in front of you. “Now maybe you’ll understand a little more about the game.” Shigaraki smirks as he pulls your legs over his shoulders. “Remember, don’t lose my progress.”

#shigaraki tomura #tomura shigaraki #shigaraki #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura x reader #tomura shigaraki x reader #shigaraki fanfic #shigaraki x you #tomura shigaraki x you #tomura fanfic #bnha fanfic #bnha #boku no hero academia #mha fanfic #mha #my hero academy #mine

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besotted-eros · 3 years

Text

a little green

Pairing: Eren x f!reader

Genre: Smut

Content: mentions of choking, breeding, exhibitionism, unprotected sex, jealousy, use of term "daddy".

Summary: Why would you ever mention another man to Eren? You knew what it would do to him.

You winced as the tin cup hit the floor, the clattering making your body cringe away. After all that effort to carefully extract yourself from Eren's tight grip, creep out of your bedroom, and begin the preparations for breakfast as silently as you could, it was a simple cup that destroyed it.

"Stupid fucking thing." You swore as you knelt to grab it. But before your fingers met the metal, another hand wrapped around the handle.

He was behind you suddenly, making you pitch forward with a start and grab the counter for support. The hairs on the back of your neck rose as you felt him. He was heat, commanding your attention and filling your brain even though he was behind you.

"Eren, dear God. It woke you up that fast?" You exclaimed as your boyfriend chuckled. He placed the cup on the counter in front of you, wrapping his free arm around your waist.

"Been awake for a bit now." His raspy voice purred against the back of your head. "You think I stay asleep when you're not beside me?" The expanse of his chest was against you, the jut of his hips. Every angular line of his body, from bare chest to thighs, finding its place against your own. His hand traced lazy circles on your waist as you busied yourself with readying a pan with eggs and sliced meat.

"You don't get leave often, I just wanted you to sleep in once. Your friends are coming for lunch, and then you'll be off again tonight. You deserve some rest." You responded, raising your cheek when his hand closed around your chin. He pressed his lips to your skin, holding you for a moment before letting his fingers trail down your neck.

"Don't you know waking up beside you is my greatest pleasure? Nice to see something pretty in the morning, besides Armin's snoring face." He murmured, tracing along your collar bone. He leaned into you heavily, sleep still thick in his voice. You had to admit the tenor of it made you warm.

"If you let me live in the city with you, we'd be able to do it more often." You said, flipping the eggs expertly. You grabbed for spices, your movement hindered by the lanky form clinging to you.

"Told you, want you outta harms way. Danger finds that city. You're safe here. I like the thought of you here." His lips found your neck as he spot, peppering kisses along the exposed skin. He kissed along the marks he left last night, the tokens of his love.You felt your knees weaken at it, but tried to keep your composure. "Scouts stationed nearby, lots of space. Kind village. You can grow here, y/n."

"Grow away from you?" You asked, your tone light and teasing. Eren stiffened against you, and the arm around your waist tightened. His lips were stilled, resting above where your heartbeat pressed against your skin. "Maybe I'll put down roots with some nice village boy. The miller's son always slides me more grain than I come to him with."

You had moved the pan off of the heat, and for a moment the only sounds were of the crackling fat. "Really?" Eren asked, his fingers digging into your hip as he came alive behind you. He moved you, grip firm as he pulled you from the stove, pivoting on his heel so he could press you over the counter top. Another line grew against you, from where the curve of your ass met his hips.

"Does he get like this when he sees you?" Eren asked as he pressed his quickly hardening shaft to you. His voice was darker now, his hand moving from your collar bone to cup your breast through the thin linen of your blouse.

"Do you think he wants to grab these? Touch them the way I do?" His fingers massaged the soft flesh, making you bite your lower lip as you struggled to contain a cry of surprise and pleasure. Your gentle teasing had awoken something, something you knew lied in wait. But you didn't realise it would come this fast. You reached behind you, stroking your fingers through his hair. He had put it up in a bun.

"No." He growled, snatching your hand and pinning it to the counter. He straightened up as he pushed your torso down, keeping his hips in contact with your ass. "Don't get to touch me when you're looking at other men. Don't get to touch me, gotta teach you a lesson." He snarled. You hated how undone you were by his words, the warmth in your stomach now a raging bonfire as he furiously rubbed against you, letting you feel his desire. His hand curled on the back of your head, keeping your face pressed into the cool wood.

"E-eren..." You hissed through gritted teeth, your back arching in desperation to attain more touch, more of him.

"Now you wanna say my name, huh?" You could head the grin in his voice, the triumph of making you his. He grabbed the fabric of your skirt, quickly pushing it above your thighs. "You wanna act like a good girl now because you know you're in trouble." His palm found your ass, groping it lewdly before pulling back to give your left cheek a resounding spank. You jerked forward, yelping out in surprise Erens teeth grazed over his lower lip, the sound of you making his cock jump with want. He slapped the other cheek, eyes dancing at the sight of how your flesh trembled and shook at his behest.

"God, you're not even wearing anything under your skirt. That fucking desperate huh?" He asked, returning his hips to rub his bulge against your exposed lips, now separated by only the thin layer of the cotton trousers he slept in. "Is this how you go to see him, huh? Tell me." He growled, forcing your legs further apart as you scrabbled against the counter for purchase.

"N-no! Only for you, I only do that for you." You gasped, and Eren grinned. He pushed down the waistband of his pants, letting his throbbing cock free before pressing it against your pussy. He avoided the aching hole, instead dragging himself back and forth between your wet lips. The head bumped against your clit as he thrust, making you flinch with pleasure. One hand rested on your waist, holding you in place while the other curled around your throat.

"Why? Why do you do that for me?" He was purring now, and you could feel locks of hair coming lose from his bun.

"Because... Because I'm yours." You murmured, and his grip on your throat tightened. He would never hurt you, he was always so careful. But he loved seeing your face turn red, loved knowing that you trusted him with your life.

"Say it again. Prove it." He demanded, moving to grab his shaft and line the head with your pussy.

"I'm yours! Fuck, Eren fuck me please, I'm just yours okay? I'm only yours, I'm forever yours! There's no other man, there's no other anything!" You were begging now, twisting to look back at him. The sight was something to behold.

His jaw was slack, emerald eyes thick with lust as he gazed back at you. It was like he was ready to consume you, to eat your being whole and lick his fingers after. His chest stuttered with breath, firm abs flexing as he curled his hips up.

"That's right. Yeah baby, that's right." He cooed, reaching up to stroke a finger across your cheek. You turned your head, pressing your lip to his wrist as he groaned.

"Only mine." He whispered, and you felt him against your entrance, spreading it with his thick head.

"Forever mine." Your face was against the counter again, gasps escaping as he pressed forward, inch by cloying inch. You fit him like a glove, and he groaned in appreciation at your hot, wet walls closing around him.

He gave you a moment to adjust to his immense length, his hand now soft in your hair. He stroked through it once, from your scalp to the tip. Fingers twisting around your locks, eyes gentle as he felt their silk.

And then, he was fucking you. Mercilessly, his hips snapping on the return to drive deeper and deeper. His cock pounded into you, hard enough to make you feel it in your stomach. When Eren let go, when you made Eren let go, there was no end. He would use you, please himself with your cunt until you were a sopping mess under him.

All you could do was urge him forward.

"Eren, it's so good, so fucking good yeah, yeah please... Please give me more, p-please..." You managed to whine out, and he responded with a groan, leaning over you as he pulled your hips back, making you bounce against him.

"Like that? Fucking like that?" He hissed through gritted teeth. You nodded, letting out a cry of exasperation as he moved back, pulling out of you and leaving you hollow.

You didn't have time to complain, as he deftly moved you onto your back.

"There. Wanna see your face, see your pretty face while I..." He held your thighs, spreading them wide as he pushed back inside you with a grunt. It was a smooth motion, one that sent your eyes rolling back into your head. You grabbed at him, at his broad muscular shoulders, at his firm chest and torso.

"No one... Makes you feel like this... No one in the world. No one but me." He whispered, his eyes locked onto your face, your expression of pure bliss sending waves of pleasure through out him. He loved the feeling of you clinging onto him, your once independent and powerful body reduced to a little toy for him. Let other men stare, let them ply you with gifts. He lifted you up, becoming your only anchor to the world as his fingers dug into your ass, making you bounce on his shaft in a way that made his knees weak. At the end of the day, you were his. His only. His cocksleeve. His lover. No matter how little nights he spent in your bed, no matter how far away he was from you.

But how to make others see that?

Your face was pressed against his taunt neck, your moans filling the small house.

"Shall I fuck a baby into you, y/n?" Eren asked, his voice clear and ringing in your ears like a bell. It cut through the haze of your pleasure as you processed it, and then it came back tenfold. Eren grinned as he felt your reaction, the way your pussy tightened on him. The way your moans increased.

"Oh, you like that huh? Like the thought of me breeding you?" He purred, fingers gripping onto you harder. You were coming close to the edge, on that rocky cliff before cloud nine. And he was getting you there faster than you ever had.

"Y-yes, I d-do..." You squeaked out as he bit into your shoulder, trying to quell his own rising heat. He stilled you for a moment, letting you catch your breath and kissing away the noises while you whined. He walked forward, balancing you precariously on the head of his hard dick as he reached the front door. Eren put you down, turning you to face the doorway as his hand snaked around, unlocking it and pulling open. You looked upon your front yard, at the flowers you grew, the field of wheat across the narrow lane. It was quiet, it was peaceful.

"Eren?" You questioned, turning to look at him. Wordlessly he pushed you towards it, making you grasp the door frame as he moved your skirt up. He pulled your hips towards him, and you were bent over, legs being forced open.

"Someone will see Eren, sometimes p-people take this road." You whimpered, and your only response was a dark chuckle.

"Give them something to look at then." He growled as he pushed his way inside of you, dragging against your puffy wet walls. You moan in unison with him and he held onto you tightly as his hips began to move.

"Gonna fucking breed you, gonna fucking breed you." He chanted, panting with each thrust. His hair was wild now, eyes shining in the early morning sun. The cool midday air attempted to calm your bodies, to dull the passion. But nothing could.

"Y-your friends! They're gonna be here so-soon... Eren oh my god!" You were blubbering now, feeling your wetness course down your legs as your man ruthlessly pounded you from behind. He reached around, and there was a sound of tearing that joined the squelching of your sex. The breeze run across your breasts as he exposed them, pawing at them wontonly as he bent over you.

"These are gonna get so full, Y/n. You ready for that? Ready to make me a daddy? Want the world to see. Want the world to know what you let me do to you."

Your vision was blurry, pleasure and tears making your head feel as though it was full of burning cotton. All that existed right now was Eren. The way you touched you, the way he undid you, the way he took you and made you nothing but his.

"Yes." You repeated, clutching at the frame when his fingers found your clit. His chest was against your back, bending you over further as he rut you like a bitch.

"Say it. Say you want my load. Say you want my babies." He commanded, the pads of his fingers glancing over your throbbing button over and over.

"I want your cum Eren, I want your cum, breed me, please breed my pussy I'll make you a daddy let me make you a daddy, let me-" your voice spilled into the open air, a loud moan cutting your begging short as your pussy tightened around Eren's cock, pulsating as you creamed for him. The sensation was too much for him, and he reciprocated eagerly, shooting stream after stream of hot cum into you.

With a groan Eren let himself fall from you, pulling you up to straighten and closing the door.

"I'm sorry about your blouse." He murmured as you wrapped your arms around his neck. He walked backwards toward the couch, wrapping his arms around your waist and guiding you down with him. "Got ahead of myself." He whispered. You kissed, the panting of your breaths mingling as his sweet lips moved against yours. This was always when he was most gentle, most soft.

"'s okay, you just owe me a new one." You lay against him, enjoying the way his body thrummed underneath you. You'd miss this tonight. This warmth, his hands smoothing your hair back.

"I'll have some things sent down with the next supply for the scouts. There will be grain for you too in there,already milled." You raised your head, your brow furrowed.

"And what does that mean?" You snapped, but your anger quelled when he smiled. Smiles from Eren were so rare. It caught you off guard, stopped the scolding in your throat.

"Just teasing." He replied, pulling you up for another kiss.

656 notes · View notes

mcwriting · 3 years

Text

the premiere

A continuation of the shower scene. It's not completely necessary to understand this but helps with background :)

followed by: the press junket

Ship: Tom Holland x Reader

Word Count: 2272

Warnings: mentions of alcohol; some banter that could maybe be considered spicy

❖

You fluffed your hair in the mirror one last time, glancing over your features to make sure everything was in order before heading out.

It was premiere day, something that you'd only done a few other times and would probably always be nervous for.

You were especially nervous this time, because one, you'd be showing a film that included you and Tom Holland naked in a shower together and two, you were still currently trying to hide your relationship.

Your hands smoothed over the skirt of your dress when a larger pair wrapped around your waist and a chin nestled over your shoulder.

You couldn't help but giggle as Tom pressed himself against your back. You looked back up at the mirror, your hands resting over top of his.

"You look absolutely smashing, my darling," he whispered. You rolled your eyes at his proper speech.

"Why thank you, my love," you answered in an accent imitating his before turning in his arms to face him.

Instinctively, you reached up to fix the collar of his shirt and turn the pin attached to it right side up.

"You don't look half bad yourself," you complimented, smiling and pressing a quick peck to his lips.

"That's all I get, huh," he questioned, brows raised, before he broke out in laughter.

Your head shook as you walked away to grab your bag.

"Can't be throwing out too many compliments, we're still trying to keep this under wraps, remember? Might as well use some practice phrases. You'll hear the good stuff when we get back tonight."

"The good stuff, huh? I guess I can wait if you're making that a promise."

You shot him a look.

In the almost year since you'd started dating (all because of one little shower scene), somehow you and Tom had been able to hide your relationship from the public.

Sure, a few friends here and there knew, but between filming, living mostly in different cities, and the power of FaceTime, the media and fans hadn't caught any real evidence of your relationship.

It wasn't all great, of course. Your meetings included a lot of sneaking around, which while it could be a turn on, was also a hassle.

It meant showing up places at wildly different times, having to link up at mutual friends' places to seem less suspicious, and being extremely careful of what was posted on your personal social media accounts.

At this point it was tiring, but you'd both agreed to try and hold off being public until the film had been released in the hopes that people wouldn't let it cloud their judgements on your acting skills, and so far it had worked.

One nice thing about a premiere, though, was that you were able to stay in the same hotel together without too much suspicion.

Most of the cast and crew were staying in the same place, and you'd made a deal with Tom to get separate rooms and let one of your families stay in one while you and Tom took the other.

However, you did still need to leave and arrive at the theatre separately.

"You should actually be downstairs right now, mister," you said, glancing at the clock.

"I know, I know. I just wanted to marvel at my girl now so I don't get caught staring on the red carpet," he rebutted, waggling his brows. "But seriously I should actually get down there so I will see you in a bit. Don't miss me too much."

He came over and pecked you once again before heading to the door.

"I'll try my best. I can't be swooning over you out there either. Love youuuu."

"No! Love you!" he exclaimed, pointing in your direction.

With that he was out the door and you were left to overthink the coming evening for the next twenty minutes.

To pass the time, you went into the large bathroom, finding yours and Tom's stylists packing up their kits and chatting.

Thankfully they were more than happy to let you hang out before their own rides would also get there, so the anxiousness was pushed out of mind until you got a text requesting your presence in the lobby.

Your heels clacked powerfully across the tiles as a hotel employee escorted you to the front.

The was no point seeming nervous when you looked so damn fine.

It took a moment to actually get in the car, so as not to wrinkle up your dress or mess up your hairdo.

Your stomach was now turning as the car made its way down the street. You were really only going a few blocks but highly trafficked roads and fans lining the streets slowed things down, giving you plenty of time to overthink things.

As you got closer, you let yourself stare out the darkly tinted windows, smiling as you watched faces flash by, even though they couldn't see yours.

Finally the car came to a stop and a man came to your door.

"Alright. Let's do this thing," you muttered to yourself as the door opened and bright sunlight shone around you.

❖

"Y/n! Y/n, over here!" called male and female voices alike.

You tried to keep a stoic look as camera shutters clicked and fans yelled in excitement, but you couldn't help but laugh and smile once thinking about how incredibly amazing it all really was.

You were waved along to move down the carpet towards interviews, where hungry journalists hoped to get a word in with you to make a buck off their clickbait youtube videos.

You couldn't blame them, but you had to steel yourself ahead of time, knowing that there was a high chance of being asked some highly personal questions.

After getting through a couple of them, you spotted some brown curls down the line and smirked.

Tom was in the middle of giving an interview, so you skipped by some of the microphones held out to sneak up behind him.

"...Yeah I mean it really was a great experience doing this film and-"

Tom jumped as you poked some fingers into his ticklish sides and you laughed at his reaction.

"Well speak of the devil," he started once realized it was you, turning to give you a friendly side hug, pretending you hadn't just seen each other off a half hour earlier. "I was just telling everyone about how wonderful it was working with you."

"Oh really? So you left out the part about where I'm horribly rude and demanding at all times?" you joked, causing Tom to respond with his own sarcasm.

"Well now that you mention it..."

Everyone laughed again and Tom signed off from that reporter, stepping back to speak with you before either of you could get caught up in another interview.

"Glad you finally made it. You got off okay with the paparazzi so far? I know it can be draining."

He was so worried about you, it was endearing. You wanted to grab his hands and reassure him, but with all the cameras and people around you resorted to folding your arms and giving him a look.

"Yes, Thomas, I'm doing just fine. You don't need to worry about me. I need to hang back for a few more minutes since I missed a couple interviews but why don't you head in and I'll catch up with you. It's not like I won't get a seat."

"Alright, alright. I'm going to go chat with the boys over that way and we can all head in once you're done."

With that you were in agreement, so you went your separate ways again.

Once inside, you greeted the friends and family whom you had invited as guests along with other cast and crew members you hadn't seen in months.

Finally, after all of the time outside, you were ushered to your seats in preparation for the film.

As expected, you and Tom were seated together in some of the best seats in the house. I wasn't unusual to put the stars together like that, with your guests seated around you.

There was still some chatter in the theatre before the lights finally dimmed, and you and Tom looked at each other anxiously.

"You ready for this?" he asked.

"'Bout as ready as I was for our shower scene," you quipped, giving him a nervous grin.

His hand softly slipped into yours and squeezed around your fingers.

"Well we all know that that turned out well, so I wouldn't be too worried," he winked.

It felt weird holding hands with Tom in a room crowded with people, but with dim lights and everyone's eyes on the silver screen, you were put at ease by his affectionate touch.

As the film progressed, you continued to feel more relaxed. The sounds of people's laughter at your dry humor causing some of your anxieties to fade.

You knew it was coming, though. The scene.

Over the course of filming, you'd gotten to know the script really well, so you were mentally counting down minutes for the scene.

It would be yours and Tom's first times seeing the scene in its entirety as well.

After filming those passionate moments in a tiny shower, the director had shown you a few clips to get your opinion and explain how much she loved that Tom picking you up and holding you against the wall had been in frame and focus.

You could tell Tom knew it was coming, too, because he squeezed your hand and threw you a knowing grin.

And suddenly you were watching yourself make out with the man sitting next to you, blown up on a giant wall for the people you knew best and loved most to watch with you.

There were hoots and hollers across the theatre as the tension that had culminated between your characters was broken under a little silver faucet.

It felt scandalous to see Tom massaging your chest and you leaping onto his hips just to be kissed sloppily against that tile wall. The shampoo running down your shoulders and water washing it all away.

You were glad the room was dark, because your cheeks were blazing hot from embarrassment as your friend reached forward and shook your shoulders in jest.

Thankfully the spiciest scene of the film was finally over, and you could actually relax and watch the rest in peace.

When the credits started rolling, Tom leaned over and pressed a kiss to your temple.

"I'm so proud of you, darling," he whispered.

"Thank you, baby. You were incredible."

As the lights went up cheers and applause rang out across the room and the director ran towards the screen with a microphone to make a quick speech.

"Hello, everyone! I just want to thank you all for coming. This is something I have been so passionate about and so excited to share with the world. I especially want to thank my amazing stars, Tom and Y/n."

She gestured to you both and people cheered again. You both stood up and gave a quick wave and joking bow.

"I'm so thankful for the work they put in and am so lucky to have had these amazing creatives to collaborate with. I mean, without their improv skills, we would not have had such an electric scene filmed in a tiny bathroom over one afternoon."

People laughed and clapped as your face heated up once again. You'd somehow almost forgotten that small detail of the film.

She wrapped up the speech with thanks to the other people who'd worked on the film as well and with that, you were ready to go to an afterparty.

The afterparty was a place to let loose with the people you knew best. There would be no need to hide yours and Tom's relationship there as you danced and drank and socialized.

It was some of the most fun you'd had in a while, getting to be a normal couple with Tom around other people. For a couple hours, you hung out and danced and talked to everyone you wanted to.

Finally you acknowledged how tired your feet were and how ready you were to crawl into bed with your boyfriend and prepared to leave.

There were people around you leaving as well when you got to the doorway and kissed Tom for probably the hundredth time that night.

But this time was different.

Because the second you pulled away to look outside for the car picking you up, you accidentally caught the eyes of a paparazzo with a shocked look.

You were officially busted.

He continued clicking photos of you holding hands and you knew that in probably half an hour he would sell them for thousands of dollars and the news would hit the internet.

And for once you didn't care anymore, instead leaning up to kiss Tom again, just so everyone knew he was actually yours and you were his.

You didn't have to explain it to Tom, either. He 'd seen it too.

Getting in the car headed to your hotel, you and Tom wordlessly cuddled in the backseat. As you were pulling into the lot, he leaned down, lips touching your ear.

"You know, that summer air was hot this evening, and after all the dancing we did, I think I might just need a shower," he whispered.

"Is that so? Personally I was considering a bath with the way my feet are absolutely aching," you countered. His brows shot up.

"Well, then. It's a good thing we opted for the room with the bigger tub."

❖

A/N: And here it is! The follow up to the shower scene. I loved doing the dialogue in this one! I hope you all enjoyed :)

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reidgraygubler · 3 years

Text

carolina (spencer reid/reader

Title: Carolina

Request: no, but it was written for @spencerreidbingo

Couple: spencer reid/fem!reader

Category: smut/angst, with a tiny bit of fluff

Content Warning: SEXUAL CONTENT (praise kink, mild-innocence kink, daddy kink, fingering, oral (male & female), penetrative sex, unprotected sex/cream pie, grinding/petting, hairpulling, breathplay, multiple orgasms, possessive kink, orgasm denial), partying, drinking, swearing, large age gap (between two consenting adults), professor/student, post prison!reid, quick mentions of drinks being drugged (but not actually happening) (if I missed anything, please let me know)

Word Count: 9,064

Summary: Spencer thinks his peer is innocent. But little does he not, she’s not as innocent as he thinks.

A/N: it’s based on carolina by harry styles, bc im a sucker for a good harry song. This was written for @spencerreidbingo (i’ll have a separate post with more about that). this takes up the breathplay square on my card (pictured below). This is also the first time im writing a blowjob scene, so im really sorry if it’s not good. i also didn’t have a beta for this, so im kinda blindly posting this. and, lastly, this is a lot longer than i intended. i didn’t mean for it to get this long… it’s just a bunch of words my brain wouldn’t stop saying until i wrote it... i seriously hope you all enjoy this. thank you all for the love and support! check out my masterlist!

~*~* THIS DOES CONTAIN 18+ CONTENT!! *~*~

{***}{***}{***}

I kept my eyes low as I stepped into the lecture hall 5 minutes before anyone else. The professor was writing something on the chalkboard, so his back was facing the room.

“Uh, hello,” I spoked, stepping closer to his desk. He jumped slightly and dropped his chalk at the sound of my voice. I would have expected him to know students would be showing up earlier, considering it was the start of a new semester. And, I honestly would have assumed he was told a new student was coming. That’s not my job.

“Oh, sorry,” he turned around to face me. I smiled softly, watching

as he bent down to pick up the chalk. I cocked my head to the side, watching his backside as he stood back up. He pushed his hair away from his face. “You must be the new transfer,” he asked, resting the chalk on his desk, beside a pile of pens.

“Yep. That’s me…” I smiled, looking up at his face, keeping myself from further checking him out. I quickly offered my hand and gave him my name. “I know I’m early. I figured I’d get the syllabus from you now instead of after class,” I nodded as I adjusted my grip on my bag. He stared at me for a moment, his eyes lingering on my face and then down my body, and that moment felt like an eternity. I shouldn’t be mad or frustrated with him. I basically did the same thing to him moments ago.

I cleared my throat to get his attention once again. “The, uh… The syllabus?” I asked as my smile faltered slightly. He looked at me before looking at the pile of papers on his desk before quickly moving.

“Right, right, sorry,” he muttered as he began shuffling through the piles of paper on his desk. “Um, here you are,” he looked back up at me as he handed me a small packet. I looked at it for a moment before looking back up at the teacher.

“Perfect, thank you,” I spoke, my words kind of lingering because he never actually gave me his name.

“Right, sorry, Spencer. Spencer Reid. I won’t be a drill sergeant about the whole Mr., Dr., Professor. You can call me whatever you want,” he smiled as he placed his hands on the back of his chair. I held back my laughter and the wildly inappropriate joke that I wanted to make.

“Well, Professor Reid,” I smiled as I looked down at my watch, “I better go find a seat before your class starts. I can’t wait to be in your class,” I looked up at him before turning to find a spot. When I sat down, Spencer looked at me with a smile, before going back to writing on the chalkboard.

I quickly and quietly pulled out my books and pens as the other people in the class filed in and took their seats. Spencer quickly finished writing on the board before turning around to greet the class. And, even as he spoke to the class, and looked around at each of the other students, his eyes always landed on me, lingering for a moment before going elsewhere.

{***}{***}{***}

Five months. Five months into being in Spencer Reid’s class, and I have been suffering. I’m not a new student anymore. But the only friendship I’ve made is with my fucking professor, and there’s a certain level of tension between us. That tension was probably thanks to him staring at me during lectures, and me teasing him while he taught. It wasn’t too bothersome, but I definitely wanted something to happen. Unfortunately for me, I don’t think anything will happen.

So, can someone please tell me why I invited Spencer over to help me study for a test? It’s a stupid question too, that I already figured out the answer to… I even finished studying for the day, and I’m going to a stupid party. Maybe I could get him to go with… And maybe, just maybe, something could happen.

I nearly jumped when there was a knock on the door. It’s not that I forgot he was coming over. It’s that I was so wrapped up in doing my makeup and forgot what time it was. My mascara almost smudged when I jumped back. Thank God it didn’t smudge too terribly.

I grabbed my shirt off the counter and threw it on (not bothering to zip it), before running to the front door. I smoothed out my skirt before pulling the door open. And, there stood Spencer.

“Hope I’m not too late,” he looked down at me and smiled. Although, his smile didn’t stay for too long when he saw what I was wearing. He wasn’t disappointed though, no. He was… He clearly liked what he saw, I’ll just put it that way.

“Oh! Thanks for coming over, but I actually figured it out. I should’ve called you,” I looked up at Spencer as he stepped into my apartment. I struggled to zip the back of my blouse as I walked towards my room. I looked back over my shoulder and noted that Spencer was, indeed, still following me. “Can you zip me up,” I stopped in my tracks before giving up on zipping my blouse. It was a black crop top that paired well with the pale pink tennis skirt.

“Where… Where exactly are you going tonight? It’s a, uh, it’s a school night,” he asked as he lifted his hands. The cool metal of the zipper pressed against my back, causing a shiver to go through my spine.

“Uh, there’s this party,” I answered, stepping away from him and towards the bathroom, “Thought I’d go,” I looked at him in the mirror. Spencer looked around the bathroom, at the messy mess I had made on my counter. Different pallets of makeup and tools were strewn about, a varying amount of hair care products tossed here and there. It honestly looked like a bathroom of a pageant queen, and not a 20-something-year-old. In my defense, I had to dress to impress someone here in this stupid university.

“Is that, uh… Is that smart?” Spencer asked, leaning against the door jamb. I looked up at him as I put on some luxurious red lipstick. I smiled as I looked at him.

“I think it is,” I laughed as I picked up something else and turned to look at him, “You wanna come? I wasn’t invited,” I smiled wickedly as I looked at him. His face paled two shades as he looked at me. “Oh, c’mon, Professor, no one will know us there, and I can assure you, no one will even see us,” I looked up at him as I readjusted his tie. He looked down at me before swallowing roughly.

“I don-”

“I do need a designated driver,” I spoke before cutting him off. I walked past him and towards my room. Part of me wondered what he was thinking as I so rudely rushed past him, or cut him off, or whatever I was doing. I wished I could hear his thoughts. I wondered if they consisted of “The mouth on that girl,” or, “I should punish her for the way she’s acting,” or, my personal favorite, “I should put that mouth to good use,”

“How old are you again?” Spencer asked once I sat down on my bed. I looked up at him as I slipped my shoes on.

“22,” I smiled and stood up, “Why, is that important?” I smiled as I grabbed my coat and purse.

“Couldn’t remember,” he lied. We both knew he was lying. He even knew that too. Freaking walking computer is what he is. There's no way he conveniently forgot how old I was. “Are you going to be out late?”

“Why? It’s not like you’re my dad or anything?” I laughed, leading him back to the front door of the house. “I don’t plan on being out too late. I know there’s class tomorrow,” I shrugged as I walked towards his car.

We both stayed silent as he drove with the directions I was quietly giving him. I was pleasantly happy that we were both quiet, but what I hated was the sudden awkward sexual tension that was between us. If he didn’t have this… domineering personality over me there probably wouldn’t be this tension between us.

“Are you going to come with me?” I looked up at him as I unbuckled. He glanced over at me with slight disappointment in his eye. I felt a little bad, but I really wanted to go to this party, I wasn’t going to let my professor’s disappointment stop me. “Please,” I whispered. He sighed before unbuckling himself. I had to force myself to not verbally giggle with excitement before slipping out of the car. Spencer looked down at me as I twisted my hips to swish my skirt. I smiled as I entertained myself. I'm sure if I wasn't watching my skirt, I would have been staring at him, giving myself away.

“Steps,” Spencer muttered as we got closer to the porch. I looked up at him before looking towards the small staircase. I looked up at Spencer with a smile. He glanced back down at me, a worried crease in his brow. I looked down at my skirt and smoothed it out. I looked at the door as we stood close to it, I contemplated knocking.

“So, you weren’t invited to this party?” Spencer asked, looking down at me. His voice stopped me from knocking. Instead, I looked up at him and smiled back up at him. He raised an eyebrow as he waited for an answer from me. My smile grew playful as I looked back at the door, raising my fist to knock on it. “No answer?” he asked, still waiting for my answer.

“Oh, please, Professor Reid, I can get into the hottest parties in LA without an invitation,” I smiled at him. That was a little bit of an over-exaggeration. Most college parties I could get into. But not LA parties. Someday though…

The door swung open, and we were instantly met with loud music blaring through a speaker somewhere in the house. People’s voices and chatter carried all throughout the house, coming through the various rooms and clusters around. “Are you coming in to babysit me? Or, are you going to go back to your car to read the science of the mathematical phenomenon,” I looked up at him, offering my hand to him. I wasn’t exactly sure if that was a real book or not, but I wouldn’t put it past Spencer to read.

“I’m not babysitting you,” he corrected as he looked down at me with a disappointed look in his eye. I smiled and rolled my eyes.

“Are you going to come in and watch me drink and party and have fun, Professor… Or, are you going to go back to your car and read your silly little book,” I looked down at my hand, silently telling him to take my hand and come in with me.

“I, uh, I don’t think it’s exactly in the rules for a professor to party, let alone drink, with their students,” Spencer spoke before looking down at my hand. I dropped my shoulders and looked up at him.

“Fine then… Suit yourself,” I turned around and basically skipped into the house, leaving the door open for him. I made my way towards the loud kitchen and grabbed for a cup and bottle of whatever booze was nearby. I blindly grabbed for a bottle of Grey Goose and dumped it into the cup, no mixer, no chaser.

“First off,” Spencer’s voice came from beside me. I looked up at him and took a long sip of vodka. “You shouldn’t be taking drinks from people at a party,” he spoke, taking the cup from me. I looked up at him, then the bottle and a new cup. I was only a little annoyed that he took my drink.

“I… I’m young. I’m not dumb,” I grabbed a new cup and poured more vodka. I looked up at him and offered him a sip. “I know not to drink something given to me by someone I don’t know.” I scoffed before taking another long sip. I cringed a bit at how strong it was.

“Even then someone could slip something into a drink! Even if you did know them!” Spencer exclaimed, causing the surrounding people to turn and look at us. I dropped my shoulders as I looked up at him.

“If you look around, Spencer, you’re the only person that I know. So unless you’re the one slipping something into my drink… And, as an FBI agent… I don’t think you would,” I cocked my head to my shoulder. Spencer looked at me with a raised eyebrow. “You have more to say,” I added before taking a sip of my drink.

"And, secondly, you're not as innocent as I had originally thought you were," he watched as I brought the cup of straight vodka to my lips. He looked rather unamused with my talent for drinking straight vodka.

"You thought I was innocent?" I asked, nearly sputtering the liquid with my laughter. "Please! I've never been innocent in my entire life!" I shouted over the music. He raised an eyebrow at my statement, and suddenly I had the greatest idea in the world. "But maybe, just for you, I'll be a good girl," I smiled before drinking the rest of my drink in one go. Spencer looked down at me, his lips pressed into a fine as he stared down at me. Ohh, that definitely awoken something in him. I bit back my smile with my offer. Innocent… He thinks I’m innocent. Ha! I honestly don’t remember the last time I was innocent. And, honestly, just for him… I’d be an innocent, good, little girl for Spencer Reid any day, every day even. “I can be your good, innocent little girl,” I smiled at him and cocked my head.

"I don't… I don't think that'd be… appropriate," he spoke, his words very quiet. We both knew that even though it was inappropriate, we both wanted it. We both knew what we wanted to.

I glanced at him before pouring more drink for myself. "You should learn to pace yourself," he stated and changed the subject. He nervously looked at the bottle of vodka and then around the room at all the other people drinking. Or, he was just looking for a drink that wasn’t booze. Did he actually want to keep me safe, or was I just overreading him?

"It's a college party, Professor! I'm not going to pace myself!" I shouted just to get his attention back to me. His head shot back down to me. The level of concern on his face only made me feel a little bad, mostly because he was concerned for me. But, he should know… This is a college party. “Do you want some?” I asked, offering my drink to him again. I held it up to him, close to his lips. His face twisted up as soon as the scent of pure vodka hit his nose.

“No, no thanks,” he held up at hand to block the cup from his face. I pouted before bringing it to my lips. “Do you usually come to parties,” he asked, his eyes darting around the room. Part of me wondered if he wanted to continue that question with “Like this?” But, I was too busy keeping my eyes on his face, rather than looking around the room like he was. Although, I’m sure he was used to keeping an eye on his surroundings. I’ve never been too worried about it, I probably should… But hey, you only live once. Going to college parties with your 38-year-old professor, and drinking straight vodka, and not really caring about your surroundings proves my point of YOLO.

“If I don’t have class or anything to study for… Yep,” I looked up at him with a sneaky smile. The joke with that was his particular class had a test coming up soon, and I should be studying for it. He knew that too because he just announced the test this morning. Although, he did come to my home, to help me with said test. “But, I wouldn't show up to his class hungover. It’d disappoint him too much. And, he’d care too much about me to even focus on the rest of the class,” I spoke, answering the questions he was thinking. It’s not like I’ve shown up to classes hungover before. Granted, I’ve never shown up to his class drunk or hungover. Mostly because I didn’t want to disappoint him, and only him. Anyone and everyone else can go blow themselves.

“How do you know that?” Spencer asked, looking back at me with furrowed eyebrows. I smiled and stepped closer to him.

“How do I know what?” I cocked my head to my shoulder. I already knew what he meant by his question, but… I think teasing him and messing with him is fun. And, he knew that too.

“How do you know that you’d disappoint him?” he looked down at me, pressing his chin to his chest to get a better look at me. His hands were away from me, even though I really wanted his hands anywhere on me. I looked over at my hand and the cup I held before bringing it to my lips. I took a long sip, trying to finish the contents in one go. I tossed the cup over my shoulder and looked up at him with a lazy smile.

“Because being hungover, with the slight possibility of still being drunk, would totally disappoint him… And I would hate to disappoint him.” I whispered and shook my head. Spencer looked down at me with something in his eyes, and I loved the way he looked at me. “I told you, Professor, I’d be a good girl for you,” I cocked my head to my shoulder and smiled, “And only for you,”

“You’re drunk,” he pointed out an obvious fake statement. So, I cackled and shook my head.

“I had one drink,” I scoffed and waved off my in the air, “Most definitely not enough to get me drunk,” I flattened his tie out before gripping it tightly, “Like I said, I wouldn’t want to disappoint you,” I smiled before dropping my hand from his tie, “So, why would I show up to your class… Hungover…? I know you’d care… And I know it’d disappoint you. That’s the last thing I want to do to you,”

Spencer’s adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed roughly. He quickly looked between me and the room, then back at me, then around the room. I faked a yawn before looking away from him.

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom, okay, Professor?” I smoothed out his jacket before turning and leaving him alone in the kitchen. I smiled as I skipped away from him, my skirt swishing with my movement. I secretly hoped he’d follow me. But, a quick glance over my shoulder told me he was still in the kitchen.

However, when I finished my business and left the bathroom, Spencer was leaning against the wall right beside the door. I looked up at him and smiled.

“Follow me,” he muttered, grasping my wrist and pulling me down the various halls and past multiple groups of people. I giggled the harder his grasp grew on me and the faster he moved. I’m happy people were too busy with themselves to notice a 30-something-year-old man was dragging a 20-something-year-old girl down the hall, to which I can assume was one of the only open bedrooms. Fuck… I hope it's a bedroom.

He was a man on a mission. Not letting anyone get in his way. The smile that grew on my lips was pure excitement. I couldn’t help it. I’m sure we’re both getting what we wanted… I hope.

I let out an excited yelp when he shoved me into, exactly what I thought, an empty bedroom. I’m surprised he knew that there’d be an empty room. Most of them are occupied, with couples (or more) doing exactly what I hope we’re about to do. Which was fuck each other.

Spencer slammed the door shut, and quickly locked it before pushing me against it. I looked up at him and giggled like a fucking kid in a candy store. Again, I couldn’t help it.

Spencer was quiet, which led me to be quiet. The air in between us quickly grew hot and tense and thick. I really wanted this to move faster, but I wanted him to be the one in charge. I was willing to let this be slow and let him be in charge. So, when he grabbed both my wrists and held them above my head, I smiled so hard my cheeks began to hurt.

“Tell me what you want,” Spencer’s voice was low and deep as he moved close to me. There was little to no space between us. Which left little to the imagination, for me anyway.

I looked up at him, with the biggest doe eyes I could muster, silently telling him that I wanted the most, in the entire world, was to be on my knees, with his hand tangled in my hair, and his cock down my throat, or to be fucked so hard that I won’t be able to sit properly for several days. But, I couldn’t be that blunt. You gotta play up to that moment before you get it. I’m sure in the end though, I’ll get both things.

I swallowed roughly, trying to think of what to say, because, like I said, I can’t just be blunt yet. So, when I opened my mouth and words just came out, I was pleasantly surprised with what was said. “You’re old enough to be my father, Professor,” I smiled at him as he pinned me against the door. He pressed his hips against mine to keep me against the surface. I could feel a large bulge against my inner thigh, causing me to shiver. “Does that mean I get to call you daddy,” I whispered as I looked up at him through my eyelashes. He is the one who said I could call him whatever I wanted… And he did just ask me what I wanted, and I guess I wanted to call him ‘Daddy’. There was no guessing about him.

Okay, he wasn't exactly old enough to be my father. But he was a lot older than me. Most 20-something-year-olds aren't sleeping with men 15 years older than them… and most 20-something-year-olds aren't sleeping with their professor… I just wanted an excuse to call him 'Daddy'. And he knew that too. So, if we gave each other an excuse for that to happen, then that was all I needed.

I dropped my head to my shoulder to allow him to attack the space on my neck. He dragged his nose across my jawbone before stilling. His lips were just over my neck. As his breathing got heavier, it tickled across my skin.

“That does have a nice ring to it,” Spencer hummed as he dropped my hands and stepped away from me. I swallowed roughly as I stared at him. I missed having his body pressed against mine, and he knew that.

I looked at him as I brought my hands to his belt. "I thought you said this wasn't appropriate, Daddy," I whispered as I quickly undid the belt buckle, without looking. I almost couldn’t move fast enough to unbutton and zip his pants. If he wanted me to stop, he would have stopped me by now. “Can I?” I looked up at him, a plea in my eyes.

"You've changed my mind," he muttered, watching me with such close intent, “God, please keep going,” he spoke like if I did stop now he’d probably die. I looked up at him as I slipped my hand into the waistband of his boxers. He hissed as my fingers brushed against his cock. A small smile grew on my lips.

“Didn’t take much convincing,” I smiled as my fingers wrapped around him. A small groan fell from his lips as I looked up at him. When I pulled my hand away from him not even a moment later, he looked down at me with an alarmed expression on his face. I quickly spat on my palm before sticking my hand down his pants. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted this?” I whispered as I slowly stroked up and down his length. I couldn’t believe it was actually happening.

“I’ve wanted this since you stepped foot in my classroom,” his voice was low and gravely as he spoke. My breathing picked up a little bit as I looked up at him.

Okay… Maybe he did know how long I’ve wanted this. Because I also wanted this the second I stepped into his lecture hall. I wanted his cock in my hands and his hand around my throat. It only took-what, five months for this? I’ll make it worth the wait.

“Does that feel good,” I whispered, carefully picking up speed and adding the slightest bit of pressure in my grip. Spencer’s eyes fluttered shut as he swallowed roughly and nodded. I smiled before pulling my hand away from him, again. I slowly lowered to my knees and kept my eyes on his face.

Spencer looked down at him as he gently pushed his fingers through my hair. His fingers gripping hard on my roots before pulling hard. I smiled before very slowly pulling down his slacks and boxers in one go. I was only a little bit intimidated by his size, but the excitement I felt went straight to my core.

I took a deep breath and swallowed roughly before looking up at him. My mouth fell open, and my tongue stuck out, silently telling him that it was okay. Although I don’t really know why I was telling him that it was okay, we both knew what we wanted, and it was only going to take me doing one thing.

I made eye contact with him as I ran my tongue on the side of his cock. Our eye contact didn’t last long, mostly because he let out a moan and dropped his head back. I smiled as I licked across his tip. A sweet and salty taste was on my tongue.

My jaw fell slack as I carefully took his length into my mouth. I closed my lips around him before slowly bobbing my head, with my tongue swirling around the underside of his cock. I wrapped a hand around what wouldn’t fit into my mouth. And wrapped my free arm around his leg for support.

The sounds of his moans and grunts filled the mostly quiet room. Music, although muffled through the walls and door, could still be heard from outside of our own world behind the door and four walls.

“You were right,” he struggled to speak through groans, “You aren’t as innocent as I thought,” Spencer's hand had a rough hold in my hair as he held me against him. His cock was penetrating my throat, and breathing was beginning to get difficult. My eyes grew wet and tears grew in the corners of my eyes.

“You’re such a good girl,” he looked down at me as the tears started to roll down my cheeks. I wouldn’t be surprised if my makeup started smudging and I looked like an adolescent raccoon. “You look so pretty with my cock down your throat,” he struggled to let out a coo, before moving his hips closer to my face.

Everything about this moment, his hand in my hair, the sounds he was making, the way he smelled, being here… Was intoxicating. I’d give anything to be in this moment again. And I’d give anything to get this moment sooner.

My knees would hate me in the morning, I just know it. I could already sense the dreaded carpet burn before he even started. But, in all honesty, it’d be worth it. Walking into class tomorrow morning, with bruises and day-old wounds on my knees, just to see his expression.

As I began to pick up pace, the sounds Spencer was making started to become more urgent, easily telling me he was close. But, before he could finish, I pulled away from him, crashing into the wall to get away from his grasp. He looked down at me with a mild frustration on his face. I smiled before wiping my chin clean of spit.

“I guess chivalry is dead. Whatever happened to ladies first?” I asked, my voice a rasp from how raw my throat was. I looked up at him, feeling a certain level of sass grow in my smile. Spencer quickly tucked himself back into his pants before grabbing my hand.

“Come on, on your feet,” he muttered as he pulled me back up to a standing position. I nearly toppled over into him if he didn’t hold me upright. I looked up at him and smiled.

“Bed… Now?” I whispered, my tone showing how urgent I was. It’s not that I wanted this over with, it's that I wanted everything to happen to me all at once, and I wanted it to last for a long time.

Spencer nodded before cupping my face in his hands. He was harsh when he pressed his lips to mine, like his life depended on it, if he did kiss me now the world would end. I wrapped my arms around his neck as he started guiding me towards the bed. And when the edge of the bed hit the back of my legs, he pushed me back onto it. I quickly moved so my head was resting on the pillows. Spencer was quick to take his cardigan off and be over me.

“You’re not going to fail me, are you,” I joked as he quickly started leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses on my neck. He lifted his head and looked down at me with confusion on his face. “If I’m a bad fuck,”

“If you ask that again, or bring up class while we’re doing this… Then yes,” he muttered as he looked at me. I laughed as I pushed my fingers through his hair.

“Oh, shut up,” I laughed as I pulled him down to kiss him, again. One of his hands landed on top of my breast, carefully kneading it, causing me to moan into his mouth.

His hand slowly drifted away from my chest. I pressed my head into the pillow and looked up at him with a smirk. He carefully dragged his fingers up from my chest to the base of my neck, causing me to let out a shaky gasp. I wanted fingers and a hand around my neck, carefully cutting off my airway just right. Suddenly, I never wanted something so badly in my life. Something dark flashed in his eyes as he looked down at me like he knew what I was about to say.

“Do it… I fucking dare you,” I muttered, placing both my hands around his wrist. My nose twitched as I stared at him. “I said fucking do it,” I spat, pushing his hand down more onto my neck. My words slowly got cut off as the pressure in his hand and fingers tightened around my neck. A moan struggled to escape me, but did eventually fall from my lips. He seemed pretty happy with that.

“Is that good,” his voice was a growl. I looked at him and moaned.

“Harder,” I begged, my voice growing raspier the more I spoke. He smirked before allowing his grip to tighten. His other hand was still sitting on top of my hips, and I could tell where he wanted to put it. I’d be a dirty, rotten liar if I didn’t want his hand up my skirt. In fact, I’d love it if he did more than just his hand.

Spencer swallowed roughly before finally sneaking a hand up my skirt and resting it on my underwear. My grip around his wrist got tighter as he pushed past my underwear and past my folds. My eyes fluttered closed as another moan was strangled in my throat.

“You’re so wet,” he purred as he slowly moved a finger around my clit. I looked up at him, as I struggled to swallow roughly. A dark smirk grew on his lips as he watched me struggle for a moment. “Does that feel good,” he asked, mildly mocking me from earlier. His movements picked up speed just a little bit, and my body reacted, well tried to react.

“Oh, you’re such a good girl,” he looked down at me. His pupils were so blown I could nearly see my reflection in them. “Another thing you were right about,” he whispered as he slipped a finger into my entrance, and curled it just right. My vision slowly blurred before my eyes rolled into the back of my head. Another moan struggled to escape my throat as Spencer added a second finger.

My body was on autopilot as I lifted my hand and hit his wrist a few times, telling him that I desperately needed to breathe. When I reopened my eyes, I looked up at him a moment before he removed his hand from my neck. Worry and concern flashed in his eyes as I breathed. Air burned like fire in my lungs as I took a deep breath. As I exhaled a loud moan followed behind, easily telling Spencer and I that I had reached my first orgasm of the night. I just hope there will be more...

“You did such a good job, Princess,” Spencer whispered as he looked down at me. With his free hand, he brushed the tears away from my cheeks. He carefully withdrew his hand from between my legs and held them up to his face. He looked at them for a moment before placing them in his mouth, sucking and licking them clean. I took a shaky breath and nodded.

He very sloppily pressed his lips to mine, then on the corner of my lips, and down my jaw, and neck. With one quick movement, a loud rip filled the room, as he tore my shirt off my body. I looked up at him with shock in my eyes. To be fair, that shirt was flimsy, to begin with. I was more worried about leaving my chest so exposed as we left the party.

“Oh, I’ll give you my sweater,” Spencer muttered before attacking my neck and then down to my collarbones, and over my breasts. I gasped as he wrapped his lips around a nipple.

“Mmm, Daddy,” I whimpered as I shifted under him. I brought my hands back up to his hair, tangling my fingers in the hairs on his neck. When he sensed that I was growing restless (even though he just started), he quickly left wet kisses down the rest of my body

“I like the way that sounds coming from your mouth,” he whispered once he was in between my legs. I looked down at him just as he looked up at me. “Good on your end for wearing such a short skirt,” he smiled before pressing his lips to my inner thigh. A shaky breath tumbled from my lips as I looked at him. “Makes for easier access,” he added before going higher up on my leg.

“You’re not going fast enough,” I whined as he just kept kissing, or licking, or rubbing my inner thighs. It was honestly getting annoying. I kind of felt bad for him. Considering I’ve already cum once, and I got him close but didn’t let him finish.

“I’m not going fast enough?” Spencer looked up at me. I shot him a scowl as I shifted slightly on the bed. Spencer looked back down the apex of my legs before looping two fingers around the band of my underwear. As soon as I lifted my hips, he pulled my underwear off my body and chucked them to the ground beside the bed. “How’s this for fast enough,” he muttered, mostly to himself, before licking between my folds. A breath of air got caught in my lungs as my hands found their way to his hair, my fingers getting knotted up in his roots.

“Mhm, Spencer,” I gasped, rolling my hips up at him. He hummed, sending vibrations straight to my core. My legs wrapped around him, my heels digging into his back as my own back arched.

“Ohh, Daddy, please don’t stop,” I cried, pressing my head into the pillow beneath my head. My fingers pulled hard on his hair, pulling him closer to me. He hummed again as he pushed two fingers back into my entrance. My grip in his hair tightened, and I could feel my grip wanting to loosen.

My breathing picked up as a familiar feeling grew in my stomach. And all I could say was his name, and the suddenly loved nickname I had for him. He seemed to appreciate my reaction too, because he worked faster. Messy and wet sounds, mixed with my breathy moans and calls of his name filled the room, and my end was near.

“Fuck,” I shouted as I finally came undone. I could sense if I didn’t pull him away, he’d keep going, and going till I couldn’t take it anymore. And, honestly, that sounds great, but I think that’s for next time. I wanted him in me now. “Spencer, Spencer,” I cried as I tried to pull his head away, but failed so hard.

“Nuh huh,” he hummed, looking up at me. I took a deep breath and pressed my head into the pillow beneath me and threw an arm over my face. “Please, Spencer,” I cried as I bucked my hips at him, “Fuck me, please, fuck me, Daddy,” I moaned. He was going faster than before and was clearly trying to work me to the end faster too. It was hard to breathe, and speak because my words would just get stuck in my throat.

Although, when I did cum, again, for the third time tonight, Spencer did move away from my legs. He knelt between them, wiping his chin with the back of his hand. My body was shaking lightly as I tried to come down from my high.

“Please,” I whispered, lifting a hand up, trying to reach for his tie. He looked down at me with a smile and raised an eyebrow.

“Please what?”

“Please, Daddy,” I furrowed my eyebrows as I spoke. I could feel my voice becoming a little whiney. Spencer moved so he was hovering over me, his fingers gently brushing hair away from my face.

“Tell me what you want, Princess,” he whispered cupping my face in his hand. I looked up at his face, admiring his lips, and eyes, and nose, and the way his lips had a sheen from when he licked them clean and whatever was leftover from when he was eating me out.

“Please fuck me, Daddy,” I begged, begged. Spencer smiled before pressing his lips to mine for a moment. He sat up away from me to remove his sweater and shirt. My head was spinning from excitement, I didn’t even notice that he was totally undressed.

Spencer was back between my legs, looking down at me like I truly belonged right here. Or, like I was his to fuck with. Either way it was a good feeling.

“Ready?” He asked, his voice so low that I could hardly hear it over the bass of the loud music. I rapidly nodded my head, worried my answer was the wrong one. But it wasn’t. I desperately wanted this. Needed. I needed this.

Spencer hovered over me before putting an opened mouth kiss on my lips. I could hardly breathe as he rubbed the tip of his cock against my clit and entrance. I could feel a moan getting caught in the middle of my throat, my body not being about to handle anymore teasing. Until, he very slowly pushed into me.

“Oh, good girl,” he repeated. Those two words, constantly coming off his tongue. Making me feel good. The praise that I hadn’t heard in such a long time, that I longed for. Part of me wondered if he knew I wanted it. “Has someone not been taking care of you?” he asked, looking down at me. I stared at him, not trusting my own voice. My mind was too distracted with the way I felt, light and airy but at the same time full. So I shook my head.

“No, Daddy,” I whimpered and kept shaking my head. Spencer smiled before pressing his lips to mine.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got you now. I’ll take care of you,” he mumbled before moving his hips. It took him a moment to get a perfect rhythm. He lips attached to different spots on my neck, leaving hickies in his wake.

“Spencer,” I whispered as I moved my head closer to my shoulder to let him have more space.

“You feel so good,” he grunted as he moved his hips so he was deeper in me, “You feel so good, and you’re all mine,” he pressed his forehead to mine as he wrapped his arms around my lower back, pulling me closer up to him. My breathing got deep, my chest heaving with each breath I took. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him down, closer to my face.

“Oh, be quiet,” I whispered before putting my lips on his. He smiled before passing his tongue between my lips. A moan fell from my lips, which he seemed to enjoy… Considering it was probably just music to his ears.

“I’ll only be quiet if you keep making those little noises,” he muttered against my lips. I opened my eyes and looked up at him. He smiled again as I knotted my fingers in the hair on the back of his head.

“Faster,” I breathed out, keeping my eyes on him. Spencer laughed lightly as he picked up the speed. My hips bucked with his, meeting at the right points. “Please,” I whimpered as I threw my head back more into the pillow. He pulled his arm away from my back and brought his hand between our legs, where we met.

“It’s okay, Little Girl,” Spencer whispered before pressing his lips to the side of my face. I let out a shaky breah and arched my body into his. I couldn’t believe how good I felt. I almost wasn’t sure if it was fair that my professor was better in bed than other men my age. He was more experienced, to be fair. “You can finish, it’s okay,” he kept his voice low. It almost sounded like he was giving me permission.

I nodded my head, breathing heavily through my nose. “Mmm, Spencer,” I moaned, loudy, as my walls fluttered around him and my release came. And a few moments later, Spencer thrusted deep into me with a grunt, filling me with his essence. His body collapsed on top of me whence he finished.

“Fuck,” I muttered, my fingers still tangled in his hair. My limbs were sore and shaking slightly from the rough movements. Spencer laughed lightly, agreeing with my statement. “We can’t sleep here,” I whispered, keeping my eyes on the ceiling above us. I wished we could just sleep here, mostly because I was exhausted after everything we did.

“I know,” Spencer replied as he slowly moved off and away from me. I looked up at him with wide eyes. “You’re messy now,” he muttered as he basically tumbled off the bed. I quickly sat up, just to make sure he was okay. Although I was happy he was okay, I quickly regretted moving as fast as I did.

“Your sweater,” I mumbled, reaching out towards where his sweater was lying. He looked down at it before picking it up to hand to me. He also grabbed a fistful of tissues and moved to between my legs, again. “Just give me your boxers,” I looked at him as he wiped the insides of my thighs clean. He looked back up at me, still cleaning my legs.

“I’ll give you a ride home,” he spoke as he tossed the dirty tissues to the trash. He grabbed his slacks and boxers, tossing me his boxers. I slipped them on under my skirt, and then slipped his sweater on.

“I’d hope so,” I whispered as I stood up. My body wobbled for a second, nearly falling over, before I caught my balance. Spencer looked back at me, looking at how fucked I looked. I mean, I probably looked about the same as him.

“I’d given you a ride home either way,” he said as he redressed. I looked at him with confusion on my face. Either way? So even if we hadn’t had sex, he would have given me a ride. I asked him and he said yes. So I would hope he’d given me a ride, even if we didn’t fuck.

Once we were both ready to leave this stupid party, that I didn’t even enjoy (well, I did, I was just in a different world), or was even invited to, we walked out. It was as easy as pie. And, since no one really knew either of us were here, I won’t be known as the girl who fucked the professor.

The drive home was quiet. Like, even quieter than the drive here. He didn’t even have the music playing. I wondered if it was my fault, if he was regretting what we had done. If I had known he’d be so regretful, I wouldn’t have wanted to fuck him. But, I guess its too late now.

When I looked out the window, I realized we were parked outside my apartment building. I looked down at my attire and looked back at Spencer.

“Thanks… Thanks for the ride… And thanks for the sweater. I’ll be sure to give it back to you… Eventually,” I looked up at Spencer as I pulled the door open to leave.

“See you Thursday,” he nodded at me. I looked at him before slamming the door shut. I scoffed before turning to walk up to my home. I couldn’t want to sleep.

{***}{***}{***}

Two weeks. Two weeks since Spencer and I fucked. Okay, not too bad. I don’t regret it, and I’m not afraid to say that. However, I think he might be regretting it. Considering he’d been nothing but ignoring me since the night of the par-Well, I wouldn’t say ignoring me since then. He did fuck me in his office the following Thursday. But, it’s still been two weeks since he last said anything to me. Fuck, I’ve never been so mad.

“Good morning, Professor Reid,” I looked at him as I skipped into his lecture hall. I heard his words begin to greet me back, but fail when he saw what I was wearing. “Best get to my seat. Excited for today’s lesson,” I readjusted the cardigan that hung off my shoulders before turning to go to my seat.

I could feel his eyes burning into the back of my skull as I walked away from him. Or, was he staring at my ass. Most likely my ass. It was my ass he was staring at. I was wearing a fairly short skirt, so that’s on me. But, I’d do anything to get his attention today. And it would appear I have gotten it.

His lesson wasn’t actually anything important. It was just revision for the test coming up soon. But, it was obvious he had other things on his mind, and I was very clearly one of them. It was honestly a little distracting if I’m going to be honest.

So, I was happy when he called the end of class 5 minutes early. Although that excitement was gone the second he called my name to the front to talk. I looked at the ground as I stood by his desk, waiting for the very last person to leave so Spencer and I could have our moment alone.

“What are you doing wearing that?” Spencer asked as soon as it was just us. I tried to ignore the fact that he was trying to take the sweater off me, and made my shoulders drop.

“What? This old thing?” I asked, pulling the cardigan that he let me wear around my body. I looked back at him and smiled. He was not smiling. “You gave it to me,” I scoffed, letting him take it off me without a fight. I watched as he folded it over the back of the chair before turning to face me.

“I gave it to you so your,” his words began to get jumbled up as he gestured to my boobs, “So you weren’t exposed in front of any-”

“So no one would see what belonged to you?” I asked, folding my arms over my chest. Spencer looked down at me, a flabbergasted look on his face. I smiled and cocked my head to my shoulder.

“I… I never said that,” Spencer shook his head.

“Yeah, but you thought it,” I scoffed and rolled my eyes. Spencer looked down at me. I could tell that he was trying to be the one in charge, kinda like how he was the other night. But it was so, so clear that he couldn’t be in charge. That he wouldn’t be in charge now. That this was just embarrassing to him. Maybe that’s just how our dynamic would work. Out in public, I was the loud one, the one who made everyone think that I was in charge in the bedroom. And, Spencer, in public, was the quiet, shy, nervous one, who was clearly submissive in bed. But in actuality, he was telling me what to do, when and when I can’t cum.

“Why were you wearing that?” he asked again, his voice pulling me from my very dirty thoughts. I looked up at him and smiled.

“Because you were ignoring me! I needed to get your attention somehow! And then I remembered I still had that,” I smiled at him. I wished I still had his sweater on, because it was actually quite cozy and warm. The look he gave me made me drop my shoulders, suddenly feeling ashamed about the current situation. So, I stared at him, feeling annoyed. More annoyed than I have over the last two weeks. “Do you regret it?” I finally asked, not really knowing if he’d be mad with my question.

“Pardon me?” He asked, raising an eyebrow as he looked at me. I shook my head and looked down at the ground. “It’s not that I regret it-”

“So you do,” I looked back up at him and dropped my shoulders again. Before Spencer got the chance to say anything, I cut him off, “Oh please, you loved shoving your tongue, and cock, down my throat,” I scoffed before looking at him. The expression on his face flinched slightly as he looked back at me from behind the desk. “I get to… I get to be your good, little girl, your princess for, what, a week? A day? 12 hours? Whenever the fuck you want... And I’m supposed to go back to normal life the next day? And… And pretend that nothing happened!” I stared at him and shook my head. Spencer looked over at the door and back at me. “Thinking it’ll never happen again!” I shouted. I didn’t mean to shout, honest. But I was starting to get angry. He made me feel something like I belonged to someone. And now I don’t feel like that.

“Will you stop talking for a second,” he muttered before stepping away from me and his desk. He walked over to the door and shut it. I crossed my arms over my chest and watched as he walked back over to me. “I never said you had to pretend as if nothing happened. And I never said that I regret it,” he spoke in a harsh whisper. I looked at him with mild irritation on my face.

“It sure fucking felt like it,” I spat at him.

“You’re all I think about… Christ, I’ve been trying to figure out how to tell you that. I never said you had to forget everything… Because I’ve been having a hard time forgetting it myself.” He looked up at me. I almost refused to look at him, but his voice was so soft that I had to look at him. “I never expected you to forget,” he added.

“Then why are you acting like it didn’t happen,” I stared at him before swallowing roughly, “You made me feel like I was wanted, that I belonged somewhere, with someone,” I spoke as I stepped closer to him. It was only a little bit closer to him, not as much as I wanted. But he stepped closer to me, making it so we were the closest we had been all day, in one large step. "You remind me of home," I added in a whisper. Spencer smiled and cocked his head to his shoulder.

“You do belong somewhere,” he whispered, resting his hands on my shoulders. I looked up at him, feeling my heart pick up speed, and butterflies appear in my tummy. “And that somewhere is with me,” he brought at hand to my cheek, allowing his thumb to rest on my lower lip. I looked up at him before he pressed his lips to mine.

I was honestly expecting him to say something else. I don’t know what. But I liked what he said, it made me feel really good. Like, I belonged with him, and nothing could change that.

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iliveiloveiwrite · 3 years

Text

I find myself travelling back to you // Simon Basset

Request: Could you possibly write a Simon Basset fic where maybe the reader is like a childhood friend and he bumps into them and they talk and catch up with maybe some romance or something - anon

A/N: My first Simon fic! I am a little uncertain of this as I am not sure whether I have Simon’s character down yet. I hope you all like! Thank you for requesting, I hope I have done it justice.

Pairing: Simon Basset x Fem!Reader

Warnings: childhood friends, pining, mutual pining, fluff, some angst, she/her pronouns, female reader.

Word count: 3.8k

There was not a cloud in the sky as you made your way through Mayfair after having turned down a carriage. Instead, you chose to walk away the morning, happy to feel the warmth of the sun through the layers of your dress.

The streets had started out as quiet; a few souls here and there, but they soon grew busier and busier as routines were started. Dodging bodies here and there, you found it hard to be annoyed at the crowds – the weather too perfect for your mood to be sullied.

A flash of deep red amongst the crowd has your eyes and body on alert; the sound of a deep voice has your ears pricking. “Simon?” You call out, eyebrows furrowing as you spy a familiar head of hair making their way through the crowds.

“(Y/N)?” The man in question answers, eyes wide as he takes in your form.

“It’s been so long,” You whisper, staring into his brown eyes. “I suppose I should call you ‘Your Grace’ now. I was sorry to hear of the passing of your father,” You comment softly, not overly sorry for the death of the man who had mistreated his son so poorly but offering your condolences as a form of social etiquette.

Nodding his head, Simon smiles at you. “Thank you,” He gestures to the elderly lady on his arm, “I am sure you remember Lady Danbury.”

You smile widely at the elderly lady as she grins back at you. “Of course I do,” You laugh, “We meet at least once a week to have tea.”

If possible, Simon’s eyes grow wider to the point where Lady Danbury snorts. “Really now, Simon. Did you expect us ladies to go our separate ways when you left the country?”

“Of course not,” Simon drawls, amused by the elder. “I just didn’t realise you had a close relationship.”

“Well we do. That reminds me,” Lady Danbury pipes up, “I will not be able to make our tea appointment this week, dear (Y/N). My grandson, Gareth, is visiting.”

“Of course, Lady Danbury. We can always rearrange to the following week.”

“Nonsense,” She declares, slamming her cane onto the ground, “Simon will meet with you.”

Casting your gaze to the tall gentleman, it is not hard to miss to the surprise in his eyes. Shaking your head, you state, “I am sure the Duke has more pressing issues than tea with an old friend.”

Lady Danbury opens her mouth to protest your point but is beaten by the Duke. “I have nothing so pressing that cannot be rearranged. I shall meet you tomorrow, I assume Lady Danbury knows the spot.”

With a nod of your head, Simon smiles. He reaches out, grabbing your gloved hand and presses a kiss to the back of it. “Until tomorrow then,” He promises, stepping away from you with Lady Danbury in tow.

“Until tomorrow,” You whisper, watching the strong figure of your childhood friend walk away from you.

Glancing up at the still cloudless sky, you wonder how it is possible that the world keeps spinning when your own has changed so much. Simon left the country years ago, and even then, contact with the man was few and far between. He had left for school and seemingly left you behind. The very fact that he was happy to have tea with you sent shockwaves through your body; not a word for so many years and then this out of the blue.

Now glaring at the sky, you wonder whether there wasn’t a larger game afoot. One that had you reuniting with the childhood love that had left you a bereft teenager; it had you hoping you would not be left a heartbroken adult.

------

The pleasant weather was to continue, you thought to yourself as you sat down in the drawing room. Despite the calmness of the room; the sweet sound birdsong outside of your window, your stomach would not calm. Instead, it was threatening to make a mockery of your breakfast. A missive had arrived late yesterday evening from Lady Danbury explaining that Simon would indeed be calling on you for the promised tea.

Smoothing out your pale blue skirts, you wish desperately that you had brought something to keep you occupied as you wait for his imminent arrival. You curse the fact that you left your latest cross-stitch upstairs in your room, having worked on it late into the night. You could have used it to the pass the time to keep your mind busy.

“The Duke of Hastings,” The butler announces, startling you slightly, stepping aside for Simon to stride into the room.

Simon smiles widely as he spots you standing by the table; he rushes over to you, reaching for your hand, placing a lingering kiss to the back of it before straightening. “(Y/N),” He greets, breathless as if he had rushed all the way over here.

“Simon,” You answer, smiling just as widely.

Following his lead, you take a seat at the table, waiting for the tea service to be brought up.

“How is Lady Danbury?” You question, trying to fill the time for the service to arrive.

Simon laughs. “It seems she is on the warpath. Her grandson, Gareth, arrived this morning still out of sorts from the previous night.”

“No!” You gasp, “He’s barely of age!”

“That is what dear Lady Danbury was reminding poor Gareth as she swung her cane at him. I thought I better leave before her attention and her cane turned to me.”

“A good decision to have made.”

“Definitely,” Simon agrees, “As I was leaving, Gareth was promising his grandmother not to touch another drop of alcohol again though I doubt that promise will stick.”

“Poor Gareth,” You lament, thinking of the times you had been on receiving end of a lecture from Lady Danbury. “She does love him so though.”

“She does,” Simon states, “I remember his birth. It feels so long ago.”

You hum in agreement; wondering how quick time had flown by. Gareth was to be part of the next generation of society; he was to bring it into its future, especially if his grandmother had anything to say about it.

“How long have you been home?” You ask, pouring the both of you some tea now that it had arrived.

“I travelled to Clyvedon to settle things there before journeying down to London. I’ve been back in England just short of a month.”

“Oh,” You murmur, trying your best not to feel hurt that he hadn’t actively sought you out. After all, it had been years since you had last spoken. No correspondence had been exchanged throughout the duration of his travels; Lady Danbury had been the one to update you on where Simon was in the world. He hadn’t written you a single letter despite the long friendship that you still held dear. Instead, it had been an utter coincidence, a meeting in the streets that had proved to you he was still alive and breathing.

“I wanted to come see you,” Simon states, feeling bad about the broken sound that had left your mouth just now. He wasn’t one to talk so openly about his feelings, but he found himself needing to explain to you that he hadn’t stopped thinking of you since he stepped foot on English soil.

“Did you?” You question, sounding very much as if you did not believe a word leaving his mouth. By the unimpressed expression on your face, Simon knew you did not believe him.

“I did, but I got so busy. There were estates to manage, ledgers to balance and announcements to be made. By the time I landed in London, I was so thoroughly exhausted that I simply wandered to Lady Danbury’s home and fell asleep on her chaise-lounge. She wasn’t impressed.”

You snort before realising the impropriety, “I can imagine.”

Simon laughs entertained by the thought of Lady Danbury’s face when she found him snoring away on her chair. “As punishment, she made me accompany her on a walk… where we ran into you.”

“What a punishment,” You drawl.

Simon rolls his eyes at your tone. “I like to think of it as a happy coincidence.”

“Then I shall look at it in the same manner.”

There was something different about the man sitting across from you. Was it how he held his spoon? How he stirred his tea? Had the years abroad moulded him into a new person, one you could barely recognise?

Simon held himself entirely different to how he would when he was younger. His posture, perfect. His stance, brimming with confidence. It takes you aback somewhat as you take in the changes the years away at school and abroad have placed on his body.

Would your friendship still stand after so long apart? Is Simon simply placating Lady Danbury by having him meet you for tea? He talks such pretty words; can form sentences that leaves your mind in a spin, but this is the same man that had left the country without so much as a goodbye in your direction.

Reaching for your tea, you distract yourself from such intrusive thoughts. The tea clears your mind; letting you form a blank slate in your mind. “Enough talk of the past, no matter how recent,” You declare, “You left so long ago and came back a new person. It seems I need to get to know the new one.”

Simon smiles at you from his place across the table. “The same could be said for you too.”

You smile though it doesn’t reach your eyes. You don’t mention how you had spent the last few years turning down every marriage proposal offered to you due to your heart belonging to another even in its broken state. “Time is a marvellous thing,” You offer instead, grabbing a small cake from the stand.

“Indeed,” Simon murmurs, eyes following the cake from the plate to your mouth. Despite the time that had passed, his feelings had not changed. They had grown stronger instead. By now, Simon truly understood the meaning of absence making the heart grow fonder. All through his travels, he had cursed himself for not asking you to join him. Through every country, principality and dominion, Simon wondered how it would be for you to be there with him, experiencing the wonders of it all.

“Where was your favourite place to travel?” You ask, leaning forward slightly, “I’ve never travelled further than France.”

Simon nods, remembering your trip abroad with the same pang of sadness he felt back then. He knew logically that you were sat across from him, yet the longing in his body did nothing to help repress the urge to reach out for your hand across the table – to touch you so he would know that you were there, and this wasn’t a figment of his imagination.

“I think my favourite place to visit was Greece. I stayed on the mainland for a while before eventually making my way around the islands. Each island had its own charms, but there was one that had me questioning whether I could live there for the rest of my life. It was so calm, so quiet. Not even the thoughts in my head could distract me from its serenity.”

“Do you miss it?”

“The island?”

“The travelling.”

Simon sighs, staring out of the window as he thinks of over his answer. Eventually, he says, “I miss the sights and the people. I miss the smells and the food. However, I do not miss the time zones. There were moments where I didn’t know what time it was, let alone what day it was.”

“It sounds as if you had a magical time,” You sigh, trying your best not to think of Simon in the desperate heat of the Mediterranean.

“It had its moments,” Simon admits, thinking of the hours he had spent in markets, trying local delicacies and drinking traditionally made coffee. He had adored every second of his travels; he hadn’t minded the odd illness that came along with a new environment when there was so much to learn and so much to experience.

“Will you be travelling again soon?”

“It depends,” Simon answers.

“On?”

“On whether I find anything to keep me here.”

Silence falls over you both as you take in his words, trying to find the meaning of them. Taking a sip of your tea, you wonder whether your friendship with the Duke would be enough to keep him grounded at home for longer than a few weeks at a time. Your heart skips a beat at thought that you might not be enough; your feelings for the Duke had never surprised you. They had not surprised Lady Danbury when you showed up on her doorstep in floods of tears after Simon had left for the continent; she had simply welcomed you into her home with words of comfort and reassurances.

“Will you be attending Lady Danbury’s ball later this week?” You ask, needing to take your mind off that terrible evening.

Simon chuckles, placing his teacup on its saucer. “I shall be in attendance. I find it hard to turn down Lady Danbury. Will you be there?”

You nod, thinking of the dress you had made special. “I will. I’m quite excited if I’m to be honest.”

“Why is that?”

You shrug, “The theme, the music, the company. Lady Danbury never fails with her balls.”

“She does not,” Simon agrees, remembering the grandiosity of such events before he left to travel.

“So I shall see you there?” You ask, your voice hopeful as if daring to wonder whether Simon would attend before no doubt leaving the country once more.

“You shall. Would you save me a dance perhaps?” Simon asks, his usual mischief alight in his eyes.

You smile widely, “Always.”

--------

The rest of the week is spent in anticipation; desperate for the hours to quicken so you could walk through the home of Lady Danbury to find Simon already waiting for you. A hopeless dream, but a dream, nonetheless.

The Duke of Hastings remains on your mind for the rest of the week. One chance meeting and one organised tea and it seems that the man had made his home in your mind and brought to life the feelings you were certain were dormant.

With those feelings in mind, you prepare for Lady Danbury’s ball knowing full well you were about to spend the evening in the presence of Simon, but also watching the mothers of London’s available fawn over him as if he was a prize to be won. It was enough to make your blood boil.

Ridding yourself of such anger, you enter the home of Lady Danbury.

Lady Danbury never spared any expense when it came her to time to host the event of the season. She knew that it would be reported on, that it would be spoken about. She also knew that there was a chance that many matches could be made that night; so no expense could be spared in the battle for love matches among the ton.

The sight of the ballroom takes your breath away as you enter. Lady Danbury had chosen the theme of the moon, stars and sun – asking her guests to dress in colours relating to either. Your navy blue skirts swish together the further you walk into the room, distracted by the moon and star decorations hanging from the high vaulted ceilings.

You’re so enraptured by the scenery that you do not hear the footsteps approaching or the whispers of the women beside you. It isn’t until you hear him call your name that you turn your gaze from the silver decorations.

“Simon,” You greet with a smile, “How have you been?”

“Very well,” He replies, “And yourself?”

“I’m fine, thank you for asking.”

“You look wonderful,” Simon compliments; eyes raking up and down your body.

Your skin heats at his rapt attention; flashes of heat soaring through you as your mind begins to think of all sorts of scenarios where you could keep his eyes on you for much longer. “Thank you,” You answer, voice breathy, “You look very handsome too.”

“Would you do me the honour of dancing with me?” Simon asks, voice quiet in the loud room.

Nodding your head, you take his outstretched hand and allow him to lead you onto the dancefloor where many other couples are gathering.

Simon’s hand is soft on the small of your back; soft but insistent as it brings you closer to his own body. Wrapped up entirely in him, you find it hard to concentrate on the steps of the dance, easily being led around the dancefloor by the man who had captured your heart before you had even known the meaning of the word.

A large smile spreads over his face as he spins you out and brings you back. A surprised laugh leaves your lips as Simon spins you once more; the delight settling deep within your bones, melding to become a memory that would always be with you. Simon’s own laughter soons join yours and before long, neither of you are paying much attention and custom – the both of you having far too much fun in each other’s arms to be aware of the looks and glances being sent your way.

As the music fades into silence, Simon’s grip on you loosens reluctantly. He doesn’t want to let go of you; doesn’t know when the next time he can hold you this close will be. If he could, he would steal you away right now, but etiquette and his title demands he be a gentleman.

With a strained smile, Simon bows at you once before turning away without a word. So deep in his thoughts, he doesn’t see you escape to the gardens before it is too late.

------

The gardens at Lady Danbury’s home had always been spectacular, but in the night, they were even more magnificent. Despite the shadows of night, you were not scared as you walked down the paths, fingers absently brushing over the flowers of delicately blooming flora.

Rather, your mind was occupied by the one man who had returned into your life after such a sizeable absence. Simon had danced with you tonight, and every aspect felt so perfect. The way his hand covered yours; the way his palm felt pressed against the small of your back. Bringing your hand to your mouth, you hide the smile on your face as you think of the way he had laughed with you as he spun you across the floor. He had looked so young; so carefree, as if he hadn’t the weight of the world on his shoulders.

“I wondered where you had wandered off to,” A voice sounds from behind you, startling you.

“Simon!” You gasp, clutching your chest, “You scared me!”

He chuckles, holding his hands up in surrender as he steps closer to you. “That was not my intention,” He promises, his smile wide.

“What was your intention then?” You ask, an eyebrow raised in challenge.

“I wanted to ask you a question should you allow it.”

“We are alone,” You remind him, “We should move inside.”

“Please,” Simon pleads, “It won’t take long.”

You pause your steps. The cool night air settles around you as you wait for Simon to ask his question.

“Why did you never marry?” Simon demands; his eyes blazing with the need to know. “I know you had proposals; Lady Danbury even told me so.”

“There was never anyone good enough,” You confess, fisting your hands in the skirts of your dress to keep yourself from reaching out for him. “I tried. I really tried, but I always found myself thinking of you or wondering about you. Even though you never wrote, I still fell in love with you.”

Simon inhales sharply; not expecting your confession. You hadn’t expected to be so honest, but your heart was in control of your mouth; your mind taking a backseat on this one. Your heart had yearned after this man since you had learned the very definition of the word ‘love’.

“Why did you never write?” You ask, finally verbalising the question that had plagued your mind since the moment he had left.

He remains silent, so you repeat your question with a firmer voice. “Why did you never write, Simon?”

“If I had written to you, I would have come home.”

“Would that have been so bad?”

“I needed to get away, I had to leave. To do that, I had to cut strings with you, or I never would have become the man I am today. I never would have become worthy of you.”

“It is for me to decide whether you are worthy of me, Simon Basset. I have found you worthy of my love since you were ten years old and getting caught hiding a fish in the footmen’s bed if you must know.”

“For that long?” He asks; his voice a mere hoarse gasp as he battles with this new information.

“For that long,” You affirm.

“I always found myself travelling back to you,” Simon admits, “I would be in the furthest corner of the world and my mind would question why you were never by my side. On my last trip, I found myself packing my belongings with you on my mind before I had even made the decision to return home. My father was part of it, I’ll admit. But you… you were the whole reason why I returned to London.”

“What does this mean?” You ask, confused and emotional over the night’s confessions.

“It means I no longer want to travel the world if you are not by my side. It means I want to court you and follow the traditions of society. I have two loves in my life: travel and you.”

“You love me?”

He nods, “I have since I was a teenager.”

“I love you too,” You respond honestly, seeing no reason to lie in a moment like this.

“So,” Simon sighs as your words settle over him like a balm over an open wound, “Shall we do this properly? Courting and the like.”

“I think I would. I think we could start right now,” You whisper, stepping closer to the man who you felt certain was the love of your life.

“Right now?”

You nod you head, smiling widely as you reach for the lapels of his jacket. “I think we could start this very moment with a kiss. What do you think?”

Simon glances from side to side, checking for witnesses, “Only if you promise not to kiss another.”

“I don’t think that would be an issue,” You admit happily, “Kiss me, Simon.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice.

*******

Bridgerton Taglist: @heloisedaphnebrightmore @dreaming-about-fanfictions @now-its-time-for-a-breakdown @janelongxox @aspiringsloth20 @wallwriterstuff @magicalxdaydream @darkestbeforethedawn16 @gryffindors-weasley

#simon basset x reader #simon basset #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton #simon x reader #bridgerton imagines #simon basset fanfiction #simon basset imagines #duke hastings x reader

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tetsunormous · 3 years

Text

Provoking the captain

pairing: dom!Kuroo x f!reader

genre: smut (18+), established relationship

word count: 2.4 k

warning: swearing, fingering, choking, daddy kink, exhibitionism (?), edging, clit spanking, degradation

You and Kuroo have been together for a few months now. It was routine for the two of you to have lunch together with the team, and you could tell how happy it made him to know you get along so well with his teammates. He gets jealous quite easily, although he completely trusts you, so it’s hard for him not to feel some type of way when you go off joking around with the rest of the boys.

You were feeling a little bratty today and before you went your separate ways after lunch, knowing fully well you didn’t give him as much attention as he’d like, you grab Kuroo’s tie and pull him close enough that your lips barely touch.

It’s clear his team was watching with wide eyes, you look up at him before softly saying, “I’ll see you in class, make sure you pay attention, yea?”

You pull away with a faint smirk resting on your lips before turning to the team, “I’ll come by practice later, see you soon!”, and with that you start walking away knowing teasing Testsu like that will definitely come back to bite your ass later.

Kuroo stood there shocked that his baby girl would act out like this infront of other people, but he was also in awe of your confidence. That all changed when he heard Yamamoto and Lev snickering about how you have their captain wrapped around your pretty little finger.

“Oi! Who knew sweet little y/n was actually in charge” Yaku says, knowing it would egg Kuroo on further.

“Get your asses to class! If any of you show up late to practice I’m making you run extra”, and with that Kuroo walks away to the sound of Kenma’s snickers in the back.

It's the last period and you both have chemistry together. Normally he’s very good at staying focused but you couldn't help but smile at the sight of him constantly fidgeting and scrunching up his nose. “Are you okay, Tetsu? You seem a little distracted today” you ask as you rest your hand on his thigh.

“I don’t know what game you’re playing right now, but you know how I feel about you getting so close to others, especially right in front of me”, he turns towards you and whispers just loud enough for you to hear, “you didn’t give me any attention at lunch, and you top it off with a tease in front on my team? You really are my naughty girl aren't you chibi-chan?”

“Is that what I did? I’m sorry Tetsu” you say before shyly smiling, “maybe you can tell me more about what I did wrong after class, okay daddy?”

At this point, you knew you were screwed but watching your boyfriend’s eyes darken never fails to get you excited.

The rest of class went by slower than you hoped but the not so secretive glances Kuroo kept making made it entertaining to say the least. You tried your hardest not to pay him any attention, but the way his leg was bouncing against yours told you what you already knew. Practice was going to be different today.

The two of you start packing up your books as the bell rings and he’s already standing behind you with his large hand caressing your side.

“You better be good and finish your homework while I’m in practice chibi-chan, I’m not sure you’ll have time to complete it later after your little games earlier” he whispers, sending shivers down your spine.

“Is that a threat, or a promise Tetsu?”

You could taste the lust in his voice, “My pretty girl, I promise I’m going to fuck some manners into you”

And with that he leads you out of the classroom and over to the volleyball gymnasium. He taps your ass as you head towards the table in the corner where you normally get your work done while he's practicing.

“Alright kitten, give me a kiss before I go change for practice”

“Hmmm I don’t know Tetsu, for someone complaining about my manners, you forgot the magic word when you asked”

“Is this how you want tonight to go? Because if you keep this up, I will drag you into that janitor closet and remind you of your place”

Right as you were about to give in and offer him a kiss, the team floods into the gym and starts shouting at the two of you.

“I think it’s time for you to go captain. Don’t worry though, I’ll be a good girl and finish my homework”

He chuckles dryly, “You better.” and heads to the locker rooms.

Practice goes as usual but you can tell he’s on edge. Everyone in the room could tell Kuroo was on top of his game today. His serves are more powerful, his spikes are breaking through all their blocks, and his read blocking was scary accurate. Every so often he would make eye contact with you and it was nearly impossible to keep yourself from squeezing your legs shut. Kuroo is an incredible player but seeing the effect your little act has on his skills was shamelessly attractive.

You’re normally pretty well behaved and it’s a given you’d finish your work so completing your homework was never something that troubled you. However, the sounds of Kuroo’s hands smacking against the balls was distracting enough to make the process longer than normal. You finish all your work just in time to his two hour practice ending.

As you start packing up your work, you feel a presence looming over you and Kuroo’s scent fills your mind. He takes your hair and sweeps it behind your shoulder before leaning close to your ear, “I asked Yaku to lock up, I’m giving you two minutes to meet me in the janitors closet. If you’re late, I’m sure the boys wouldn't mind watching me put you in your place.”

A shiver runs down your spine instantly, but you know there's no hiding the wetness leaking from just the thought of what might happen next. He begins to leave and you can physically feel your body blushing as you scramble to pack up your bag. You knew teasing Kuroo would lead to a ‘funishment’ of sorts, but you’ve never heard him speak to you in such a sadistic tone.

As you pick up your book bag and head towards the janitor’s closet, your heart feels like it wants to burst from the anticipation. It’s common for Kuroo to get a little rough when you’d have sex but perhaps acting up at school wasn’t the best choice. Especially if the team has a big game next week.

You quickly slip into the closet and you’re met with your gorgeous boyfriend wearing a shit eating smirk, “Just in time kitten, I was beginning to think you want the team to see how desperate you are for my cock. No worries, I’m sure they’ll hear you either way.”

He kisses you softly and takes your bag from you before setting it on the floor. You’re standing there playing with your fingers with your legs pressed tightly together as he tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“Why do you look so nervous? What happened to the attitude, kitten?

“I’m not nervous!”

“No? It doesn’t make you nervous that the boys are going to do some individual practices before locking up? It doesn’t make you nervous that I plan to fuck you dumb so you know what happens when little girls try to give me an attitude, and the only thing separating us and the team is that door behind you?” He takes his hand and tilts your chin so you’re looking straight at him. He gives you a small smile, “My, you must really be a whore if it doesn’t make you nervous that anyone who’s in the gym will be able to hear just how desperate you are. We both know how loud you get”

“I know how you get when I’m bratty, for someone so smart you’d think it was easy to figure my intentions by now”

“Do you really think you’re in any position to talk to me like that?” His right hand now gripping the sides of your neck while his left hand travels under your skirt and begins to caress your thigh, “especially after admitting you acted out on purpose”

His hand is more than big enough to fully grasp your throat. You begin to feel a little lightheaded from the lack of blood flow, but that only makes you want him more. You know his left hand is snaking its way up towards your heat but you can’t help but to want to push him one step further.

“You gonna keep your promise from earlier daddy?”

Kuroo almost wants to laugh at your words, but part of him is still in awe at your boldness today. “I’m going to have so much fun with you tonight”

He slams your body against the door as the two of you begin to makeout. You moan into his mouth as he kisses you with urgency. You grant him access as his tongue swipes across your bottom lip and his left hand finds itself situated between your legs. You feel a tap against your inner thigh and you spread your legs open while your tongues move in unison. The grip on your throat tightens as his fingers begin to stroke your pussy over your little panties. He pulls away and leans in close -- kissing, nibbling, and whispering into your ear knowing how sensitive you are, “what’s got you so wet kitten? We’ve barely just begun”.

“You Tetsu” you whimper into his shoulder as his fingers start to hover over your needy clit.

“Yeah kitten? I barely touch you and you’re already soaking. Do you think you deserve to feel good after teasing me today?”

“T-tetsu, please” as you clutch onto his arms looking up at him to see his expression. However, you’re met with his piercing eyes, now a shade darker, staring intently into yours as he starts rubbing you over the thin fabric you still wear.

You continue to whimper and his speed increases but he suddenly stops and takes a step back.

“I asked you a question, didn’t I?”

“I promise I’ll be good Tetsu, please, I’m sorry for being a brat” you quickly respond with your hands reaching out to him but he just chuckles.

“Of course you’ll be good now kitten, you want me to help you get off. You want me to fill you up and remind you how good my cock feels inside you.” He walks towards you and cages you between his body and the door, “bad girls don’t get what they want, but for now all I want is to fuck you with my fingers. If you even think about trying to cover your mouth I will make sure you don’t get to cum for days. You want to act up? Daddy’s going to make sure everyone knows who you belong to, go it?”

“Y-yes yes, please fuck me with your fingers”

He roughly tugs your panties off and uses his foot to spread your legs wide open. His left hand spreads your pussy open before spanking your clit, sending a sharp pain up your body, and you can’t help the moan that escapes your lips, “That’s not my fucking name.”

“Daddy! Yes, yes daddy I got it!”

His lips attach to yours and he strokes your wet folds feeling how you shudder at his touch. You moan into the kiss and he bites your bottom lip slightly as his thumb finds its way to your clit. “So fucking wet.”

“Only for you. I’m only this wet for you daddy. Please, I want to feel your fingers”

“Yea?” His thumb continues to rub you as two fingers lightly trace over your folds teasing your hole. “Let me hear how much you want my fingers in you.”

“Please! I’m sorry for teasing you today, please just let me feel you daddy”, you whine into him trying to keep your knees from buckling. “I promise to be your good girl, I need you in me! Please daddy, please make me feel good!”

He smirks down at you before plunging two fingers in your tight little hole and your body arches back while you let out a whiney moan. “Let me hear how good my fingers feel inside you baby” His fingers begin to curl and continually hit your spot while his thumb persistently pays attention to your clit.

“F-fuck daddy, you make me feel so good”

Your arms latch onto his for balance, and your head falls back against the door. Kuroo takes the opportunity to run his tongue against the exposed curvature of your neck before planting kisses against your jaw. He sucks against the skin where your neck and ear meets before biting on your earlobe, “I want everyone out there to hear how needy you are” and inserts another finger into your dripping cunt.

“Oh my god” you breathe out, “daddy it feels so good!” you scream not caring who’s on the other side of the door. All you can think about are his fingers expertly pumping into you, hitting your g-spot every time, while his left hand spreads your pussy lips further making it easier to continually rub your clit.

He can feel how close you are by the way your walls are squeezing around his finger. By the way you’re shamelessly moaning out his name asking for permission to cum. By the way the grip you have on his arms tighten and the heavy heaving of your chest.

So he stops.

“Bad girls don’t get what they want, remember?” He sticks his fingers into his mouth and sucks all your juices off before bending down to pick up your bag. “Maybe next time, you’ll think about how badly you want to finish before you become a fucking brat. Now, let's go out there and show everyone what a needy slut you are, yea?”

“T-that’s it?”

“I’m sorry, you didn't think I was actually going to let you finish, did you?”

The blush on your cheeks only grows darker at the thought of facing his teammates. You bend down to put your panties back on before you feel his hand rubbing your ass. “When we get back to my place, I promise to leave handprints all over this pretty ass. If you behave yourself, I’ll think about letting you cum”

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#hq smut #hq x reader #hq!!#kuroo #kuroo tetsurō #kuroo smut #tw choking #tw degradation #tw exhibitionism #tw daddy kink #dark

359 notes · View notes

360iris · 3 years

Text

The Invitation (Young!Lucius Malfoy x Reader)

Warnings: Smut, smut, smut! Alcohol comsumption. Finger fucking, overstimulation. Vaginal penatration. Daddy kink, subspace mention. Oral giving and receiving. Pure filth.

Word count: 3,469

Summary: Gryffindor!Reader gets invited to the Slytherin party of the year by her nemesis, Lucius Malfoy. Fun times follow.

A/N: @thotbutpurple mentioned my first piece not having enough smut. I hope I delivered! Quite proud of this one, worked on it for nearly a week.

Admittedly, Lucius had caught you under the perfect circumstances. Equal parts tipsy, horny and momentarily separated from your friends.

Slytherin house had decided to throw another one of their infamous party’s brimming with free booze and food catered by the school’s house elves.

Over the years, you, like countless other students, had heard the tales of their untamed nights. Admittance being through invite only; of which were handed out secretly and strategically.

Up until yesterday’s events, you had resigned yourself to the fate of never experiencing the grandeur of the self-proclaimed Slytherin Elite.

Friday, February 10th, 1978

Cutting off poor Frank Longbottom who was usually your lab partner in Potions, Lucius Malfoy, slips into the seat to your left with a low and harsh, “Find another station, you gormless Muppet.”

At this point, it was your natural reaction from hearing his voice, to let out a disgruntled sigh paired with an annoyed eye roll.

“What do I owe the displeasure of being in your cologne drenched presence today, Malfoy?” You jabbed, in a soft but clearly inconvenienced tone.

His gray irises narrowed as his thin lips quirked up to the side in a laidback smirk.

He enjoyed your pointed jabs. So much so that he would go out of his way, on the daily, to verbally prod you until you couldn’t take being in the same vicinity as him anymore. Your unpleasant interactions with the older boy usually ended with you storming off enraged to go rant to your friends about how much of an absolute cunt he was.

“I come bearing gifts, Y/N. One of which I firmly believe you won’t be able to resist accepting.” He drawled.

Inwardly, you had to admit, this piqued your curiosity however, you decided to mask it by turning away from his irritatingly, attractive visage and towards a piece of parchment Professor Slughorn distributes to the class.

“And this so-called gift is what exactly?” You questioned, careful to keep your eyes trained off of him. A task that was quickly shoved aside when a pale hand slid a single, silver metallic stamp into view. It was no bigger than a galleon. Finely embellished with the words: Salazar Slytherin’s Spectacular Soirée.

Your eyes bulged and mouth gaped as you couldn’t help but snap your head to look at his face once more. “Lucius!” You whispered in absolute surprise.

“That can’t be what I think it is.” You continue after a sharp inhale.

He tilts his head as he takes in your clearly enthralled reaction, not replying to your statement.

You take a moment to compose yourself. Drawing your hands into small fists on the desk and letting out a silent but deep exhale.

You didn’t need to ask why he would gift this to you of all people. Lucius’ verbal prodding had been getting progressively more consistent once you’d entered your seventh year this semester.

Like most girls turning 18, your inherently childish ways had vanished; awkward appearances for the most part altered and morphed during the summer spent away from Hogwarts. Hips slowly filling out and breasts becoming distinguished. Meanwhile, your library of insults to throw at him became more deadly and varied.

You could play his game better than he expected you to now.

You crossed your legs underneath your skirt, steeling your expression. You leaned forward to lay your chin against your right palm and turned your gaze towards him. Making a show of looking him up and down before quietly whispering:

“All this just to fuck me huh, Malfoy?” His face stills and demeanor changes. Tongue-tied by your change of tone.

You proceed with a nonchalant, “Your mind must be plagued with questions of just how pretty and pink my pussy is. I’m right aren’t I, sweetheart?”

You observe his jaw lock in place.

“Do you want to brag to your spineless lackeys about how you were the first one to fuck that cocky, Gryffindor halfblood? I bet you wouldn’t wait to boost over how all you had to do was touch her once, call her a filthy, little mudblood and she’d come like a bitch without a pedigree.”

His eyes darken and fists clench so tightly that they turn whiter than you thought possible for him; as you inwardly muse over if he was becoming horny or infuriated. Maybe it was both, but you wouldn’t stick around to see the outcome. He was a deadly bomb waiting to go off.

Pursing your lips, looking him over once more, you decide to leave him with, “Nice chat. I’ll see you around then, Lucius.”

Agilely, you gather your things. Sauntering over to Professor Slughorn and quietly feeding him a contrived lie about how it’s that time of the month and you didn’t think you’ll be able to sit through today’s lecture; effectively earning yourself leave from the classroom.

As Lucius sits, daftly staring at your back as you make your escape. If he wasn’t previously furious from listening to your small beratement, he most definitely is when he glances down to see the silver stamp invite missing from where he had placed it on the table.

“That bloody minx.” He seethes under his breath.

Having made your speedy getaway and in the clear for the moment, you decide to make a beeline to the Gryffindor common room where you know your friends are spending their free period.

Remus, who is the first to notice you entering the warm lounging area, stands up at your arrival and walks to meet you halfway.

“Y/n, aren’t you supposed to be in Potions right now? Did something happen?” He questions, his brows beginning to furrow. Sirius and James who are seated next one another mid-laugh immediately turn their heads in your direction.

Not stopping your power walk, you reach out and grasp one of his hands and pull him with you towards the boy’s dormitory entrance. “Padfoot, Prongs! Up, up!” You urgently whisper in their vicinity.

Once the door is securely locked behind the four of you, Sirius questions you, “Alright, spit it out. What’s got your panties in a twist this time, Y/L/N?”

You ignore him, haphazardly tossing your book-bag on the floor next to James’ bed; of which you proceed to throw yourself onto the edge of, letting out a cheerful giggle.

“Boys. I’ve just been bestowed one the greatest gifts a Hogwarts senior could ask for. One of which, you lot would have never been able to get your hands on. So you must now bask in my glory!” You jokingly proclaim, yanking off your school shoes before pulling your legs into criss cross-applesauce. Incapable of caring that your underwear is now in the boy’s lines of sight.

“And what is this gift exactly, oh great benefactor?” James questions, sitting on the floor in front you, folding his arms atop your lap and leaning his head forward on them with a fond smile.

Your fingers absentmindedly glide and fiddle through his chaotic curls. “I don’t know, you might not be able to handle the excitement. I fear you might faint from the shock of the reveal!” You continue to jest.

“I best take a seat before you continue then.” Remus grins, plopping down next you on the bed, giving you his undivided attention. This of which, causes Sirius to scoff.

“Dish it already, woman. At the pace you’re going, I’ll be a skeleton by time you finally tell us what the big deal is.” He sarcastically jabs folding his arms briskly. Instead of moving away from the door, he leans his back against it and crosses one leg over the other. His gaze lazily quizzical as you roll your eyes at his apprehension.

“Sirius, you’re no fun sometimes, but if you’re in such a hurry to cum your pants then here it is.” You reply, reaching the hand that’s not currently tangled in James’ hair, to triumphantly pull out a small, silver stamp from the inside of your bra and present it for the group to see.

There are mixed reactions to the reveal.

James scrunches his nose up in mock disgust, Sirius freezes and Remus placing one hand on your shoulder, leaning forward to get a better look. And then the questions begin.

“What is it?”

“Oh, it just happens to be a pass into one of Slytherin house’s craziest parties of the year, James dear.”

“How’d you even manage to get your hands on one of these?”

“Like I said, it was a gift, Remus.”

“Be honest, Y/n. What poor sod did you steal it from?”

“For your information I didn’t have to steal it. Lucius Malfoy just handed it to me for nothing.” You say matter-of-factly at which he first gapes before proceeding to fume.

The conversation that continued from then on took a tiny bit of convincing on your end, but all three boys agreed in the end to come with you. No one in their right mind would let a chance like this go by.

Saturday, February 11th, 1978

“If you think you could pull the stunt you did yesterday and waltz in here today without having to answer to me, you’re gravely mistaken, lionet.” Lucius whispers into your ear and you just happen to be in the mood to challenge him further.

“I don’t think I’ve made even one mistake though, Daddy.” You coo back to him. Batting your eyelashes up at him and with a quick smirk you bring your cup of fire whiskey back to your lips for a sip.

With one hand he grabs your hips and pushes your back flush with the wall behind you. The other reaching under the skirt you’re wearing and pausing right at the hem.

“Prod me one more time, doll. I guarantee I’ll have you crying your pretty little eyes out.” He growls into your neck and this time you openly giggle up at him.

“I thought you knew that’s what I wanted, baby?” was the last thing you drawled out before the next thing you know, he’s dragging you further away from the main party, into a small reading room.

Closing the door behind you two, he leads you to sit down on one of the ottomans in the middle of the room.

“I’ll let you in on a secret, Y/N. A small part of your observation from yesterday was correct.” He says undoing the tie around his neck and bunching it up. Before you could question him further, he gingerly stuffs it in-between your mouth.

“Can't risk having anyone hearing the cute little moans you'll be letting out for me. I want all the time I can get from you tonight, lionet.” Is all he offers as an explanation.

Rubbing your thighs together to aid in soothing your gradually aching cunt, you watch as he gets on his knees in front of you.

“I’ve spent countless months thinking of this stupid, fucking pussy of yours and tonight I’m determined to have it creaming all over my cock.” He's gazing at you intensely while his hands are reaching to pull off your undies.

Not being able to actually respond around your makeshift gag, you settle for lifting your hips so he can get to pleasing you quicker.

As the minutes pass, the soberer you become but Lucius’ arousing words continue to sway you into a pliant and silent submission.

Never in a million years did you think you would willing want Lucius Malfoy to fuck you senseless but the closer you get to having him, the more sure you are of it. You pray to Morgana that he leaves your cunt an absolute mess.

Once you’re free from your undergarment, he pulls you by your thighs until your ass is flush against the edge of the couch.

He pushes your knees back against your chest to get full access to your core, “Daddy wants you to keep your thighs nice and wide for him so he can wreck your little pussy, okay?” He questions and you let out a muffled sob of your confirmed understanding.

“Good girl” is all he replies before he gets to work. Spreading the lips with two fingers, he examines just how pink you are down there, seemingly pleased because immediately after, he springs into action.

His mouth cups around your clit, starting off slow and light to ease you into the pleasure before increasing the intensity.

He begins alternating between sucking and lapping at your bud while a single finger makes its way to your slit. Leisurely dragging the pad in your wetness before sliding it inside you, centimeter by centimeter, until it’s gone as far it can go.

Thrusting the one finger in and out until he feels your insides are soaked and loose enough for the next.

By the time you’re comfortablely taking four fingers fucking into you, your arousal is dripping down his wrist and you’re nearing your first orgasm.

“Lu- Lucius!” You manage to drool out through the thickness of his tie, catching his attention.

“Luci- I’m close!” You try to sob out and he responds by sucking and lapping at your clitorus intenser than before. His tongue rubbing just the right angle and you can’t help but let out a small squeal as your body is raked over with a white flash of euphoria.

He eases you through it with softer and softer laps as you squeeze your thighs to your chest with a vice grip. He licks up the remainder of your cum before coming up to remove the tie from your mouth and pull you into an enticing kiss.

As your breathing relaxes, he pulls his lips away. “How was that, sweetheart? Did Daddy make your little cunt feel good like he promised?” He coos, caressing your shoulders to soothe you further.

Fighting to get your words back you mewl, “Mmhmm, thank you Daddy. Felt really good, just like you promised. Do you think I’ve been good enough to have your cock though?” you ask looking up at him through wet lashes. His immediate response is a moan.

How is it that you know just what to say to rile him up? He wonders.

Picking you up, he takes your place on the couch. Pulling off his trousers and underwear, finally freeing his cock, it swings upright against his tummy. Scooting to leisurely lean back, he places you in his lap as you take a minute to admire his member. It’s thick and hard with a raging reddish-pink tip, leaking a small amount pre-cum.

Your core throbs and there’s no way you’re not gonna suck him off before getting him inside of you. Before you can scuttle off his lap however, his hands are gripping your hips. “Where are you going, love? I thought you wanted my cock?” He questions with a smirk.

Of course Lucius would make you beg to suck him off, you think, responding with a desperate moan. You try to lean in for a kiss but a hand flies up to hold your jaw in place. Squishing your cheeks and mouth together.

“Ah ah.” He tuts. “You know what to do, baby.”

You let out a defiant whine and the hand around your cheeks grip tightens.

“Daddy just told you to beg, you fucking whore.” He growled, giving your head a slight jerk back and you melt against him.

Grasping at his shoulders and trying to keep yourself from swooning, you respond with, “Wanna suck your cock, Daddy. Can I make you feel good please? You can even fuck my throat. Let me be a good girl for you.” you whimper through his grip and he just smiles at you before pulling you in for the kiss you wanted.

“That’s all you had to say, little lionet. Come on, let Daddy slide down your throat.” He grins and you practically fly down from his lap to get his penis in your mouth.

Moaning when his pre-cum hits your tongue, you immediately lick up and down his length. Getting as much spit around him as possible before beginning to use your hands to jerk him off. Lapping at his tip all the way to sucking his balls between your lips.

All he can do is whisper softly “Fuck fuck fuck, yes- ah that’s a good girl. My little girl is such a good slut for me.” before you come up to start deepthroating him and then his head is lolled back against the couch, gently holding both sides of your face as his tip hits the back of your throat.

Pulling you off of him by the hair at the nape of your neck, he has to take deep inhales and exhales “I wanna come in you, sweetheart.” He groans, caressing your hair.

Once he’s recovered enough, he lifts you to sit back on his lap, this time facing away from him.

You lean forward grasping his knees while he fingers you to make sure you’re ready to take him. “Alright, Angel.” He groans, licking his newly wet fingers to taste your arousal once more before reaching around to rub slow circles against your clit.

As you slide onto him, leaning your back against his chest, the room fills with your collective sighs and moans of pleasure.

He begins to set the pace, starting with slow pulls out of your heat before using your weight to pull you back down onto him firmly. Experiencing such euphoria that coherent speech begins to elude you. The both of you too lost in the pleasure to say anything other than “Yes, yes, yes! Right there, fuck me!” mixed with slurred moans and sighs.

His fingers rubbing your clit in circles, fastens in pace and soon your second orgasm knocks into you so hard that all you can do is grip his wrist and thigh, convulsing helplessly around him.

As you’re climaxing, Lucius fuzzily notices that you’re squirting. All that can be heard from your lips is a fucked out wail and he’s sure he’s in love.

He’s fucked you through your orgasm and the pleasure is gradually escalating into overstimulation. Your body locking in place as he maintains the same pace, rocking into you.

“Luci- fuck! Lucius!” You’re crying now, thrown deep into subspace.

“Come on Angel, let me give you one more. Think you can manage one more orgasm, hm?” He asks desperately fucking into you like he’s starved of pleasure.

“Can you handle it, babygirl?”

“O- Okay!” Literally sobbing now from the buildup. He’s fucking you like you’ve never experienced before.

“It hurts so good, Luci- you’re fucking me so good!” You cry out, both of you racing towards the end.

One last thrust does it and he grabs you by the waist to bring you down on him. You let a blissed out scream and he’s resting his forehead against your back breathing heavily. Warmth spreading in your stomach as he releases into you. He gives a few thrusts before pulling out.

You’re feeling fuzzy as he cleans your inner thighs and face off. He sprinkles kisses from your legs to your lips, praises peppering your ego.

“You were such a good girl for me.”

“Look at you baby. So pretty.”

“Good job, love.”

“You were wonderful, little lionet.”

Pulling your panties back on for you, he’s pleased knowing his come is still inside you. “Something to remember me by.” He says before pulling you into one last kiss for the night. It’s slow and soft and as your coherent mind is making its way back into your body, you register how tender he’s being.

Pulling back from his lips, you stare into his eyes. “I hope you’re aware that you can’t fuck me that good and expect it to be a one time fling.” You state smiling, fingers grasping at his sides and he laughs.

“I was never planning for it to be, doll.” He replies, slipping a strand of hair behind your ear. “Now run along back to your miscreant friends. I’ll finish cleaning up here.” He pats your butt, pushing you towards the door and with a roll of your eyes, you head out.

After turning a few corners you immediately bump into Sirius who looks over you with a raised brow.

“What?” You ask, pulling back.

“Nothing, you just look like you got fucked into next year though.” He barks out. Laughing his head off, pointing out your makeup that’s missing in action and hair completely unstyled. You elbow him in the stomach feeling suddenly sheepish.

“Shut up and help me find the others. I’m in desperate need of a shower.” And you can’t help but chuckle with him, his laugh being undeniably contagious.

“Whatever you say. I think I saw James challenging some random sod to an arm wrestling match.”

#lucius malfoy #lucius malfoy x reader #harry potter imagine #lucius malfoy smut #lucius malfoy fluff #young lucius malfoy #marauders #marauders era #marauders x reader #sirius black fluff #sirius black x reader #harry pottr imagines #fluff #smut

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shreddedparchment · 3 years

Text

Spa Day

03/04/2021

Pairing: Clark Kent x Reader Word Count: 7,559

Warnings: language, depression, past abuse, emotional abuse, fluff

A/N: I wrote this because I have been feeling pretty down on myself. It’s pure self indulgence to make me feel better. I hope it will help someone else and if not, I hope you at least get a smile or some entertainment from reading it. If you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work! xoxo

You’re awkward, walking in. Feeling out of place.

This place was for special people. Well, people who mattered.

You’re not sure how you got the voucher. It all happened so quickly.

One minute you were sitting in Mr. Wayne’s office, twiddling your thumbs to expend some nervous energy as you awaited your firing then the next you were being shoved out his office door with a gentle but firm hand at the center of your back.

Mr. Wayne had smiled, his face relaxed and amused.

“It expires soon, so use it tomorrow,” he’d said.

“I work tomorrow,” you’d resisted, no intention of losing a full day’s paid work.

“Take the day. On me. Full pay,” As you opened your mouth to protest again, he quickly lifted his hand to silence you politely and tacked on, “There’s no use arguing with me. Now enjoy it or you’re fired.”

He’d shut the heavy wooden door in your face leaving you standing there, stunned. At a loss to think up a reason to not come here today but obviously you’ve failed seeing as you’re here.

“Good morning!” A young woman with soft to the touch looking blonde hair smiles at you from behind the modern pale wooden counter. The white marble top shines in your eyes.

“Hi. Morning,” you sputter.

“How can we help you today?”

She’s so nice. So polite. Professional. This place is super expensive looking. There’s a crystal chandelier behind you at the center of the small lobby space. Chic sofas line the wall behind you, large pots with dragon trees growing tall add a splash of color to the otherwise sterile and plain gray walls.

Despite its minimalist decor, the office exudes money.

You’re almost at the brink of following the impulse that wants to turn you towards the tinted glass door, but before you can make your escape, the receptionist’s kind voice interrupts you.

“Oh! You have one of our platinum vouchers! Lucky you,” she smiles, genuine in her glee. “Shall I take that?”

She holds out her hands, both of them and waits for you to place the thick and shiny ticket-like paper in them.

Quickly she gives it a read, turning it over and then placing it under a UV light by her computer. An image shines out from under the purple light of a shimmering diamond right at the center of the ticket.

“You’ve got the works. Was it a gift?” She looks up at you, not intending to insult you but you can’t help but feel a little stung by her assumption.

You can’t really blame her though. You reserve all of your best outfits for work. Casual yet distinguished pantsuits and skirts with matching tops or jackets.

Today you’ve chosen a simple floor length skirt. It sits snugly around your waist and hips. Your t-shirt, a simple graphic tee with the words “Touch the Radley House YOLO” printed in bold black letters.

“Uh, yeah,” you admit to the girl, wishing she’d just sign you in and let you go about your day. “My boss gave it to me.”

“Lucky, lucky. You must have a really nice boss,” she admires.

“Well, I lost his company nearly a hundred million dollars and he didn’t fire me, so…” you trail off, still lost as to why Mr. Wayne had been so adamant you take some time off and why he’d been so understanding about the Ronson account.

“Oh,” the girl says, blinking a few times as she tries to process what you just said. “A very nice boss then.”

Her conclusion brings a small smile to your lips because truthfully, Mr. Wayne is very kind. You’ve never heard him berate an employee and he’s usually only tough on his business associates. Members of his board and investors. Like Mr. Ronson.

If he wasn’t so out of your league, you’d even consider maybe letting yourself really look at him. He’s hot for sure, but he always seems so preoccupied. Like he has something he’s trying to keep buried.

Nice, but he has secrets. No one’s perfect.

“Well, we’ve got you all booked in. What you’ll want to do is head in through that door on your right, walk halfway down the hall and the lounge room should be there to your left. Someone will come and escort you to your first experience.”

You observe her vernacular. Every word she speaks is rehearsed and probably scripted to a certain point.

“Thank you,” you give her another small smile, still feeling out of place but a little more at ease.

“Enjoy!” she calls as you cross through the heavy wooden door.

It swings shut behind you silently, a soft hiss at it latches.

The hallway before you is just as simple yet chic as the lobby. The colors are less neutral, a calming turquoise with a black base and a thick silver stripe lining the center of the wall at about waist height.

The doors are pale wood, smooth to the touch. You pass several of them as you make your way to the lounge.

Inside the door to your left at the center of the hall you find the lounge room. Which actually turns out to be a locker room. Smaller than what you would have thought with only about fifteen lockers that look more like small safes. Each one has a digital keypad, a fingerprint reader, and an iris scanner.

“Sheesh…” you observe but pick one and move over to it to set up your passcode, fingerprint, and scan your eye so that you can come get your stuff when your day of relaxation is over.

Inside the locker you find a neatly folded outfit wrapped in sanitary plastic. Completely sealed.

Just in case you’re wrong about this being a spot where you can change, you look for a designated changing area but don’t find one.

With no other choice, you place your purse and keys inside the locker, then slowly begin to strip. Shoes, skirt underwear go into the locker but your nerves don’t let you remove your t-shirt just yet. Untucked from your skirt, it’s easier to tell that it’s intentionally oversized.

After another quick anxious look at the door you’d come in through, you hook your hands into the base of your shirt and pull it up...just as the door opens and a large clearly male body steps in.

You gasp, whirling around in surprise to reclothe your breasts.

Cool air blows against your bottom as your shirt also twists with your movement, but you reach back and yank it down.

“Oh, I am...uh, didn’t see anything?” The voice is deep, smooth. It puts you at ease even though you literally just exposed yourself to a complete stranger.

“No, no. It’s fine,” you tell him, voice strained with embarrassment. “It’s my fault, I didn’t know if there was a separate changing room. I just...didn’t see any.”

“Oh, um...it’s the door right across the hall. But you know what? I’ll actually just step right outside and let you finish.”

That’s so nice…”You don’t have to, I can just-”

You turn around to look at him, keeping your hands on your shirt to pull it down. One at the front. One behind.

Simultaneously, though you don’t notice, both your and his jaw drop.

It takes both of you a moment to find your voices and while he speaks, your mind is busy taking in his massive size.

He’s thick. Muscles bulking through the should-be loose wrap top he’s wearing. Like yours it’s a soft peach color, the same diamond shape you’d seen on your voucher under the UV light etched into the right breast.

With the top he wears loose pants, or somewhat loose around his knee and down to his ankles; there’s a pair of charcoal slippers on his feet. His thighs, like his arms and chest strain against the clothes he’d been given.

It’s clearly too small. You wonder if maybe this place doesn’t carry the outfit in his size. It’s very possible, considering his girth.

“Miss?”

His slightly concerned expression brings you back to yourself, now flustered because he’s caught you gawking at him.

“Sorry, I’m-you just surprised me and my brain’s a little-what did you say?”

“I’ll just step outside,” he doesn’t wait for you to respond as he backs up to the door then pulls it open and disappears through it, closing it gently behind him.

“What the hell was that?!” you gasp, angry at yourself for staring.

He’s hot! You couldn’t help it. He also looks familiar, though you can’t place the face. How you could possibly forget a face like that you have no idea.

While you change, you think about the smaller things you’d notice.

His hair is dark. Black. Curls that are carefully kept in place with hair products. His skin is a perfect pale peach. Not so pink as the clothes you’re pulling on, but it falls under the same shade. There didn’t seem to be a single blemish from what you were able to see.

A small tuft of chest hair had been peeking out of the V of the top. His face had been perfect, yes, but kind. There was a gentleness in it. The small curve of a smile had played on his rosebud pink lips. Not thin. Not thick. They were perfect.

He was perfect.

And those eyes...so blue. Like a clear spring sky. So bright and observant. There’s no way he didn’t catch you staring. Shit.

You note as you shove your underclothes into your locker out of where he might see them, that your own outfit for this spa leaves even less to the imagination than what must be the male uniforms.

Where the handsome stranger had pants, you were given very small shorts. Little more than boy short underwear in length. Parts of your bottom were threatening to overflow.

The top, while similar to the one the stranger wore, also came with a bandeau given the unique look of being wrapped around your chest when it so clearly is just one piece. You were expected to wear this underneath the looser wrap top.

Pulling it shut, you’re still tying the top closed around your waist as you hurry to the door where the stranger must still be waiting.

You open it...but he’s gone.

Disappointment floods through you. Surprising you.

You have no reason to want to see him, but you suppose you had just wanted to apologize for the awkwardness.

With a sigh you shut the door and move back to your locker to shove the rest of your belongings in just as a kind looking young woman no older than the receptionist at the front desk comes in with a smile.

“Are we ready for the diamond experience? You’re a very lucky lady!”

Even though you’re still only halfway sure you even want to go through with this whole thing, her excitement is catching and you find yourself nodding and scurrying after her as she shows you down the hall for your all expense paid spa day.

~~~~~~~~~~

You aren’t used to relaxation.

Not to this degree.

A gold facial? Full body exfoliation with sea salt and Indian kama oil? A rain massage which consisted of you being massaged with several different clays as warm water is cascaded down your body? An herbal bath with murky green water that leaves your skin feeling fresh--like mint but for your skin?

It’s too much!

You’re four hours into your spa session and you’re so sleepy you might pass out in this next one.

As you’re escorted by the same young lady who has been tending to you from the beginning, she opens the door of a long room, the outer wall of which is made up of endless glass panels that catch the rays of the sun.

As you step in, you’re assaulted by immediate drowsiness as your entire being is engulfed in slightly sticky heat.

This isn’t a sauna. It won’t make you sweat buckets. But it makes your skin dewy and your eyes droop.

“Oh, wow,” you gasp, suddenly wanting to run before you can collapse to the floor in unconsciousness.

Your escort laughs, “The hot room has that effect on all of our guests. Come, it looks like we’ve got a spot free over at the far end.”

Along this wall of glass, there are lounge chairs with soft cushions grouped in twos, separated by a lattice waterfall panel that tinkles pleasantly as it empties down into a bed of soft pebbles. On the table at the head of these seats is a pitcher of water, glasses, and a set of small handheld fans that one can use to cool off a bit in the heat. Just in case it becomes too much, you guess. Though you can’t imagine it will. The heat isn’t oppressive. Just consuming.

It’s everywhere but it’s not choking or frustrating.

“I hope you don’t mind if we put you next to one of our other single guests? Most of our diamond packages are used by couples, as you can see.”

Your escorts gestures at the chairs as you pass them and sure enough, every seat is taken with couples hiding behind large potted fan palms.

“No, I don’t mind,” you answer in single, as if you have any choice. “How long will I be in here?”

“An hour or so? If you’d like to exit early, there is a small button on the table by your lounge. Press it and I will come take you to your next experience,” she looks back and smiles at you.

You notice that you pass three spots without lounge seats and wonder silently why some of them have been removed. At the end of these empties is where the escort stops. A set of lounges in the very last spot against the wall.

“Here you are,” your escort smiles. “If you need anything, just give us a call.”

“Thank you,” you smile at her and squeeze between the potted palms.

Slightly nervous, you look for your unintended partner and gasp at the Adonis you’d thought you’d lost.

The sound draws his attention and his expression shifts from stoic concentration to soft smile, “Hey, it’s you again.”

It takes you a moment to find your voice because you’re too busy gawking again.

He’s not wearing a shirt or pants. That is, he’s wearing shorts. A lot longer than yours, reaching about the top of his thighs, but still short. Like briefs. It gives you a good view of every single muscle in his long legs and you suddenly envy anyone that’s ever had the privilege to ride that thigh.

What the fuck am I thinking?! You give our head a shake and try to focus on his face as he waits. It’s only a second too late.

“Yeah, hi. Sorry, I-” you avert your eyes and quickly take a seat in your own lounge chair to his left, keeping your eyes on anything other than the mass that is his chest.

Just as you’d thought, it’s covered in a mouthwatering line of chest hair that trailers down onto his stomach and makes an ever so subtle trail down, down, down...down...down…

He chuckles, “It’s alright. It’s only fair you get a good look too, right?”

You’re not even processing what he’s saying, unable to focus for a bit.

“You’re here alone?” It’s more an observation than a question but you answer anyway, grasping at the distraction.

“Yes,” you nod. “A gift from my boss.”

“Me too,” he turns a little in his seat so that he can look at you, but adjusting his angle so that he can still keep his legs up, one propped up as he rests his elbow on his knee. The other stretched out before him.

This draws your gaze back to him and you’re able to pay attention this time and ignore his very distracting body.

“Oh?”

“I mean, not my boss, but it was a gift from a friend. He thought I could use a nice relaxing day.”

The way he says it, sounds like you’re not the only one saddled with what you perceived was a burden or at the very least, a waste of time.

You grin, “Mine too. My boss. I saved the company I work with from a scandal and his idea of repaying me was to give me a spa day. A raise would have been more than enough.”

“Tell me about it,” the man says, smiling with stunning pearly whites.

His smile is gorgeous and you’re enamored again by how sweet he looks.

How can someone look like he can tear the head off a rhino and still look so adorable? It can’t be fair.

“Rent keeps going up and my job doesn’t pay nearly enough to keep up. At this rate I might end up having to move back to the farm.”

“Oh,” you reply lamely, piecing together where he might have grown his sculpted figure. Farm work can be grueling.

He gives you a look, assessing your response then waves his hand gently as if to swat away his complaint, “Sorry, don’t listen to me. I’ve got it better than most. You don’t need to be hearing about my problems.”

“No!” you rush to assuage his worry. “No, it’s okay. That sucks about your job. Is there no chance at a raise?”

“Not exactly, I have a uh, a hobby that keeps me from taking more work and I kind of get paid by assignment. I have a flat salary but working extra would definitely help with the bills.”

“What do you do?” you wonder, trying to picture this guy doing anything other than just looking like a God in a spa.

He could be a bodyguard? They get assignments. Construction? Personal trainer?

“I’m a journalist,” he tells you, speaking matter-of-factly as if it makes perfect sense.

You blink, then chuckle and then laugh once.

“What?” he asks, amused and smiling again as you chuckle. “What’s funny?”

“Nothing,” you shake your head. “It’s just, journalist is not where my mind went.”

He doesn’t seem surprised but he also doesn’t say anything else.

The two of you lapse into silence. It’s not uncomfortable and at least you don’t feel like you need to say anything to fill the dead air.

Twenty minutes pass and you lean back in your chair to relax, sighing lightly and smiling at the immaculate aura that this stranger seems to emanate.

It’s unlike anything you’ve ever felt before.

The longer you lay there, suddenly not sleepy at all, the more your curiosity grows. Turning towards him, you find him already looking at you.

This startles you but in a good way. You smile and the soft curve of his lips breaks into a full toothed smile.

Both of you move your lips to speak, but before you can either of you get a word in a rustle of palm leaves pulls both your attentions behind your seats.

You sit up, twisting a little to look at who’s come, expecting to see your escort or some other spa staff.

Instead you find a woman you’d spotted laying in another spot with who you’d thought was the other half of her couple. Her waist-length auburn hair clings to the skin of her bare shoulders and sides. She’s removed her top, leaving her in her bandeau.

“Hi,” she says to your stranger-wait not your stranger. Shoot.

He looks confused but not unfriendly, “Hello.”

“My friend finally talked me into coming over and talking to you,” she informs him.

“I see,” your-the stranger says.

The girl seems to be expecting something but the stranger just looks up at her expectantly. Awkwardly.

He looks at you and you quickly turn away from their conversation, pushing yourself to the end of the lounge to sit with your hands holding onto the edge, feet flat on the ground.

You try not to eavesdrop but they’re right there.

“What did you want to talk to me about?” he asks her, sounded polite but not uninterested.

You can hear the woman shifting from foot to foot, probably pushing her hips from side to side. Her figure is nice. Not like yours. She’s attractive, in a conventional way. In a magazine accepted way.

Your mood sinks the longer you ponder on this random girl and the stranger. There’s an endless string of disappointments that have built you into this person you are.

Insecurities made worse by words spoken by people that should have supported you or those you thought were on your side. Affections misplaced. Kindness taken advantage of. Betrayal. Worst of all the betrayal. Some small. Some big.

You know that you should be less shaky in your self worth. You know that you’re more than the words spoken and the actions taken that brought you to this point. But how do you turn it off? How to fight the thoughts that bring you down?

It’s not something you can do all at once. You know this. And yet feeling bad about yourself makes you feel guilty because you know it’s bad and that makes you feel worse. It’s an endless cycle.

You’re fully wallowing in your own self-pity before the girl even has a chance to answer the stranger’s question.

“Well, I noticed you came by yourself and I was wondering if maybe you wanted to have dinner sometime? Or maybe coffee?”

You don’t dare turn back, you just resign yourself to a lack of luck and stare out at nothing even though the view is really nice.

“Thank, I appreciate the offer, but I’m not looking for a date right now, I don’t really have the time,” the stranger says, giving her a diplomatic response.

Letting her down without letting her down.

“Oh, well,” there’s a beat of silence. “In case you change your mind, here’s my number. Call me, if you find some time?”

You hear her retreat and the soft shift of what must be a business card against the wood of the table behind the stranger’s chair.

Movement shifts in your periphery and you see that the stranger has moved to the end of his own lounge, mimicking your pose though he’s much bulkier and takes up much more space.

“That was weird,” he says, a small puff of air passing between his lips as he huffs a laugh.

“Why?”

“Well, she just came up to me, out of nowhere,” he clarifies.

“I’m pretty sure that’s not the first time that’s happened to you.”

The stranger seems to pick up on your mood shift, his face etched with concern as he tries to lean forward, head tilted a little as he strains for a better look at your face.

“Actually, that never happens to me,” he says. A lie?

“How about you?” he checks, probing gently to see if he can get you to talk.

“No. Never.”

“But you’re so-”

“I’m nothing,” you interrupt, the words an automatic response as if you’ve been hypnotized into saying those words exactly. A trained response.

The silence is no longer comfortable, but thick and heavy.

“Why would you say that?”

“Because it’s true. I’m nobody.”

It hurts to speak these words aloud. Words that have hurt you in the past. Words that have cut you time and again. Scars left behind by those people that should have loved you but didn’t.

“No one is nobody,” the stranger counters.

He watches you, observing.

You don’t like the front row seat he has to your wallowing. You try to pull yourself out of it but the hole just keeps getting deeper.

“I’m sorry,” you sigh, stealing a quick glance at him.

He’s still got his head tilted a little in pure concentration as he watches you, brow crinkled with focus.

It’s not judgement though, just intent. You can tell he’s really listening and it makes your heart flutter. No one has ever listened to you before. Not like this. Not with a deep desire to understand like he does.

He shakes his head, “Was it the girl coming over?”

You look away, feeling embarrassed, “She reminded me of someone I knew. Someone I dated.”

Nodding, he indicates that he’s listening.

You smile without humor, hurt by the memory, “He thought I should look like her. Or...he didn’t say exactly like her, but he said he wished I looked better.”

He frowns, his deep dislike for your story honest, “He doesn’t sound like a nice guy.”

“No, he wasn’t. He wasn’t like, evil or anything, but yeah. Not a nice guy,” you admit, accepting that in that case, it was definitely your boyfriend’s problem.

“But that’s not it?”

You look at him.

“There’s more to it?” he guesses.

You look out at the scenic view finally, not really seeing it but appreciating the colors at least.

“This spa day?” you begin, stealing another glance at him.

He turns to sit facing you, his elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped as his listening intensifies.

“The only reason I got it was because as I said before I saved the company I work for from being dragged into scandal. I also lost a bunch of money by losing the client but my boss was pretty pleased.

“But the only reason I even touched the account was because I was sorta forced to?” Is that the best way to describe what happened?

“How were you forced to deal with that account?”

“Well, I’m not exactly the best with making friends? I mean, I have had friends before. I just--I got really sick a while back and I lost most of them because I cancelled on plans a lot or I didn’t have the energy to maintain contact? Even texting felt like such a chore. Just the act of responding and-I guess they thought that I thought being friends with them was a chore, and that wasn’t it.

“I just couldn’t find the energy to try to do anything. Some days I wouldn’t even eat because I’d have to get up and make myself food and I barely got up to go to the bathroom much less make a meal.

“Anyway, I just kind of gave up and they did to and now, I don’t really have an in with people? I don’t say much and it’s not that I don’t want to talk, I just don’t have anything worth saying. Or maybe I just can’t think of anything? I don’t know. But it affects work relationships too.”

“How?” he asks.

You take a deep breath, looking down at your hands clinging to the edge of the lounge before releasing it slowly.

“It’s really just me getting in my feelings,” you shrug.

“What you feel is what you feel, even if you don’t think you should. Our pasts can affect us well into our futures.”

His encouragement helps, and you feel a little less vulnerable to share with him.

“I work in the PR department. There are six of us in total. We’re a pretty big company. Multinational big. So there’s one of us for every form of media. Since we all work for the same clients, bridging the gap, we usually spread the workload evenly.

“Or, the other five members of my team do. Sometimes they just forget that I’m there and I usually get stuck with the leftover work. I’m not one to complain, so-” you shrug. “But they forget me for other stuff too. Company dinners. Competitions for prizes in the office. Secret Santa. Stuff like that.

“It makes me feel alone.”

You chance a glance at him, and he’s still watching you but his eyes are far away for a bit as if he’s remembering something.

“I know how that feels,” he nods. “I’ve felt alone almost all my life in some ways. Luckily, I’ve made a few friends to help me see things a little differently but that loneliness will never really go away.

“I understand.”

You smile, feeling more and more at peace again with him. Calm, like he really does get it.

He responds to the shift in your expression by relaxing his own. A small crinkle forms at the corners of his eyes, a subtle curve of his lips.

Now that you’re both feeling a little better, you can admit to yourself that you were jealous. Not just because the girl was everything that you were made to think you should be, but because this stranger, gorgeous as he is, is so nice.

He’s sweet and you want that in your next partner. You want to have someone care about you genuinely. You’re a little ashamed of wanting to claim him. Do you even dare entertain the thought?

“Yeah, I think you probably do,” you smile wider, turning in your seat to face him like he’s facing you.

“Now that you know all about my depression, would you like to know my name?” you ask him, teasing a smile.

He smiles more freely, “On a first date? Isn’t that moving kinda fast?”

Your stomach tumbles, heart sprinting at his words.

“A date?”

He only smiles wider, your heart stuttering before taking off at double speed again.

You tell him your name and then bite your lip, unable to believe your good luck.

“What about that other girl? You told her you weren’t looking for a date,” you wonder.

“Well, how can I be looking for a date when I’m already on one? Besides, how many girls do you think I can come across before I find another one wearing a shirt about my favorite book again?” he asks, all sincerity.

“Your favorite book is to Kill a Mockingbird?”

His smile is blinding.

“It’s really nice to meet you,” he nods, reaching out to shake your hand. “My name is Clark. Clark Kent.”

You take it and almost faint as your head goes dizzy at the soft touch of his skin.

The veins of his forearm bulge as he squeezes gently but he doesn’t actually shake it and instead seems to just hold your hand.

“Wait, I’ve seen your editorials before. You work at the Daily Planet.”

“I do,” he nods.

Your stomach suddenly falls, jealousy raking up along your ribs to settle around your heart to make it ache.

“Aren’t you dating Lois Lane? I thought-you two went to one of my boss’s parties together.”

It had been so long ago. Months and months. You remember Mr. Wayne going on about his friends Clark and Lois. You hadn’t met them, but Mr. Wayne had left to greet them when they’d arrived.

Clark’s own face falls just a tad, a small melancholic shift but it’s not deep. He keeps his smile, though smaller, and nods.

“We broke up last year,” he confesses, still not releasing your hand.

His thumb grazes against the back of it, sending goosebumps up from that point to spread along your arms and the rest of your body.

“I’m...not sorry?” you laugh, unable to help yourself because how can you be sorry about it now?

Clark also chuckles, “You know, right now, suddenly I’m not either.”

Before you can think of something cute to say, your stomach gurgles loudly, announcing to anyone close enough to hear that you’re hungry.

“Oh,” you utter, embarrassed as you finally take your hand back to rub your belly. “Sorry, I guess I haven’t eaten in a bit.”

“They have a menu here, I’ll grab us one.”

He rises and is gone before you can stop him and holy hell does he have a nice butt.

Watching him leave, you contemplate the way he used the word “us” so casually and wiggle with the pleasure it gives you.

As quick as you can, you look for any reflective surface and settle on the window across from you on which you can barely see yourself.

It’s enough though and you quickly go about fixing your hair which is surprisingly not bad even after all the treatments you’ve undergone.

A soft voice calls your name, the young woman who’s been escorting you.

“Hi, are you ready for your next treatment?” she smiles at you politely, kindly even, her body slightly bent down so that she won’t speak too loud and disturb the other people enjoying the hot room.

“Oh, um...I’m actually super hungry and I was going to order something to eat?”

The idea of being taken away to somewhere that you can’t be around Clark devastates you. You haven’t been this into anyone in so long.

“Oh okay! What would you like to order? Did you get a menu?”

The young woman gestures over her shoulder as if asking if she should go get you one.

“Actually-” but you don’t get to explain because Clark suddenly steps up to loom over both of you.

He doesn’t mean to, you don’t think, he’s just so big and he kind of naturally just looms.

“Hi,” he greets her kindly, and she flushes.

You can’t blame her. She takes a step back to put some space between herself and Clark and she’s seriously flustered. He’s hot.

Clark squeezes back by and sits himself in his seat before opening the paper menu and leaning towards you to give you a look.

You read through the choices quickly and nothing looks too crazy.

“Ooh, this one looks good,” you tell him, pointing down at the bottom of the menu.

“Should we get that one?”

“Yeah!” you reply eagerly, excited for the food.

You’re really very hungry.

“Can we get the gourmet pizza?” Clark asks, “And an order of the mini muffins? What kind are they?”

“Blueberry today,” the girl informs him, back to her composed and professional attitude.

“Two orders of those. And…”

“You don’t offer any kind of burger?” you ask the young woman looking back at her.

She smiles kindly but shakes her head, “No, sorry. The closest would be the sandwiches. We have tuna, cucumber, egg salad, and ham.”

While they sound like normal sandwiches, you have a suspicion that they’re going to be fancy in one way or another.

“Can we have an order of the tuna?”

She nods.

“And we’ll get the chocolate fondue, for desert?” Clark adds, folding up the menu and handing it to your escort.

“Alrighty, and for drinks? We can bring just plain water or perhaps some herb infused tea?”

“Do you have any sweet tea?” you wonder.

She nods.

“Two please,” Clark smiles. “Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome,” your escort says and hurries off to put in the order.

Both of you watch her go then when you meet Clark’s eyes, he laughs, just once. Failing to keep it inside.

“Did we order too much?” you wonder.

“I’m hungry too,” Clark assures you.

“I really wanted a burger,” you lament. “I mean, this food will probably be better than some greasy burger but-”

“A burger sounds like heaven. I love greasy burgers. Double meat. Triple cheese. Lots of pickles.”

He makes a funny face, pretending to salivate over the image he’s painted and while it’s a subtle change in his expression, you can tell that he’s more prone to being serious and that makes the gesture funnier for some reason.

You laugh, shaking your head.

He laughs with you, leaning back in his lounge.

You follow his lead, then turn onto your side and shove an arm underneath your head.

He mimics your pose, drawing his long legs up a little to bend them.

“I’m sorry about earlier, with the locker room? I really didn’t know that I wasn’t supposed to change in there.”

Clark’s smiles shift to a soft curve of his lips.

“I’m the one that should be apologizing,” he counters. “I walked in on you.”

“But you had no idea I’d be in there half naked, I kinda just thrust my body at you.”

There’s a beat, he looks down at your chair instead of maintaining eye contact, then, “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

Your neck is suddenly on fire. Cheeks, ears, the base of your belly. It all burns as your heart stutters.

As he looks up to meet your eyes again, those baby blues burning with a striking spark, something he said when you first came in here replays itself in your head.

You frown, narrowing your eyes at him, “Hey, when I came in here, I apologized for staring at your naked upper body and you said that it was only fair I get a good look too.

“Are you saying you saw me when you clearly said you didn’t in the locker room?!”

Clark averts his eyes, clearing his throat loudly before throwing himself onto his back to stare up at the ceiling.

“I’m gonna have to get my friend something really good in return for gifting me this spa day,” Clark says, pointedly changing the subject.

But he has a point. This has been the best little indulgence you’ve ever given yourself and none of it could have been possible without Mr. Wayne’s generosity.

“Me too. I’ll have to make sure my boss knows how glad I am that he forced me to come here.”

Clark smiles, “What’s your next treatment? Did you pick them before you came?”

“We could do that?” You gasp.

Clark just smiles wider.

“No, I’m just going with the flow. The girl who took our order has been suggesting stuff and I’ve just been going with it.”

“I have a fresh water soak after this. You should join me.” Clark offers.

After the hot room, a swim in some fresh water sounds like heaven. And extending your time with Clark is a definite bonus.

“Aren’t we not supposed to swim for thirty minutes after we eat?” you tease.

Clark chuckles, “It’s a soak.”

Then, his voice shifts and you’re knocked breathless as he basically pleads with you.

“Join me. Only if you want to. I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to.”

Your brain is buzzing with that pleading voice of his. Gentle urging that betrays his want to be with you rather than wanting to control you.

“A fresh water soak sounds amazing.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Nothing could ever top today. You and Clark stuck together the rest of the day. It was fun getting to know him and exciting because the longer you two spent time together, the closer he sat to you.

As you dropped your spa outfit into a canvas souvenir bag that your attendee had given you at your last treatment--a couple’s massage that you and Clark had talked all the way through--Clark peeked around his own locker door, shutting it.

“So, I was thinking,” he began, moving to lean beside your locker as he towers over you, making you internally swoon with the curve of his lips.

“Yeah?” you urge him on, taking your other belongings and throwing them into the canvas bag along with your spa outfit which is also free for you to take.

“I have some things to do tonight but, how would you like to get some burgers tomorrow?”

“Are you asking me out on a second date, Clark?” as much as you wish you could sound like you were teasing, your excitement betrays you and Clark beams at your tone.

“Definitely,” he says low and deep.

Fuck, you’re totally screwed. You’re falling hard.

You really want to reach up and gently slide the curl falling on his forehead to the side lightly, but you resist the urge.

“I’d love to go out and get greasy burgers with you,” you bite your lip and Clark’s expression shifts a bit more serious but there’s a fire in his eyes, a darkening as his pupils dilate that makes your heart stutter.

“Come on,” Clark nods towards the door. “I’ll walk you out.”

He bumps into you, flirtatiously nudging you as he leads you out and you return his gentle push with your own.

“Had you been to a spa like this before?”

“No,” Clark shakes his head. “I actually don’t get much benefit at these places. It feels good, but it’s not really my thing. You?”

“I feel cleaner than I ever have,” you scoff. “But I could never afford it. Even the cheap places. I’d rather just take a walk around a park or something.”

“Me too,” Clark agrees, smiling.

As the two of you walk out into the parking lot, the cooler air outside feels pleasant against your treated skin.

In the setting sun light, Clark looks especially good and you can’t help yourself. You steal several glances at him with no worry as to hiding it.

You’re happy to see he’s doing it too.

“Oh good,” a familiar voice interrupts, pulling your feet to a stop as you search for your boss’s face. “You two met.”

“Wait, us two-?”

“Bruce?” Clark also stops beside you, eyes narrowed, a crinkle between his eyes.

You look between the two of them, confused but starting to put two and two together.

“Bruce? You-Mr. Wayne is your friend who gave you the voucher?” you realize.

Clark looks at you, his own realizations starting to manifest.

“Bruce is your boss?”

Mr. Wayne moves towards the two of you, hands shoved into his long charcoal gray coat. There’s a satisfied grin on his handsome face, a pride in what you realize must have been a carefully crafted maneuver.

Clark looks at you, a knowing smile on his face as if amused but maybe also a little irritated? Not with you, of course. Clearly his annoyance is with Mr. Wayne.

“You did this,” he accepts, looking back at Mr. Wayne with a tilt of his head.

“I didn’t do anything,” Mr. Wayne denies. “I just gave you two a free day at the spa. Did she tell you why I gave her the voucher?”

“She did,” Clark nods.

“Not every PR rep would overlook a five hundred million dollar investment in order to keep us clean from associating with a suspected illegal arms dealer. Most of them would just look the other way.” Mr. Wayne brags.

A look of understanding crossing Clark’s face and he looks down at you, smiling again as if he’s pieced together a puzzle.

“It was really nothing, Mr. Wayne, and thank you for today. I-I’m actually really glad I came. I would have hated it if the voucher expired.”

“Expired?” Clark asks, turning that confused look back on his friend. “They don’t expire.”

Mr. Wayne clears his throat and turns his full body away from you both, looking back at his shiny expensive sports car.

“Yeah, they do,” he says.

“Bruce,” Clark chides.

“We’re gonna be late,” Mr. Wayne says, ignoring Clark’s reprimand, then looks at you as he pretends he wasn’t just caught in a lie. “Do you have a ride home?”

“Yeah, I brought my car,” you gesture at a modest white sedan parked a few spots over.

“Good. I’ll see you on Monday. Clark?” Mr. Wayne urges him, then walks towards his car.

“I’ll be right there,” Clark tells him, then waits for you to lead the way to your car.

Your heart is still thrumming rapidly with the realization that Mr. Wayne went out of his way to make sure you and Clark met. A set up?

You stop by your car door and unlock it. Clark is quick to take the door from you as you open it and he holds it with his left arm as you turn to look up at him.

“I had a lot of fun today, despite the obvious premeditation of us meeting,” you scoff. “I’m glad I met you.”

You’re quickly becoming acquainted with the gentle curve of Clark’s lips, the peek of his pearly whites as he blushes and meets your eyes.

“I’m glad Bruce interfered,” he nods. “I’ll see you tomorrow for burgers?”

“I wouldn’t miss it,” you assure him.

After a moment of hesitation, he reaches out and places his hand on your bicep then traces the length of your arm until he can take your hand.

It sets your skin on fire. It makes you dizzy and breathless.

“You have my number,” you remind him, eager to reconnect if he has the time.

He gives you that pearly smile, blue eyes full of excitement, “I’ll call you later. Tonight?”

You nod, “Tonight.”

He waits for you to get in, shutting the door for you when you’re sitting.

You lower the window as he backs away, “Bye.”

“Bye,” he nods, then turns to meet Mr. Wayne at his car.

“What?” Bruce asks, “It’s been months. She’s perfect for you.”

“Really?!” you can hear Clark demand, more annoyed with his friend again than any consequences his actions might have brought, however positive.

“You like her, don’t you?” Mr. Wayne asks.

“That’s not the point, Bruce. Boundaries.” Clark reminds him. “Why did you lie to her?”

“I knew you were coming today, I had to get her here,” Mr. Wayne explains. “Besides, you’re-”

As their doors shut, you’re cut off from their distant conversation. You shut your window, watch them speed out, and smile to yourself at the unexpected turn your spa day took.

#clark kent x reader #superman x reader #clark x reader #dceu fanfiction #dc fanfiction #clark kent #superman #bruce wayne #batman #dc oneshot

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dandelionflower · 3 years

Text

She sings alone

When they got to the room, Adrien was sitting at an enormous piano, playing a jaunty tune and bouncing in his seat. He wasn’t even looking at the keys, his eyes roaming the room and choosing to stick on-

Lila.

Oh.

Okay, maybe he hadn’t seen her come in. After all, the piano was really big, so even if Adrien was looking directly at the door, he might not have seen them come in.

Lila danced around the room, orange skirt warping around her legs as she spun near to Alya and pulled her deeper into the spacious closet, taking one of her hands and joining it with Nino, leading the pair in a quick-paced dance until she was satisfied that they would carry it on without her.

Adrien’s eyes stayed on her, closing slightly as he allowed for a fond smile.

Okay, okay fine. That was fine. Adrien was allowed to watch his friends! Even if his friend was (ugh) Lila. Marinette drifted further into the room, keeping to the walls as other friends mimicked Alya and Nino’s lively movements.

Finally, (finally!) Adrien’s eyes caught hers and he gave her a cocky wink as the song he was playing changed bit by bit until it was the accompaniment to her favorite pop song; one they had sung together on their way back from their first date.

Marinette’s lips turned up in a fond smile (she really couldn’t resist those green eyes, huh?) as she took a deep breath and-

“Living in my own world...” Lila hummed out the starting notes, approaching the piano with a coy smile, like Adrien was doing this for her. “Didn’t understand…”

Marinette dug her fingernails into the heel of her hand. This was fine. This was fine. Nothing wrong with a couple of friends singing a song together! Even if it happens to be one of the friends’ girlfriend’s favorite.

Lila hopped up on top of the piano, turning her waist so that while her knees faced one of the walls, her torso was pointed directly towards Adrien, so Marinette wasn’t even able to see what sort of expressions she was making.

...not that she needed to. Because she wasn’t. No one liked a jealous girlfriend, and anyway, Adrien knew Lila was a liar! So there’s no way he could be interested.

Lila leaned forwards, recapturing Adrien’s attention from the keys and forcing it back to her face. Adrien tensed in surprise, but seemed to relax even more than he previously was once his eyes landed back on Lila’s face.

Aaaaaand that was that. She needed to step out for a second.

Marinette pushed off of the wall and began traversing through the dancing pairs, eyes on the doorway. She had only made it halfway when Alix grabbed her and began leading her in an odd dance of her own.

“My usual partners are a bit occupied.” She quipped, jerking her head towards Kim, who was trying fruitlessly to get Chloe to join him on the floor. Nathaniel and Max had their own partners as well, though Sabrina and Marc seemed a bit more acquiessing than Kim’s intended. “Thought since you weren’t dancing, you’d like to join me.”

Marinette remembered all the times Alix had protested cancelling or even postponing class dances due to scheduling. During Bubbler, Alix almost seemed disappointed for the party to be over. Even though she never claimed to be as formal as her father, it was clear that she loved dancing in a crowd with only another person as her anchor in the waves of people.

She put on an encouraging smile, not looking at whatever scene was happening by the piano. Alix was her friend, and if she wanted to be dancing, they would dance.

“Sure thing. Thanks for thinking of me.” Marinette could focus on this, just this, until the song was over and she could go, or, even better, join Adrien by the piano.

It wasn’t a problem, until at the end of the song, Adrien’s voice harmonized with Lila’s in a chord that was so beautiful, it shattered her heart in more ways than one. Alix spun Marinette and between rotations she saw how close the two were, and how excited Adrien seemed. She caught her in a dip and Adrien pressed the keys in the final note, everyone separating from their partners to applaud the musical duo.

“That was great, you guys!” Nino placed a hand on both of their shoulders. “A match made in heaven!” His eyes caught Marinette’s and he amended his statement. “A professional match made in business heaven?”

Lila laughed and gave a mock bow. “Thanks, Nino. I wasn’t really planning on singing; after the rock slide accident where I had to call for help in the freezing cold for hours, I didn’t think my vocal cords would be up to it, but when I heard my favorite song start playing, I guess it was just instinct.” She shrugged in a gesture of humility that was about as real as the rest of her.

“Well, your instincts were great.” Adrien commented, standing up from the piano bench and giving her one of his wholesome smiles. “I really enjoyed playing with you.”

“Likewise.” Lila smiled back until her gaze wandered to Marinette. (Of course, everyone but her boyfriend was looking at Marinette (nope, no not bitter at all)) “Oh, Marinette! You’re still doing the costumes right?”

Marinette nodded, once, teeth grit into a smile.

“I found the most beautiful dress,” she spun to a box that was sitting by the wall, picking it up to bring it to Marinette and show her the red silk inside, “and I’d really love it if you’d modify it for me?” She tilted her head forwards and gave Marinette pitiful eyes. As if she didn’t already know Marinette couldn’t say no in front of everyone.

“Of course. I’d just need your measurements and what you want me to do with the dress.” She could be a ventriloquist with how little she was moving her mouth.

“Great!” She pulled out the bottom of the dress, showing off a familiar skirt. It was the dress from the picture. “I’d really like it if you could make it more form-fitting, less poofy, you know?”

“Don’t you think we should ask if we can modify these dresses before we make any decisions?” Please don’t make me ruin such an incredible dress. “Technically, they are historical artifacts.”

“Grace said you could redesign the costumes, right?” Alya tapped at her phone and pulled up a recording she had made.

“Your main job will be refitting and redesigning all the costumes for your friends.” Grace’s digitized voice affirmed Lila’s request.

“That settles it then,” at least one of her teeth must have cracked by now, right? “I’ll just get your measurements and edit the skirt. I’ll need to do it some other time, since I don’t have my-”

“Measuring tape?” Lila whipped out a stylized tape from the box. It was rose gold and was almost calling to her. “I found this near the dress. I’m sure it will work.”

Marinette took the device reverently, running her thumb over the engraved vines on the sides before catching herself and looking up.

“That’ll work. Can you hold your arms out?”

Marinette took Lila’s measurements with a practice ease, and rechecked before typing her numbers and desired modifications into a document on her phone. When she looked up, she was surrounded by boxes and her friends, looking at her with hopeful eyes, as well as a stack of suits of each boy, none of whom seemed to care.

“Okay, what do you want changed? I already have your measurements.” She knelt down and sat beside Lila’s box, letting her friends come to her. This was her favorite part about designing; giving people what they wanted and making them look however they liked.

Rose and Alix both wanted the fabrics from their dresses converted into suits. That was easy enough. Alya found a sweet orange dress that she just needed refitted. Juleka muttered something about “less wide, but still swishy.” Mylene wanted the opposite; to give her dress a larger diameter.

All in all, Lila’s would probably take the longest, because she wanted all the complexities of the intricate gown to be stripped off and for the silk to be repurposed as a cocktail dress.

Marinette nodded to herself and began stacking boxes, looking up at her friends who were still standing awkwardly nearby.

“Guys, these are way too many boxes for one person to carry; let’s each grab a box and take them to Marinette’s room!” Lila chirped, leaning down to pick up her dress, the hem of it dragging on the grimy closet floor.

Everyone murmured an agreement and picked up their respective costumes, filing out the door. Marinette was the last one out, but just as she was about to step out, she found herself face-to-face with Lila.

“You haven’t found your dress yet, have you Marinette?” Her voice was saccharine sweet, but with the masked loathing that Marinette found herself recognizing whenever Lila spoke to her. “Why don’t you spend more time in the closets?”

Before she could realize what was happening, the closet door had slammed in her face and clicked with what Marinette was certain was a lock.

“Oh no, Marinette!” She heard Lila’s muffled ‘concern’ through the door.

“What happened?” Alya’s voice grew louder as she approached the door, or, more likely, Lila.

“Marinette stopped to tie her shoe and I must have bumped the door closed by accident. I feel so guilty.” Sure, and the tears Lila was crying right now weren’t crocodiles.

“It’s fine girl,” Alya reassured her (no, it wasn’t fine!), “I’m sure Marinette will forgive you. Here, give me your box; I’ll take it upstairs while you go find someone who can get her out.”

“Right.” The sound of receding footsteps; they must have left. “Just as soon as I have a chat with one mister Agreste.” ...or not. There was a cheery ring of the phone, and Lila’s smug tone melted into something more pathetic. “Adrien! Come back downstairs, quick! I’ll meet you at the front desk.” Lila chuckled and left with a single knock at the closet door.

...Great. She was stuck. Through sheer habit from akuma attacks, Marinette traced all four walls with a finger, looking for another secret passage, or even a normal one at this point. Nothing, because of course when she’s comfortable she finds a random exit, but not when she actually needs it.

She groaned and fell back against the wall, sliding to the ground and tilting her head back so she could close her eyes and pretend she wasn’t actually in this situation.

The people I’m closest to either don’t know what’s going on or think it’s handled. She thought morosely. So I might as well get comfortable.

Just as she was about to let herself take a little cat nap (she could hear Chat Noir snickering now), she heard a trill come from the piano. Her eyes cracked open and slid to the corner of the room with the instrument, thinking that maybe one of her friends stayed behind.

But no one was there.

Marinette’s curiosity won out and she approached the keys. They pressed down in a few familiar chords; another one of her favorite songs. She wasn’t really sure how self-playing pianos worked, but it must have been ‘programmed’ with some of the more recent pop songs, despite the fact that the room looked like it had been untouched for years, aside from their recent discovery of it.

Shrugging, she sat down at the bench, watching as the keys continued playing the introduction to her second favorite song. She had nothing better to do, why not?

“I’ve got a lot of things I have to do… All these distractions, our future’s coming soon…”

She sang through the entire song, leaning to her left side occasionally, like some other person was sitting beside her; someone that hadn’t left. Marinette closed her eyes and adopted the illusion of company. Blond hair, beautiful eyes, a teasing grin- no a half-smile, like he’s hiding how much he’s enjoying this. Even though he knows she knows he loves it, just like she does.

Just like she loves him. Her grumpy dork. Her Fe-

There was a clatter near the door, and it crumpled, revealing Allegra, leg out in front of her like she had just kicked it down. Which she probably had.

“Marinette? Lost again?” Her laugh seemed shaken, nervous. She had expected to see someone else.

“Something like that.” She matched the laugh; Allegra’s business was her business. Not Marinette’s.

“Well, come on out.” She gestured over her shoulder. “Your friends are looking for you.”

They walked together out of the ballroom and into the main entrance of the building, where Alix and Kim accosted her immediately.

“Marinette! We need your help. Nino’s gone missing?”

“Grace!” Allegra barrelled into the room like a tornado. “He’s here! He’s manifesting.”

Her clipboard clattered to the floor as Grace’s knees buckled. “What? What are you talking about?”

“Felix! He’s here.”

Grace sighed. “Felix is an apparition, ‘Legra. Barely even a poltergeist. He has a mild presence, but there’s no way you could have actually seen him.”

“Oh yeah?” Allegra whipped her head at her, flames in her eyes. “Earlier today, I found Marinette in the hall of portraits. She said she followed a black cat through a tunnel.”

“Well- that could have been-”

“And, and just a minute ago, I heard the piano playing and singing. When I came into the closet; it was just Marinette. She thought the piano was self playing, Grace. As in, she wasn’t the one playing.”

“Felix didn’t play the piano.” Grace reminded her. “Bridge did, because-”

“Because her voice sounded like a dozen murder victims, I know.” Allegra rolled her eyes. “But it was Felix who taught her how to play. Gracie, it’s him.”

“It’s not.” Grace glared at her. “There’s no way he could be coming back so soon.”

“Fine, keep being ignorant. But I’m telling Finny, and he’ll believe me.” Allegra stormed out of the room, turning over her shoulder only once. “Oh, and it looks like Nicky has come out to play, so get ready to handle that.”

……

The rest

@merry-madness @calliopeia @drama-queen-supreme @kaydenth3gayden @mcheang @nomiegnome @never-say-donuts @vixen-uchiha @miracul0us-multishipper @hauntedfreakdeputyhero @chocolatecustarddanish @iwantswifttoblessmysoul @digitalmagpie @ilseofskadi @nerdy-and-a-little-birdy @minty-goose @nataladriana9 @aestheticnpoetic @constellation-king @animegirlweeb @persephonebutkore @ahalloweengirl @r0sebutch @marinettepotterandplagg @beelzzebop @akalovelymaybe @pleasefollowmeuwu @angelost4r @constancetruggle @speaknowtome @some-oxymoron @nerdy-scifi-birdy @purplesundaze @aestheticnpoetic @neptuningkai @2confused-2doanything @goggles-mcgee @grumpy-kitten-vixen @artemisdragona @lookatthestars1 @demonicbusiness @toodaloo-kangaroo @crazylittlemunchkin @vice-artist

#felinette #marinette dupain cheng #ml marinette #ml salt #ml felix #ml adrien #adrien agreste #alya cesaire #felix agreste #Felix Culpa #ml haunted mansion #haunted mansion au #yes I did use high school musical songs because I’m unorginal

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cryinginthebackseat · 3 years

Text

you’ve got more poison than sugar - part iii

part i part ii AO3

Fandom: Call Of Duty

Pairing: Russell Adler x Bell

Words: 6.572

Warnings: here’s where the smut tag comes into play, boy with a copious amount of power play and yeah, it’s messy af

Author’s note: after three months, a couple of brainstorming in the bathtub, delays, revisions and self-doubt, chapter 3 is finally done. i hope you'll enjoy it. also, i don't think i have to warn you what will go down in this chapter.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Fast forward to twenty-four hours since he discovers that Bell is fucking someone, Lazar drops about half a dozen of dusty manilas on his desk. Adler’s eyes sweep over them. He recognizes Bell’s handwriting etched across the memo attached to one of the folders right away.

He picks it up. It’s becoming second nature to him lately; drawing himself to her, an ineradicable magnetic force pulling his end of the pole.

A muscle on his jaw twitches.

For a moment, Adler despises her. He allows himself to really despise her. She’s started something in his head- a war; an intangible, unmanageable riot and if he lets her, she’ll rearrange him until he’s insane.

And he can’t let that happen. He’s the one holding the leash here, not vice versa.

“This is what we have on Dragovich’s activities in Yamantau,” Lazar informs him, pulling him back down to earth.

Adler stands, keeping his face easy, neutral. “Is this everything?”

“So far, yeah. Bell says she’ll let us know if she digs up something more from the archives though.”

Bell- the Bell in question- can be heard sighing, like she turns the corner and finds herself at a cul-de-sac; hunching over her desk, reading, her fingers keep buttoning and unbuttoning the top of her shirt, madly distracting (him).

She remains in her seat, for pretty much the remainder of the day. Eyes glued to the pages before her, factory-like dedication. She hardly looks up when Sims borrows her pen or when Park stands over her, sipping her coffee, inquiring about her progress behind a plume of smoke.

The only- truly time Bell ever lifts her head from her work is when Mason approaches her desk. She gazes up at him, notes forgotten, a kittenish smile etched across her face, come-hither eyes that could have time hung in motion, or held at ransom, perhaps. Mason’s own smile is full-blown, too wide, too genial, as he stalks closer and closer to her table, her whirlpool.

Adler does a double-take, like his eyeballs only functioning for the first time. He might as well be hallucinating it because no... this can’t be right, can it?

But then Mason is touching her hand, a blink-and-you-miss-it movement that was not lost on Adler and oh, she’s looking at him hopefully now.

The knots in Adler's stomach are vertiginous. Realization rings in his head like a gunshot, nearly leaving him in a daze. There’s no denying it. Not when the exchange unfurls before his eyes like a broken, warped film reel and there’s nothing to stop him from seeing it.

The thought of her and him haunts the rest of his waking hours, until there’s absolutely no telling how far he’s fallen into his own pit.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ ( Alex Mason fucked her that night.

Mason was in her bed; beside her, above her, under her. Inside her. He imagines her fingers digging into the mattress as Mason rolled her onto her stomach, mouth trailing down the ladder of her spine. Their breaths intermingled in the seraphic glow of her hotel room.

Alex Mason fucked her. It shouldn't leave an acrid taste in his mouth, but it does.)

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ She haphazardly reaches for the mug and takes a hearty gulp of its content. It’s not hers.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry,” Bell says, mortified and places the mug down noisily on the desk. “I’m sorry, I thought it was mine.”

The rim of his mug is now stained with her lipstick. Adler bites down on a careful retort.

He thinks he knows now. Why he lets it happen, why he thinks of her in metaphors, why she gives him that vertigo. The answer is at the tip of his tongue- he can almost taste it, like spoiled milk or rancid gardenia. But it’s much easier to ignore it until the words grow diminuendo and disappear, that he thinks he imagined it all along.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You can’t obsess without turning around and getting lost in the middle.

Or losing a part of yourself in the process.

The idea of obsession, to obsess, perhaps is a far riskier thing for a person to have than playing the knife game, blindfolded with absolutely no telling where to start.

Yet we all do it, despite knowing the very dark flipside it possesses.

Perhaps it’s the very nature of humans, tucked deep within the pigeonhole of our minds, suffused by the very promise of bogus achievements that usually leads most of us insane, thinking that obsession is essential to living. But without it, artists are corporate slaves, slack-jawed know-it-alls moving stiffly in the middle of the hullabaloo that is our world; Paris would be just as unrecognizable today without Napoleon’s artistic legacy.

Obsession is good.

Obsession is dangerous.

The very dichotomy should have us all warded off of it.

Yet, again, we all do it. Again, and again, and again until it taints our veins. And it’s always far too late until you realize, that yes, now all you see is her, the air has been poisoned by her perfume, that her name is now forevermore engraved in your skin, like an overgild tattoo.

That you end up in downtown Berlin, out of sight, out of mind.

He finds them there, in a shoebox-sized cafe. Ill-lit, low-ceiling, coffee-stained floor that shows the wear of three decades worth of boots, pantoffels and high heels and Adler is sitting in his car, nursing a beer with but one all-consuming, perplexing thought:

Bell and Mason.

Someone told him they arrived together, about an hour ago. The cafe has become their usual haunts, his source said, ever since they’ve returned from Ukraine and Adler just can’t wrap his head around this- them. In his head, they’re wholly different entities. Two proper nouns separated by a conjunction, or a comma if mentioned in a list.

They’re the kind of opposites that he thought don’t attract, yet here they are.

Perhaps it's inevitable, both are products of brainwashing. Maybe they sensed one another, speaking in code, like detecting an RF signal from a nuclear bunker.

Then the doors to the cafe swing open. They step outside, cheeks flushed, his arm wrapped around her waist, her lips glueing on the slope of his neck. Shaded eyes watch them from the opposite street, his disgust obvious.

Now, Adler wonders how this all began. Someone must have made the first move.

He wonders if it was her. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"You wanted to see me?"

Adler looks up from his desk and nods. "Lock the door behind you."

And Alex Mason, the root of all this trouble, obeys. Looking somewhat uncertain under the scrutiny of the harsh lights, and shuts the blinds. Unlike Woods, he takes a seat at the chair Adler sets up before the desk.

"What is it?" Mason asks, after a long, almost unending silence. His curiosity seeps through the room.

There is very little control when the first domino falls. Oftentimes, once it starts, it’s like crossing the Rubico n and the next thing you know, you are lying flat on the ground in some theater, 23 fresh stab wounds decorating your body and the beat of your pulse seems dim and distant, everything feels cold except your blood; warm, bright and thick like gasoline, crawling into every space until it goes into your throat and strangles you, kills you. Fini, kaput.

But then again, he's not Caesar and this isn't Rome.

Adler pushes the first tile.

"How long has this been going on?" he asks without fanfare, tight and composed as ever. Never mind the way his eyes ignite like cold blue fire behind his glasses.

"How long has what been going on?"

“You and Bell." And Mason blinks at him in surprise. Bingo. "I saw the two of you leaving for her hotel from a cafe in Downtown Berlin last night. So don't bother skirting your way around this.” Adler leans forward across his desk. He’s a man on a mission- there’s no stopping him now.

“Now, let me rephrase the question, how long have you been fucking her?"

"Hold on, hold on, you were stalking us?" Mason asks, waspish.

Adler winces inwardly. "I was keeping an eye out for my asset.”

“Asset?” Mason hisses, like Adler just blasphemed. “Jesus Christ, Russ, is that all she ever is to you? An asset? She’s your protégé, for god’s sake- a person! What is wrong with you?"

"Plenty. Or apparently, so I've been told.”

"I don't find you amusing.”

“I'm hardly ever,” Adler parries. Mason remains silent, yet the tilt of his lips translate exactly what words can't. "And you haven't answered my question."

“Bullshit. I don’t owe you anything."

"Listen, Al-"

"No, you listen to me. You may be calling the shots around here, but this has absolutely nothing to do with you. Whatever- or whoever - we're doing in our spare time is none of your business, do you understand? So you can just drop it," Mason seethes, bitter, and, much to Adler’s surprise, rises to leave. “We’re done here.”

"That's where you're wrong."

Mason has only managed to put a few paces between them before he turns around, once again stepping inside this metaphorical boxing ring.

"What?"

"This has everything to do with me," Adler says coolly. "You said it yourself, I'm the one who calls the shots here. Meaning, anything that could potentially fuck up my operation is my concern and I have the right to intervene should it needed. This, being a case in point."

Mason looks at him like he’s grown a second head. “What the hell does fucking her have to do with this whole operation?”

“Everything.” He says it like quiet resignation. It’s time to acknowledge the truth, he thinks, to that unusual idea that has been swirling in the deep recesses of his mind, that everyone’s weakness is varied.

Achilles had his heel, and Adler has her.

“I don’t understand.”

“You don’t have to, Al. You don't even know her."

Mason gives him a level stare. "And you do?"

Adler is so hard-pressed to say 'I made her' but even he wouldn't stoop that low.

"That is beside the point,” Adler tells him instead as he turns to his vice- one of them, at least- and lights it.

“There is literally no point to this conversation.”

“The point is, stay the hell away from Bell. I'm saying this for your own good."

"My own good or yours?"

Adler does not flinch, but his hand does ball into a fist under the table, how the fingers curl and then flex.

"Don't be ridiculous. I gain nothing from this except assurance." It's a lie, it's the truth. There's no in between. He doesn’t know which is which anymore. "You, on the other hand, I'm sure the old ball and chain wouldn't be near as thrilled about hearing this if word ever gets out."

Mason is quiet for a beat.

"Is that a threat?"

"Only once I pulled the pin," Adler replies, a dangerous undercurrent in his voice.

But the thing with Mason, he'll come to realize later, is how much, like with Bell, weaving through his mind is like trying to grasp for purchase in the dark as he, once again, does the unpredicted and smile- a venomous grin warps his face, like he’s mocking him, challenging him to move his piece on the board and make this mistake.

Adler stares back, surprised despite himself.

He shocks him further by saying, "Go ahead, then. Pull the pin, throw the grenade, tell her. See if she cares."

Adler’s eyes narrow at his askance. He then drags his attention to Mason’s left hand, and something grave and familiar rises in his chest.

The absence of the metal band around his ring finger tells him why.

“You know where to reach her. If anything, I’m sure she’d trust your words better than anyone else’s. So please, do it.” And Mason’s so goddamn sanctimonious about it. He’s clearly expecting this particular reaction out of Adler. It only leaves Adler angrier.

Another long pause stretches, heavy and unkind.

"Fine. Maybe she won't mind, but I'm sure the Agency wouldn’t be as tolerant.” Adler takes one last drag of his cigarette. He has that ‘Having nothing, nothing can he lose’ look on his face that makes Mason frowns. “Not when you’ve been fraternizing with the enemy.”

"What?”

"Bell. She’s not who you think she is, Al. Tell me, who do you think is the sorry bastard we saved in Trabzon?”

Mason blinks. His face is blank with shock, then he shakes his head. And he keeps shaking it, almost manic. If he laughs, which one would come first, he wonders, the gun or his fist pummeling the side of his face?

“You’re lying.”

“And why would I lie to you about this?”

"No, no, no, Woods- he told me the guy’s dead,” Mason says, his words are shaky.

“He’s not. And he wasn’t a he."

A crease forms between Mason's eyebrows, the starting of another frown.

“Hold on, if she’s helping us get Perseus then why is she the enemy?”

"Because she doesn't know that."

"Doesn't know what?"

"That she's the enemy."

Mason holds his gaze for a moment, his expression tense, like a slingshot.

And that cold elastic band finally snaps.

“What did you do to her?” He’s openly glaring at him now, mouth tight, an icy fury that is no longer dormant and for the first time since Adler has known him, he finds the man dangerous.

Adler takes a steadying breath. “We did what had to be done.”

"You sick son of a bitch. You brainwa- You-” Mason clamps his mouth shut, trembling hands finding his head. “Shit. How could you?"

Adler ignores his colorful outburst.

“She resisted every form of interrogations we threw at her, Al. We had no choice but to implement MK-Ultra as a last resort. We needed what’s in her head.” Mason is silent in reply. Adler continues, “Look, it’s nasty business, I know, but some of us have to cross a line just to make sure that line's still there in the morning. And as much as I hate agreeing with Hudson, he’s right. We need to preserve our way of life.”

“That doesn’t give you the right to play God,” his voice is resentful and crisp. “Do you have any idea what you are doing? You could jeopardize everything, and for what? You’ve seen what this- this experiment did to me, this won’t end the way you think!”

“Lightning never strikes the same place twice.”

"You’re really willing to gamble on that?”

Adler scowls. “I don’t gamble, Mason. I calculate. And if by some chance I was given a second chance, I’d do it all over again. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

Mason doesn’t say anything at first, his loaded gun stare never falters. Then, “The flag may be different, but the methods are the same.”

"What was that?”

“Someone warned me, a long time ago, about how people like you will use people like me or Bell as pawns in your own game. You’d do whatever it takes to get what you want- and my, how you get results, don’t you? But you’re actually no different than the rest of the assholes you're fighting against,” Mason tells him, like he’s spitting out acid in Adler’s face.

“Bell may be the enemy- heck, she could be the architect behind all the chaos Perseus has done, but what you’re doing to her is vile and unethical. There are many ways to make her spill the beans, yet you chose the most immoral method there is out there. I sincerely hope you rot in hell for this."

Before Adler could formulate a response to his tirade, Mason stands to his feet.

“You want me to stay away from her? Fine. Consider this as my formal resignation. After Yamatau, I’m done. I’m out of the team. And if you know what’s good for you, you stay the fuck away from me because I don't ever want to see your face again, do you hear me?” he snarls. “If you think Woods is dangerous, Adler, just remember I nearly could have killed my own president."

Then Mason turns on his heel and walks out of the room, once and for all. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The fist is very much expected, and so does the pain that follows.

"You're out of your fucking depth, shithead," Woods spits, venom lacing his words.

Adler doesn't even bother to retaliate.

He doesn’t see the point. He didn’t think it would get this far. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The garage grows quiet and stodgy with now Mason and Woods are out of the picture. Everyone settles back into their own normal rhythm, the same routine before both men set their feet here almost a week ago.

Hudson doesn’t take the news of their departure kindly, naturally. He stands in Adler’s office, pacing, fuming. Adler ignores him, trying to nurse the skull-splitting migraine he's having at his desk instead. The nasty black eye hidden underneath his glasses. A secret locked, the key thrown away.

His headache, thankfully, has subsided when Sims takes a seat on the other side of the desk, hours later after Hudson left.

"I'm not trying to cause an alarm here, but you'd better watch your back."

Adler's brows furrow but doesn’t look up from the papers before him. "And why's that?"

"'Cause I think you just pissed off the wrong beast," Sims tells him. Adler pauses, then lifts his head to look at his cohort. There's genuine worry flashing over his face.

“Are you talking about Bell?”

“Who else?”

If she's a beast, then what am I? What he wants to ask, but there's a knock at the door and he swallows the words down his throat.

"Come in," Adler says, pretending to be reading again.

The door opens and Bell, fucking Bell, enters his office. It's like watching a tiger pass by your hiding spot in near dark. Neither he nor Sims breathes a word.

Bell's gaze immediately swings to him, like a cosmic pull. She's watching him as she wanders over to the desk and the weight of her stare burns him like Greek fire.

He pushes the documents close, all the while returning her stare. He is never the one who backs out of a challenge, and at this point, he knows that she probably knows that. Maybe that’s why she initiated it in the first place.

"Bell, what is it?" Adler asks firmly, in possession of his full power in this place.

Bell produces three diskettes from her pocket. Something odd definitely shining in her eyes.

"These have been lying on Lazar's desk for hours, but he's busy, so I thought I'd deliver them to you myself," Bell says. And he's trying to work out on her angle but she is unreadable. As always.

Adler nods, frustrated and indignant. "You can leave them here. Thank you."

It is only once the woman leaves that the two agents share a dark, significant look. That was too close.

And it goes without saying, something needs to be done about this. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

March 7th. A's insistence on raising the dosage is illogical. Recent behavioural analysis indicates depression. Will monitor for the next few days. Considering lowering the dosage instead. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The elevator reeks of smoke, cheap Soviet air freshener and something far more poisonous than the devil’s spider, silky hands.

It embodies the woman standing next to him right now- this special animal, emotionless, a constant mystery wrapped with a warning sign.

Adler is tempted to shut his eyes.

Or get out of here. He doesn’t dwell well in this atmosphere, this limited space shared with her alone. He probably should have listened to Hudson about taking Bell for this mission, but she’s the only one he trusts who won’t fuck this up. Not to mention her spotless Russian has proven to help them blend in with the crowd seamlessly.

He needs her, whether he would admit it aloud or not.

But she puts his head in such a spin.

She’s been near-mute since they departed from Germany. She barely acknowledges his questions and orders, barely looks at him. She’s been treating him as if he’s another shadow on the wall.

He rubs the side of his jaw. Something does need to be done about this.

“Are you going to stay quiet forever?” Adler asks. He’s bad at this, but he can’t stand her silence for much longer. Not to mention, they’re at the Lubysnka- the fucking lion's den. If she wants to wallow over Mason’s absence or sinks into whatever melancholic feeling she’s in, she can do it later.

Bell hums, her mouth curls up like serpentine. Adler sketches a confused frown. And she says, “I don’t know. Should I?”

And then, sudden and swift, Bell undoes the cuffs of her uniform. Beady eyes never leave his.

The sight catches him off guard. Somewhere in his mind, he curses something like ‘you’re a beast’ and ‘what the hell are you?’ at her, all in negative connotations. The effects she inflicts on him is maddening.

“What are you doing?” Adler doesn’t bother to hide his surprise.

Bell shrugs and gestures to the duffle bag at their feet. “Gearing up.”

Oh. Embarrassment wells up in him. Fucking hell, this woman will be the death of him.

Her fingers quickly move on to the buttons, still indifferent, nearly tearing them from the seams. The first glimpse of her skin and Adler can’t help but give in, openly stares at her in a way he has never imagined before. Her clavicles like daggers glinting in the lamplight.

Curiosity is a dangerous and heavy load.

He should have closed his eyes.

“Enjoying the show?” Her voice pulls him back from his musings. Her eyes still zero in on him, cutting him to pieces.

Her cleavage comes into view.

The lines on Adler’s face grow taut.

“What do you want, Bell?” He asks, intending for a bark but it ends somewhere like a plea.

“I want many things. As of right now, I want Alex’s cock inside me.” And Adler nearly chokes on his own breath. Bell, eagle-eyed as ever, caught the movement. “But it seems someone insists on being in control of everything, isn’t he?” she snaps.

Adler’s back goes rigid. Trepidation bubbles up in his chest.

Of course, she knows.

“It's not about control.” Adler turns around. He doesn’t quite know what he’s avoiding at this point, her flesh or the truth. “It’s about what’s right.”

He hears her uniform touches her floor as she laughs, mirthless, like broken chandeliers. “I didn’t know whose cock I’m riding is any concern of yours.”

“It is when he’s a member of the team,” he seethes. “What you’re doing with Alex will only lead to complications. And I can’t have tha-”

“Because this is all about you, isn’t it? It’s about upholding your precious reputation in the Agency, controlling the narrative the way you want it no matter how many characters you kill off in the process. It’s always about what you want.” Bell interrupts, not missing a beat. “You selfish motherfucker.”

"This has nothing to do with my reputation in the CIA."

She scoffs. "Spare me the crap, Adler."

Adler turns to fully face her again and holds his arms open, the way someone is facing the firing squad. “Fine. Fine, yes, I’m a selfish motherfucker. I did it because I thought it could ruin the operation. Is that what you wanted to hear? Now, what are you going to do about it?”

She says nothing at first. He silently catalogues her movements as she steps towards him now, half-naked and furious. He feels pinned.

Then, “What do you want me to do about it?”

His mouth dries at the implication. She is temptation, benediction, the coarse ice block before the carver.

How terrible it is to lose control, even just once.

A knowing, vicious smirk flashes over her face. Adler feels like he’s just shown his hand.

“You are one selfish bastard and a coward to boot, aren’t you?” Bell sneers before he has a chance to respond. “At least, Alex was brave enough to make the first move, but you…” her gaze raking up and down his figure coldly, a jeweller presented with second-grade imitations. Wind her up and this honey bee stings.

“You’ll always be the man who hides behind his shades,” she says, dry as dust, and steps back and snatches her clothes from the bag.

This is, without a single doubt, the longest elevator ride he’s ever experienced in his life. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Adler arrived back in Berlin breathing a little harder. Worry wrapped around his neck like a noose, placed by Bell herself; the judge, jury and executioner.

The knot tightens every time his mind refers to her.

The agency trained him, specifically, to keep calm under pressure. He didn’t coin the title “America’s Monster” from his colleagues for nothing. They don’t fear him because he’s hot-headed or thinks in large-scale violence— guns blazing, napalm-induced flames over the hill in the morning, bloodied knuckles and fractured jaw, blood-soaked soles tarnishing the white marble floor. Someone can point a fucking shotgun to his face and he’ll barely flinch. Only monsters remain impassive to direct threats of violence.

But there’s something about Bell that elicits this visceral, primal reaction out of him. Something strange and new; lightning about to be uncapped from its chains.

It chokes him, frightens him to the core.

How gauche is it, don’t you think, that his own mind is conspiring against him?

Now, in the garage, where it dawns on Adler that she’s probably the only person who can make him walk around the city, feeling like a fool, he decides he’s had enough. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“I’ll drive you back.”

Adler apprehends Bell outside the garage. He kind of assumed she’d have a pistol aimed at his head right now, but she spins around, hands shoved deep inside her pockets and clayey mouth curls in distaste.

“Get in the car, Bell,” Adler says tightly, almost adding please.

But he would not beg.

The brunette remains rooted in her place. For a moment, a calculating look crossed her face. Always, always that sharp mind of hers turning and he wonders where it would take her this time.

“Try asking nicely,” she demands.

Adler’s eyes flash. She really is testing him. But fine, he'll play her game.

“Bell, would you kindly get in the car?” He is all but snarls, teeth gritting. Bell hardly wavers- he wishes she would waver for a change.

She does what he asked of her, finally, the shadow of a smirk on her face mocking him. Adler follows suit, teeth still clenched together, and starts the car and drives away.

It's sort of like a deja-vu, he supposes; him and her in this very same car, except that stupid krautrock music is absent this time. Neither says anything for the first twenty minutes. Everything feels heavily still.

Until he realizes she’s probably waiting for his move.

This might gloriously blow up in his face, yes, he knows this. Especially remembering the last time he was alone in a tight space with her, it had cost him his pride.

And his mind.

But he’s been here before, in the eye of the storm. He was at his calmest here. He has his cards prepared now.

Adler inhales deeply.

“Look, I’m sorry,” he utters resolutely. He doesn’t look at her, doesn’t want to. “I was out of line, I admit it. Your affair with Mason should be no concern of mine but I really am just trying to look out for you.”

It’s weak, he knows. The words feel more like an anchor than an actual apology in his tongue anyway, but Adler didn’t expect that Bell would give him nothing. Not even an acknowledging hum, a scathing retort, a scoff. Nothing.

A twinge of irritation brews in his stomach. Why does she insist on playing games?

The car comes to a stop. They’ve arrived. Adler wrests his hands from the steering wheel to say something harsh to her, but Bell is already stepping out of the car.

She stands on the sidewalk; an enigma in royal red, and her lethal, all-seeing eyes gravitate to him in the night.

There is a long paralyzing beat where they just stare at each other- which seems to be a running theme between them lately. Adler is fuming, as he is confused.

It feels like hours, centuries, eons, but, like all magic, the spell is broken. Courtesy of a stranger hailing a cab behind his car.

Bell turns and walks inside the building. She doesn’t bother sparing him the final glance or extend her appreciation for the ride back and Adler thinks to himself, this universe, god fucking damnit, nothing makes sense here.

But it is also in moments like this that the world spins, when he notices a singular, significant detail that makes his stomach roll, nearly throwing him off balance:

Bell left the passenger door open.

And he’s insane- he has to be, right? He’s looking too much into this. It doesn’t mean anything. His mind conjures an image, like a graphic guideline or something, step one: get out of the car, two: make your way around and close the passenger door, and third: zoom out of the neighborhood while your sanity is still intact, all in that order. Easy to comprehend, to follow.

Adler only does the first two steps. He’s ass-backwards doesn’t even bother to digest the third step.

He enters the hotel instead and takes in the surroundings. The lobby is pointedly bare, but warm and smoky. The concierge is reading behind the counter- a young, wiry boy with shocking bleached hair- with headphones on. It’s late, he probably doesn’t expect anyone to check in at this hour.

A movement by the staircase catches his interest. He sees Bell climbing up the steps slowly, leisurely. Adler makes his way there.

Halfway reaching her floor, Adler has the inkling that she knows that he’s following her. Also, because the next she does is glancing back at him over her shoulder. He waits for her to push him down the stairs or wrap those delicate hands around his neck. She does neither. She doesn’t want him gone.

Yet, his mind betrays him. Only because she doesn’t know what other atrocities he’s committed to her.

She stops by her door, opens it and goes in first. Adler, without waiting for a formal fucking invitation, slips in behind her.

Her room is much smaller than his. The TV is still on- a German dubbed of All the President’s Men is playing- a stack of books and meds lying haphazardly on the desk table.

The door clicks shut behind him. Bell wanders over to the table and turns off the TV. Her back to him.

She doesn’t bother turning the light switch on. The green neon of the hotel sign outside illuminates the room, bathes her in it, making her look even stranger and faraway.

He doesn’t take off his sunglasses.

“What do you want, Bell?” Adler is all but snarling. His anger comes in a bottle with a twist-off cap. “I’m fucking sick of playing your games. I apologized, I admitted I was wrong- I fucked up, but what more could you want?”

Jesus, and now he’s losing his temper over a brainwashed Russian who rarely talks. How did it come to this?

She tugs off her gloves. Once again, barely acknowledging him. Apparently, if ignoring him is an art form, she is the fucking Monet.

Until:

“Take them off.”

Adler blinks hard behind his glasses. Like he’s just stepped into a whole different earth.

His mouth moves.

“What?”

“Your sunglasses. Take them off.”

He stares at her back. Trying really, really hard to make sure he’s not hallucinating this, but then Bell turns around, a finger tapping against her arm, waiting.

Realization hits him like an uppercut in the face and nearly leaves him in a daze. He’s walked into a trap. That much is clear as day. She wants him to suffer as she does. An eye for an eye.

Adler holds no modicum of control in her domain, not unless she gives the reins. Once again, she plays the judge, jury and executioner at her own court.

But, like before, he’ll play her game.

There, the glasses are off. His eyes, bare, blue like fractured ice, meeting hers. In the dark, he feels her eyes shift to assess his bruise.

His heart booms against his ribs.

"Kneel,” she says glibly.

He obeys, again. His legs and hands don’t shake, but his mind is much less governable than his limbs. No, the CIA didn’t prepare a manual for situations like this and he doesn’t trust his instincts to help him dance his way around this.

Nor does he want to.

The thought fucks him up to a degree.

Adler should have known that it wouldn’t take an entire nation or continent to bring him to his knees, no, no. That would have been too easy, anyway. Although history has dictated and taught him that women are never to be underestimated, Adler hasn’t expected that one woman would be able to do the deed and succeed.

But then again, when that woman is Bell, he supposes anything is possible.

When Bell approaches him, he’s unable to take his gaze from her. Her eyes spangle with determination, an avenging soul in the neon lights. Her fingers work on the sash of her coat. The line of her mouth is flat and inscrutable. The air crackles with electricity and a promise of the unsayable, the unattainable.

She stands over him now, gloveless and coatless. She’s powerful like this and he can only crane his head up at her, ceding his fate in her hands, against his better judgement. She catches that.

Suddenly, something unpleasant breaks on her face, like when one’s smelling something foul or pungent.

Bell reaches down and grips his jaw painfully in one hand, her nails digging into his skin, and tilts his head sideways. Strange that his stomach leaps at that.

“Say you’re sorry,” she spits furiously. “And say it like you fucking mean it.”

He feels, suddenly, triumphant and chuckles darkly. Eight fucking long weeks and the beast finally shows her claws.

“Try asking nicely,” Adler parrots her words from before, not a beat missed. Two can play that game, he thinks. "Or are you above niceness, Bell?”

Her grip tightens.

"You’re one to talk,” Bell says. Then, rubs the pad of her thumb over his scarred cheek and it feels like forgiveness, or the beginning of it, at least.

His confusion spikes.

Her nose skims down his jawline.

A better, sensible man would apologize. He'd squander it until his tongue burns acid, he'd beg for her forgiveness like a man asking for repentance before his god.

“Why did you do it, Russell?” Bell whispers against his skin now, baleful and raspy. Her chest rising and falling too rapidly.

But he’s a sick bastard, a selfish motherfucker, a heartless monster. All he does is hurt the people around him. He doesn’t get to take from her, not after what he's done.

Still, Adler catches her wrist. Relishing the way her wrist bone grinds under his hold. He pulls his face back to look at her.

“You know why.”

Her eyes flick dangerously to his lips.

Desperation really can make the most vulgar things tolerable.

“Then prove it.”

So he does. As his hand reaches up to her neck, past the delicious column of her throat and with a precise swift, Adler grabs a fistful of her hair, the feminine gasp escaping her mouth is like a jolt to his groin, and kisses her.

Bell responds in kind. That little beast. She grasps his collar and drags him up to his feet, impatient with want. She laps at him, bites and sucks. His free hand snakes around her waist, pulling her impossibly closer.

She pulls away, catching her breath, and his teeth skim down her jaw, her neck. He bites her there in retaliation, on the delicious junction of her neck and shoulder, into the fabric of her shirt, making his intentions clear. Bell chokes in surprise and scrapes her nails over his scalp.

It hurts. But with pain, along comes pleasure and it’s good. It’s so good, Adler melts with a shaky breath.

His gloves come off first. Next, she pulls him free off his jacket, his sweater and snakes a hand between his legs, stroking him. He bites off a strangled ‘fuck’ into her throat. He’s worked up real fast already. Adler manages to make a short work of her shirt, unclasping her bra before he’s all but pushes her onto the bed.

Adler settles above her, capturing her lips in another feverish, hot-blooded kiss. He tugs her zipper down and slips his hand inside her pants. Her cunt’s everything he’s come to expect: wet, warm and oh-so wrong. She sucks in a breath. Her hips move against his hand. His blood sings. She throws her head back against the pillow, while his finds her earlobe.

“Has this proven my point, Bell?” he asks. His answer starts on a moan and ends with a breathless ‘yes’.

He doesn’t let her come that easily. No, he wants to drag this out for as long as he can until it drives her mad. So, Adler peels the rest of her clothes away, pulls her shoulder and turns her onto her stomach. He pins her down, hard. She gasps loudly against the white pillowcase, her hand fists into the sheets.

Adler slots himself behind her. His hand tracing along her spine, followed by his mouth, just how he fantasized once upon a time. His other hand quickly undoes the snap of his pants. Everything has been poisoned by her and her only; she is in his tongue, his veins, his mind, his lungs. She takes the centrefold of his mind and it's ridiculous.

He presses himself against her ass. His mouth falls open. Her body trembles. She’s all sin and racing hearts and sweaty flesh. She’s perfect. His now free hand slides up to the nape of Bell’s neck, reaching her throat, pressing down. She makes this high-pitched, demanding noise as she moves her hips back against him, leaving him wanting, helpless at the thought of having her right here, right now, in the warm neon glow of her hotel room.

“Please,” Bell begs. He groans in response and he gives it to her. Fuck, he’d give her anything if she begs just exactly like that.

When Adler is finally inside her, he thinks his world drops dead. He sets a merciless pace. He is not a gentle man and there is nothing gentle in the supple arch of her back, a rose bent backwards in the wind, as he pants along her neck before he pulls out, twists her onto her back again and pushes deeper into her until she comes apart underneath him (he’s made sure she begs for it- please, Russell. Oh god, Russell)

(He didn’t have to. Russell Adler is never the kind of man to fall for his dark side, but Christ knows he is only one man)

#russell adler #russell adler x bell #adler x bell #cod cold war #cod bell #cod #call of duty #call of duty black ops #call of duty cold war #alex mason #frank woods #helen park #lawrence sims #jason hudson #lazar azoulay

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 4 years

Text

customer service, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: You're the simple owner of an erotica shop. Known for being non-judgmental, non-kink-shaming, and for providing pleasant customer service. So what happens when a certain customer asks for a little... extra service?

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; non-idol!AU; mentions of toxic masculinity and kink shaming; dom/sub themes; smut (restraints, body appreciation, praise, nipple play, handjob, edging); softdom!reader x firsttimesub!Jungkook

“Thank you for your patronage.”

The older woman bowed politely and took the inconspicuous brown paper bag from you. You smiled at her as she tucked it safely in her purse before thanking you again and walking out. The sky was already pitch black, with only a few people walking about. It was late, almost closing time. There was only one other customer browsing the shelves.

You knew him well.

You turned from the counter and continued calculating the day’s sales. It had been a surprisingly busy day for an erotica shop. Lots of people had purchased books today and even a good number of toys. Being one of the few adult shops in the whole district got you some… interesting customers. Thankfully, everyone was too nervous or awkward to start shit. This made your job a lot easier and you didn’t have to hire a second person. It was a small business, but you were quite proud of owning it.

You heard the clearing of a throat.

You punched in the last number. It took you less than a second to record the total in the book before shutting it. A deep breath coursed through you. You lifted your head, a small smile on your lips.

The young man shifted nervously on his heels. Curled, dark brown hair past his ears. A sharp jawline, mole quivering under his lower lip. A permanent deer-in-headlights look, at least when it came to visiting the store. He was wearing an over-sized, navy blue dress shirt and tight black slacks with black oxfords.

“How can I help you, Jeon Jungkook?”

His ears turned red. “Oh… you remember my name.”

You bowed ever so lightly. “Of course. Did you enjoy your book?”

The blush crept to his cheeks. He coughed awkwardly. You didn’t look away, keeping your small smile on your lips. You were wearing a high-necked, long-sleeved, floor-length black dress. Completely covered except for your head and hands. Your hands were perched one over the other, calmly waiting for his answer.

“Er, yes.”

“That’s good to hear.”

Over the course of his visits, you had learned a lot about Jeon Jungkook. He bought books and porn primarily BDSM-themed, either lesbian dom/sub or female dom/male sub. He bought only a few toys, but all were marketed for self-pleasure. He did not purchase any of the clothing, despite always eying it as he checked out. He was very hesitant to ask questions when there was a lot of people in the shop. He did, however, ask when there were no people in earshot. He requested opinions and recommendations a lot. He listened closely to your responses, dipping his head a bit as if he was afraid someone would know what he was asking.

At the moment, Jungkook seemed to be collecting himself. You patiently waited, watching his body language. Trembling shoulders. Chewing on his lower lip. Eyes flickering, looking in every direction except you.

“Could I… Could I please try that on?” he finally asked, raising his hand to point at something behind you.

You turned your head, following the direction of his finger. It was a black leather top for men, cut high, just above the nipples. There was a steel circle at the center of the chest that would lay under the collarbones, against the sternum. High-necked, with studs at the seams to prevent it from getting ripped with use. It had long sleeves, except instead of an opening for the hands, it ended in a closed, flipper-like encasement with straps. The back had a zipper to get inside the top.

You took a moment to let your eyes roam over the piece before facing him.

“You will need someone to help you put it on.”

You saw his hand falter. He lowered it, expression falling.

“Perhaps you can come back with someone to see if you two like it.”

Jungkook shifted his feet uncomfortably. “I don’t... have anyone who could help me.” His eyes darted from side to side. “No one knows.”

Your brows furrowed at his sad tone. “I’m sure there is someone who understands.”

Jungkook shook his head quickly. “Everyone I’ve even suggested that kind of… thing… they laughed at me,” he said tearfully, chewing on his lip harder. “They told me I was weak for wanting something like that. They told me I should be a man.”

A sharp tinge of annoyance shot through you. What kind of fucking bullshit was that? To be so vulnerable and admit what you liked – that was being a man, or any human for that matter. Jungkook blinked rapidly, pushing away his tears. He had been repressing this side of him for a long time, it seemed, only revealing a little when he was at the shop. The thought made you angry. Not having sexual freedom was soul crushing.

“It’s expensive.”

Jungkook nodded. “I saved up for it.”

Your eyes flickered to the clock. “It’s ten minutes before closing, Jungkook.”

He bowed his head. “I understand.”

You winced. He looked so lost and alone, like a bunny who couldn’t find home. You tapped the counter sharply, making him snap his head up.

“The fitting rooms are in the back. Let me close up a little and I will be right with you,” you said, sweeping your skirts back to walk around the counter. Jungkook watched you stride to the door of the shop before scurrying towards the back. You locked the door and pulled down the metal grate before turning off the front lights. You could never be too safe, after all. You made your way back to the counter and grabbed the tall metal hook to bring the leather top down. He had good taste. This was one of your favorites.

Simple, yet effective.

You placed the metal rod back and walked to the fitting rooms, heels clacking on the hardwood. You always liked to wear heels. They gave you a sense of power, even though no one could see them under the maxi-length dress. It was like announcing your presence.

Your hand grasped the red velvet curtain and pulled back, revealing an awkward-looking Jungkook. He was picking at the peach fuzz on his face in the floor length mirrors. You blinked at him and he pulled away from the mirror quickly. He saw the top on your hands and gulped.

“Sorry, I–”

You cut him off. “Remove your shirt.”

Jungkook looked down. “R-right.”

You watched his fingers fumble with the tiny buttons of his navy dress shirt. He had long fingers, large hands. Small tattoos on his right hand. Lightly tanned skin, toned chest, dark nipples, sculpted abs. The silky fabric slid off his right shoulder. Tattooed arm as well. He slipped out of the other sleeve and held his shirt awkwardly in his hands. You indicated the hook to his left with your free hand. He swallowed and placed his shirt on the hook. His black pants were very tight. You could see his muscular thighs and calves.

Interesting.

“Move the ottoman to the center,” you said softly. There was an edge of command to your voice.

Jungook spied the black leather ottoman in the corner and gently pushed it to the center of the dressing room. He looked back up at you for approval.

“Sit.”

He did, but facing you. You smiled, just a little.

“Face the mirrors, Jungkook.”

There was an inflection on your tone when you said his name. He started and scooted around, facing the three floor-length mirrors. You could see Jungkook’s nervous expression in the mirror and he could see you standing behind him at the entrance of the dressing room. You pulled the curtain closed behind you as you stepped in.

Now you two were alone, in the red velvet room.

You calmly removed the hanger from the leather top. “Raise your arms.”

He did. He had nice forearms and biceps. Even his triceps were nice.

You unzipped the back. Jungkook was watching you closely. You separated the zipper and reached around him, placing one sleeve on and then the other. Your chest was very close to his back but not touching. You placed two fingers around his wrist and yanked the leather down, making sure the fit was smug. Jungkook gasped. You did the same to his other hand before backing up and rolling the sleeves up. He shivered as the steel ring touched his skin, flush against his sternum. You had to pull a bit to fit his broad shoulders in it. The top could accommodate some stretch, but it was a little tight due to his build. Your eyes flickered to his face. He seemed fine with it.

Maybe a little too fine with it.

You zipped the back, careful not to catch his hair in it. Jungkook peered at his flipper hands and flapped the straps. He smiled. You almost did, but instead cleared your throat. He straightened.

“So,” you began, voice dropping an octave. “The nice thing about this top is that it can be fastened two ways.” You reached around him and took his left arm, crossing it over his right arm, over his stomach. Your hands lingered on the straps for a moment before snapping them behind him with the proper tightness. Restraining, but not circulation-cutting. You looked up. The position made his pecs push together and his biceps bugle against the leather. Jungkook gawked at his body in the mirror, eyes wide as if seeing himself for the first time. You could see his dark nipples harden.

Hm.

“And,” you continued calmly, unsnapping the straps. “It can be done this way.”

You undid the snaps and maneuvered his arms to cross them behind his back. A few steps and you were in front of him, slipping the straps under the steel ring and pulling them taut. He inhaled sharply as you touched his hot skin. Quick few adjustments and you were done.

You let your eyes trail to his face.

Jungkook’s brown eyes were quivering, staring at you.

You moved out of the way and let him see himself. Now his chest stuck out a bit due to his arms pinned behind him, forcing him to arch his back. Jungkook tilted his head, tugging at the restraint. He flexed his muscles. It didn’t budge. His lips parted. Curls of dark hair framed his wide, inquisitive eyes. He looked at himself in every angle, the confidence evident in his features.

You stood about a foot behind him, hands behind your back. He caught your eye and blushed, looking to the floor.

“Like what you see?”

One, two, three seconds passed. Then he barely nodded, not making a noise.

“Jungkook.”

He looked up slowly, chewing on his lip.

“Tell me how you feel.”

You could tell he was struggling with lying or telling the truth. You waited patiently.

“I feel… sexy,” he said, quietly at first, but with added sureness as he looked at himself in the mirror. “I really love it.” His eyes shifted towards you. You could see them sparkling with gratefulness. “Thank you.”

The side of your lips curved upwards. You took a step towards him. Your hand curved around his head, hovering just under his chin. “You don’t have to thank me,” you murmured, making eye contact through the mirror. Those brown orbs full of wonder and open possibilities. The mole under his lips trembling as they parted. Your other hand pointed to his reflection, where he looked at himself once again.

“Look how pretty you are, Jungkook.”

He whimpered.

You heard it. Jungkook heard it. You blinked slowly. His teeth sunk into his lower lip. Your hand was still under his chin, not touching. Gradually, very deliberately, he lowered his head, right into your palm. You observed him through the mirror. He rolled his hips, ever so slightly. The tight black fabric molded to his obvious erection, revealing everything.

You dropped your head a few centimeters lower, lips against his ear. Eyes still on his.

“Jungkook, I’m the shopkeeper,” you breathed.

He nodded in your palm, breath hitching. You tucked your tongue in your cheek. His breathing was getting heavier. You pulled your hand back, against his neck. He gasped as your fingertips touched his skin, your index and middle on his pulse. It was racing.

“I know,” he pleaded, so quietly you barely heard him.

You breathed deeply. “Wouldn’t this be your first… encounter?”

He nodded, short, quick nods of his head. You waited.

“P-please…”

Shit.

His voice was a whisper, fear mixed with arousal. “I know you won’t… laugh at me.”

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Your hand slipped down the leather. “You’re right,” you murmured. “I won’t.”

His bangs shrouded his eyes a little, but he was watching your every move. Watching your fingertips trace the steel ring, watching your hand splay across his chest, whimpering as you touched his skin. You kept your eyes on his as he watched you stroke his abs, tracing the muscles.

“Look at you, handsome boy.”

His ears turned red at the compliment. You smiled, just a little. Your other hand snaked up his side, making him gasp. Your hands roamed over his body, his tanned skin, his taut muscles. He moaned softly, music to your ears. Your thumbs slid up, pressing against his nipples. Jungkook trembled as you rubbed them slowly, exhaling lightly onto his earlobe.

“Pretty boy,” you whispered, “No one is allowed to call you weak.” Your breathing was getting heavier, heated against his skin. “What a beautiful body.”

You pinched the small nubs tightly. He groaned, bucking into your hands. You let your nail graze against them and he jerked into it, sinking your nail into his skin. His head lolled back, leaning against your shoulder.

“You can take a little more?” you asked, pressing a little harder.

“P-please…”

You pinched again, harder. He really moaned this time, loud and clear. You pinched again, twisted. His eyes slid closed, thrusting his hips in his pants. You placed a soft kiss on his neck as you rubbed his nipples roughly. They were turning a little red. Jungkook was leaning against you and you supported his weight, planting your feet solidly on the ground. You flicked his nipples repeatedly with the back of your nail until he was squirming against you, dragging your name out in long moans.

You could feel wetness pooling between your legs.

You stopped, sinking your nails into his chest and raking down, down. Jungkook gasped in pain, lurching forward. You scraped down his torso, ripping your hands away sharply. He whimpered, panting hard. Swiftly, you moved in front of him to push the ottoman out from under him. He pitched forward, knees hitting the hardwood. You held him up until he straightened, kneeling.

His black slacks were very, very tight.

You moved back to your position behind him, sitting down on the ottoman. You spread your legs and scooted forward so your chest touched his back, making him shudder. You pressed your covered breasts up against him. Jungkook was staring at the ground. You impatiently reached forward and yanked his chin up.

“Don’t look away,” you warned.

He gulped. “O-okay.”

His dark, curled hair was stuck to his forehead with sweat. You pushed it aside gently, revealing his forehead, placing your lips softly on the top of his head. He made a small noise, appeased. Your fingers slid down his torso, tracing the scratches you had made. Pink, lightly raised. You traced the waist of his pants, playing with the button. Made eye contact with him.

“What are you hiding down here?” you purred, teasing the button from its hole. You could feel his chest rise and fall sharply as you pulled the zipper down, down. The bulge slid out slowly, now unconstrained by the zipper. You traced the outline with your nail and Jungkook whined, thrusting his hips lightly in your hand.

“Nice and hard, all for me?” You licked his earlobe ever so slightly.

Jungkook moaned as you palmed him, pushing his slacks down. “Yes. Oh, god, yes.”

You pressed your lips against his ear. Made sure to add a hardness to your words, like poisoned honey.

“There is no god here. Only me.”

You dipped your hand underneath the waistband and grasped his cock. Jungkook gasped, arms straining against the leather. You used your other hand to push down his underwear as you freed his cock and balls, your fingers wandering over them, cupping him. You massaged his balls, squeezing them, before dancing your fingertips on his cock. You nudged his head so he could watch you in the mirror.

“What a perfect cock waiting for me.”

Jungkook moaned, pupils blown wide with lust. His eyes darted from his face, to the leather top, to the reddening scratches on his stomach, to your hand on his cock. He rolled his hips in your hand, trying to get more friction. You took pity on him, wrapping your hand around his thick cock. It felt nice, you against his hard stiffness, veins pressing against your palm. He thrust his hips into your hand and you let him. You watched him fuck your hand, precum glistening from the head of his cock.

With your free hand, you hooked a finger around a stray strand of hair, tucking it behind his ear as he continued rutting into your hand. You placed your lips against his ear.

“Aren’t you a desperate, needy boy?” you purred.

“Y-yes,” Jungkook panted. “Yes, I am.”

You tightened your grip a little and he groaned, eyes rolling into his head as he thrust harder. You let him go on, until his breathing became shallow, tight, brows furrowed in pleasure.

Then you squeezed the head of his cock, hard.

He squealed in protest; orgasm cut short. You spread the pre-cum over the head, roughly. He whined, pressing his back against you, tears clinging to his eyes. You rubbed the angry red head, carefully but firmly, earning a choked sob of your name.

“P-please…”

You pressed your lips against his jaw. “Shh.” You only intended on edging him once. If he continued acting like this, you might go full dom on him. You needed to be in control of yourself, for his sake. One by one, you wrapped your fingers around his cock again, this time dictating the pace. Your hand was slick with his pre-cum, adding to the pleasure. You kept the grip solid and tight, making sure to rub just under the head. His eyelids fluttered, moans filling up the store.

“What if someone hears you, Jungkook?” you mumbled against his shoulder, smirking. He cracked his eyes open as you continued jacking him off, fast and hard. His breathing was in short, rapid pants.

“Don’t care,” he whined, eyes fixated on his reflection and his cock pumping in your hand. “Wanna cum so bad, just for you.”

Jungkook, please, you thought, inhaling deeply. He smelled like fresh laundry and pre-cum. Delicious.

“Please… please let me cum for you.”

How could you not give in to his sweet pleas, his eyes finding yours, begging you so earnestly? You increased your pace.

‘You going to cum for me, handsome boy?” you growled. “I’m going to make you cum all over this mirror, all over your pretty reflection.”

Jungkook was becoming a moaning, ruined mess in your hands as you went harder, faster, tighter. His entire body jolted and he threw his head back, screaming your name hoarsely as he came, long, thick strings of white splattering across the mirror. You sucked in a breath, jerking his cock so it shot in different directions. All over his reflection, until it dribbled against the hardwood, dripping fat drops onto the ground.

“You’re so fucking sexy, Jungkook,” you breathed, marveling at the cum sliding down the mirror.

Jungkook slid down, head between your covered breasts. His chest was heaving, hair stuck to his face, lips dry. He nestled against you comfortably. Your hand was covered in cum and a few drops fell onto his muscular thigh.

“I-I’m sorry…” he gasped, cheeks turning pink. “I made a mess.”

You chuckled, petting his hair.

“I’ll just make you clean it with your tongue.”

He whipped his head towards you, but you were smirking at him. You winked.

“Just kidding.”

part ii.

masterpost

#jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook x you #bts smut #jeon jungkook smut #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you

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