#Dinner Chair Office Chair Front Pink

[luveline]

YES to luna lovegood/dreamy!reader!!!!!!!!! Can we possibly get one with Spencer? <3

“It’s not as bad as you think.” 

Hotch appreciates the softness of your voice, as someone who also speaks in a very measured tone, but the sound of it has his brow furrowing. You’re a brilliant analyst, and a worse distraction whenever you’re in the main office. 

“It sounds terrible?” 

Hotch peers through the window to get a good look at the scene. You’re sitting in Spencer’s desk chair with your hands stretched out in front of you. Your outfit is very pink, considering the occasion, but it’s a non-abrasive light pink that flatters your skin. You have a clip in your hair, a small silver star with pink jewels embedded along the lines. 

Emily sips at a cup of coffee, leaning against the desk, her face to the side. Hotch can see her perturbed smile. 

“It’s fine! I’ve just been sleeping on the sofa.” 

“Well. That’s a call to pest control.” 

Spencer returns to his desk with a frown and two mugs. “Pest control?” he asks, the mug he places in front of you steaming. 

“There’s a raccoon living in her bedroom.” 

Spencer burns himself on his coffee, swearing as he puts it down hurriedly beside yours. “There’s a what?” Spencer asks. 

“He’s friendly. He came in through my vent.” 

“So friendly he’s stolen your bedroom?” 

You lean back in Spencer’s chair like it’s a La-Z-Boy, blowing at the hot surface of your drink with a similar lazy smile. “Imagine being that little and having such a big bed? When you usually sleep in the garbage?” You give a breathy laugh. “He must be having the time of his life.” 

“How are you getting ready in the mornings?” Spencer asks worriedly. 

“We’re cohabiting.” 

Spencer licks his lips. He likes you, and you seem aware of that fact, and that’s nerve-wracking for everyone involved. 

“Um, maybe we can make him a house? Like, outside? Raccoons are far happier in their natural habitat, and they’re also, you know, highly diseased and contagious compared to humans. I really don’t think you should let him inside.” 

“Spencer,” you say, giving him a dozy grin, “I didn’t let him in. He knows how to get in all by himself.” 

“I’ll call a repairman, too,” Emily says with a groan. 

She walks away, probably to find JJ and get her in on the repairs. Spencer looks at you for a long time, just drinking your tea, and Hotch mentally goads him into making a semblance of a move. Even if it’s just to fix your drooping hair clip. 

“You’re looking at me strangely again,” you say. 

Winces all around. “Am I?” Spencer asks. 

“Yes. Is this about Thursday?” 

“No.” Spencer swallows. “Yes. You didn’t answer my texts, after. I just want to know what you’re thinking.”

“What I’m thinking?” 

“Yeah. I thought about it a lot, so maybe you did too. Or maybe you didn’t, and it didn’t mean anything.” 

“Of course it meant something, Spencer.” You put down your mug, dusting your knees off before you stand. Spencer is not much taller than you where you’re standing in front of him, but you look up at him anyways. Your face tips ever so slightly to one side. “Would you want to do it again?” you ask softly. 

Spencer looks around the office. He neglects to check Hotch’s window, perhaps because the blinds are more often drawn than not, and so he doesn’t realise Hotch is watching as he draws you in for a kiss. 

You preen and lean back, hands fighting to cup his cheeks, a gauzy, practically gleaming aura around you as you smile into his mouth. Your fingertips tease his hair, and Spencer’s hand settles in place against the small of your back. You kiss back for only a few seconds before you’re laughing.

Spencer moves away quickly, taking your wrists into his hands to pull them away from his face. 

“You give up too fast,” you say. 

“I don’t think this is the place for it.” 

“Well, we can’t do it at my place. What if the raccoon sees?” 

“Good point. How about Marina’s, would that be better? We can get dinner at the same time.” 

Hotch feels oddly proud of Spencer’s suave suggestion, but he also has a migraine brewing between his brows. He really doesn’t need the extra paperwork. 

[hairmetal666]

Wayne's used to worrying about Eddie. He should be; he's been doing it since the kid was twelve. First it was Eddie's silence, his permanent frown, the way the bones stood out too prominent on his small wrists. Then it was the kids at school, taunting him and calling him names, the fights and calls from the principal's office. Next came the late nights, the drinking, the dealing, failing his senior year twice. But all of those times, every single one, Wayne had known what to do. Maybe it wasn't perfect, maybe it took a little time, but he'd always figured out exactly what his boy needed.

And now--now Wayne doesn't know if he can help; knows it's not in his power to fix it. 

So, he sits for the second week in a row, watching his nephew--his whole heart--sitting in front of the window, looking out at the forest, nursing the same cup of coffee that he poured six hours ago, and wonders how in the world he can help.

They're cleaning up from dinner, Eddie quiet at his side, when he says, "Gonna need some help with the mugs tomorrow."

After moving to Oregon once Eddie graduated and he retired, he found an affinity for pottery. Never woulda thought it, but he loves it and tourists love his booth at the farmers market.

He can't think of a better way to get his nephew out of the house, but wonders if he doesn't know his boy as well as he thinks after a decade in Los Angeles, that Eddie'll refuse. He just nods, though, goes back to drying the plate in his hands.

And next morning, right at 6:45, Eddie is in the living room in black jeans that are so worn they're nearly grey in places, and the threadbare Metallica tee Wayne thrifted for him nearly a decade back. It's a win. Small, yes--Eddie doesn't even complain once about the country-western station Wayne plays in the truck--but still a step forward.

Wayne wastes no time parking and handing Eddie a box of carefully packed merchandise. He leads the way, trusts that Eddie is right on his heels until he hears Jim Hopper's voice say, "You better keep an eye on those mugs, son. Your uncle will tan your hide."

He turns to see Hopper balancing one end of Eddie's box, Eddie's cheeks flushed pink. "Sorry, I--uh, I've got it now." Hopper lets go and for the briefest instant Eddie's eyes dart to the side and the pink in his cheeks grows deeper.

Wayne tracks the path Eddie's eyes took and finds--he swallows back a chuckle--Steve Harrington just setting one of his Adirondack chairs into place, his t-shirt lifted to show of a stretch of stomach.

Well. Eddie did always like the pretty ones.

They setup the booth in companionable silence, and Hopper pops back over for a proper introduction. Before he departs again, he says to Eddie, "I got some kids who really love that dnd game and your show. They're going to be crazy to meet you. That okay?"

And Eddie, he's a good boy, he smiles and nods but as soon as Hopper is out of earshot, Wayne's saying, "Hop's kids and their friends are big fans and I know you're heartsore about the cancellation, but you better be polite."

Eddie glares. "What do you think, old man, that I'll be mean to children?"

"Well, with how you've been moping around the cabin these last few weeks, hard to know."

He scoffs. "Yeah, well. Netflix putting your hit show on indefinite hiatus without warning or explanation will do that to a guy."

Wayne knows there's nothing he can say to soften this hurt, so he gives Eddie's shoulder a tight squeeze. "I'm proud of you no matter what, son."

His nephew nods, eyes down, but Wayne doesn't miss the small, pleased, lift at the corner of his lips.

The morning passes smoothly and Wayne pretends he doesn't notice every time he finds Eddie's gaze straying to Steve's booth.

The kids come by around noon, Dustin Henderson breaking away from the pack to shriek, "You're Eddie Munson!"

Eddie smiles, stands. "That I am, young adventurer." He bows low, exaggerated and the kids giggle. "Pray tell, what are your names?"

The chatter is fast and easy, Eddie the happiest he's been in weeks, and Wayne relaxes back in his chair, lets out a long, slow breath of relief at the breaking storm. He stretches back in his chair, eyes catching on Steve Harrington across the way. Steve who is watching Eddie and the kids with an expression Wayne can only think of as fond.

Wayne isn't one to play matchmaker, but--he thinks, just maybe, just this once he could nudge.

It happens late in the afternoon, when business has well-slowed, Eddie asking, "Um--that guy over there, who is--what's his deal?"

Wayne thinks he manages to keep all traces of amusement from his face and voice as he answers, "Who? Ohh, Steve Harrington. He's the guidance counselor down at the middle school. Does a bit of carpentry in his free time. Best friends with the woman who owns that little bookstore."

He watches as Eddie processes, as his eyes widen, probably in remembrance of the pride flags and Protect Trans Kids shirts, how the woman in question wore a lesbian flag pin on her apron. "Guidance counselor?" He says eventually. "Kind of a drag."

"You would think, but the kids love him. The ones you met earlier today? He babysat them for years; imprinted on him, Jim and I say."

"Hmm," is the only response he gets, Eddie's attention back on the man in question.

---

The day after the market, Wayne walks into the living room to find Eddie's laptop tucked into the cushions of the window seat. He hasn't seen the thing since Eddie came home, never used to see him without it, and this--well.

He says, "need to run into town for a few things. You up for a trip? You might could stop at that bookstore."

Eddie nods, takes a sip of his coffee--he's actually drinking it-- says, "Yeah. Yeah, I think that'd be cool."

The store isn't busy when they arrive, and Wayne drifts towards the magazines to leave Eddie to his own devices.

Wayne loses himself to quiet browsing, wanting to give Eddie space, to maybe chat with Robin Buckley, strike up the beginnings of a friendship. Enough time passes, though, that Wayne is wondering where his boisterous, noticeable nephew could've disappeared to so silently.

He winds around a shelf and sees Eddie and Steve Harrington in deep conversation. He can't hear it, not really, but they're standing close, with pink in their cheeks. As he watches, Steve says something that makes Eddie laugh and pull a few strands of hair over his mouth.

They're almost inseparable after that. Eddie, Steve, Robin, and all those kids. They play dnd, have movie nights, spend hours at the diner. And Eddie, he's writing, sketching, gets down Wayne's acoustic guitar and plays around for a while.

When he asks how things are with "that Harrington boy," Eddie flushes red and says, "none of your business, old man" before giving Wayne a quick, affectionate squeeze. 

---

Two and a half months after Eddie came to stay, Wayne's walking back from the river, the sky the light navy of new dusk. His fishing rod is draped over one shoulder, tackle box held easily in his fist, the walk home pleasant, a perfect end to a good day.

The light from the front porch seeps through the trees, and he's thinking about a cold beer, a warm pizza, if Eddie's found his way home yet, when figures standing on the porch stop him in his tracks.

It takes a second, longer, for his eyes to adjust from the dark of the woods, and the glow of the bulb, but then he sees--

Eddie and Steve locked in a fierce embrace, desperate and very much private.

He turns right back towards the river, doesn't mind giving the boys some time.

He waits a good half hour, just enjoying the forest, before heading back. Steve's car is gone, the porch vacant, but the cabin is lit up, bright and warm and inviting.

Wayne steps inside, and his nephew is there, laptop open, but he isn't working, just smiling to himself, chin resting on his fist.

"Okay?" Wayne asks.

"Huh? Oh, yeah." Eddie's smile doesn't fall from his face.

He doesn't want to interfere, ask too much, not when he's sure things are still young. Instead, he asks, "What'd you say to ordering a pizza?"

And Eddie, heedless of Wayne's question, says,"you know. I've been thinking about maybe staying here for a little longer."

And Wayne, his smile grows, and he claps a hand on his nephew's shoulder. "You're welcome here for as long as you want. Already consider it your home anyway."

[starcrossedxwriter]

Double Trouble (Aaron Pierre x Black Reader x MBJ)

Warnings! NSFW, HEAVY BDSM, HEAVY Daddy kink, threesome (MFM), Everything is consensual! Degredation kink, Praise kink, Bratty reader, Dom! Aaron, Dom!MBJ

A/N: went hella overboard with this one! The plot is pure filth.

***

“Baby?” 

Your soft calls were barely loud enough to be heard over your boyfriend’s latest afrobeats obsession, which blasted through your shared home’s sound system. You lazily kicked off your red bottoms, a guttural sigh of relief escaping you as your exhausted feet relaxed out of the painful position it required to sport such beautiful but impractical shoes all day.

On your way to hunt down the love of your life, you stopped by your study, not even bothering to turn on the light as you discarded your Chloe work tote in your chair and closed the door behind you. 

After closing the biggest case of your career, you would not need to see the interior of either of your offices for a week and that almost brought tears of joy to your eyes. You and Aaron did not even have the energy to plan a trip. Having just wrapped a project two weeks prior, you both were overjoyed to spend a week at home wrapped up in each other.

You rolled your shoulders. Prayerfully, your boyfriend would take pity on you and give you a massage to ease the knots that took up residence in your back. You lazily made your way to the kitchen, knowing where you’d find the man you loved - but currently did not like. 

His back was to the arched entryway as you snuck in behind him, stealing a grape from his masterful charcuterie board that sat nearby. 

Despite your righteous annoyance at him, you never missed an opportunity to simply admire Aaron in his element. Like most actors, he suffered from the curse of always having to be “on.” But in the sanctuary of your home, he could just be Aaron, your gentle, loving, goofy, carefree boyfriend. 

And it certainly helped that he looked positively delicious today, setting a stupid table for a stupid dinner you didn’t want to host. He did every day but something was about him today in particular just made you want to sink to your knees and worship him with your tongue. But you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction today. You were pissed off. 

And that lust simply soured into red hot annoyance at the surprise guest your too-kind boyfriend invited to dinner. And while you never usually complained about company,  after months of endless days and sleepless and sexless nights, your vision of a relaxing evening was not entertaining a third wheel. 

It was a tall glass of wine, an amazing meal. And… then having your daddy twist you into a literal human pretzel and fuck the stress out of your body. 

But he hated you, clearly.

A sentiment you articulated (along with others) in a snarky text hours earlier. But Aaron, forever unbothered by your theatrics, merely responded that you should trust your daddy because… 

Daddy knows best. 

And despite the strong independent lawyer inside you who demanded control and to be right (and she usually was), you knew he was right about this one thing. Aaron could always see exactly what you needed. 

And despite your attitude earlier, you still spied his traditional gift for you after winning a big case neatly displayed on the white marble counter: your favorite cake from a bakery nearby and a bouquet of tulips. The varying vibrant shades of pink made something in your soul smile. He knew you too well.

Your silent studying did not go unnoticed for long, Aaron turning around not even startled to find you there. His expressive eyes lit up at the sight of your half grin, which you tried to suppress because you were supposed to be angry at him, and the hand on your hip as you leaned into the counter. 

He was in front of you before you could blink, his strong arm wrapping around your waist to pull you into his embrace. His muscles were threatening to destroy the fabric of his crisp button down, many of his clothes ill equipped to handle the additional muscles he gained for his latest project. 

“Hey princess.” 

Forever a brat and annoyed at the implosion of your plans for the night, you jerked your head to the side as he kissed you, forcing his lips to catch your cheek instead. 

Aaron merely let out a low chuckle, knowing that your bark was far worse than your bite. 

When it came to Aaron, you were about as strong as a lawn chair. You’d fold without resistance. Every. Single. Time. You always thought you were God’s strongest soldier… until you met Aaron. Kryptonite indeed. 

“Still mad at me?” 

“Yes,” you folded your arms as best you could against your chest, scoffing. “Between you playin’ the british assassin all around LA and me trying to negotiate with that asshole partner, we’ve had zero time together and no time to relax. And our first real free night in months without briefs and lines to run, you wanna play captain save a nigga with your friend? And then you spring it on me on some last minute shit. Those lips aren’t gonna get you outta this one, A.” 

“I know, I know, Y/N. And I’m sorry for messing up your plans for the night. I know how excited you are to finally have a break. But I’m trying to surprise you so please just trust me. If I know you like I think I do, you’re gonna like it.” 

“Well I think we’re about to make history then.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“The first time you get a surprise wrong. Honestly it’s probably a good thing? You’ve always been a bit too perfect to be real,” you added, causing him to grin. “But the only thing I would like right now is for you to fuck me into oblivion. So unless this dinner guest can help with that, I doubt I’ll like it. But what’s done is done. Now let me go so I can get ready.” 

A stare down. Another moment where you’d inevitably crumbled. Because only Jesus himself was strong enough to stare in those eyes and not give this man everything you had. 

However, to your surprise, he looked away from you first, nodding and letting his arm fall so you could head upstairs. 

You started to walk out of the kitchen, prepared to sulk the last of your frustrations away before putting on the smile of a gracious host when you heard him call after you. 

“What if they can?”

“What if they can what?” you glanced behind you. 

“Help me fuck you into oblivion.” 

You lurched forward, his words stopping you dead in your tracks. 

No… he couldn’t mean… The tiniest thrill of excitement jolted across your brain like a shooting star. But you steadied yourself. He couldn’t possibly mean what you were thinking. So you played it off. 

“Ha. ha. Ha. Very funny, A.” 

“You hear me laughin’?” 

You slowly turned around to find him behind you, his eyes brimmed with pure lust. But nothing in his face signaled he was joking about a single thing. 

“Remember all those fantasies you told me about, princess?” 

It would take lifetimes for you to forget. You had the most Earth-shattering orgasm of your life telling Aaron every filthy fantasy you had while he fucked you on your apartment balcony. You prayed they were long forgotten by breakfast the next morning, but he remembered every single one. And ever since, he made it his mission to help you fulfill them. 

“Wait… you’re ser- you’re serious? You want to-” 

It was most certainly a fantasy but the practicalities of it seemed unrealistic. You never seriously considered that Aaron would ever try to arrange it.

He merely smirked and pressed his lips to the top of your nose. His voice was low, hypnotic and mesmerizing. 

“Got a few treats upstairs for you. Go get ready.” 

“Wait… we aren’t gonna talk about this?? You aren't gonna give me details?” 

“Nah. You’re gonna be a good girl for me tonight right, baby? I’d hate to punish you in front of company, princess.” 

But EYE wouldn't hate that. A voice echoed in your brain, the thought of a spanking making you want to disobey just for the hell of it.

“Of course you’d like the sound of that,” he teased you before his eyes softened a bit. You could tell he saw it. That kernel of hesitation at the whole affair, that side of you that had to be in the driver’s seat wanting to talk and litigate every risk before you leaned into the pleasure of it.

“Hey, Y/N… baby. This is just going to be a fun night. And the moment it’s no longer fun for you, we stop. Just like that. Just say the word. If you aren’t feelin' it and him, we end it and it's still just a fun night with a friend. Understand?” 

You nodded before correcting yourself so he didn’t have to. “Yes, I understand. Your surprise might’ve won out again… maybe you really are perfect.”

He shrugged. “That’s what I’ve been tryin' to tell you. Just gotta trust me. Now go get ready. Only wear what I laid out for you.” 

Every step to your master suite pumped up your adrenaline. And made you fall deeper in love with your boyfriend. And his ability to fulfill your needs and desires and center your pleasure. He knew your limits, your boundaries, your needs and never wavered. 

A black cocktail dress waited for you with strappy gold heels. Along with your gold choker, with “good girl” engraved on its gold charm and your gold bullet.

Your skin felt electrified, a buzz radiating from every cell as you readied yourself. You weren’t surprised at the slick already pooling at the crest of your thick thighs when you slid your thong to the side and eased the bullet into you. You hissed at the cool silicone against your heat but you persisted. It was uncomfortable for a moment but as you continued dressing, you long forgot its presence. You knew its companion, a small gold remote, was with your master. Exactly where it should be.

You examined yourself in the mirror, hands running over your soft curves as you studied yourself. You had to admit that Aaron picked well. The dress accentuated his favorite parts of your body, hugging your hourglass shape so your ass and thighs were on display. The cutouts and mirroring each side of your ribs and plunging neckline would give him easy access to your boobs, which were begging to be freed from the confines of the tight bodice. 

“You look fuckin’ gorgeous baby.” 

“Thank you. You picked well.” 

“Final touch?” he picked up your choker, which waited for him on the bed. He always had the privilege of putting it on you. Because it signified the official start of your game. When the choker was on, your pleasure, your body was his to command, his to give and his to take away. Sweet surrender of control to the person you trusted most in this world. 

He towered over you as he stood behind you and placed the piece on your neck.  

“We’re gonna have dinner, dessert and then if you’re comfortable with continuing the night, just ask him to stay for a drink. Otherwise, the night will end. Understand?” 

“Yes sir.” 

“Good girl.” His hands traced the hourglass shape of your curves, his hands stilling only once along the near-indistinguishable lines of your thong. However, as he opened his mouth to speak, the shrill chime of their doorbell interrupted him. He sighed, turning you around in his arms. “Later. Ready to have some fun?” 

“Yes daddy.” 

Even in heels you had to stretch yourself to reach his lips. He took your hand, leading you down the stairs, some of your nerves being replaced by sudden intrigue. 

“You really aren’t gonna tell me who it is??” 

“What would be the fun in that?” With a wink back at her, he jogged the remaining steps and crossed the foyer with the quickness of an athlete and swung their door open. 

“Hey man! Thanks for coming by. Glad we could do this.” 

“Definitely, definitely. Thanks for the invite, man.” 

And that was the second time today you found yourself stopped dead in your tracks. The Michael B. Jordan stepped into your foyer, his charisma and star-powered charm oozing out of his pores as if he naturally produced it. 

Fuck me. He invited your celebrity crush, the main character of far more wet dreams than you’d ever admit out loud. And while Aaron was it for you, if you could ever take advantage of the “celebrity hall pass” concept, Michael Bae Jordan would be at the top of your list.

Well, that’s what he’s here to do. Daddy does indeed know best. 

At first, you had a feeling you’d be taking Aaron’s out. But now? Hell would have to freeze over before you gave up the opportunity of your dreams. Part of you cursed yourself for not guessing it was him to begin with. Aaron had been in a total bromance with the man since they wrapped filming. But now you had more questions. How did this even come up? How do you organize a threesome? Is this just a normal thing to talk about?

Who the fuck cares? You’re about to have the night of your life. 

You pushed them to the back of your mind, filing them away for tomorrow.

“And I don’t think you met my girl yet officially, but this is Y/N." The introduction forced your legs to start to move again, down the stairs and toward him.

“Geesh… they didn’t make lawyers like this when I was comin’ up. Michael,” he introduced himself. He held out his arms for a hug. “Aaron’s told me so much about you.” 

“Good thin-,” You started to toss your boyfriend a teasing grin as you closed the last couple of feet to return Michael’s hug. However, just as you were in arm’s length, the forgotten vibrator nestled inside you came alive. You let out an involuntary cross between a sigh and a moan that couldn’t be hidden. 

Could the ground open and just swallow me? 

Michael’s eyes glistened with amusement, letting you know he was not ignorant to your reality. 

“You good, baby girl?” he asked, with a knowing grin as you tried to avoid squirming in his embrace.

“Y-Yea, yea. Just h-had a chill. I was just gonna say that I hope he’s t-telling you good things,” you stammered, the jolts of pleasure siphoning off fractions of your vocal ability.

“Only good things, I promise. Just that you were the sexiest and best lawyer he’d ever seen. He was right about the first part, I’m sure he’s right about the second too.” 

“Hardly the best.” Your tone and smile were the picture of humility at his praise. You liked the sound of it on his lips, you also didn’t hate the way “baby girl" sounded when he said it too. 

“Y/N is being hella modest. She’s about to be the youngest junior partner in her firm’s history. And the first black woman.” 

“Aye! That’s what’s up! So we’re celebrating tonight?”

You grinned. “Don’t wanna get ahead of ourselves… just office gossip you know. We’ll see in a week.” 

Fuck, he was sexier than you imagined. Somehow tvs and movies simply didn’t do him justice. Like Aaron, he was at his peak physical weight, his muscles thick and lethal. They both stood in front of you looking like Gods, cut from the most perfect stone. 

“I-it’s just so great to meet you. You’re one of my favorite actors.” 

Michael drank you in like you were the finest glass of scotch, savoring every inch of skin exposed, every curve on prominent display. You felt hot underneath his stare, as if he had xray vision to see the promised lands this dress covered. You almost wilted like a flower under his intensity. 

We aren’t gonna make it through dinner, you thought to yourself. Or I can just be dinner. 

It was not your worst thought by far. The vision was quite enticing. Aaron ordering you to strip for them before displaying you on the table so they could feast on you. Your eyes darkened with clouds of lust. You cleared your throat, taking a deep breath, noting the amused glance that passed between the two men. Were all your thoughts broadcasting to them? 

“We… should go into the dining room. Dinner’s basically ready,” you offered as the lamiest attempt to escape the spotlight of them. You held your hand out for his coat, giving both men a perfect view of your ass as you turned to hang it in the closet. 

You didn’t attempt to hide the grin at the quiet but distinguishable wolf whistle from Michael. It felt good to know he liked what he saw. 

And the feeling was most certainly mutual. Michael and Aaron kept you laughing all through dinner as they enthralled you with stories from set. He was engaging and funny and you loved the genuine brotherhood between him and your boyfriend. There was nothing but raw sexual chemistry between you but that was all you needed. Mutual attraction.

The only disappointing aspect of dinner was the utter silence between your legs. Once he turned it off at the start of dinner, Aaron didn’t touch that remote again, much to your chagrin. Two hours and several glasses of wine at the dinner table with two men gently caressing your arms and exposed thighs was a recipe for disaster. And you knew he could tell, see how worked up they had made you, how desperately you wanted more attention. 

By dessert, you stopped retaining their words. They were utter nonsense to you because there were far more important things to consider. Like Michael’s dominating muscles and large hands, wondering how strong his grip will be when he fucks you from behind. Punishingly so, you prayed. 

You swung between wanting to savor the compliments and worship of two men with needing to be filled, a need that almost had you begging them to fuck you right amongst the dinner plates. But you knew Aaron. The night was young and he liked to play with his prize. 

By everyone’s fifth glass of wine, the conversation started to wind down, Michael getting up to head home. 

“Thanks so much for this, man. Appreciate the invite. Good to catch up n shit.”

“Oh you have to leave so soon?” There was a hint of sadness in your voice, coupled with the pleas of your signature puppy eyes. 

“I probably should… Gettin’ late, can’t take up your whole night.” 

You assessed the moment briefly, confirming with every cell in your body and functioning brain cell in your head that you needed this more than the oxygen in the room. 

So instead of wishing this walking wet dream a good night, you said, “You should stay for one more drink. We got this amazing bottle when we went to the South of France for our anniversary. Baby, we should open it and sit outside? It’s so nice out. We’re down to keep the good times going if you are.” 

“You sure?”

“I insist! Besides, between the three of us, I think we can find some ways to entertain ourselves." The implication in your words couldn't be clearer. You were in and you were ready. 

“I’ll grab that bottle from the cellar. Take Michael outside and make him comfortable, princess. Show him a good time while I’m gone.”

And with that, he turned your vibrator back on. He chose the second setting, which was just distracting enough to make the simple tasks of walking, talking and speaking exponentially harder for you. 

“Yes sir.” 

You forced your feet toward the giant sliding glass doors that led to your expansive backyard. You glanced behind you to find Michael jogging up behind you as he slid something into his pocket.

You tried to distract yourself from the pulses against your g-spot, the growing tension in your belly as pleasure started to build ever so slowly, by turning on the soft string lights hanging above your patio and the speakers to play music. 

“Yall got a great view.” 

“It was definitely the selling point of the house,” you smiled, awkwardly standing behind one of the chairs across from the couch.

His stance was wide, powerful and assured as he stared at you. 

“You gonna sit with me?” When you didn’t move, he sighed. “He said you were obedient. But maybe you just need an incentive…” 

Your knees almost gave out beneath you as he increased the setting to five. 

“If you wanna feel better, I think you should sit, baby girl,” he offered, his voice low and comforting. “I don’t bite, promise.”

The menacing glint in his eyes let you know that he most certainly would bite if asked. And you would most certainly ask. 

“S-sorry,” you awkwardly, quickly finding your way to the couch next to him. You started to sit when he beckoned you closer with a mere gesture of his finger. By the time he had you where he wanted you, you were sitting on his lap. 

You leaned into his chest, your eyes falling closed as pleasure shot through you with every pulsing vibration. You bit the inside of your cheek to avoid moaning. 

“You ok, Y/N? Seem a little flustered?” His fingers created flames all across your bare thigh as he subtly pushed up the fabric of your dress. 

There was still something… tamed about how he touched you and caressed you. He came so close to the spots that demanded a firm strong hand, he held back every time. Like right now. Drawing featherlike patterns on your exposed side, toying with the edges of your thong but not shifting them to the side like you craved. 

No, he simply savored the time teasing you, enjoying the soft moans his touch and the bullet caused. 

“I’... I’m… fine, t-thank you,” you whispered back. “Just… o-overwhelmed.” 

“You wanna cum, don’t you?” his husky voice demanded in your ear. At the sound, you couldn't suppress the moan of pleasure that escaped your lips. You rolled your hips, chasing more.

“Y-Yes…” you whimpered. “P-Please…” 

“How’s my girl treating you, Michael?” Aaron’s voice interrupted their moment, his eyes piercing with desire as you writhed and rode another man's thigh. You looked perfect, unrestrained and free. 

“Oh she’s perfect. You got a great girl here, A.”

“I know… she is. But she disobeyed me earlier so before she can cum, we have to punish her. Isn’t that right, baby?” 

“Y-yes sir.” You didn’t even know what you did wrong but you weren’t going to argue or push back on him. Because this was already like entering a promised land of bliss. To hear him speak so openly about your punishment to another man while he masturbated you on his lap? Aaron was right. This was the destressor you really required. 

“Can you tell Michael and daddy what you did wrong, princess?” 

You raked your brain, knowing that “I don’t know” would only increase your punishment. Not that you would have particularly minded. Frequent punishments were simply the norm for a proud and loud brat. 

And then it hit you, such a small and silly infraction that Michael’s fingers were currently playing with. 

“I… w-wore my panties w-when I wasn’t allowed,” you answered. 

“That’s right. And we don’t cover up daddy’s prize, do we?” 

“No… daddy.” 

“You want to be a good girl for Michael and I… don’t you?”  

His voice was hypnotic. Despite the pleasure disobeying him brought, you could not help but want to please him, to be his good girl again. 

“Y-yes, daddy.” 

“And good girls deserve what?” 

“Punishment before pleasure.” 

“That’s right, baby. So tonight, Michael’s gonna have the honor. How many spankings you think our slut deserves?” 

“I’d say 25… 30?” 

“30 feels fair. What do you think, princess?” 

“Wh-whatever daddy wants,” you whimpered. That was the only acceptable response. Besides, you knew Aaron knew your limits and wouldn’t let Michael cross them.  “That's right, baby girl. She can be good when she wants to, just needs remindin’ of her place sometimes,” he mused. And with that, Michael turned off the bullet, a groan of pure frustration escaping your lips.

Punishment before pleasure, you reminded yourself. Why can’t my punishment be sucking their dicks or something?? 

Michael helped you up, your legs feeling slightly weak after they robbed you of your orgasm. They didn’t bother trying to carry you up the stairs, Michael merely directed you to your deep forest green sectional in the living room and leaned you over one of its arms. He slid off his belt and tied your hands behind your back, ensuring they were loose enough to avoid injury but tight enough not to escape without effort. 

You were deliciously helpless. 

“Fuck, that’s a gorgeous sight,” you could hear Michael mutter as the two men merely stared at you, boobs pressed out due to your hands being bound, your ass high in the air from being bent over. “Her ass is perfect, man.”

“It’ll look even better when you’re done. Don’t hold back. She loves that shit and she knows our safe word.” 

You were glad he assured Michael that you would adore the sweet sting of his palm. You encouraged Aaron to put his entire weight into your spankings when you took on the role as his princess. Forever a gentle soul at his core, he did not like the idea of causing you real, significant pain, preferring to lean heavily into other aspects of dominating you. 

It certainly made you fall more in love with him, witnessing his gentleness and concern for your well-being to such a degree. You supposed it was the greenest of flags that it took about 10 long discussions for him to feel comfortable. And even years later, he still checked in throughout to make sure you still enjoyed it. You weren’t a masochist by any means spankings in particular were more than enticing to you. It left you drenched and on the cusp on an orgasm without Aaron doing anything else. 

Even more so right now with your ass presented to the two men like a hard-earned prize. You subconsciously stuck your ass out further in search of something. A touch, a slap… literally anything. Your body was reeling. 

And you did not even care who was behind you to give you what you needed.

“She’s fuckin’ desperate for it.” 

“Yea, she’ll be begging you for it in a minute. I mean I was gone for what? 5 minutes, princess? And I come back and you're humpin' his leg like a filthy whore? And you loved it didn't you? Wanted more? I bet you wanna beg him to tear that ass up right now, don't you?” 

Daddy knows me too well. Because the word please was on the cusp of your lips, begging to tumble over like water on a cliff. 

You moaned as two hands gripped the firm meat of your ass, kneading and caressing you before they found the helm of your dress. You knew exactly whose hands they were, confirming that Aaron was indeed giving Michael the pleasure of administering your punishment. 

His fingers pushed your dress up the rest of the way to expose your ass cheeks, an unmistakable wet spot at the center of your thong. 

“Don’t think she’ll be needing this anymore. Whatchu think?” Michael asked Aaron as his finger hooked the delicate fabric around her hips. 

“Nahhh, definitely not.” 

“FUCK!” You cried out as your thong was unceremoniously ripped clean from your body, the fabric leaving welts on your skin. 

You felt his fingers graze your lips.

“All this for us, kitten?” 

You merely whimpered an affirmative answer as he presented his fingers covered in your juices. He stuck them in your mouth, you sucking your cum clean off his fingers.

"Can't wait to make you cum all over my tongue, kitten. You taste so fuckin' good."

“P-Please…” You thought you’d implode if you continued to suppress your desperation. Your body felt as if you were betraying her. Why weren’t you trying hard enough, begging loud enough to earn the pleasure you were being deprived of. 

“See?” 

“You weren’t lyin’. Tell me what you want, kitten”  

He’s gonna make me say it?? 

The words were caught in your throat, blocked by a mental barrier to admit such a depraved thought out loud. 

“If you wanna cum at all tonight, I suggest you say that shit. Cause we got all night.” 

The lethal warning in his tone forced your thighs together, an electric shock through your body. He was a natural. And the dominance in his voice was all it took to rip the weeds of hesitation right out of your soil. 

“S-spank me… please,” Half words, half sobs filled the quiet air. This was untenable. Could you die from this? It felt like you might die from this. “I n-need it. P-Punish me… please.” 

The first vicious sting of his hand did make a real sob of joy escape, the sound reverberating through the living room. 

You buried your face in the couch cushion for the first few in a foolish attempt to quiet your mounting screams of pain wrapped in the sweet pleasure. His brute strength ensured you felt the ache of every hit. On par with Aaron when your punishments were severe. You were still feeling it days later. 

Your head pulled back, his fist wrapped around your curls.

“Do that again and I add five. Understand?” 

“Y-yes, yes. I’m sorry,” you moan, keeping your eyes forward and head up. 

You felt familiar hands cradle your head, Michael releasing your strains to play with your slick folds in between each blow. 

Aaron’s body came into view as he held your chin, forcing you to stare into his beautiful eyes. Clouded with lust, you still could see every ounce of his love and devotion. 

“You ok, precious?” he whispered. “Got 10 more.” 

“M-More.”

“You’re such a good slut for me, baby. I love you.” His eyes softened a bit. “You want a treat while Michael gives you your punishment? I wouldn’t usually but tonight is all about you, princess.” 

You licked your lips, the sudden sparkle in your eyes answering his question without words. You were impatient at the pace he went to unbutton his pants. 

He knew how much you loved sucking dick. Genuinely loved it. On more than one occasion, you came home after a long day and immediately dropped to your knees to serve him unprompted. Of course, it always ended up leading to him giving you back the same pleasure tenfold. So it was a win all around. 

You licked the beads of precum from his head before enveloping him into your mouth, moaning around him just as Michael rained down the last of your punishment. 

Fire. Your skin felt hot and inflamed with every bite of his palm against your skin. And they sent jolts of lust straight to your clit. 

“You’re taking your punishment so well. You’re not gonna disobey me again, are you?” 

Strings of your spit stayed connected to his dick as he pulled back so you could answer him. 

“Never again, daddy!”  

“That’s my good girl. You took that so well. Didn’t she?” 

You hissed as he gently massaged your hot skin. Fuck, why did his hands feel so good? 

“She did. You think she’s ready, A?” 

“I think she is.” 

You found a secret joy in the way they spoke only to you to dole out orders, but then talked about you to each other like you were merely a piece of furniture.

Aaron scooped you up in his arms, your body immediately nestling into his chest as he carried you to your master suite. He tossed you on the bed like a rag doll as Michael closed the door to your suite. And for a few moments, they simply stood there. Towering over you, intoxicated by the power and anticipation, they didn’t speak or move. They just watched you squirm beneath them. 

“You know I love you right?” Aaron broke character for a single moment. 

“Of course.” 

“Good. Cause it ain’t gon' seem like it for a minute. You know how daddy wants you.” 

Fuck. Yes. 

There was a challenging grin on your face as you removed the last obstacle to their conquest, leaving you bare before them. With great pleasure, you shifted onto your hands and knees and sank into position. Presenting yourself to him. Vulnerable, exposed. To two apex predators. 

And you were ready to be devoured. 

Michael pounced with such swiftness of jaguar indeed, you suddenly finding yourself straddling his hips. His punishing grip around your lower back kept you flush to his chest as his lips claimed yours. 

Frenzied, animalistic, downright sloppy kisses as you two gave into your most base desires. There was no love here, just lust in its most instinctual level. You two fought for dominance in your kisses, you mainly showing him that you were no damsel.

He moved you with ease, like you were a feather, turning you so your head dangled off the edge of the bed.

“I think our kitten needs a bit of attention.” 

His lips kissed a burning trail down your body, veering off course to engulf each of your nipples in his wet mouth, while his hand played with your throbbing clit. 

You whined, feeling his breath against your sex, his grip holding your hips firmly to the bed to stop you from getting any more pleasure than he decided. 

“So eager.” 

He licked up the wetness that spread to your thighs, still avoiding touching you there. He was a menace. The devil really.

You screamed as he wrapped his lips around your bud, every nerve ending in your body zeroed in on him.  

Aaron guided your agape mouth onto his hard member again, your tongue licking him like he was your favorite lollipop. He exchanged the bullet for his fingers, easing a second one inside your pussy. 

Your litany of curse words were indecipherable with Aaron’s mouth ramming down your throat. He did not let you control the pace one bit. Your mouth was merely a means to an end for him. 

You gagged, tears streaming down your face from the sensory overload of having them work in tandem to bring you pain, pleasure, and everything in between.

You arrived at the cliffs of pleasure far faster than you expected, your body ready to fall for the first time all night. Your thighs tightened around Michael’s head as you tried to control it. Foolish it sounded, to stop the fall. But you couldn’t tumble just yet. 

You didn’t stop your task of sucking to ask. Instead, you simply stared up at him with plea-filled round eyes.

“Cum on his tongue, princess. Cum for daddy.” 

You dove off the cliff with earnest as Michael chose that moment to add a fourth finger, finger fucking you with relentless speed.You let your eyes fall close and surrendered to the crashing waves and thrilling currents that pulled you into oblivion. Right where you wanted to be. 

Only Aaron could find the cherry on top to this already perfect sundae as he spilled down your throat. It was typically reserved for her treat as he knew you adored swallowing. And you were grateful he found you deserving. 

Aaron took a step back, you pouting at the loss of his dick in your mouth.

“Don’t worry, princess. Won’t be your last taste for the night.” He leaned down and kissed you deeply, a soft whimper escaping at how familiar his lips felt. Home. “I think you need to thank Michael for punishing you earlier and making you cum. How do good whores say thank you?” 

"On their knees, daddy."

You moved off the bed and onto the carpet, Michael already sliding off his boxers. Your voice hitched as his girthy thick member sprang from his boxers.

He smirked told her he knew what he was wielding and how to use it well. Admittedly, you had only had sex with three men in your life, two of whom were present. But you felt confident in saying these two Gods among lesser men had the most impressive dicks you’d ever seen. 

You’d never live down the humiliation of your near panic attack during you and Aaron’s first time. 

“I don’t think you’ll fit,” you remember muttering before trying to escape to hide in his bathroom, your brain overloaded with the fear that he would somehow break you. 

But like the perfect gentlemen he was, he held you close and calmed you with sweet kisses and talked you through every inch as he sank into you for the first time. He naturally reached regions you thought were anatomically impossible. You often referred to it as his weapon, one that left you utterly immobile too often. 

Michael was similarly blessed and highly favored. Though he lacked a bit of Aaron’s length, his had a girth to it that you knew would cause a stinging stretch. It would be different and you liked the idea of that. As much as your body wanted to skip to that part, you also were feral for a taste of him. 

Aaron sat in the arm chair across the room, the perfect view to watch as Michael slid his dick between your plump lips. He stroked his dick back to life watching you spit and gulp down his dick.

“That’s right. Fuckkkk. Get it sloppy, baby girl. Fuck your throat feels good.” 

Your body glowed at his praise, Aaron grinning to himself. He adored seeing you in this light, gaining a new perspective to how you felt freedom and pleasure. He never wanted to stop learning how to love you better, please you better. 

Inexplicable pride swelled when your eyes connected with him, your dilated pupils lighting up at his smile.

“You ready for me to fuck that pussy, kitten?” Michael demanded, punctuating each word with a deep thrust into the back of your throat. Attempting to respond was a foolish endeavor with him balls deep down your throat. 

He pulled out of your mouth and lifted you up to your feet, immediately moving you into his desired position. He bent you over the edge of the bed, one hand glued to your hip while the other pushed your head into the mattress. He positioned you so you were staring right at Aaron.  

Being watched. New kink unlocked. You were an actress on display and he was your director, in full control. And it was time to watch his masterpiece. 

Your eyes fluttered out of enticing humiliation and bliss as Michael’s head bounced against your pulsing clit. 

“Eyes open, princess. And on me."

And this was a moment that made you question who you truly were. A good girl or a disobedient slut? The devil on your shoulder didn’t need deliberation time. You were a disobedient whore. You wanted to be utterly spent when this night was over. 

But you also knew he knew that, which is why he picked a task he knew you’d fail either way. You could try as hard as you wanted, it would be impossible to maintain eye contact. 

“You ready for Michael to fuck you, princess?” 

“Yesssss! Fuck me… I need it.” It was as critical to your survival as air. 

You immediately failed at your task, your eyes clenching shut as he pushed inside of you. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” you hissed, begging for the moment when the lightening flash of pain subsided and pleasure took root. 

“Fuckin’ tight ass pussy on you, kitten,” he gave you a few moments to adjust. When your expletives turned into quiet moans, he moved. 

"Won't tell you this shit again, princess. Eyes open and on me or I start spankin’ you when it’s my turn. And you ain’t gon’ like that shit.” 

“Sorryyyy, dadddyyyyy.” 

His hips snapped viciously into you, his dick curving into your g-spot with every thrust. 

Bliss. 

Joy. 

You panted as  he fucked you with relentless precision, he didn’t let a moment go to waste as he fucked you. His grip along your hip was bruising as he pushed and pulled against your body. Never the lazy lover, you met every thrust, using your arms as leverage to throw your fat ass back at him. 

“That’s it! Take this dick, slut! You like how I’m fuckin’ this pussy??” he demanded, a hard smack coming down on your still aching ass when you didn’t answer fast enough. 

There was no way he actually believed you could form coherent thoughts right now. 

“I… love it! D-... don’t stop! Fuck… I’m gonna cum!” Your eyes had not stayed on your master as they should’ve, nor had you even tried that hard. But you deliberately cast them on him to beg for permission. “C-Can I cum daddy?? He feels so gooddddd…” 

“Why the fuck would I let you cum? You disobedient whore? Can’t follow simple fuckin’ instructions. 

Well shit. He was pissed. 

Your face was one of sadness at upsetting your daddy but everything inside was filled to the brim with glee. You weren’t going to be able to walk tomorrow. And then you could look forward to a day of aftercare and pampering from your love. 

“P-please, please. I-I’m sorry!! I tried. I-I can’t…” Michael was not helping your cause as you pleaded your case in front of a less than sympathetic judge. He found some superhuman ability to increase his already punishing pace, jackhammering into your g-spot. “Let me cum, pleasseeeee! I can’t hold it.” 

“She’s clenchin’ on my dick, brah.” 

You were going to cum either way, inevitably, but you were holding strong for those magic words. Moments before you felt yourself starting to break, you finally heard him.

“Cum for me.” 

“She’s creamin’ on this dick. This some good pussy, my man! You one lucky nigga.” He didn’t slow his pace as he fucked you through your second orgasm. "That's right, cum all over this dick, baby."

How were you not spent yet? No, you still wanted so much more. 

You lost track of your orgasms as Michael moved you into his desired positions, fucking you every type of way that suited him. And all the while, Aaron just watched, commanding your eyes to him in the moments leading up to your orgasms, forcing you to hold his gaze across the dark room. 

You thought the Earth had reversed on its axis somehow. 

“I’ll let you decide where you want it, kitten. On you or down your throat.” 

“Cum on my ass!” 

“Whatever baby girl wants.” He pulled out of you and sprayed your back and ass cheeks with his seed. You sighed out of contentment as you laid there, knowing your night was far from over. But you were grateful for the brief reprieve. 

Michael shifted off to the side as Aaron rejoined you, the Brit studying your ass painted in another man’s cum. If there was a way be any harder than he already was, he would be it right now. 

“You’re fuckin’ gorgeous, princess. I love you so much, you’re such a good girl for me. You ready for daddy, now?” 

You nodded enthusiastically. Michael was amazing but no one fucked you quite like Aaron. Those were the simple facts. 

“Good girl,” he flipped you and pushed your legs up so your knees were essentially up at your ears. 

This was a frankly evil thing to do, to start with this position. It was simplistic but he would pound you so deep, you saw fucking stars. At this rate, you would be tapping out far earlier than you would have hoped. 

“Ahhhh! Yessssss… thank you daddy! Love your dick, daddy!” You screamed as he entered you in one fluid motion, ending deep in your guts. 

“You take me so well, baby. You like how deep I’m fuckin’ this pussy?” 

“Yes, yes! Shit! God I love it! Oh Goddddd, fuck, baby…” 

“Ain’t no God to call out to here, princess. Just your masters.”

You gasped at the sudden all consuming emptiness of him exiting you. You felt his hand catch your ankle, which was still in the air where he left you. He dragged you to the edge of the bed and lifted you to your feet. You almost collapsed on your stiff legs but you quickly realized, he was not intending for you to support your own weight long. 

He hinged you at the waist, your fingertips supporting balancing some of your weight until he reentered you and regained control of your hips. He did all the work, holding all your weight with his strength as he fucked you straight into a sweet abyss. Nothing else mattered. Just the two of you. 

Well… three of you. Speaking of which… as if Aaron could read her mind, he says, “Suck him like the whore I know you are.” 

Using his strength to turn you both so you were eye level with Michael’s dick. He was getting hard, rested and ready for round two with ease. Both men looked as if they could do this all night while you knew you looked like you had been fucked just as good as you felt. 

You surrendered your mouth to Michael, allowing the actor to face fuck you to his heart’s content. And you simply enjoyed every moment of them fucking your holes like men possessed. No breaks, no time for breaths. Nothing. Just unforgiving feral fucking. 

You didn’t bother counting the orgasms they gave you as the two men traded places multiple times, using your mouth and pussy to their heart’s content. They worked up a perfect rhythm that brought you thrilling moment after thrilling moment  

“Don’t run, fuckin’ whore! You been takin’ it all night. Came in here with that fuckin' attitude. Take this dick!” Aaron ordered as you shied away from his forceful thrusts as he fucked you doggy style. 

Your body was being driven past overload as they stimulated every part of you. You could barely concentrate on Michael’s dick in front of your face with how Aaron was fucking you, clearly getting the last word of the evening. 

You thought you knew what overstimulation felt like but you had no fucking idea until today. But you knew the orgasm you were building toward would be your best yet, would be worth every moment of this. 

“Shit, I’m gonna cum!” Michael called out. 

“I’m close too. Daddy’s gonna cum in this sweet pussy, baby. But first, your other punishment. Cum as much as you want.” 

And with that, he and Michael went utterly and completely feral on your body, chasing one goal: their collective simultaneous pleasure. 

Michael grunted as he painted your face in his cum, much of it landing in your open mouth. He collapsed on the bed next to you, your body immediately crumbling forward without him holding you up. He caressed your skin as Aaron mercilessly fucked you, matching every thrust of his hips forward with a harsh slap to your ass. You knew you would have to endure as many as it took for him to cum.

Shit. You really fucked up.

You screamed and squealed, Michael roughly making out with you and sucked and bit your titties as if you needed more. You and Aaron reached the peaks of your mountains at the same time. At the warmth of him filling your pussy, white blanketed in your vision and sent you free falling into a new stratosphere.

Time felt inconceivable when you opened your eyes again. In your mind, no time had passed but instead of being on the bed, you were surrounded by warmth. Warm water lapped over your aching muscles, something hard propping you up from behind. 

“What’s…” you started to say, trying to lift up when a muscular arm snaked around your chest to hold you flush to him. 

“Relax, relax, princess. You’re good. Take a breath. Just blacked on us for a minute.” 

His voice calmed all the uneasy waters of your soul, you were safe and home with him. There was no better place to be in this life or the next. 

“Where’s… our guest?” Your voice cracked from the overuse of your throat. You rubbed your neck instinctively. 

“I’ll make you some tea when we get out,” he kissed your temple. “And he passed out in one of the guest rooms. I may have told him there was a strong possibility you’d be up for another round in an hour or two. Told me to get him when you finish soakin’ so he can give you a massage.” 

And you knew exactly where the yellow brick road of a massage would lead: to the Emerald Fucking City of Round 4.  

Your libido was just as high, if not higher than Aaron’s. More than once, it had been you demanding rounds 4-6 after he already wore you out during 1-3.

“One day you’re gonna get it wrong, you know?” you tease, allowing your head and back to rest with ease onto his chest. His hands massaged your hips and thighs and breasts, all sore from their spanking and biting. “That feels soooo good. You got the magic touch, baby.” 

  You ok, love? We were rough on you.” 

“More than ok. That was the most… insane and fun thing I’ve ever done. Exactly what I needed and wanted. Thank you, Aaron.” 

“Anything for you, princess. Rest for me, love.” 

You allowed your eyes to flutter closed again, dozing in the comfort of your boyfriend’s arms as he continued releasing knots from your muscles. You simply laid there with him, savoring him and the afterglow of being his. 

However, after about 15 minutes, you had rested long enough. This night would end eventually, you wanted to make the most of it with your two daddies. 

“Daddy… I think I’m ready for that massage now,” your eyes glistened with your true intentions, letting Aaron know that you were no close to done. 

He let out a low chuckle of disbelief. “You really are one of a kind, Y/N.” 

“I know,” you winked at him with a playful grin. “Now massage, please.,” you demanded like the spoiled brat you were.

Aaron got out of the bath first, his entire body glistening with water on every perfect panel of muscle and taunt skin. Was it nice being a bead of water sliding down that skin? It might be nice to be a bead of water on his skin. 

He quickly toweled himself off before helping you up, using his arms around you as your legs shook. 

He dried you before laying you back down on the bed, disappearing down the hall while you laid on your stomach and simply waited. 

“Well well well… couldn’t get enough could you, kitten?” 

You heard them before you saw them. 

“No sir.” 

“She’s insatiable. Makes her a good little whore for me, doesn’t it, princess?”

You felt their weight on both sides of the bed. 

“Yes, daddy,” you whined as their fingers started doing the Lord’s work massaging out every knot and kink buried in your limbs. 

You turned your head toward Aaron, reaching up and kissing him softly as a private thank you before laying down again. You closed your eyes and let them work, let them take care of you. 

Whoever said “three’s a crowd” clearly hadn’t met these two.

Tag list: @hxneyclouds @planetblaque @slutsareteacherstoo @theereina @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @apenasumlug4r @motheroffae @blackerthings @kindofaintrovert @thegreatlibraryofalex @melaninpov @hiwasteland @yamst3rdamctrl @miyuhpapayuh @dxddykenn @sageispunk @atribecalledqwest @4pfsukuna @beenathembo @throwmymbackout @nahimjustfeelingit-writes

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A/N: Hoped you enjoyed that as much as I did! Thanks for reading!

[actuallysaiyan]

I Think You're Holding The Heart Of Mine(Part I)

warnings: fluff, mutual pining, office relationship, mommy and daddy relationship

word count: 1.1k

pairings: Nanami Kento x Fem!Sorcerer!Reader

summary: as you're lost in thought about your life as a sorcerer and teacher at Jujutsu High, your work husband comes by to surprise you with lunch. and he suggests going to that little pub you enjoy for dinner...only to have Itadori-kun ask such a shameless question

a/n: This is very much inspired by the thirst and fic that @carnal-lnstinct sent in and wrote! I didn't think this would be a multiple part fic, but here we are! I hope to update this little story regularly.

Part two!

Your mind is clouded as you sit at your desk, paperwork forgotten in front of you. Despite the fact that you’ve settled in well at Jujutsu High, you were wondering where this position may lead you. You were wondering if things would evolve into something more than this. Life as a Jujutsu sorcerer was tough enough as it is, but someone was always there to make you feel more at ease.

It started small too, just him being kind to you behind those stoic glances and authoritative words. You were beginning to tear down those walls and see the true Kento underneath it all. And all this because you had proclaimed he was your work husband. It wasn’t something he truly loved to hear at first, but as you continued to treat him kindly, Kento was beginning to love the special treatment.

Your thoughts are interrupted by a knock at your office door and you look up to see the man in question. He’s got a paper bag full of food for lunch and there is a tiny grin on his face as he sees you. Your heart skips a beat at the way he’s playing into this role more than you ever expected him to. You beckon him closer and he sits down on the chair that faces yours. The bag is placed on your desk and your stomach growls the moment you can smell the many scents of spices.

“I got your favorite, honey.” Nanami loves calling you pet names, but it’s always with that teasing tone.

“Awh I should have known my sweetheart would know just what to perk me up.”

He pulls out the boxes of take-out and hands you a set of disposable chopsticks. Your heart is full of love for a man who you know isn’t actually your husband. But damn, you can’t help but really be in love with him most days. You’d do just about anything for him to slide a beautiful diamond ring on your finger.

The both of you eat comfortably, Nanami inquiring about your day just as a good husband should. You ask about his day, smiling when he mentions Itadori-kun. The first years were so special this year. You knew that Gojo had asked Nanami specifically to take care of the young pink-haired teen, but when you saw just how much Nanami took the young man under his wing, you could tell that there was a strong bond forming there.

“So our little boy is doing well,” you tease the blond man in front of you. 

Nanami blushes slightly but keeps his composure, “Itadori-kun shows promise. Despite the brash way he charges into battle, he is a kindhearted young man.”

Just those words paint such a beautiful picture. You can’t help but fantasize about family movie nights with Itadori coming over and snuggling between you and your husband. You coo softly at the way Nanami is describing the young sorcerer.

You finish up your meal, thanking the blond sorcerer in front of you. Nanami smiles, and this one is a genuine smile. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t want to hear you thanking him for dinner as well. He was planning on asking you out, strictly as co-workers of course. He doesn’t want you finding out about the feelings that are building so deeply inside of him. If it were up to him, he would have married you quite some time ago.

“I’ve got this paperwork to finish up, then I’m training Kugisaki-san.” You explain to Nanami, and you watch as he wipes his hands on the wet wipe provided by the take-out place.

“I’ve got to get back to training as well with Itadori-kun.”

There’s a silence that falls between you both. Your heart is racing in this moment. You just want to jump over this desk and pin him to the ground. You want to press kisses all over his beautifully chiseled face until there’s red lipstick prints everywhere. But you do no such thing. The two of you exchange a smile and a glance, and it’s almost the kind that suggests you’re both part of an inside joke that the whole world is excluded from.

“How about after work we head to our favorite pub for dinner?” Nanami suggests, praying his tone isn’t too hopeful.

You smile, “That sounds nice. It would be good to get out. It’s been a little bit since we’ve been out.”

He nods, “Yes, I was just thinking that.”

The two of you get up, and Nanami throws the trash from your lunch into the garbage can that’s next to your desk. As you come around the desk, he wishes he could just take your hand in his and walk you outside to the training ground. Instead you both walk side by side and chat lightly about work. 

It’s a mundane feeling for the both of you, but it isn’t boring. It’s sweet and domestic, and everyone knows that you two are pretty much attached at the hip. But yet there always seems to be something keeping you held back from actually making this work relationship into a real one.

You spot Itadori and Kugisaki awaiting the two of you, the pair seem to be gossiping. You always loved the way those two had grown so close, and yet…you wondered if maybe they had something similar going on that mirrored your own relationship with Nanami. You looked at Kento, smirking playfully.

“You sure you won’t be too tired to take your poor wife out to dinner tonight?” You practically purr in his ear.

Nanami shudders, “Please, have a bit more faith in your sweetheart, dear.”

Just the sound of his voice calling you dear has you wondering if you should just confess right here and right now. You want to tell him how badly you have fallen head over heels for him, but you also wonder if that’s just not the right choice. You look at him once more, and you lean in the smooth the collar of his shirt and the lapels of his jacket. His heart skips a beat when you’re this close to him.

“Well, I suppose I have faith in an old man like you.” You rib him, laughing at his reaction.

“You’re three months older than me.” He says, a smirk spreading on his face.

You groan, “Please, don’t remind me.”

You two begin walking over to the first years you’re responsible for. With a final promise to go out for dinner, you part ways. It’s only then you hear Itadori asking your work husband.

“Nanamin, are you sure you and her aren’t actually married?”

[storm-angel989]

Papi! I need you! (Valentino x Daughter)

I pushed open the doors of my fathers studio. It has been weeks since I had actually had a full on conversation with my father. His work kept him busy, and to a point I understood it. But both Uncle Vox and Auntie Vel ran their own companies too and they still made it home for dinner each night. Now both of them were  busy, and I needed his help. 

Well, even moreso, I needed my dad. 

My father was on his feet as soon as he heard my voice.

“What are you doing here, niñita?” He asked as he stepped in front of me, effectively blocking the view of whatever was going on onstage. “I’ve told you time and time again I don’t want you in here.”

“I need your help with my math homework. You said I couldn’t watch TV until it was done and I’m stuck.” I said, crossing my arms as defiantly as I could while fighting the urge to run to him and wrap him in a hug. “Papi, please.”

He sighed and guided me back towards the elevator. “Isn’t that an issue Uncle Vox or Aunt Vel can handle?” He asked as he guided me back towards the elevator. “Ninita, I need you to stay out of my studio.” 

“Then Papi, I need your help with my homework.” I said firmly. “And they’re busy.”

He sighed. “Fine, mi amore.” He ensured I was safely into the elevator before he turned his back to me and hollered orders at the demons in his studio. 

He stood in front of me, his arms crossed as the door closed behind us muffling the sound of the scattering of his employees. As soon as the door closed, I wrapped my arms around him in a hug. His expression softened instantly as he returned my affection, planting a kiss on my forehead before releasing me. 

“How was your day, Daddy?” I asked as I stepped out into our home. “I missed you.”

“Busy, muñeca,” he replied, “Very, very busy.”

I could feel my face fall. “I’m sorry, Papito. I can keep trying on my own, I’m sorry I bothered you. I know your works important and I know you’re really busy.” 

“I’m never too busy for you, my princessa,” he replied quickly. “I’m glad you cam and got me. Tell me, what exactly are we working on?”

“Algebra. They keep asking me to find x and I’m not a relationship expert, but maybe they should let x go.” I replied with a grin. 

If he understood my joke, he wasn’t amused by it. 

I took a seat at my pink work desk and looked down again at my math book. I had finished every problem except one. I had attempted it three times, just like Uncle Vox made me, and watched a video and I still could’ve got the problem to check. I yanked my hair in frustration as my father looked over my shoulder. I felt his hand wrap around my wrist and his other gently untangle my fingers. 

“This is a terrible habit, bebita. You’ll ruin your beautiful hair.” He pulled one of the pink chairs over next to me. “Show me what’s troubling you.”

I showed him the problem and he studied my attempts, and then looked at the book. 

“Ah. Mi amore. Try moving 3x over to the left, rather than 4 to the right. See if that fixes the issue.”

I did as he suggested and he waited patiently as I reworked the numbers. To my delight, it checked. 

“Thanks, Papi!” I wrapped my arms around his neck and buried my face into his shoulder, inhaling the scent of his office. Strawberries, maybe. And something spicy. “Best Dad ever.”

“I wouldn’t go that far, ninita,” he said as he returned my hug. “Is that all you needed?”

I held him tight in response and rested my head on his shoulder. “Unless you want to let me read my English essay to you?’

I saw the hesitation in his eyes. I felt my heart sink- he probably did have to get back to work. I shouldn’t have interrupted him to begin with, really.  After all, he was so very busy. But to my surprise he kissed my forehead. 

“Of course mi amore, I would love to hear it.” He took a seat on my bed. “Present away, carnino.”

I felt my heart swell as I grabbed my paper. As soon as I finished, he clapped his hands. 

“Beautifully written, muñeca”

I flung myself back around him and practically toppled him in the bed. “I missed you, Daddy.” I said as I clung to him. “I want you to put me to bed tonight. Not Uncle Vox or Auntie Vel.” 

His grip tightened as he sat us both up. “ I suppose I have been a bit too busy with work, mi amore.” He tucked my head under his chin. “How about a daddy daughter night? We can go out to dinner and watch a movie when we come back?”

I liked the sound of that very much.

[formulaforza]

—strawberry wine

and all the times we used to have. (nothing defines a man like love that makes him soft). pairing: daniel ricciardo x female reader warnings: language, angst babyyy love, mackie... 5k ish. this is. definitely something. perhaps it should have stayed in the drafts but dani selected it from a group of it's peers yesterday evening.

It’s been years since you last spent enough time at the vineyard to be considered even a part-time employee. It’s hard to be there, now, in a way it didn’t used to be. Watching it fade away into obscurity and beg someone–anyone–to buy the property to land so your family can get out without generational debt. The fields just hold so many memories, an ancestral kind of history; your first job, the place you had your first drink, where you fell both in, and out of love for the first time. Being there now, watching it die a malignant death is just… sad. There isn’t anything poetic about it. 

You long for the days of the peak, of never ending days spent behind the counter in the barn selling wealthy people on the aesthetics of a small, family-run vineyard. Of your father hosting tours and your mother tastings, of you, pink nose and shoulders kissed by the sun, picking grapes by hand. Of the days where help still had to be hired. 

For a while there, it seemed like there was a never ending rotation of teenagers and twenty-somethings willing to do manual labor for minimum wage–thirteen an hour–from sunup to sundown. They’d even host the occasional tour on busy Saturday evenings, would be compensated in under the table bottles of wine and cash tips. None of them ever stuck around longer than a couple months, found better jobs indoors, closer to school, better pay. Well, nobody except Daniel. 

Daniel worked at the vineyard for… four-ish years, with varying availability depending on seasons and school and racing. 

Sometimes, when you lose yourself to sentiments and fantasy, you imagine a world where the Vineyard never faced any competition, where it is still thriving and you take over your mother’s job when she retires. Daniel still works there, maybe in the fields where he was always supposed to be, or maybe front of house guiding tours and helping you with tastings. Life is simple and plain and at the end of every night you lock the barn doors  and go home together and eat dinner and grocery shop and do your taxes. Daniel strums the guitar on the porch when it rains. Life is easy and fun and you laugh more than you don’t. 

It’s silly, really. But first loves are always silly. 

He is one of the many memories that haunt the property, walking the lines of grapevines feeling more like a walk through a fogged out graveyard than anything. 

Even now, all these years later, you can still see him sat in the swivel chair in the office doorway, throwing grapes at you while you attempt to run the dusty cash register. It’s a cool July afternoon and he’s got a stupid grin on his face and can’t look anywhere but you. 

Daniel is kind of like those people you know you’re given young so that for the rest of your life you know what real feels like. They’re more a lesson than a lover, unfortunately. 

—

You move through the place like you own it, which, you suppose technically you do, in some will locked away in an accountant’s filing cabinet, this all belongs to you. Right now, though, you’re seventeen and just returning from school, already setting up your homework on the end of the counter, a spattering of greetings from the local customers and the local hands, the people who know that this is more of a natural habitat than anywhere else on the planet will ever be. 

Danny also moves around the place like he owns it, which, if it was up to him he probably would. He hums your name as he moves past, taps the opposite shoulder to the one he leans over, reading your textbook over your shoulder. “It’s seventeen,” he quips.

“It’s a history textbook,” you reply, eyes unmoving from the page. 

“Seventeen-seventy, cunt.” There’s a half-empty bowl of fruit sitting on the counter. He leans over you to grab an orange. “Captain Hook and such,” he adds, hosting himself up onto the counter with a thud. You’re sure one day the old wood is going to give out on him and he’ll fall straight onto his ass. Part of you hopes you’re around to see it, the other knows that he’ll find a way to not only make it your fault, but also tease you about it for a minimum of six months. 

“Fuck off, Danny,” you punctuate, just loud enough for him to hear. 

“It’s Daniel, now.”

You snort. Finally, you give him your attention. “Danny is too unprofessional for a hot-shot Red Bull junior driver like you?”

“See,” he pops his thumb harshly through the peel of the orange, the citrus scent wafting out into the humid air. “You get it.”

You pout. “I’m still going to call you Danny.”

“No you won’t,” he laughs. God, the smell of orange is overwhelming, the kind that lingers long after the fruit is gone. When Danny goes back to work in a few minutes, tosses the peel and into the trash by the office door, he’ll still linger in the room with the smell of citrus. 

“I will.”

“You know what,” he hums, biting into a slice. “Let me make you a deal.”

You smile, shake your head. “Shouldn’t I be the one making you a deal?”

He groans against the fruit, “Can you just?”

When you look up again, lean back in your chair and cross your arms, he has orange juice running down the side of his hand, all sweet and sticky and summery. “Fine.”

He smiles goofily, all fucking proud of himself just because you agreed to shut up for thirty seconds. “You can keep calling me Danny, but only if you let me take you out this weekend.”

“Danny,” you protest. This is far from the first time he’s tried to plant the seed of a date with him. It’s had to’ve been a year, by now. You know he’d drop it if you would just give him an answer, but a year later you still haven’t been able to deliver anything definitive. 

He shrugs. “‘Dem’s the rules, honey.”

Maybe what you say next is your greatest mistake, or maybe it was what you were always going to say. Maybe you feel like you can say it because he leaves again soon, for longer than ever. You won’t have to live with the consequences of your actions, of your words. Or maybe, just maybe, it’s simply that you think Daniel is far too proper a name for the sticky-handed vineyard tour guide you’ve grown particularly fond of. Danny is much more fitting for him, which is most certainly why you say, okay. When are you picking me up?

—

You drive out from your parents house with your dad in his old Ford Bronco. It’s half rusted out and half chipped blue paint, with worn leather seats and a steering wheel somehow more worn than the rest of it. Seven black tree air fresheners hand from the rearview mirror, new car smell. This relic is well past that–he’s been driving it out to the property literally forever, and this trip won’t be any exception. 

You hardly recognize the place, you think as you slam the squeaky door shut with enough force to make sure it really latches. 

The fields are overgrown with tall grass and shrubs and mustard flowers. The trunks of the grapevines act as headstones for the sprawling field of dry, sunburnt plants. You don’t think anyone has been out there with a plow in months, if not years. 

The barn, the one you grew up in, has been lost with the rest of the place to time. Red paint chips off the wood in massive flakes. The branding that had once run in big wooden letters along the top of the door have all since fallen, leaving a sad outline of your family name in its weathered wake. Two padlocks, one rusted shut, sit on the lock. Every step you take kicks up more dust. 

You’re removed from your thoughts, from the hauntings and the sentiment and the memories, by the creaking of the tailgate on your father’s truck. Stuffed in the back of the Bronco are your afternoon tasks; a pair of bulk cutters for the padlocks,  a new, state of the art keypad lock given to your Dad by a realtor, a post hole digger, and five for-sale signs haphazardly packed any way they would fit. 

You spend most of the next couple hours digging holes along the road, filling them with the wooden posts of the for-sale signs, looking disapprovingly at the thirty-something in a suit that has been tasked with selling the unsellable property. 

This is, what… the fifth person you’d hired to sell this fucking place. Soon enough, you’re going to be sticking up For Sale by Owner signs with a hand-written phone number in black sharpie along the fences that were supposed to keep animals out. Realtors were never in the budget to begin with. 

—

You’re waiting on the old front porch when he pulls up in his beat-up truck, John Denver playing through the open windows, his hand moving in the wind up the entire dusty driveway. You don’t know what he can see, that your Mom is watching out the kitchen window with a friendly smile. 

You’ve got your best sundress on, one that you’d debated wearing for almost thirty-six hours. The first week Danny worked in front of house with you, he spent the entire shift flirting with one of your Dad’s friend’s daughters. He said that sundresses are a crime committed against teenage boys and that when he meets God he’s going to have words with him over pretty girls and their affinity for said sundresses. 

You’d laughed then, because you thought it was silly. You remembered it because you thought the new kid was kind of cute, in a you work for my parents and I could never think you’re cute way. 

“Fuck,” is the first word out of his mouth, before the car door is even closed behind him, followed quickly by a check of his watch and “am I late?”

“No, no,” you smile, tucking a wind-blown strand of hair behind your ear, standing to your feet on the wooden stairs. “You’re early, actually. I think,” you chuckle. “I’m just,” you can feel your cheeks flushing. “I’m just excited.”

“Yeah,” he moves to you quickly, nervously. In the way only teenage boys on a first date do. “I’m excited too.”

“You look nice,” you say, stepping down the final couple of steps and meeting his waiting hand. “Your hair. I feel like I only ever see you in a hat.”

“Thanks, yeah,” he laughs. You’ve always loved his laugh, even when he’s annoying you and annoying customers and annoying himself. His laugh has always been good. “You look beautiful. I’ve never seen you, I mean. Not that you don’t always look–”

“Danny,” you interject as he opens the passenger side door. 

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

“Yeah,” he offers a smile and closes the door. Just before it latches shut, though, you hear him finish his sentence. “Thank you.”

He takes you to King’s Park, to the botanical garden after a stop for ice cream. He tells you that he’s had a crush on you this entire time and you ask him to tell you something you don’t already know. It’s then, in the botanical garden next to the water garden, that he tells you about his quote-en-quote ‘silly, kind of, like, backup dream, I guess’ where he has his own vineyard, brews his own wine and spends every day half drunk and wholly happy. 

He stumbles through the entire telling of it, which is how you know he’s not fucking with you. He never gets nervous when it comes to fucking with you. 

Perhaps that is where your silly, kind of like, backup dream started. The one where you and Daniel are working at the vineyard together and life is all death and taxes and grocery bills but somehow, in the midst of all the dull normalcy, you’re both happy as happy can be. 

—

“Someone is out there looking at the place today,” your father tells you over the phone. You try to talk every day, a habit you’ve both picked up in the past couple years, in the time and space since you’ve turned thirty. 

“You’re kidding,” you say. You’re sitting at the kitchen table, shoveling spoonfuls of some health-conscious cereal into your mouth (another post-thirtieth habit). “Who?”

“I don’t know, kid,” you swear you can hear the frown on his face, the deep smile lines and the frustrated forehead wrinkles from months in the direct southern sun. “Probably some fucking developer.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah, maybe,” he sighs. “If I’m right, I’d bet they break ground on a neighborhood within the year.”

Your sigh matches his. You can’t even imagine it, front yards and vinyl flooring and white walls built on a foundation of your childhood memories. It’s like going back home, to your childhood home that you sold so many years ago, and discovering it’s been bulldozed, wiped clean from the face of the Earth. “That’s so sad.”

“I know, but, well. You know, honey. It’s not like we have much choice.”

You nod. You do understand. You understand more than you wish you did. “I know. I know. Still pretty fuckin’ sad, though.”

There’s a long silence. The kind of silence that can only be shared by a father and a daughter; a silence that speaks more words than the dictionary can hold. “She’d understand it,” he finally speaks.  “She wouldn’t fucking like it, but she would understand it.”

“Yeah. Yeah. I know she would.”

—

“Are you going to kill me?” You giggled, stumbling over your feet. Danny is leading you on the property, one hand over your eyes, the other on your waist, guiding you poorly. 

“And be the first fucking suspect?” He laughs. “I think not.”

“Okay, then where are you taking me?” You beg. It's been going on like this for some half hour, before he even covered your eyes.

He laughs. You laugh. All the two of you do is laugh. “Can’t you lighten up?”

“Not when I’m being led to my death. No, I can’t!”

He stops, turns you around a hundred and eighty degrees and takes his hand off your eyes, fingers digging into either of your shoulders. “Babe," he says, and you'd think he was about to tell you he killed someone.

You mimic his seriousness, find humor in it. “Babe.”

“You trust me.”

“Do I?” You smile. He cocks his head to one side and rolls his big brown eyes. You would commit crimes for his eyes. “I do.”

“Okay, so then fucking trust me.”

“Okay,” you nod, closing your eyes.

“Okay?”

“Yes. Okay," you reach blindly for his hand, bring it to your eyes to block the light from them once more. "I trust you. Let’s go.”

After a short, terribly blind walk, Danny finally stops. You’ve been able to hear the river that flows out the back of the property for twenty minutes, but it’s close enough now that you can smell it; the sticks and the rocks and the mud and the water. You can practically feel the splashing of the water bouncing off the boulders.

“Okay. Open,” he instructs, removing his hand from your eye, moving his arms to hug you from behind, arms wrapped over the front of your chest. 

You open your eyes to find a picnic, carefully set up with a spread of dinner and drinks and dessert, complete with a plaid flannel blanket and candles that smell like citronella masked with lavender and a bouquet of white roses already in a water filled vase. “Danny,” you hum, leaning your head back against his shoulder. 

He kisses your temple, whispers against your hair, “Happy Anniversary.”

“Danny,” you drag out the letters of his name, of the nickname he only lets the people he loves call him by. It makes you feel warm and fuzzy and special. 

“Honey,” he mocks you, sways behind you. 

“This is too much,” You crane your neck to look at him, and then turn your whole body so you’re flush against his chest, close in a way only you get to be. “You’re so sweet.”

He laughs and it vibrates in both of your chests. A feeling you’ll never tire of. “I mean, this is not too much. Arguably, this is too little.”

“No,” you back away, out of his grip and take small steps backwards, towards the picnic and the waiting meal, pulling him along with you by interlocked pinkies. “This is perfect. You’re perfect.”

“Well,” his grin grows. “I can’t argue with that.”

“I love you so much,” you tell him, because you do, because you’re eighteen and everything in this life is so simple and black and white.

“I love you, too, and–”

“Oh my gosh,” you cut him off, wide-eyed and giddy. “Wine with strawberries?”

He nods. “Strawberry wine, if you will. For the winery with no strawberry fields.”

“This is better,” you state, with the utmost confidence, without even a sip or a sniff or any idea of what white wine he’d used as a base for his little cocktail. 

“Definitely not, but sure.”

“It is, because you made it for me. That makes it perfect.”

—

You’re completely removed from the actual buying and selling of the property. It isn’t up to you to decline or accept or field offers, that’s all your dad. The place is still his, at least for a couple more weeks while all the paperwork processes.

It was an anonymous buyer, according to your Dad. Cash offer, over asking price. He’s not sure how the real estate agent managed it, and honestly? Neither are you. Objectively, that land isn’t worth the cost of cleaning it up. Everyone in their right mind knows it. You just come from a particular bloodline where the mind never was quite right when it came to the vineyard. 

What shocks you most, though, is that the anonymous buyer–supposedly–is interested in restoring the place rather than bulldozing it.

“They asked me about the dirt,” your dad tells you on one of your daily phone calls. “Wanted to know about berries.”

“Berries?”

“Yeah, strawberries or raspberries or something like that.”

You scoff. What kind of fucking idiot is buying this land? It might just be a herd of manufactured houses after all. “Well, it’s too hot here for raspberries. Everyone knows that.”

“I know, that’s what I told them. They could probably grow strawberries in July or August.”

“Are they trying to make strawberry wine or something?” And, as if this is some fucked up kind of movie, and not real life, it all comes back to you. Every memory, every moment, all at the thought of fucking strawberries in wine. 

“Good fucking luck to them, if they are.” Your grandparents entertained the idea of it once, all the fruit wines. It’s a fucking shit-show, according to legend. Hell to try and make, Heaven to taste. It just wasn’t worth it for them. But apparently now it’s worth it to someone.

You chew on the inside of your cheek, bite and bite until you’re worried you’ll draw blood, that you’re a single tooth away from popping a hole clear through the skin. There’s no way, there’s genuinely no way, right? “Dad?”

“Shoot.”

“It’s not.” You almost stop yourself, you almost have some common fucking sense and realize just how vast the world is and how completely unlikely it is that– almost. You almost stop yourself. “The anonymous buyer, it isn’t Daniel, is it?”

“Daniel?” He scoffs on the other end. “Better not be that fucking cunt.”

You smile, the kind of smile that you know you should feel guilty for having. “He’s not a cunt, Dad.”

“I never fucking liked that kid.”

You’re right–you think. You’re right, Dad. You didn’t like him. “You loved him.”

“No, I lost all my respect for him when he left you like he did,” his voice is laced with a calm seriousness. He’s always been your blind defender. 

“Yeah, Dad,” you pause. Now’s as good a time as any, you suppose. “I’ve been… that’s not exactly how it went down.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Daniel didn’t leave me, and even if he did, Dad, he wouldn’t have done it then.”

—

“What the fuck are you talking about, you’re breaking up with me?” His voice cuts through continents. He’s somewhere in the UK, or maybe Italy, or maybe Asia. You honestly can’t keep track anymore, can barely keep track of the days of the week that you’re living much less the ones he’s in. 

“It’s exactly what I said, Daniel,” you say, try to keep your voice as level headed as possible, to juxtapose the way your mind races, the way your heart rate spikes and your palms sweat and everything in you hurts. “Please don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”

“No, no. I’m making this fucking hard,” he’s riled up enough for the both of you. “You don’t just. This isn’t how this works, babe. You can’t just break up with me.” He’s raising his voice with you. You can count on one hand and have fingers left over the amount of times Danny has yelled at you, and this is the first time it’s not scary. 

“I can, and I am,” your voice comes from your throat, choked out over the lull of your entire body begging you to please, please don’t do this. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t say you’re sorry!” He yells, the last letter sound cracking with the realization of his actions. “You’re not sorry. If you were sorry, you wouldn’t be doing it.”

“Okay, sure. Whatever.” He doesn’t make this easy, not that you’d expected it to be easy. You’d hoped for something cleaner, though. Less mess. “I’m having a great time breaking your heart.”

“Just. Why? Why are you doing this? What happened? What did I do?”

“You didn’t do anything, D,” you sigh. You didn’t know that your heart could physically hurt. You thought that was some crap that they made up for movies and songs and poems, some grand metaphor for how sad you get. “I can’t be a girlfriend right now. To anyone.”

“That’s such bullshit.”

You can feel yourself shutting down, closing every part of yourself off, running on pure survival instincts. “I know. I’m a cunt.”

“You aren’t… fuck me. I mean, fuck, dude.” He laughs. There’s not a thing about it that sounds happy. “I know you don’t want this, I know it. Talk to me, please. Tell me what’s going on and I can help you and everything is going to be fine, baby. Just. Please.”

“Daniel.”

“Why are you calling me that?!”

“It’s what you like to be called!” You yell back, feel the burn in your nose and your cheeks and the sting in your chest. 

There’s silence for so long you wonder if he’s hung up, if you’re supposed to. It’s minutes before he speaks again. “Not by you, it’s not.”

—

It’s been just past a year since the place got sold, and nobody from your family–nobody–has been there since. You moved out of town years before the sale, and your Dad has joined you, wants to be near you in his ever increasing age and always deepening wrinkles. When the arthritis sets in, someone needs to forge my signature for me, he tells you. 

It’s not until her birthday that you’re back in Perth, that you’re struck with the sudden spark, with the idea to drive past the vineyard, to see what idiot is trying to plant raspberries in the Australian heat, to see who's living in your shoes and wearing your clothes and sleeping under your bed like a monster. 

“I don’t know that we should do that,” your Dad says. “It’s going to make you sad.”

You shrug in the passenger seat of the old Bronco. “We’re in the parking lot of a cemetery, so,” you offer a near silent chuckle. “I think we’re a bit past sad.”

“Okay,” he nods. “There’s something you should know, then.”

“Don’t tell me it’s a neighborhood.”

“No, no. It’s a vineyard. Strawberries and grapes in the fields.”

“Well, good then,” you nod, glide your hands through the air outside the open window. “What’s wrong with it?”

He shrugs, drums his fingers on the beat up steering wheel. “You remember when you asked me last year if it was Daniel?”

“Dad. Don’t.”

“Well, I didn’t know it then, but–”

“I’m serious. Don’t tell me this, please,” you’re a second away from sticking your fingers in your ears and humming a nursery rhyme to keep the unsaid unspoken. 

“Daniel bought the place, hon.”

“My Daniel?” You squeak. You haven’t felt this young in a while. Or this small. 

He laughs, turns to face you with a look that begs you not to be so damn daft. “The only Daniel that means anything to anyone in this family.”

“When did you find out?”

“As soon as they put the sign up. I was still living out here.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You have so many questions. You don’t think there’s any you actually want answers to. 

“What good was it going to do? I never thought you’d be back here.”

“Well. I’m back.”

He nods. “You’re back.”

You’re back. You never really left, you don’t think. It’s not something you can do around here. Perth is in your blood the same way wine is, some grand, immovable part of your soul. You suppose Daniel is there too, taking up a plot of land in your soul that can never be sold. He lives in you like summertime and sadness and strawberries. Strawberries. Him and his fucking strawberry white wines. 

“He’s got strawberries?” You croak. Tears pull on your voice but you won’t give them the satisfaction. You’re grown now, it’s time to fucking act like it. 

“Strawberry wine. First batches just came out last month. I heard it’s pretty good.”

“I bet.”

“You still wanna go?”

You nod, cold and stunted. “Yeah.”

You see the cars before you see the barn, they’re overflowing out of the parking lot and stopped on the side of the dirt road that leads to the drive. You’ve never seen it so busy. It looks like the pictures your parents used to show you, the ones where the place was fresh and new and shiny. The barn has a fresh coat of red paint, the parking lot is repaved and half full of ATVs with a logo for DR3 Wines printed on either side. 

Above the door, a matching phrase, in simple white wooden letters–like what once was–hangs, announces the place to passers by. 

Inside, it smells like wood, like lavender and citronella and alcohol. There are pictures on every wall, carefully framed photos of everyone in the world besides him. The counter is that same old slab of wood, the one that you always hoped he would fall through. On the wall behind is are more 4x6 photos than you can count, all unframed, all messily taken. He’s in some of those, holding a camera or posing with friends or hugging a grapevine. There’s one with you, right in the middle. You and he and your Mom on the back field picking grapes. It’s taken by your dad, you still remember that morning clear as day. 

There’s another of you; a selfie taken on a point-and-shoot, the two of you with glasses of white wine and strawberries. Next to it is a picture of Kristen Bell and Dax Shephard leaning against the counter, half-drunk glasses in each of their hands. 

Framed, on the edge of the counter, right beside the register, is a photo of the place when he first started working there, of your Mom and your Dad standing proudly in front of it. You took it. You left it in the office when your Dad decided to lock the doors for good. Our Story, the plaque below it reads, with a QR code to scan. 

It leads to a linktree, to social media links and tasting menus and a merchandise shop. The last link, though, is stomach curling. It’s her name, your Mom’s. Fighting for her, it reads. When you click it, you’re taken to a website that encourages donations, that spreads awareness and promotes research, that thanks Daniel by name twice in two paragraphs for his consistent and generous donations and support. 

Before you can make a bee-line for the exit, to tell your Dad that he was right and this was a mistake, you’re met with a red-faced teenage girl asking you if there’s anything she can help you with. “No, uh,” you swallow hard. “My parents were the previous owners, we just stopped in to see the place.”

“Oh my gosh, would you like a tour?”

“Um…” you pause, because you don’t know if you can handle being here. Seeing the place like this again. “Danny’s not… Daniel isn’t here, is he?” She shakes her head. You nod. “Then yeah, I guess. Let me just grab my dad?”

—

You get an invite to a VIP tasting at his vineyard two weeks after your visit. It’s scheduled during the F1 summer break, so you have no doubt he’ll be there, and if that wasn’t clue enough, his handwriting glaring back at you on the invite is about as obvious as obvious can be. 

I hear you’re snooping around the old stomping grounds. I’d love to be there when you do it. Bring your Dad if he’s free. It’ll be a good night, lots of strawberry wine–the real shit this time. All love, (always your) Danny.

read part two, everywhere, everything, here!

[ninii-winchester]

Behind Closed Doors (Part 3)

Pairing : Boss!Dean Winchester X Assistant!Reader

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings: slight angst, fluff, cliffhanger lol, not proofread.

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO COPY MY WORK, TRANSLATE IT OR POST IT TO ANY OTHER PLATFORM. REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED.

The engaged couple spent a blissful week in the Bahamas, with lazy mornings on the beach, where they enjoyed the sun and turquoise waters. They explored hidden coves, snorkeled among vibrant coral reefs, and took sunset boat rides that painted the sky in hues of orange and pink. Evenings were filled with romantic dinners by the ocean, where they savored local cuisine and each other's company. Between laughter and quiet moments, their bond deepened, making the trip a perfect escape from work and the stressful life they led.

On Monday, they were back home and back to work. The of them were at their respective workspaces catching up on missed work. Y/n sat at her desk, skimming through the files that were placed in front of her when the telephone on her desk rang.

“Winchester Co, this is Dean Winchester’s office.” She said answering the phone with a professional tone. She waited for the person on the other end to introduce themselves. It was Mary Winchester. After exchanging pleasantries Mary asked her if Dean was free. “He’s catching up on the work he missed while he was away.” She replied, almost saying ‘while we were away’ but caught herself before she could ruin it all. She knew she had to wait for Dean to tell his mother about them.

“Could you ask him if he can come home for lunch?” Mary said and Y/n nodded although the other woman can’t see her.

“If you’d give me a minute.” She replied asking her to be on hold while she goes and asks Dean. She knocked on the door and went in when she heard his approval. Dean looked up to see Y/n enter and his face immediately morphed into a smile. “Hey! Your mom called and she’s asking if you could go over theirs for lunch?”

“Am I free?” Dean questioned getting up from his chair and walking over to her. She nodded in response. “Well then you can tell her, I’ll be there.” He said holding her waist. “Might as well tell them about us.” He leaned down to peck her lips. Her face broke into a huge smile and she quickly kissed him but he deepened the kiss pulling her close. She pulled away from him.

“Your mom’s on hold, waiting for me.” She scolded him lightly and he chuckled. He let her rush out of the room but not before smacking her rear, and she turned to glare at him. With quick steps she reached back to the phone and with a deep breath she picked it up. “He said he’ll be there, Mrs.Winchester.” The older woman thanked her and hung up.

A few hours later Dean left to meet his parents. When he returned, Y/n was right where he had last seen her, at her desk working diligently. He really admired her for her work, she never used her relationship with him as reason to slack off.

Y/n looked up to see Dean coming back but he didn’t seem to be in a good mood. His brows were furrowed, eyes narrowed and his jaw was tensed. He seemed frustrated or irritated. He moved past her and went inside his office without a word. Y/n furrowed her brows at his behaviour clearly not expecting him to ignore like she followed him inside.

“Dean?”

“Not now.” He replied with a sharp intensity in his gaze.

“Baby what’s wrong?” She tried again but he didn’t answer her.

“I said not now, Y/n. Get out of here, right now.” He bellowed and she jumped back a bit. He knew he fucked up the minute he looked at her, before he could open his mouth to apologise, she shook her head and left the room. The whole day Dean tried to approach her but she gave him the cold shoulder.

Y/n went back home when she was done for the day. She was midway preparing her dinner when her doorbell rang. She sighed dropping the spoon she was using to stir the pasta sauce because she knew who was at the door. She opened the door and there stood Dean. He had bouquet of red roses in his hands and an apologetic look on his face. At least he knows he fucked up. Without another word she left the door open and went back to her food.

“I’m sorry.” He said quietly entering the kitchen. “I really am, I’m an A grade asshole who doesn’t deserve your forgiveness but you know I’d be a mess without you.” He said standing behind her and pulling her into a back-hug. “I’m sorry sweetheart I promise I won’t do it ever again.” He mumbled in her neck.

“Never again?” She asked turning her head slightly to look at him better.

“Never.” Dean said sincerely. “I promise.”

“That was the first and the last time you’ve pulled this, you hear me?” Y/n said sternly and he nodded eagerly. “Forgiven. But—” she held a hand up before he could get too excited. “If you’re staying you’re sleeping on the couch.” She added. Dean’s eyes widened and he immediately protested.

“What- baby no!”

“Yes!” She said crossing her arms against her chest. “Just so you’d remember not to be a bitch to me next time.” Dean wanted to argue but he knew he was fault so he had to make it up to her by proving to her that he’s remorseful and he’d never do it ever again.

“Fine. I’ll sleep on the couch.” He said dejectedly. “But I’m not compromising on kisses.” He said turning the stove off and smashing his lips to hers. He picked her up and placed her onto to counter. He slithered between her legs, resting his hands onto her waist. “I’m sorry, i missed you.” He mumbled against her lips.

“What actually happened?” She asked pulling away from him. He tensed a bit, avoiding eye contact. “Did she not approve of us?” She questioned meekly, already coming up with the worst case scenario.

“No!” He excalimed quickly. “No, my mom, she just said some stuff that pissed me off and i stormed off before I could tell her about us.” He said looking into her eyes. “I disappointed you twice today, I’m sorry. I know you were looking forward for me to tell my family.”

“It’s okay Dean, I’m just worried about what she said that made you so angry. I’ve never seen you like his before.” She said running her hand through his hair and he leaned into her touch.

“Just about work, she thinks I’ve become impudent ever since I’ve become CEO.” Dean rolled his eyes repeating what his mother said.

“I’m sorry.” Y/n said not knowing what else to say. Dean brushed it off telling her it wasn’t her fault. Disregarding the issue Dean suggested dinner and the two of them sat in silence. After dinner Y/n declared she’s going to bed and Dean very sneakily tried to get in bed with her but she withstood her request.

“I had a bad day. And I said I’m sorry.” Dean whined like a child and she swore this man is not her boss. He is literally a different person outside of work and no one could ever convince her otherwise.

“No, just because you had a bad day doesn’t mean you get to take it out on me. Let this be a lesson.” Dean reluctantly settled onto the couch. After hours of tossing and turning he had finally managed to fall asleep. Y/n looked at the clock, it read 3 am and she couldn’t sleep. Softly padding across her apartment she made her way to the couch, pulling the blanket off of Dean she settled beside him. Dean smiled in his sleep, wrapping his arms around her, pulling her closer. He knew she’d come around and she knew too that they’d both eventually end up on the couch.

The next few days were uneventful, Y/n went back and forth between home to work and vice versa, with Dean following her home everyday. It was normal Thursday afternoon, Y/n had just gotten off phone with Cas, she asked him where the hell has he disappeared to and he’d told her he had to fly to France for a charity event for a week. She told him to come back soon since she’s got news to share with him. Although she was pretty sure he was in on the plan when Dean suggested the vacation.

Y/n was buried deep in work when she heard the clicking of heels on the marble floor and she looked up to see a woman around her age sauntering over to her. She was ready to greet the woman with her well practiced professional smile but the woman walked past her towards Dean’s office. She quickly jumped from her desk chair and went behind her.

“Ma’am you can’t go in there.” The woman turned to face Y/n. “Do you have an appointment?” She asked but the brunetter shook her head. “I’m afraid I cant let you in there without an appointment.” Y/n said softly.

“I’m sure you’re just doing your job, darling but it’s fine. He won’t mind.” The woman replied with a smile.

“I wouldn’t be so sure ma’am, he doesn’t like unscheduled visitors.” She tried to be polite but she was running out of patience with this woman.

“It’s alright, I’m his fiancée.”

Tags:

@spnfamily-j2 @galway-girlatwork @deangirl96 @queensilber

@s0urw00lf @monkey-d-hoshizora98 @deans-baby-momma @fullbelieverheart

@riah1606 @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @hobby27

@starkleila @suckitands33 @m3ntally-unstable @kanekilovelove-blog @candy-coated-misery0731

@blackcherrywhiskey @ladysparkles78 @goest-and-fuckest-thyself-blog @graywrites5567

@thelittlelightinthedarkess @enamoredwithbella @winchesterwild78 @myuhh8

@10ava01

[bambikisss]

Better : C.San

The ask:

'Hi there! I absolutely LOVED your San fic you just posted so i wanted to know if i could request this for maybe a part2 where you and San have been together for awhile and he maybe wants to propose to you at some point in the fic but then he starts to get kinda busy with work and y/n starts to get sad and annoyed so San decides to do more for her. Sorry if this isnt super clear i just was wondering if the fic could include some of these things if you choose to write it. I LOVE your work btw.'

💕: CEO! Choi San (Bambi's BF ver.) x reader

Part 2 to MY GIRL

📙: To say San was head over heels for you was a complete understatement, doing whatever he could for you as he was so in love with you. However, with a new product launch coming up, it seemed that San's attention was no longer on you, making you become desperate for any moment with him without knowing that San felt the same way

⚠: Unprotected Sex (always wrap it up), Blonde buff San, Manhandling, biting, lots of teasing, phone sex, sex in a car, cum eating, rough + dom San, use of nicknames (San calls reader baby, my baby, slut, whore), more gentleman San, oral (f receiving), pussy drunk San, slight choking

Bambi's Notes: Welcome to part 2! I'm so happy with how this turned out. There is an overuse of the nickname 'honey' though, which I think is cute. B/N = Best Friend Name.

TAGLIST: @frobin4ever @idfkeddieishot @unlikelysublimekryptonite @itsvxlentine @dinossaurz @yunhwalala @nopension @atzz8 @jennylychee @certifiedmoa

@wisejudgedragonhairdo

COMMENTS + REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED AND ENCOURAGED | ENTERTAINMENT PURPOSES ONLY | buy me a coffee?

You were a fairly reasonable woman. But, this was the last straw.

You sat in your office, staring at your screen in utter disbelief at your calendar. Yes, it was full of meetings among other work things, but your eyes were laser-focused on the event in pink that you had been looking forward to all day.

Lunch Meeting with Choi San: Canceled

"Canceled?" You scoffed in disbelief, crossing your arms over your chest. This would be the third time this week San had canceled your lunches together. You looked forward to those meetings because they gave you time with San uninterrupted to just talk and decompress. That also was your lunch block, so now you had to get lunch now or don't eat till you got home later that night, which would lead you to being grumpy and you had promised yourself you wouldn't get like that anymore, for at least the rest of the week.

"Maybe he's still busy with the product launch preparation? I mean, I know that the financial department have been having constant meetings with him over some problem," your best friend spoke up from her chair in front of your desk, picking at her already chipped dark red nails. You scoffed at her words too, narrowing your eyes at the calendar as if he would be able to sense your annoyance with his choice to cancel lunch.

The company had a new product to launch and everyone was focused on a successful launch, including San: everyone had that man in meetings up to his neck all day long, keeping him from you until he returned home later that evening, exhausted and wanting nothing more than to eat dinner and then sleep. While you understood that he was the CEO and that meant he had lots of responsibilities on him, you were still his girlfriend and had needs too.

"Y/N, don't" Your best friend pleaded as you stood up from your chair, gathering your things to make your way to the elevator to talk to San. You ignored her, offering her a kind smile before the elevator doors closed, taking you up to the top floor where San's office was. You checked your outfit of a light blue button-up shirt that had a few buttons opened, tight navy blue pants that hugged you perfectly, and matching dark blue heels. You felt good.

The doors opened to show San on the phone, his back to you as he flipped through one of the multiple files he had sitting on his desk. You took a deep breath of the smooth, burning wood scent that filled his office, letting you know that he had lit the candle you had bought him at some point that morning. Your eyes roamed his hunched-over figure of his broad shoulders, strong arms, and jaw, his sharp eyes scanning the page as his office phone sat snug against his shoulder, listening to whoever was on the other side. He wore one of his dark blue button-up shirts, his half-hearted attempt at matching with you and offering you some sort of affection from afar, but it wasn't enough.

You took another deep breath before your heel exited the elevator into his office, your heel clicking against the floor as you made your way over to his desk. San looked up at the sound of your heels, his eyes moving up your body to meet your face as he continued to listen to the man from finance. He already knew why you were in his office, biting his lip before he put himself on mute, the other man still droning on the phone without noticing.

"San, why did you cancel lunch?" You asked, choosing to get straight to the point as San sat up, running his hands through his blonde hair, sighing softly. "I have far too much work to do here to go out for lunch. We can have lunch together, baby, but we'd have to order and you'd have to sit on the couch by yourself while I work and I don't think you'd like that"

He was right, you would hate that.

Your eyes moved to the large stack of files that sat on his desk once more that seemed to taunt you: they had all of your man's attention and all they had to do was be folders with some kind of information in them. It made no sense to be jealous of some folders, but you sadly were.

You were snapped out of your jealousy by San's hand meeting yours, offering you a gentle smile as he tried to hide his laugh. "Honey, you can have all of my attention when I return home tonight, ok? There's no reason for you to be jealous and glaring at my folders from the sales and financial department" he chuckled, making you pout. You didn't want to wait until tonight for his attention. He didn't understand.

However, your conversation with him was cut off before you could respond, San picking up the phone to unmute himself to respond to whatever the finance guy said. You only rolled your eyes, exiting his office while he furrowed his eyebrows.

Deep down, San did feel guilty for not being able to give you his 100 percent attention lately due to work, but he had no choice. He watched as the elevator doors closed, leaving him alone in his office with your perfume still lingering around him. "Mr. Choi, are you still there?"

"Oh, yeah, yeah, I'm still here" San sighed, turning back to his folders with a small grimace. "I'm still here. Continue."

______________________________________________________________

"No, it's not like that B/N"

"Oh really, then how do you really feel about San working so hard?" You bit your lip, stopping your application of your face mask at your best friend's words. You had called her while doing your skincare to try and get your mind off of things with San, but that was the first thing she brought up. You stared into your vanity mirror, trying to figure out how you wanted to phrase your words before you said "I can understand why he's been so distant, he's been busy at work all day."

"But it doesn't give him the right to not give you any attention when you come home, Y/N." True.

You had finished your skin care by the time San arrived home, Star's barking telling you that he was home from the office. You took a deep breath before you thought back to what your friend had suggested that you try:

'When San comes home tonight, ignore him. Let him feel like how he's made you feel these past few weeks.'

You took another deep breath as San climbed up the stairs, his heavy footsteps making your heart rate speed up.

You didn't turn to him as he entered the room, looking at him through the vanity mirror as he put his jacket away; his shoulders seemed heavier than usual, his voice deep as well.

San didn't want to outright tell you about how stressful that day was to him due to how you left his office: after you left, he had nothing but back-to-back phone calls with people and felt like he was surrounded by incompetent people. All he wanted to do was come back home to you and just relax. Heck, if he really wanted to, he'd tell everyone in the office tomorrow that you and him were out for the day.

"Hi, honey" San mumbled, leaning over to press a kiss to your cheek before he went to go strip, getting ready for a shower. You didn't respond to him, instead going on your phone. San noticed your silence, making him raise an eyebrow and stop unbuttoning his shirt. His eyes moved down your body to admire your white silk night dress that stopped at the tops of your thighs. It was one of his favorites on you. "Honey?" he repeated, hoping for a response but when he didn't get one, he felt his annoyance from earlier wash over him.

Now you were ignoring him? Why was no one listening to him today?

You didn't react to the sound of San's footsteps approaching you, but you did jump when San ripped your phone from your hand, placing it onto the dresser behind him before he returned to stand behind you, placing his hands onto the vanity table on either side of you. You took the opportunity to look back up in the mirror, meeting San's darkened gaze. His eyes were dark, an evil-like smirk gracing his lips as one of his hands slowly slid from the vanity to your arm, leaving goosebumps behind.

"Oh, so now you notice me honey? What, I have to touch you now in order for you to look at me?"

"Yes." Your bratty word slipped out of your mouth without thinking, your words making San chuckle.

Maybe you would get San's attention tonight.

"I have to use your body like you're some kind of slut in order for you to even listen to me?" San's voice had now become a mixture of a growl and a deep chuckle, his hands moving to your arms to pick you up out of your vanity chair, making you stand up. He then kicked away the chair as he met your eyes. His eyes were dark, demanding of you.

At your lack of response, San's hands moved slowly up your arms to your shoulders, then to the back of your neck, where he gripped it roughly. You gasped as he pulled you roughly so that your lips were hovering right over his, your nose bumping against one another as San kept his rough grip on you. He would chuckle, though, anytime you tried to lean forward from his hold to have your lips meet, but San would always pull back before you could. He licked his lips slowly, making a show out of it before he whispered against your lips "I wanna use you tonight, Honey. Will you let me use your body tonight, honey?"

You nodded, almost like you were in a trance at his words. You had completely abandoned your plan at this point, ready to do whatever he wanted. San chuckled at your new attitude, planting a sweet yet short kiss onto your lips before his hand moved from the back of your neck into your hair, grabbing a fistful of it.

"Good. What's the safeword?" He whispered, his lips returning to hover over yours as he began to turn you both around, your back now to the bed as his free hand moved to cup your cheek sweetly. "Honey" you responded, earning yourself a nod before his lips met yours in a demanding manner making you moan. San's tongue moved immediately to meet yours, pushing into your mouth before he picked you up by your thighs, tossing your body onto the bed. You gripped the bed sheets as your body bounced, San figure now standing at the foot of the bed with a smirk on his lips. He gently licked his lips as he took off his belt, his eyes still drilling into yours as he spoke. "You know, a slut like you deserves the finer things in life, no? You're acting out like this because you're needy, huh?"

You nodded, submission filling your eyes as San softly cooed at you, placing his knees on the bed as he unbuttoned his pants, allowing you to see the top of his boxers. He placed his hands onto your ankles, roughly pulling you to meet his body, now kneeling in between your legs he looks down at you. He slowly dragged his hands up your body, pushing up the fabric of your sleep dress up with his hands as his lips followed. He ignored your cries as he nipped and kissed at your stomach, taking his time with you before he sat up once more, unbuttoning his shirt as you sat up as well, removing your dress.

San had to take a moment to admire you, his mouth watering at the bare sight of your body. San always had to take a moment to just look you over, despite the fact that he was to use you tonight. He leaned over to place a gentle kiss onto your lips, letting you see a glimpse of your boyfriend before he slipped back into his feelings, his hands moving to roughly push you back onto the bed. He kissed down your body, grabbing your legs to place them onto his shoulders as he so. He made sure to lock them in his forearms before he looked up at you, his voice coming out huskily "Stay still, slut. Grip the bed, grip the headboard, I don't care. You take this pussy from my mouth and I'm going to make you cry tonight."

You bit your lip at his words, your mind thinking of all the ways he could make you cry from pleasure. Your thoughts are ripped from you as his tongue moves up your wet slit, curling the tip of his tongue right underneath your clit before he moved back to your slit, taking his time in tasting you. You found yourself gripping the sheets, growing upset by his little kitten licks: this was the first time you were having him in so long, and you couldn't handle the idea of waiting for anything.

"San come on-" You moved your hips up, hoping for San to get the hint. However, your hands had to immediately hold onto the bed sheets as San growled, pulling you roughly by your ass to his lips, his whole mouth working on your pussy in a way that made your back arch and made you cry out. You closed your eyes as your hips tried to roll against his face, making San move his hand from your ass to your stomach, pressing you down harshly against the bed as his tongue and lips moved faster around your cunt. "Stay still, slut, what did I say?" San asked, his words vibrating against your pussy as he continued to eat you.

You didn't even try to apologize, feeling your orgasm approaching quickly due to San talking dirty into your pussy and the way his mouth was moving on you. You felt your body begin to heat up, moaning his name louder as you felt yourself begin to cum all over his face. Your grip on the sheets as grown so tight that the fitted sheet was no longer on the mattress, San's mouth movements not stopping as you tried to move away from his lips. San only chuckled, pressing your body down more into the mattress as he sat up, letting you see your cum and juices move down his mouth and neck as he licked his lips. His fingers gently dragged up your thighs before two entered you smoothly, his lips curling into a smirk at how tight your walls got around his fingers.

Your hand moved from the sheets to grab his shoulders, begging for him to slow down his fingers as you were about to cum again, only making him move faster. "Don't act like you don't wanna cum again, and again slut. I didn't realize how much of a slut my baby was, out here disobeying me knowing damn well what I said I'd do if you did. And what did you do?" 

You couldn't respond as your orgasm rushed over you, making you moan loudly, San allowing your legs to close around his fingers. He smirked softly at the sight, waiting till you came back around before he slowly slipped his fingers from inside of you, placing the fingers into his mouth, moaning at your taste. You moaned at the sight, your arousal leaking from inside you.

San moved to stand up from the bed, pushing off his pants as you sat up, wanting to watch every movement: the way his thigh muscles tensed every time he lifted his legs from the tight dress pants, the way his cock sprung up against his abs, a long stripe of pre-cum already leaking from the top. You bit your lip as he turned to face you, running his hand through his hair before he grabbed your body, picking you up from the bed before he dropped you on your stomach, his hands moving to grab your hips and pull you to the edge of the bed, your legs hanging off the end while your upper body was still on the bed, gripping the last of the sheets that were on the bed.

"Spread your legs for me, slut. Show me where you want my cock to go" San demanded, his hand moving along his cock as he watched you spread your legs, placing them onto the bed to give him a proper view of your pussy. You bit your lip at the silence and lack of movement from San, about to complain about it when you felt a glob of his spit meet and slowly move down your pussy, making you moan loudly. "There. You should be wet enough for me" Was the only warning San gave to his lover before he roughly pushed into you, his hips instantly meeting your ass. San kept up his rough pace, his hands slapping and grabbing at the flesh of your ass as you continued to moan loudly. Times like this made you glad that you and San didn't have any close neighbors who would've complained.

"That's it, take this cock like the slut you are" San growled, his eyes trained on how your ass bounced back against his movements and your moans until his eyes are drawn to the vanity mirror. San smirked as he pulled out, pushing your body so that you fell onto the bed before he turned you to face the mirror with him behind you, his hands gripping your hips to raise your knees. "Stay on your knees and look into the mirror" He whispered into your ear before moving to stand behind you, giving you a full view of San; his messed up blonde hair, sweat moving down San's face and chest- to you, San looked absolutely hot.

Your head sadly lost the vision of San though as his hips pounded into your suddenly, picking up the pace he had set before, making you drop your head to moan into the mattress. "God, I knew a whore like you couldn't follow simple instructions" San moaned, his hands moving to the front of your throat, forcing you to look up into the mirror as he pounded into you from behind. He smirked, placing his face right against yours as he felt his orgasm approaching fast. "Look at us, look at how perfect we look. Look at you following my instructions now, all it took was me holding onto you" He moaned as he applied pressure to your throat, your pussy clenching around him as you moaned as well.

San soon dropped his head into your shoulder, biting down on the skin before he came, his hips slowing down as his cum filled you and covered your pussy, the feeling pushing you over the edge too. You moaned as he kissed your shoulder, his hands rubbing at your body as you both came down from cloud nine.

"Honey" he whispered against your shoulder, meeting your eyes in the mirror as you gently rested against him and the bed. When you finally seemed to be able to hold a thought, San offered you a sweet smile before pressing a sweet kiss to your forehead. He gently laid you down onto the bed, turning on the shower before he returned to you, gently picking you up to bring you to the warming water. He held you against him as you both let the water run over each other for a moment, just holding each other.

"I missed you" you whispered to San as he began to wash your hair, taking care to massage your scalp. "I know, baby, I missed you too." San knew what you meant: that you missed having him there with you present in the moment and not just as a body. That's how San knew you both loved each other; you both could tell when the other was there as a body, or as your lover.

After you both finished washing each other off, San helped you get dressed before leading you to the living room, having you sit down on the couch as he went to wash the sheets and put new ones on the bed. You sat in silence once he left you, relishing in the moment before you laid down on the couch, looking at the picture of you and San you had taken during your anniversary: San had his arms around you, a bright smile on his face as you held the camera taking the picture with a beautiful sunset adding lightning to the moment. You looked so happy in that moment, so carefree. You hoped to one day take another trip with San and capture another moment like that in a picture, so that you could remember this time in your relationship without the memories of San being so tired from work.

"Falling asleep without me down here?" You sat up as San approached you with a tired smile, his hands moving to hold yours to help you up from the couch. You accepted his help before you shook your head. "No, I was just looking at the picture we took during our anniversary trip"

San eye's moved to the picture, a brighter smile moving across his lips at the sight. He loved that moment and how happy you both seemed. "One day soon, my baby," he turned to you, cupping your cheeks with his hand before placing a small kiss on your lips. "I'll take you back there and we'll relax like we both deserve."

"Promise?" You asked, wrapping your arms around his waist as he did the same to you, walking with you up the stairs with Star following behind happily. He nods, laying down next to you in the bed before he wrapped his arms around you, turning off the lamp.

"I promise, my honey. Now, let's sleep."

__________________________________________________________

"He's off-site, today. That's why we're not doing lunch."

You replied to B/N, who looked at you with furrowed brows. She couldn't believe how relaxed you now seemed about San's work schedule, making you laugh. Somehow, last night's actions helped ease your annoyances, plus the promise of a trip alone with him soon helped.

You shooed your friend from your office as your phone rang, waiting till she closed the door behind her before you answered your phone without looking at who was calling you. "Hello?"

"Honey," you paused at San's voice which sounded pained. You sat up in your chair about to ask if he was hurt when you heard a wet sound along with a stifled groan come from him, letting you know what he needed. "San, are you-"

"Fuck yes I am," he breathlessly replied, his hand moving along his cock faster at the sound of your voice, making him lean back in his car's backseat. "I was out at the launch event and I stumbled across an old sexy picture you had sent me awhile back and now I can't get you out of my mind."

You were in shock by his words, your silence making San groan out "please fucking say something honey, anything."

You bit your lip as you stood up, locking your office door before you sat back down at your desk, slipping your hands into your pants, cursing softly as you dragged your fingers along the wet spot growing on your panties. San moaned at the sound of you, his hand moving along his cock faster. "Are you touching yourself, honey? Are you in your office, leaning back against your chair with your hand down your pants playing with your pretty pussy?"

You moaned again in response, your hands moving to frantically push down your pants so that you could freely rub circles on your aching clit. San did the same thing, pushing down his pants fully so that he spread his legs more, jerking his cock more as he continued talking. "God, I couldn't stop thinking about your pretty pussy, baby. I was going to sit at the event and hope it went away, but all I could picture doing was fucking you on the table while everyone watches how I fuck my girl"

"Fuck, Sannie" You moaned his name, making him moan louder, his cock twitching in his hand at the sound of your voice and you using his nickname. San practicality fucked his fist, tossing his head back as he felt his orgasm approaching. You bit your lip, moving your fingers faster against your clit at the sounds of San that were coming from the other end of the phone.

"I'm gonna cum, Y/N. I'm gonna cum and then when you get home tonight I'm gonna fuck you till you cannot walk. I'm gonna use your pussy again, just like how I did last night all over our house till every surface reminds me of where we fucked at whenever I look at it" San's words made you cum, closing your legs around your hand as you began to shake and moan his name, San's loud moan filling your ears and your office as he came all over his hand, thighs, and abs. You both took a moment to calm down, San speaking up first. "If you can manage to walk right now, I have some wet wipes you can clean yourself up with in my office. I bought the brand you like, too."

You could basically feel San's touch on you as you went up to his office, smiling at your feeling of afterglow. When you found the wet wipes, you paused when you saw a pair of airline ticket receipts in the drawer. You tilted your head, picking them up.

"Two first class airline tickets to Bali?" You flipped through the other papers, various receipts for excursions to do in Bali showing up. You bit your lip as you placed the papers back, grabbing the wet wipes before making your way out of your boyfriend's office. Your mind kept thinking back to those receipts for the rest of the day, trying to figure out what they were for.

San didn't like taking trips with people from work often, so it may not be for work. You and him had been once before, but it was for your anniversary and it had to be cut short due to the company wanting to launch the product.

You clung to the last thought being the truth as you pulled into the driveway behind San's car. You didn't want to get your hopes on something that wasn't confirmed to be for you, but you couldn't help but be in a better mood as you opened the front door. Your good mood was only increased when the smell of steak and other foods filled your senses. You entered the house to see many heart balloons around the kitchen table, a candle lit in the middle, and your boyfriend placing the steak you smelled onto the dinner table.

"Oh, San, what is this?" You asked as you placed your purse down, San only chuckling in response before he stopped you from taking off your heels, getting onto his knees to do it for you. He gently removed them from your feet before he led you to the romantic dinner setup he had made. He pulled out a chair for you, sitting down next to you with a proud smile on his face as you gushed about how nice the setup was.

"I'm glad you like it, honey. I did it for you" You smiled at San's words, before turning to him as he gently held your hand, placing it onto his lap as you both faced each other. He looked at you with so much love and regret in his eyes, his free hand moving to sit on your thigh. "Y/N, I just wanted to say that I am sorry for not giving you the proper attention you needed during the company's product launch. I was distracted and should've understood your needs too." San cut off your words as he moved to his knees in front of you, kissing your hand once more before he said "I'm sorry, honey. Can you forgive me? I promise it won't happen again." You bit your lips at San's words, placing a soft kiss on his lips before you said "I accept your apology, Sannie."

You smiled as San sprung up from his knees to sit back in his chair, pouring you a glass of wine as you began to taste some of the food San had cooked. You had forgotten all about the tickets until San said "I've already approved our time off for next week, so don't worry about having to send that out."

"Time off for next week? I didn't ask for next week off," You said, taking a sip of your wine as San smiled at you. Your mind flashed back to the ticket receipts you had seen before you blurted out "wait, we're going to Bali again?" San blinked at your question before he chuckled, nodding as you moved to sit on his lap. "Ah, so you did see the receipts I planted in that drawer. I was beginning to think I hid them too well." It was your turn to blink at his words, asking him what he meant. "I 'hid' them under the wet wipes for you to see. We're going back to Bali to make up for our anniversary being interrupted, honey."

You smiled brightly at his words, meeting him in a loving kiss as he gently rubbed your back. You didn't even care how long he had it planned for, you were just excited he kept his promise.

_________________________________________________________

"You know, Honey, I could've made the same dish at home, right?"

You laughed at San's words as you both left the restaurant, his pout prominent on your lips as you talked about how good the pasta was throughout the end of dinner. You turned to him, your yellow sundress blowing in the wind as you stood in front of your boyfriend who wore a simple black button-up and matching pants. He had dyed his hair back to black, due to your request. You cupped his cheeks as he wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you to him as you tried to kiss away the pout on his lips. Only after the 17th kiss did San finally smile, his lips meeting yours in a loving kiss before he said "Okay, let's hurry up so that we can go on that beach walk in the sunset, like you wanted to."

You clapped happily as you turned to step onto the sand, only for San to stop you. He sunk to his knees in the sand, his hands skillfully removing your heels before he stood up, offering you one of his charming smiles as he held your heels in one hand and your hand in the other. "Shall we?"

You nodded, stepping down onto the cool sand as the two of you walked along the beach, the sunset adding to the romantic atmosphere. Suddenly, San stopped walking to stand in front of you with a loving smile on his lips. He looked at you like you were the love of his life, which you were. "San, what are you doing," You asked as he began to walk backward, not answering you as you both rounded a corner to see a little picnic on the beach. You gasped, asking San if he did it. His smirk only grew at your question, leading you to the setup.

There were pillows placed onto a large white picnic mat, small tea candles surrounded the setup along with heart balloons and a small charcuterie board of snacks and candy. You could tell San was proud of himself as he sat down next to you, answering all your questions with a huge smile on his face. Your own smile grew at his, rushing into his arms to hug and kiss around his face. He gladly accepted it before he cupped your face, bringing you into a long, loving kiss. San didn't let you leave his embrace as he kissed you, mumbling against your lips how much he loved you whenever you broke away to catch your breath before he brought you back into the kiss.

You could swear that you and San kissed for a while before he finally pulled back fully. San then gently held your hand, placing another kiss to it before he moved the two of you to stand.

"Y/N L/N. There will never be another woman like you: you're smart, funny, and outright gorgeous. I cannot think of anyone else who I'd rather be with and who I'd rather give my heart to. Unknown to you, all those nights I spent out weren't always for work," he paused to reach into his pocket, grabbing a beautiful velvet ring box before he slowly sank to one knee, meeting your eyes with his own that were full of love and care. He then opened the ring box, showing you a beautiful engagement ring. Your eyes widened at the sight before San continued, tearing up slightly.

"Y/N, my love, will you marry me?"

You nodded, covering your mouth as your tears left your eyes. San smiled happily, placing the ring onto your finger before he sprung up to pick you up, spinning around with you in his arms as you both cheered. He jumped up and down (eventually slipping in the sand) happy to have you forever. You, on the other hand, recorded him while he jumped (and slipped), laughing happily before meeting him in a sweet kiss, then taking a selfie with him as you both lay in the sand.

After you both enjoyed the moment, San picked you up, promising more fun in the private villa. You allowed him to carry you bridal style to the villa, which wasn't far as it was on the beach, giving you a beautiful view of the sunset and water as San placed you down onto the bed. You closed your eyes as San kissed down your body, whispering praise among other things before he sunk to his knees, kissing and biting the inside of your thighs before he met your eyes.

"Spread your legs for me, honey," you did as you were told, spreading your legs for your fiancé, allowing him to immediately lick up your panty-covered slit. He moaned, repeating the action a few more times before he finally pulled off the ruined fabric, looking up at you as your hand moved to cup his face, your thumb moving along his bottom lip. "Lay back and relax, honey. Let your fiancé take care of you tonight, yeah?" San's words came out slurred as if he was drunk off of just licking your panties. You obliged, laying back on the bed as San's tongue dragged its way up your thigh to your wet cunt.

To San, eating your pussy was his number one job; he wanted to be so fucking good at it that you begged him to never stop. He loved watching your back arch and he loved the feeling of your legs closing around his head, the thought making his cock twitch in his pants. He dragged his tongue from the bottom of your pussy to the top, moaning at your taste before his tongue dove into you, making you both moan loudly. Your hands rushed into San's hair as his tongue and lips catered to your pussy, San's eyes even rolling back and closing at your taste. San felt truly like he was in a trance when it came to your taste, his mind short-circuiting every time your hips would move against his face, begging for more.

Your legs began to shudder closed around San's face, only making him growl as he crawled up the bed to keep his mouth attached to your pussy, making you scream his name. He moved his hands to press down on your chest as he focused on eating you out, keeping you still on the bed as he focused on tasting you and driving you to your edge. You dug your nails into his shoulder as you came, both of your moans mixing together as he cleaned you up with his tongue.

"I fucking love you, Honey" he whispered desperately, kissing up your body as your hands moved to try and remove all of his clothes. He helped you, his eyes still focused on you. Once he was bare, he rested his warm body on top of yours, kissing you deeply so that you could taste yourself on his tongue, making you moan. "Taste how good that was, honey? Do you see why I'm so addicted to you?" San seemed to be truly in a daze, leaning down to kiss and lick at the tops of your breasts before he pulled the cups down, his lips instantly circling around a nipple. You moaned softly at the feeling, wrapping your legs around his waist as he switched nipples before pulling back, playing with your breasts in his hands before he slowly pushed into you, meeting your eyes as he did so. San bit his bottom lip as we watched you moan out his name, the pleasure filling your face when he finally fully filled you up.

"Honey, my honey" he breathed out, shoving his head into your neck as he began to set a slow, yet sweet pace with his hips. You sighed at the feeling, your hands rubbing his back as he placed kisses on your neck. You gently moaned out for him to go faster, but San only shook his head in your neck, whispering that he wanted to take his time with you. As much as you loved that idea, though, you wanted him to go faster.

San gasped when you pushed on his shoulder, allowing you to move both of your positions so that you were on top. You looked down at him as you began to ride him, your hips spelling out various things, making him moan loudly. When you spelled out his name, San came out of his trance, planting feet onto the bed so that his hips thrust up into you, meeting your bounces, making you both moan louder. "Fuck, Y/N, that's it, ride this cock, your cock" San shuddered, as he let his legs rest against the bed, allowing you to move faster. San didn't know what to grab onto, deciding to have one hand on your ass and the other one around your throat, helping you ride him faster.

"Want me to apply some pressure, honey? Want me to choke you?" San asked through his moans and groans, smirking when you nodded. He applied pressure to your throat, your nails then dragging down his chest as you felt his cock twitch inside of you at the sight in front of him. San suddenly flipped the two of you over once more so that you were on your back and he was on top, his pace becoming erratic as he smashed his lips into yours, meeting you in a deep kiss as you both moaned and cursed against each other's lips.

"Cuming, Sannie, I'm cumming" you moaned loudly, San rushing to let go of your neck, choosing to intertwine your hands with his as his lips picked up in pace, his cock hitting your spot perfectly. San nodded against your forehead, moaning out that he was going to cum too. You both met in a loving kiss and you both squeezed each other's hands as if one of your was going to float away, cumming together. San soon cut the kiss to kiss down your body as you laid limp against the bed, gasping when you felt San shove his tongue into your pussy, licking and sucking all of the cum from your pussy before he spat it back onto your pussy, his tongue going back to your pussy. You tried to crawl up the bed from him, his hands roughly gripping your hips before he roughly pulled you back to his mouth.

"Don't interrupt me, honey. I'm just getting started, we're here for a week, remember?" San chuckled darkly against your thigh before his mouth went back to your pussy, making your back arch as he ate your pussy till you fell asleep. The only memory you had left from that night was San cleaning you and then himself up when he finished before placing a soft kiss onto your forehead as your body began to relax into the sheets.

"Sleep well, Honey. I love you."

____________________________________________________________

"Well, well, well, isn't it the future Mrs. Choi, back from her week getaway with her hot CEO fiancé."

You laughed at B/N, waving off her words as she sat down in one of the chairs you had in your office. When you notice her staring at you, you raised an eyebrow before asking what she was waiting for.

"You know I wanna hear all about Bali part 2, even the proposal and whatever led to the matching hickey you and Mr. Choi are sporting at the bottom of your necks." Your eyes widened at her words, your hand rushing to cover it before you sheepishly whispered "that didn't happen during Bali. That happened this morning."

B/N gasped at your words before she laughed as you shooed her out, letting her know that you had to go meet San upstairs. "Why, so that way you guys can continue whatever you two were doing this morning?"

You offered her a playful wink as the elevator doors closed, her squeal being the last thing you heard before the elevator began its ascent to San's office.

"Did you know that our hickey's are visible?" You asked him as you entered his office, your fiancé instantly chuckling at your question. "I had a hunch. I mean, we were pretty cramped in the car this morning, so I guess we bit anywhere we could." You rolled as your cheeks heated up, thinking back to the quickie you and San had this morning in the car.

"Ready for lunch, Mrs. Choi?" San asked, wrapping his arms around your waist as he pressed a kiss to your neck, humming softly. You nodded, intertwining your hand with his as you both walked out of the office into the elevator. "I already made us a reservation at our favorite sushi restaurant, you're welcome by the way."

San chuckled, thanking you with a sweet kiss before whispering against your lips "That's my girl."

BAMBIKISSS | 2024

[wizardrousactivity]

Feel better now?

Warnings: Angst, mating press, mentions of self-harm, mentions of relapsing, Fem!reader

Pairings: König x fem!Reader

Note: I am not very proud of this one because of my STUPID WRITING!!! but I did end up spending 2-3 hours on this so I’m hoping some people would enjoy it. Mwah love you all 2.3k words! 

König felt his chest shrivel up once he saw your pouty lips and half-teary eyes, watching you storm out of the room while he was stumped.

Thinking of ways to apologize to his sweet girl flooded his noggin and he threw his hands out and fell back into his chair almost comically, grumbling and getting back to his paperwork while he tried to push away any other thoughts besides the box of his work. You shoved yourself into the bathroom, rubbing your hands all over your face to try to stop the tears that were making your face feel icky. Thrashing around to find your towel, the water running loudly in the background - the sounds couldn’t compare to how loud your thoughts were. 

The shower felt harder that day, the water burning the red lines you inflicted on yourself yesterday.

You sat down on the wet floor, head in your palms as you sobbed, the tears falling from your face entwined with the water and vanished along with it. On your knees you grabbed the shampoo - cleaning yourself should never feel this difficult, you’ve grown soft. 

Standing up, your body immediately planting itself onto the wall as your knees buckled. Nibbled lips, fingers clasped your mouth. Trying to suppress your gasps and whines. —----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You’ve managed to do your hair and apply lotion to your body, since you’ve fixed yourself - you find that you’re capable enough to make dinner, putting on clothes you just washed, they’re warm and make you feel a bit better. The harm is visible, and you try to forget about it. Too drained to change into other clothes that hide your pink and white scars, busy prodding at your pajama shorts to make them just a little longer, even if it wont make a difference. 

Leaving the bathroom you walk into the hallway hoping to see König doing paperwork in his office, or holding out his arms for you. Instead what's in front of you is a closed door, making the air catch in your throat.  

The descend down the stairs feels melancholy, you feel as if your brain is off, walking only as if you’re a zombie dedicated to pleasing others. You want to make him happy, make him forget about your previous interaction with the blessing of food. 

This week felt like the final straw, constantly trying to please people at your job - you’ve been trying so hard. Nobody was there for you, König looked at you with a face of anger, eyes narrowing yours. Going on about how he has helped you while you try to squeak out your words, and he yelled at you. Piercing and loud, making you tremble as you looked up at him like he had betrayed you. He screamed at himself in his head, scolding himself for lashing out on you. Years of aggression had changed him truly, down to his entire system - he doesn’t know how to respond now. 

As soon as your hands touch the stove, you begin shaking, tears running down your face. You couldn’t find the energy in yourself to cook and it made you feel all the more disappointed in yourself, the walls of discipline you’ve built come crashing down.

Nails snuggled firmly into your arms as you sink down onto the floor, hyperventilating in frustration. 

You cry into your skin for the umpteenth time, biting into your flesh so the man upstairs doesn’t hear you. Nothing has ever made you feel so useless, and you can't get over that. 

A heavy hand on your shoulder makes you jump, interrupting your thoughts. You turn your back slowly, only to see the kindest pair of sleepy eyes looking back at your manic ones. Your eyelids shut tight, hands finding his shirt and pulling him in. “M’ so sorry..”  It’s muffled into his shoulder and he pats your back, hands resting at your hips. He shushes you gently, eyes scanning over the numerous scars on your legs that looked almost too fresh - and he swore his heart paused for a second. König punches himself in the head mentally once again, biting his lip. “Not your fault..I shouldn’t have yelled. Shouldn’t have taken my anger out on you.” 

Your face digs itself into the small dip between his neck and shoulder, sobbing even harder - gasping for air between them. And he feels like a monster at this point.. “I’m sorry, mein Liebling, don’t waste all your tears on me.” König brings you in even closer, landing sloppy kisses to your forehead and cheeks. "I was wrong, never cry for me like that." He says, reassuring you in a stronger voice, yet it remains soft. König mumbles something under his breath, like he cursed himself forever, never to let you cry over something he failed to do - control his emotions around you.

You grab onto his jaw with need, locking lips with him in vast movements, and he lets it happen. Letting your tongue win the fight for dominance, hand gently resting  at the back of your skull, the salty tang of your lips stimulating his organ of taste. But he couldn't care less.

Hums vibrate into your mouth pleasantly, he taps your back to let you know when he needs to breathe.

The kiss is broken after only his lungs start to burn for air, you’re still hungry for more of it. His breathing is heavy as he claws at the soft skin under your shirt, massaging your lower back and pulling you even closer to his warmth, pleasantly surprised at your actions. “Need more-” You hiccupped, mouth-agape with feeble sounds. “Please.” 

“More of what? Tell me.”

“Want more of you- Need you.” You confess, and his heart cinches from its beat. Almost seizes to continue at the sight.

He simply nods, picking you up by your waist and putting you up against him - not where you're flat against his chest, holstered up enough so he can kiss your tummy, electrifying butterflies filling your abdomen. König plops you down on the bed, as gentle as he can possibly be - you look like glass to him right now as your legs hang off the side of the bed, you're sitting on the edge of it as he lowers himself.

He’s right in front of  you, crouched. He’s kissing your thighs all over, strings of apologies you can’t hear when he runs along one of your scars. “Can I please.. I want to show you how sorry I am.” You know what he’s implying when his eyes drift down to your pussy, clothed but getting absolutely drenched underneath. 

“Yes.. please.” A simple sniffle and he’s making snail work of your shorts with little kisses, pulling them off along with your panties. He’s purposely taking it slow with you, testing the waters. 

Successfully spreading your thighs, he salivates. One look at your perfekt swollen clit and he’s down on his knees, offering one long lick to the slick heavenly gates. “So good.” He groans, now flicking your bead with his tongue in vast motions - and you mewl out, high pitched and needy. He’s so good at eating your pussy, wrapping his lips around the whole thing once he made you sensitive for it. “König..” A pule of his name leaves your lips, sending blood straight to his cock once again. 

You gasp once you realize he’s rolling your hips onto his tongue, making you fuck yourself on his tongue with his hands. “Holy fuck-” Your toes curl, biting your bottom lip. The changes between flicking his tongue and sucking all feed into your upbuilding orgasm.

“König!” He stops abruptly at the last squeal of his name, right at the moment you felt yourself coming undone.

Standing at his full height you pout up at him. “I’m sorry- please, can’t let you cum yet. Need to show you.” He repeats, almost defeatedly, like he wants to fulfill your needs now.

König pulls down his pajama pants down to his ankles, before he positions himself in front of spread legs. Rubbing his tip against your clit, prodding against it deliberately. Making you sob, kick your feet against his back needily. “Uhuh. None of that, you’ll get what you want in a second.” Gentle, affirming.

“Gonna slip this in, slowly. You got that?” He affirms with you, and you're nodding your head urgently. It makes him chuckle, how pliant and needy you are. 

You throw your head back once you feel his stretch, a wince passing through your lips. "Er nimmt es so gut auf.." He praises with a moan, a hand gently caressing your collarbone from where he stands.

He’s trying to distract you from the feel of his cock spreading you open, you’ve tightened up so much since the last time. 

He finally gets the whole meat slab in with a plap, and you let out a sigh of relief. He finds it really cute, how you struggle beneath it. “You’ve got it.. Good girl, the best.” He dances his hips into yours, balls flat against your ass. “Made for my cock.” “So deep..” Your thighs tighten around him, begging him to start a pace already - the torture of slow, deep thrusts. “Hah- fuck.. Too slow Köni..” Ugh, you’re so fucking cute. Stop it. It’s taking enough of his willpower to not fuck you right into this bed. 

“H-Harder..” König chuckles, grinning at how feverish you are. “Dirty girl.” Your knees are then pressed next to your ears, he’s putting you in some sort of mating press - making you swallow in anticipation, a little fear maybe. This position makes him feel deeper than ever, you’re clenching around him.

 He swallows. “This is what you want? You can take it?” He doesn’t relent his rolls into you, like this is a casual interaction. “Yes- fuck- Please!” You beg and he immediately complies, making you jump up with every thrust of him into you, heavy balls slapping right against you. “You like this?” He doesn’t even need to have you answer, your mewls are speaking for you. 

As soon as he gets you where he wants, a hard thrust is battered into you - making you cry out at the sheer force of it. He’s not cruel though, bending down so you could hold onto his shoulders. He gulps, adams apple bobbing. “This is what you wanted? Tell me, please.” He needs to get confirmation from you, eyes scanning over your face for any signs of discomfort. “Keep going.” You take his breath away, good girl. Taking all of this cock. 

He bites his lip, denting your can roughly - the smacking of your skin is loud and sinful. His hands lay planted on your ankles, driving into you like a two dollar whore.

Broken moans escape your mouth as you constantly feel his dick ram against your cervix. ”Gonna show you how sorry I am.” Your body tensed up as you felt your orgasm approaching humiliatingly quick.  Your legs tried to kick at something, but that's impossible with them suspended in the air, unable to move.

He just wont stop thrusting either, watching you try to form a sentence underneath him. 

Waves of pleasure incinerate through your body, burning your insides with ecstasy and heat. The constant sliding of his shaft against your walls doesn't help it either, he's changed the angle which his dick hits to where its constantly drubbing your g-spot.

"Good- good pussy. I'm' hitting that pillowy spot." He laughs, orgasmic yet a little bit deranged in the middle of sex.

You gasp out, feeling a string in your stomach get unbearably thin. Your pussy clenches, it’s slightly nauseating from how tightly you’ve clamped. He moans, back arching from the feel of you squeezing him dangerously tight. “Fuck yeah, cum for me. Cum for me.. Ja..!” His head is thrown back, lost in just you completely. 

The coil finally snaps and you squeal, your juices coming out squelching and running down your ass. You’re drooling, lips coated in saliva. And he just wants to clean up all of that with his kisses, connect your saliva together. 

"Ah! König!" You yelp, vision turning white as overwhelming waves of bliss start hitting you like a truck.

Your toes uncurled once you’ve gotten off your high, signs of it still lingering around in your stomach - feels like your pussy is beating as fast and hard as your heart.

But you can’t forget, he’s looking for his release as well. Mouth open and panting above you like a mutt.  His moans announce his upcoming orgasm while rutting into your sensitive pussy like a bitch in heat. Your hand comes up to his chest to try and get his pace to relent - but it’s not possible to push past a brick wall. You’ve already started sobbing at this point from the overstimulation, mewls for König to be gentler goes in from one ear out from the other. Or if he can even hear you. 

With the clenching of your snatch he's throwing his head back with a broken moan. "Hng-auh..! It's been so long since he's had good pussy like yours, and you best believe he's enjoying himself.

A rumbling deep inside of him, lingers of an upcoming orgasm taking over his well-mannered self. Now his hands have moved up to your ankles, putting himself in a plank and pounding so hard you think you'd die.

König's trying to match your moans like an orchestral performance, seemingly like he's mocking you, yet it's full of honesty and neediness. "Close hmng- yes.. fuck m-" He announces before cutting himself off unplanned, spurting into your storage room with his buttocks clenched forwards to push semen further into you.

The mongrel of the house squeezing your ankles with a sob once he feels his high hit him like it did yours, keeping his shaft nestled in you while he finds himself in ecstasy - unknowing of your suffering from overstimulation beneath him. Beaten and battered pussy.

He doesn’t notice your trembling body underneath him till he hears you let out a feeble sound of his name. Looking down to your shaking legs, thighs covered in your splattered juices. And by god, are you a sight.

“No more..” You mumbled, unable to coherently speak to him anymore. He pulls out of you, a small squelch being heard from how good he's spread you out. "Ja, won't fuck you anymore." He gravely snickered, letting your legs down from the sore position they were in.

König practically purrs out his praises, running his hands up and down your body. “Let’s get you to the bathroom now, a bath?” He suggests, your ears perk up at the sound of a warm bath surrounding your achy body. 

Bonus ;)

[pubbybutch]

oh to be Abby’s sweet little trophy wife that flaunts around in lingerie while she working from home🙇‍♀️😫 like imagine walking by her office and abby goes “doing this to be a brat or what?” Then reader is like “I wear things like this all the time” and shrugs innocently AHHHHHH

YES ANON!!! Abby is a breadwinner. Provider. Mother. 😤

I feel like she loves being able to treat her wife to little presents and wants to do nothing but look after her. Any of the lingerie that you own, has either been bought by or bought for Abby. But let’s be real, it's for both of you cause when she see your ass hanging out from underneath that little blue babydoll she got for you last month - it’s over.

Even though Abby gets a Friday to work from home Abby would spend hours upon hours trapped in her office, on the phone to patients or other staff from her practice trying to approve surgeries or trying to get prescriptions processed if she could manage. Everyday at 1, you’d bring her lunch to her office and kiss her on her wrinkled little forehead, stress and pressure causing deep lines on her beautiful face. On this particular Friday, it would be business as usual. Blonde hair fuzzy from running her hands through it, laptop open and phone held against her ear. Keeping an ear to the closed door and hearing her set down the phone with an exhausted sigh, you put your plan into action. Pushing the door open plate in one hand, ice tea in the other, you kiss her on the crown of her head as she stays sat in the swivel chair. The pastel pink lace and chiffon adorning your body, sways a little as you move around her and set up the plate of beef and noodles in front of her. As you do so her blue eyes take in the view of you slightly bent over, smile on your face. Light makeup and cherried lips, you’re like a walking wet dream. As you move back out around the desk and towards the door, Abby grabs you by the hand and pulls you down into her lap, “nuh-uh, baby. Walking around like a fucking meal, and you expect me to eat that instead of you?”

Also I feel like Abby is really into kitchen sex and idk why. The cold marble countertops that give you goosebumps when she lifts you on to them, her hands sneaking round to cup your cunt as you’re standing at the stove cooking dinner. All the shenanigans that come with fucking in a kitchen.

Abby has a thing for those kinds of lingerie sets that aren’t just straps and frills, she likes the ones that sort of cover you up and make you look all pretty and dainty, her very own princess. Babydolls and teddy sets are her go-to’s. She’s especially fond of pastels and how soft they make you look. And as much as she teases you for wearing them for her, it's mildly disappointing for her when she comes back home and sees you in what she has dubbed ‘people clothes’. Like you’re hers, why do you have to go and do things, and why do you need to be seen by other people, why do you have to do that job? Because you live in a capitalist hellscape and junior surgeons aren’t paid enough.

She still has her old letterman jacket from senior year of high school, it’s big and oversized with ‘Anderson’ stitched across the back, and boy does she love seeing you in frilly blue lace and cotton. All that’s really covering you from her wandering eyes is something with her name on it. You’re hers. Her pretty little wife.

[bunnys-kisses]

club tropicana

operations officer alex keller

cw: smut/pwp, summer/vacation fic, drinking & smoking, unprotected sex, (slight) baby trapping, body worship & dirty talk, cowgirl position

bunny says: reblogs & comments are greatly appreciated! i love reading your comments & feedback (considering this is my first time writing mr. keller <3)

this was supposed to be the vacation of a life time. you had won it at a raffle through your school and would be your getaway before your last semester of school! you were so close to your degree that you could almost taste the ink on the diploma.

so of course the little vacation was a delightful treat!

that was when you met alex keller. he was nice, you two would sit at the bar by the pool and drink. and the drinking turned to talking.

"do people ask about the leg a lot?" you asked, a little drunk, "i'm sorry, that must be a really rude question!"

he chuckled and had another sip of his pina colada, "don't worry, beautiful. i can usually tell when people look at me like i'm a freak. when we first started talking, you didn't notice it. so i know you're just a curious little thing."

"i mean." you hiccuped, "if it's anything. the tattoos are good at distracting." you then giggled, feeling heat in your cheeks. you leaned a little closer and looked up to him, "i mean also your arms a huge so i wouldn't worry about it too much!" then gave him a big smile.

little did you know that alex was falling hard for you. but, it wasn't a puppy love or a vacation fling. no, he wanted you to be his wife. and when operations officer keller got his mind on something, he saw it through to the end.

it didn't help that you were so cute in your floral printed bikini. sometimes you wore a large sunhat and heart shaped sunglasses. you were painfully cute, innocent almost.

by the second week of your trip, you two were having sex. it wasn't hard to get you into his hotel room. the first time you two got intimate, you were on the tiled floor of the hotel room in front of alex who had both feet planted on the ground on either side of you.

in front of your eyes was him stroking his almost scary cock. it wasn't like it had devil horns or cobwebs, it was just that you had never seen a cock that big up close.

a nice peachy-pink colour, cut with heavy balls and a nice bit of hair to frame it all. it was the kind of cock you could get addicted to. and for alex, that was the plan. after you gave him the blowjob of a lifetime, he finished you off by putting you in his lap and finger-fucking the living daylights out of you.

by your second orgasm, you wanted to tap out, but he kept you trapped to him. his strong fingers bullying your sweet cunt. "nah, nah, nah. no can do." he said, "you gotta be stronger than that. i think i could get at least another three out of you before you're really done." he then got his second wind and fucked you on your hands and knees. you were drooling into the pillows.

getting a taste of you, was like a shark getting a taste for sea lion blood. the poor prey would be hunted to the ends of the oceans just so the shark could have another taste.

he knew you were a real keeper when you asked about positions that would work for him given his prosthetic. you had such a cute look in your eyes when you asked him, "i don't want it to not be fun for you! i'm very flexible so however you need to do it, we can do it!"

god, you were going to be the perfect mother to his children.

painfully caring, sugary sweet. alex was certain that he had caramels with less of a sugar content than you. but he said that cowgirl was his favourite, not only for his leg but also he liked seeing "pretty fat tits" bounce with every thrust.

it was a day of sun, you two had hung out around the ocean. you dragged one of the reclined beach chairs to be closer to alex. he laughed when you struggled to pull it across the sand, but had an arm around you when you sat in the chair when it was next to his.

now after dinner, your skin felt warmed from the hot sun and you were still in the adorable sundress you brought. alex loved a girl in a sundress.

his hands were on your shoulders after you got your sandals off. your skin felt so warm, it was like touching a familiar sun. it made alex's heart give a gentle' thud' in his chest. he kissed your neck before he hands went to the zipper of the dress.

"you looked more delicious than the buffet. i'm pretty sure they could serve you up for dessert." the zipped was pulled down and you slowly got out of it before you stepped out of the dress when it hit the floor.

you stood there, almost naked in front of your summer fling (re: future husband). you giggled and started to undo the front of his button up shirt. you ran your hands down his toned, slightly hairy chest and felt your core grow hotter.

"you look so good." you giggled.

he reached over and grabbed your ass, "not as good as you." his lips were painfully close to yours, "i wanted to throw you on the table and throw that dress up, and sink into the slick little pussy of yours."

you moaned a little at his words. he got you out of your bra and panties, leaving them with the dress as he led you to the nice hotel bed. you sat on it like you had done a dozen times already. you watched him undress. then you watched him lie onto the bed.

"mmm, c'mon now, pretty girl." he said as he tapped his thigh, as if he was a stallion to ride. he then laughed when you were eager to seat yourself down on his lap.

he grasped his cock and rubbed it up against your wet slit. when the blunt head brushed against your clit you moaned. alex knew it was time to give his pretty wife what she craved for.

close to eight inches of cock.

with a hand on your thigh, he hissed through grit teeth over the feeling of you sinking down on him. a soft noise left your mouth as you planted your hands on either side of his torso to get leverage as you started to move up and down on his impressive size.

he held onto your hips and guided you up and down on his cock. the pleasure was a live wire on your body as you bounced on it. he licked his lips at the feeling of your pussy being a vice around his cock.

you felt like a fucking dream.

well, what else did he expect? of course, the pussy of his future wife was going to be perfect for him.

you really worked his cock, the sight of your breasts moving with every thrust of your hips against him. the heat stained your cheeks as you panted heavily. you looked heavenly.

alex felt the curl of pleasure in his gut as he watched you ride him. you were such a perfect fit for him. it made his heart hammer. he was very lucky that he got to meet his wife at this stupid resort.

"you're so perfect for me." he groaned.

you nodded in response, "you feel great too, alex. you're just so good for me." of course he was, he was your (future) husband after all!

he chuckled and rubbed your hip with his thigh, "well, i guess we're two peas in a pod." before another groan left his lips as you pussy rubbed up against sensitive parts of his cock.

you continued the pace you were working with, your face felt stinging hot and your body felt good all over. a heightened sense of pleasure as you bounced on his cock.

he wanted you every way he could have you and if he got his way by the end of the trip, then he'd have all the time in the world to feel every inch of you.

"such a cute little pussy."

"ah, please, alex!" you whimpered, you were painfully close. so alex took a firmer hold of your hips and moved you up and down his cock. letting him have more control.

your cunt was an enticing thing.

"good girl, all for me." he said in a soft tone that made you feel like you had honey in your skull.

you gave a few more thrusts before your pussy clenched around his cock and you climaxed. you let out such a cute little moan that it almost made alex finish on the spot.

you were just full of so many surprises, weren't you?

he soon after finished inside of you, his cum spurting into the back of your pussy (where is all belonged). he groaned at the rush all over his body. he rubbed the softness of your hips before you got comfortable next to him on the bed.

he pulled the thin white bed sheet over your lower half. he eyed your breasts a little bit, seeing the rise and fall of your chest. it made his cock harden a little bit.

he rubbed your shoulder and gazed at your. his gaze was loving yet obsessive. why wouldn't he be? he wanted to make sure he never forgot every curve of the future mrs. keller.

you spend the rest of your vacation with your future husband between your legs like he had belonged there since the universe was created. it wasn't until you were packing that you realized that neither you or alex had condoms.

and you weren't on hormonal birth control.

-

you ended up a long way from home by the end of the summer. your flight back to your home city was changed to where alex was living.

you had a nice gold band with a pretty little diamond in it, alex picked it out for you the day after you arrived back in the sleepy french village he spent most of his time in. you were almost mad at your parents for how well they took it, alex seemed like a great guy when he invited them to come visit. he wanted to know his in-laws.

by september, when you were supposed to go back to campus, you had a hands-y husband trying to see if there was noticeable bump in your middle. as you made him dinner, he'd drape his arms around your waist and poke at your middle.

"c'mon, little guy. daddy wants to feel ya."

you let him feel for the child he made with you on that nice vacation to the bahamas. there were still a lot of secrets to alex keller, but as he invaded your space and kissed at your neck it all seemed to fade away.

after all, he believed that his child needed his father. so you better brush up on your french before the due date. <3

[bobfloydsbabe]

burning flames | eccentric professor!bob floyd x oc

a gold rush fic

SUMMARY: A heated argument reaches a fever pitch for Bob and his TA.

WARNINGS: academia au, enemies to lovers (if you squint), age gap (mid-to-late 20s/late 30s), power imbalance, mutual jealousy, SMUT (fingering), bob being grumpy and rude. strictly 18+/minors dni.

WORD COUNT: 2.3k

GOLD RUSH MASTERLIST

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SPECIAL THANKS to @cherrycola27 for letting me rant about professor bob and for sending thots when i ask for them. you're a real one.

A/N: very loosely inspired by the song style by taylor swift for the wonderful @laracrofted's 1989TGM writing celebration. this was supposed to be a mob boss bob fic, but that made me cry, so i switched gears and now here we are. i'm sorry this is so late, ames. enjoy!

“That’s all we have time for today. You’re dismissed.” He closes his book and listens to the sound of laptop lids being shut, chairs scraping against the old wooden floor, and chatter amongst his students. It’s a sound he’ll never tire of, no matter how long he teaches.

One sound is distinctly different, though. The sound of her voice. Sweet and soft. Lifting his eyes, he sees her talking to one of his students. Mike something. He can’t quite remember, but she laughs and puts her hand on his arm, making Bob clench his jaw.

Another student, Alicia, comes to his desk to talk about the upcoming assignment and what she can do to improve her grade. Normally, he would tell her to make an appointment at his office, but then Imogen laughs again, making heady eyes at that Mike guy, and he decides he has all the time in the world to talk to Alicia.

He tries to pay attention to his student, to answer her questions, and even tries to smile, but he can feel Imogen looking at him out of the corner of her eye. Her dark gaze is intense and sets his skin on fire in a way he’s been trying to ignore for weeks.

“So,” he hears Mike say. “What are your plans this weekend?”

Bob freezes. He lets his eyes wander over to Imogen, who’s still smiling. Next to him, Alicia is still talking, but her voice is far away and barely audible as he focuses on his assistant.

“I’m revising my dissertation proposal,” she tells him. “They rejected the last one for being too broad, so I have to narrow it down.”

Bob’s on that committee and strongly disagreed, but other members outnumbered him and he was forced to dissent. Dr. Kazansky had given her the news, and Bob remembers the heartbroken look in her eyes when she came to his office afterward. He’d wanted to comfort her then.

“Too busy to have dinner with me?”

Bob straightens his back, eyes still trained on Imogen as he dismisses Alicia, telling her to make an appointment if she wishes to discuss things further.

She mutters a thank you and scurries away. Imogen opens her mouth to answer, but Bob interrupts, certain he doesn’t want to hear the answer she’ll likely provide to this Mike character.

“Miss Van Doren,” he says, barely recognizing the hardness in his own voice. “My office. Now.”

He doesn’t wait for her to respond, but gathers his books and leaves the lecture hall without a glance back to see if she’s following. It doesn’t take long for him to hear her marching footsteps behind him, so he leaves the door open for her.

She slams it shut, so it rattles on the hinges.

“What is your problem?”

She’s furious. Nostrils flared, heavy breathing, and a delicious flush paints her cheeks pink.

“My problem?” he asks, placing the books on his desk. “What’s your problem?”

She drops her bag to the floor and crosses her arms in front of her chest. The gold necklace with her initial catches in the light, drawing his eyes down.

“I don’t have a problem,” she insists, taking a step toward him. “But you constantly berating me is getting old.”

He says nothing. He can’t. Not when she’s looking at him like she wants to wring his neck. Not when all the blood in his body is racing south, and he’s trying not to look at her legs, but they are on full display in that tight little skirt she’s wearing. Again.

He swears she’s doing it on purpose to rile him up.

He hates that it’s working.

She takes a deep breath, pushing her shoulders back, and looks up into his eyes. He’s always found hers unsettling, like she sees the parts of him he’s been hiding for decades.

“I know you don’t want me here, Dr. Floyd,” she says, gesturing around his office, making her short skirt even shorter, revealing more of her supple thighs. “You’ve made that abundantly clear, but you could at least show me the courtesy of not undermining me every time I talk to students.”

He frowns. “I don’t undermine you.”

She scoffs, gaze leaving him as her frustration fills the room. “You interrupted my conversation with Michael not five minutes ago,” she argues as her eyes find his again. Dark brown meeting ocean blue.

He steps forward, eyes wandering over every inch of her exposed skin, making his head spin with barely contained desire. “It was an inappropriate conversation.”

“He asked about my dissertation.”

Bob shakes his head. “No, he asked you out.”

“So what?” she throws her hands out to the side, exasperation turning into full-blown anger now. “He’s been trying to ask me out for weeks, but you always manage to interrupt. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you do it on purpose.”

He freezes. His heart’s beating painfully in his chest and his face feels like it’s on fire. There may even be steam coming out of his ears.

He watches Imogen run her hands through her hair, pulling at the roots, and he truly wishes she wouldn’t. It’s conjuring up very vivid images in his head that he shouldn’t have of his teaching assistant.

She looks at him expectantly, thinking an answer is going to come, but it doesn’t. He doesn’t know how to respond to that in a way that’ll make sense to her. It barely even makes sense to himself.

“He doesn’t deserve you,” Bob says finally.

She scoffs. “Yeah, well, he treats me better than you do, and I know that’s a really low bar, but it’s better than—”

Bob crashes his lips against hers, swallowing the gasp she emits. For a moment nothing happens, and for a second he thinks he’s made a grave mistake, but then Imogen’s arms circle around his waist and she sighs against his mouth. 

He walks her backward until her back hits the wall behind his desk, and he presses her against it, trying to get closer.

He pulls away a few inches to look at her. Cheeks flushed, hair a little out of place, and pupils dilated. She’s never looked more delectable, and he knows she can feel his hard cock against her hip. He doesn’t care.

Taking a deep breath, her eyes search his face for something, but it’s unclear whether she finds it. “Why did you do that?”

Her voice is barely above a whisper. There’s no hint of regret, but the rational part of him knows this is a bad idea. He’s her superior, after all.

“You wouldn’t shut up.”

“So you kissed me?” she asks with an adorable wrinkle between her brows.

He frowns. Now sure he’s misjudged the situation, Bob leans back and squares his shoulders, letting his hands fall away from her neck.

“Oh no,” she tuts and grabs a handful of his sweater, pulling him back in. “Get back here.” She stands on her tiptoes and captures his mouth with her own, tongue dancing at the seam of his lips for entry.

He doesn’t have to be told twice. He leans his weight against her, pushing her against the wall, and groans into her mouth when she tugs on his hair.

His hands travel down her body. Grazing across the swell of her breasts, into the dip of her waist, the hips that have occupied his thoughts for weeks, and finally, her thighs. His lips never leave hers, and his tongue explores her mouth and the taste of mint that lingers from her toothpaste.

Imogen shudders as his fingertips tickle the back of her knees, whimpering at the touch.

His hands slide up the back of her bare thighs, feeling her soft skin under his palms. She moans into his mouth and it’s the most arousing sound he’s ever heard. He can’t help the roll of his hips, desperate for friction, for relief, for something warmer than his own hand.

His hands travel up under her skirt, feeling the plumpness of her ass in his hands make him push against her again and she’s meeting him with her own movement.

“Professor,” she moans, as he trails wet kisses along her throat, running his tongue over the skin afterward.

He hums, kneading her ass-cheeks, growing harder as he rocks against her. Even separated by layers of fabric, the friction is enough to drive him mad.

“Dr. Floyd,” she says, pulling his hair hard enough that his lips detach from her throat. Her pupils are wide and hungry, mirroring his own, and their heavy breaths mix in arousing unison. “I’m still mad at you.”

A smug smirk spreads across his face. “I know,” he says and removes one hand from her ass. He uses it to brush a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Don’t go out with him.”

“Why not?”

“Because I can’t stop thinking about you.”

The words hang in the air. Bob keeps one hand on the side of her neck while the other remains under her skirt, playing with the edge of her panties. He holds her gaze, waiting for her to make the next move. To tell him where she stands, what she wants.

He sees the moment she decides, the corner of her mouth turning upward just enough to be a smile.

“Show me.”

Yanking her panties to the side, his fingertips glide along her folds, feeling her already soaking for him. Her mouth forms a perfect o as she gasps, and he wonders what else that pretty and vicious mouth can do.

Her fingers curl into the hair at his nape, gasping when he finds her clit. “So pretty like this,” he whispers, kissing the underside of her jaw.

“Professor,” she whimpers. “Please.”

“Come on,” he says, leaning back to watch her. Her brown doe eyes have gone dark with hunger and desire, arousal clear from the bead of sweat on her temple, and his cock is so hard he’s about to go insane. Yet, he still leans in close, his lips featherlight against her ear and whispers “moan for me.”

He leans back just in time to catch the look in her eyes when he presses his thumb against her clit and she lets herself moan. Louder than he expected, so his hand flies over her mouth, keeping her quiet, but feeling her smile beneath his palm.

His thumb massages her clit while his index finger finds her entrance, warmth begging him to enter. Bob meets Imogen’s eyes, asking without saying the words because he doesn’t trust either of them to keep their voices down.

Her nod sends him to heaven.

She moans into his hand as his finger slides inside her. He’s hot all over, groaning into her neck at the sensation of her. “So fucking tight,” he mumbles against her skin, making her clench around him.

Tightening her arms around his shoulders, she whimpers against his palm, and her hips meet his motions as he pumps his finger inside her. Her juices spread across his hand, and before long, he adds a second finger.

His office fills with the sounds of heavy breathing, muffled moans from Imogen, and barely contained groans from himself. He can feel her getting close, her legs trembling, struggling to stay upright. Leaning his forehead against hers, he removes his hand from her mouth. “Quiet,” he mutters against her lips.

She nods as she kisses him, open-mouthed and desperate, and his thumb draws tight circles on her clit as he angles his fingers against that spot inside her. She’s there. He knows it. “Good girl,” he whispers. “Cum for me.”

She does. Gushes around his fingers, writhing in his arms. He guides her through her high, holding her against the wood-paneled wall behind her. Her head falls against his shoulder as she comes down, and a long whine escapes her throat as he withdraws his fingers.

Leaning back to give her a little space, he takes in her unkempt hair, swollen lips, and the breathtaking pink flush in her cheeks. Her eyes flick down to his hand, then turn to the very obvious bulge in his slacks.

“I–”

She takes his hand, the one with fingers covered in her cum, and brings it to her lips. Keeping her eyes locked on his, she closes her mouth around his digits, swirling her tongue around them, tasting herself. He’s entranced, can’t stop watching her when she hums as if it’s the most delicious meal she’s ever had.

She withdraws his fingers with a pop, letting his hand fall back at his side. They stay there, looking at each other, processing what just happened between them. Not only is she his teaching assistant, but he’s on her dissertation committee. He has power and influence, and while she’s not his student, he is her superior.

“I…” he tries again, but trails off.

She smirks, squaring her shoulders. “Close your mouth, Dr. Floyd,” she says and sidesteps him, adjusting her skirt. “You’re too smart to be a mouth breather.”

She crosses the office, gathering her bag from the floor where she dropped it, and he gets a peek at her panties as she bends over. White lace. His slacks have never felt tighter.

Unsure what to say or do, he stands there watching while Imogen tries to make her hair look presentable. “Alright,” she mumbles after a minute. “See you tomorrow.”

The door closes behind her, leaving Bob in his office, surrounded by books, paper, a chessboard, a laptop he’s forced to own, and the memory of his TA coming undone on his fingers.

There’s only one word to describe the situation he now finds himself in.

“Fuck.”

likes are nice, but reblogs and comments are golden

TAGLIST: @roosterforme, @kmc1989, @bradshawsbaby, @cherrycola27, @wkndwlff, @yanna-banana, @bluezraven, @fandom-princess-forevermore, @hangmandruigandmav, @keyrani, @just-in-case-iloveyou, @solo-pitstop-vibes, @yuckosworld, @have-a-nice-day-k, @writingshae, @the-whitegirl-is-back, @dizzydisaster, @floydsmuse

[itgirlgyu]

txt as types of office romance!

pairing—txt ot5 x fem reader.

word count—4452. (900-800 each member.)

✸ as a self proclaimed romantic—enjoy!

YEONJUN...

that's a hot boss right there!

like everyone physically, verbally calls him as that

oh it's completely unethical.

but he's like flinging his wrist in 'aw stop it' but secretly he's buzzing like a vibrator

brags it to his group chat

completely clueless that everyone does it to get in his good side

and some *cough* *looks away* in his pants..

the type to go jogging in the morning and come to the office right after, glistening with sweat beads on his skin and the end of his hair

in his slutty biker shorts while jingling his pink tumbler and twirling his car keys on his fingers.

everyone just assumed that he'd be a nepo baby

but no!

he earned his way to the top!

everyone knows it because he gives that speech at every dinner party, year end parties, ceremonies, sport meet, team marathon—you just name it and he's there with his mic.

there's literally a mic in the office with his name encrusted in crystals; he bought it himself.

along with the poster of his interview and photoshoot with a reputable magazine for being the hottest boss of 20XX in all of south korea!

soobin: *reads off the smudged ink on his palms* yes our boss *squints* is mega *squints harder* bootylicious…

now you're like a low worker in the office

basically a contract worker

and you need to be hired bc you need to ✨pay your bills✨

so to get on the good side of your coworkers and your boss

you're like yes i'll do extra work

and they are like ok thank you bye and scurry off like little rats.

that's how you're stuck in the office late at night when everyone had left

rotting away in front of a spreadsheet

you're like this close to melting into your keyboard when you hear loud shriek from the far end of the floor

at first youre like it,,, damn am i crazy lol

so you get back to counting money your manager has spent on hoes and try to make it seem like a company spending

and then you hear it again

this times it's a reasonably higher in pitch and sounds a lot like your big boss, the so called hot boss of the branch

you try to ignore it

you really do, you DON'T want to interact with someone

but word in the office is that yeonjun is very generous and getting on the good side of the hot boss might get you a permanent position

also you don't think you can focus on the petty money laundering of your manager rn with your brain occupied by the hauntings of missed opportunities

so you stalk to his cabin and you're about to know when you hear in another loud screech

so on instinct you burst open the door of the cabin, and there's yeonjun perched on top of his expensive chair, with his even more expensive shoes

he points it to you and yells,

"A ROACH!"

you're reasonably hurt because sure you're a low paying contract worker and he's the head of the branch, and super rich but that doesn't give him the right to call you, a living respectable human being a filthy ins—

"there's a fucking roach there on the floor,"

you look at him dumbfounded for 3 seconds before it registers that he did not just call you an insect but there's actually one

so you're looking down to find the said culprit

"and it flies!"

that's when your heart started to beat faster

any insect that flies is a menace to the society but you need to be brave

for him and for yourself, and possibly a permanent position at the office.

you look around the floor and find the cockroach on the floor, without any movement. figuring out this is the time to attack

you take your heels and lunge on it, squashing the vile monster into a small mass of diabolic goo

"sir its gone!" you gleefully exclaim before even looking up

but when you do, you see the expanse of his enchanting eyes brimming with glittery gratification

and that's how you win the permanent working position

and also the hot boss's affection

although you are not quite sure how to handle the attention he has been showering you

especially the extra meaty lettuce wraps he hands you in the company dinner completely unaware of the kind of reaction it emits from his team

if you weren't already aware of the rumors that his eccentric behavior was sprouting, you were sure him giving your lousy manager the stink eye sealed the deal

the chattering around the office was so loud that HR had to be involved and he was explaining how ' you're HIS SAVIOUR! "

right at the moment you entered with some important papers and his eyes met yours once again

and that's when HE realized it was not just the gratitude but also something more

perhaps love,, <3

basically he's the last to know

some of the people who had a crush on him did give you dirty looks here and there but majority of the office were absolutely entertained in the way the hot boss was infatuated with you all while trying to act like himself normally

you found it cute too ngl

you were in love with him too, but you kinda wanna let it go on for a few days more before coming clean to him about your feelings.

when you reciprocate he gifts you a matching pink tumbler.

SOOBIN...

he's like the gossip monger of the entire branch

has tea on everyone

literally nothing goes out of his sight, he knows everything—as it is happening.

oh yurim from accounting department is pregnant? he's the first to know

jaeseok from the IT department has been two timing with his colleagues to get his work done for him? obviously soobin knows who the two colleagues are and how he manages to bag them both!

minhee from the editing team has explosive diarrhea—you just know it!

actually the last one everyone knows tbh

you cant frequent a bathroom five times in a hour and keep this things away from your coworkers

they are like your family.

you bet your sweet ass he dropped off pills for the poor girl too

this is why no one can find fault in soobin

even though he knows your dirtiest little secret, you can't hate him because he never gives you a chance to.

he's more like the messiah of his marketing department.

basically he runs this forum on the company website that everyone knows who operates but because of such cult like fan following, no one has the balls to expose him

unless they all want to be canceled overnight

but no one really knows how he works and gets his intels tbh

it's like the third top secret of the company

the first being how the hell did beomgyu get a job and the second being, how the hell does beomgyu keep his job?!?

even though soobin has his eyes on everyone

no one can really find anything about him

like of course he'd be at every company dinner, laughing his ass off at the lame ass joke his superior is cracking but also the karaoke nights right after but come always on time the next day

he's always so prim and proper

vogue 72 question guy called and asked for an interview for it

but his answer? he just has nothing to hide!

but you've always called bullshit on it tbh

everyone has a secret no matter how little it maybe

since he has exposed your tiny little addiction to carbohydrates on his forum for bringing a portable stove from home and making your own fancy ramen late at night during your over time hours

your eye twitches every time he enters your vicinity

you're just waiting for the time get a chance to nab his head using the step stool you keep hidden inside your cubicle

that's when you start to tail him everywhere to find his filthy little secret to expose him

but all you get is him buying fresh bread from a bakery, helping an elderly couple to cross the street, saving a toddler from a car accident, using his height to help get a cat down who was stuck in a tree—

you were almost starting to believe in his infuriating statement, that maybe, he's just such a humble human that he has nothing to hide

until the cat just walks out of the bag right in front of you

he's a weeb lmao

right in front of you, on a weekend night you were walking back home after buying some cheap beer, was soobin

in his gojo satoru cosplay

you can tell that's him even if his eyes are hidden with the black cloth or through that synthetic white wig

at first he doesn't notice you, talking to his friend while he's rocking the whole cosplay

i mean even youre shell shocked like sure everyone enjoys anime, even you do! so could soobin!

but you just didn't expect him to bust out in a full cosplay

after the initial shock fizzles out, you're yelling out to get his attention

you're just curious, the whole revenge thing you had out for soobin didn't even click yet

but as soon as he realized it was someone from his office, man just used his leg power and started to run the opposite direction

and your first reaction was to run after him

"ITS OKAY SOOBIN EVERYONE HAS THE RIGHT TO BE THEMSELVES!"

"STOP FUCKING FOLLOWING ME!"

so after a while he thankfully stops bc you were fr about to puke on the sidewalks

he's begging you to not out him and even if you were mad at him but that doesn't mean that you were such an evil being to blast him like that

not in such a heinous corporate society, you wouldn't even wish it upon your worst enemies!

even though you pinky promised him on the sidewalk while sharing your beers about not telling this to anyone.

soobin has been extra careful around you

man will be stirring his piping hot relaxing tea in the staff kitchen

sees you approach

chugs the whole thing down and scurries out without making eye contact

stops talking in the middle of his sentence when you enter the room

it's kinda fun to see him like that but you also wonder how does he run a whole gossip girl blog when he himself is like that

it would have been all fun and giggles if the office didn't start talking about how you and soobin have beef now

and now they are picking soobins side

bc he has the ability to turn all of their life into hell if wanted to

once again you're reminded of the female oppression in such a heinous corporate world

so you corner soobin just out of the man's toilet late at night and have a serious talk with him

heart to heart

you remind him that you won't tell anyone him about his after work activities also tell him about some of your anime characters for victim solidarity

and you two warm up in the place laced with wafting smell of pee and sanitizer

he even gifts you a whole packet of name brand ramen and a case of butane gas

and youre sure you've fallen love with him, right there and then

and so does he when you buy some white mascara and a better wig.

BEOMGYU...

beomgyu is the enigma of the production department

in the worst way possible

is always seen in other people's business more than his own

"honestly i think you should break up with him, like if he cheated once, he's gonna do it twice."

"i know ri—"

all his past managers have a medical history of chronic migraines and probably some other hidden illness they can't even disclose because of him

has been cited with name for a number of superior's resignations

yet personally he's like the cockroach who will survive anything

also casually steals lunch from the community fridge and tries to blame it on the new intern, huening kai

but everyone knows it's him

everyone thinks he's a nepo baby

but he personally tries to start a rumor that he has slept his way to the top

with an winky face

no one agrees tho

beomgyu just looks like an overactive virgin no matter which angle you look at him in.

probably has scanned his ass on the printer and also might have accidentally replaced actual analysis paper with it

"I might have wasted their time, but they have also seen my ass in it's rawest form, I think it's a win for them either way."

no one really knows how he got that job and how hes able to keep it up

everyone knows that he turns up all his research perfectly with the best rate of efficiency.

that's why the office puts up with him

beomgyu is like, yeah sure it's my intelligence but also this raw sex appeal to raise the attraction quotient of the office.

taehyun is somewhere in the corner, stabbing a pen into his palm with a glare, boring a hole into beomgyus back

beomgyu: see im so hot even my backs burning up

you are from the designing team and you've been recruited recently so you don't really know about beomgyu's whole reputation

but you're paired with him for a project and you two have to come up with the perfect valentine's day sales project

at first beomgyu is like super friendly

like way too friendly showing you the production department

giving little introductions for everyone

'this is jaehyun—he has a severe gas problem, so beware of giving him anything with eggs."

you're very intrigued but also like, a little scared youre not gonna lie

but that soon turns into bouts of sudden admiration for the man when you see him more and more

sure he has the attention span of a toddler and whines at every chance given—but he sure is super, duper passionate when it comes to his job

and isn't it the most important thing?

as you two work on it more privately, his colleagues start seeing a positive change in his behavior

and one night they all lie to beomgyu that they will get off early and once you and beomgyu are out of the office they all huddle up together

putting up a graph, a pie chart and recruit a tarot card reader on zoom on what's the cause of his sudden change of behavior

and everything points to one thing: you

after he started to work with you he has reasonably become more bearable and everyone pledges an oath to do anything to make the most of it

even if it's by setting you two up

they would give you a very fancy dinner of wagyu as a consolation prize if it did work out

so the next day during you guy's meeting the other team members are like

you and beomgyu should go on a few date to see how restaurants do the whole valentine thing

you:wha—

beomgyu: perfect!

that's how you two end up with a list of restaurants to check out for their valentine day schemes

you and him end up doing a lot of couple theme games for stuff

also research ofc ofc

but through all this you get to see him in so many ways that you cannot help but realize that maybe you did end up developing a little crush on the eccentric man

you guys are sitting outside a convenience store, eating popsicles and discussing about the couple game you two were forced to play and how they really blindsided beomgyu or else he would have won surely

you're like sure sure, with all your attention on the melting popsicle in your hands

he's like, this has been so fun it's like we're an actual couple

yk he's joking but you can't help but feel the heat rush to your cheeks

which gives him more leverage to tease you further

beomgyu: you're good at pretending that you like me

you: maybe because I actually do

and beomgyu almost chokes on the stick of his popsicle

but good thing! you two start dating!!!

beomgyu's teammates try to give you a hush hush wagyu beef dinner but beomgyu sniffs the utter betrayal and decides to join anyway

but he can't refuse that they were actually very helpful

oh and the product becomes a massive hit

u guys are the office's it couple now

beomgyu urges the new interns to call you and him, mom and dad.

TAEHYUN...

he's the manager from hell

when you look at him he kinda looks like the flower boy new intern

but in reality he is probably that senior who will not hesitate to eat you whole if you even do as little as give him a report with wrong font

always in a prim and proper attire

you won't ever catch him with one strand of his hair out of place

the talk in the company is that he is probably the owner's son

like why else would you care so much about the company?!?! hmmm sussy

even the marketing team's messiah, soobin, can't get under his skin

beomgyu, coming into the scene spinning in his chair: hm taehyun looks like your thongs are in a twist

taehyun: *kicks beomgyus chair out of his way and doesn't spare a second glance*

he's always on time

like do you live here bro

wasn't caught slacking a day in his entire career

and thats how the owners son rumors died down

he's is so cut throat omg. he has made so many people cry (deserving only.)

like he's so precise with his insults it's kinda commendable

"wow your nails are so pretty, shows you much you've never worked a day in your life :D"

his seniors asks him to come to the office to relay their disappoints to the workers who has been slacking off

he's so nice and precise with his harsh words that it could actually land him a nice paying side hustle

but he will do it for free

not everything in this world has a price!

everyone is scared of the finance department because of him

no one really wants to be trained under him

there are literally rumors about new recruits crying and leaving the company to become streamers and gamers because of taehyun

he only blames it on their weak mentality

taehyun: workplace is a jungle and only survivors survive the jungle.

wow taehyun you're so profound

had a calendar with motivational quotes to provide him energy to conquer each day

keep your head high king

always seen with a protein shake in the office

one time yeonjun who was visiting the office, accidentally drank taehyuns shake kept in the fridge

he couldn't feel his mouth for an hour

you actually trained under him when you were newly hired

and you hated every goddamn bit of it

everything about the devil of finance department was true and you were one of the surviving victim of his boot camp enough to tell the tale

and you did not keep your mouth shut

half of his brutish rumors comes from your mouth

you think of it as compensation from all the harsh treatment you got from him

sure you need to be strict with your interns if you're training them.

but he used to shut the doors at your face of you came late even by a minute or two

safe to say you did hold a bit of the grudge

and taehyun acts as if you didn't exist

now imagine a scene where you two are to do a couple dance thanks to the dumb idea of doing a raft for the cultural program of the company

taehyun: so here's my resignation—

you are like, ok why do you hate me

and taehyun scoffs in your face, like very loudly

and mind you this is happening in front of yall superior's face who are like, wow such chemistry

they'd set fire to the set

even after trying a various attempts of getting away without doing the godforsaken dance

you two are alone in the practice room, brooding over ideas on how to get away

when you finally get up and walk over to taehyun who's sitting in the corner of the room

"so you can break my leg so we can get away!"

and taehyun is genuinely looking at you with concern and sadness

"you hate me that much huh"

and you look at him and he's like a wet kitten who got kicked and your heart wrenches.

"a little" you sigh but quickly add in

"you were an asshole during the training period, maybe if you had toned down little"

he's like, okay but what about discipline

and you tell him about the concept of teaching with kindness and for the first time you have a heart to heart conversation with him and you realize wow okay,,,maybe he's,,, not that bad?

and he's not bad loo—

you slap yourself into consciousness and you lie to him that there was a mosquito

taehyun knows you're lying and he's finds it kinda cute

so you both decide to actually practice

and actually you both fr have a good chemistry

and the whole raffle thing becomes a hit

you two come out as a couple and the interns who are being trained under taehyun now shower you with gifts as the one who tamed the bull and also for being their precious alumnus

HUENING KAI...

now that's a real flower boy intern!

he's like one of those new recruits

always on time, smelling like freshly done laundry and hope that is not yet crushed by the mean managers

becomes a crowd favorite as soon as he enters the department to be trained

people actually try to feed him

like he'd be here to get coffee order for someone

and some elderly workers would be trying to shoot a cookie in his mouth like those basketball chads and he actually let's them!

older lady: *misses*

hyuka, clapping to cheer the old lady like a coach: that's okay! we can do better! we got time!

he actually doesn't got time

even if he's the sweetheart of the department doesn't mean he doesn't have thousands of files to photocopy or get correct order of bajillion coffee orders

messes up literally everything tho

soobin: hyuka why does my coffee taste like soap?

hyuka:...

but gets a "he's a new kid" pass

and one of the dudes who actually deserves it because sure, who cares if he's a little worthless in the office noW HE MIGHT BE USEFUL IN THE FUTURE!

he's a little child and he's just learning

and he makes it up than enough by running around the office every time to run errands to whomever asks him of anything

it's as if… he is… not… the son of the owner of the company..

hyuka was one of the fair breeds of rich

he'd be playing golf with his dad and then he was like dad i wanna join our company

his dad throws away the golf club to go hug his son but before he could engulf him in a bear hug and give a whole speech that is written and edited in a piece of paper

hidden in a special pocket designed in his undergarment for times like this

"as an intern, i wanna try to earn my place."

his father throws a bitch fit like bro i did this all for u and now u wanna be amongst the commoners

hyuka is like, yes

and after a bit more of the bitch fit his dad agrees

and that's where his struggle story starts

even tho getting in was easy but keeping up a whole facade of being a normal boy who just has a dream of becoming big in the corporate world is hard

like imagine the horrors of not being able to wear his cartier in the office!! if only he got caught!!

or drinking instant coffee?!?? commoners coffee?!

although he has quite grown accustomed to that taste

much like everyone you were also unaware of hyuka's high status but considering that you were his direct senior, he had to spend a lot of his time under your tutelage

but the thing is you're not used to training anyone so you're like,,, ok get me two copies of this paper and a relaxing tea

and he's like, on it boss!

at first it was kind of awkward to have him around you all the time but as time passed he started to grow on you

and even hyuka started to grow fond of you

perhaps more than a senior junior relationship

okay basically he likes u and he almost let that shit out but thankfully he passed out before that

and as your direct junior you have to take care of him so everyone leaves you two and goes to any other bar to continue the party

and you are here, groaning while lunging his half conscious body and try to get his eyes open to get into his phone to call someone over

and then you call his speed dial and when they pick up you introduce yourself as his senior

as soon as the words oh are you kai's mother leaves your mouth, hyuka shots up and literally snatches his phone away from your ears

he's like, hahahahaha, im so awake.

devil may work hard but hyukas mom works harder

before you two can wrap up your conversation at the entrance of the bar, an audi comes to pick him up

and two men come out and starts calling hyuka sir and acting like he is their boss

hyuka wanted the ground to open and to swallow him up

so he just settled on coming clean to you

he knows you enough to know that you won't tell anyone about it nor would you use him

and he's so right because since that night you pledge to protect his identity

and he's like

*proud smile, clicks your picture and sends it to his mom* your future daughter in law

hyuka also got the balls to say that he likes you fr and then you two drank instant coffee to celebrate the beginning of your relationship

copyrights 2023— itgirlgyu!!! feedbacks are appreciated! drop a comment on whose love story you liked the best!!

a/n my toxic trait is thinking I could make one shot out of every one of these. also i learned something valuable about me, im indeed capable of writing 3k in 6 hours. if only I could do it regularly sigh.

[gucciwins]

worth the risk 

Y/N attends the Golden Globes and has lots of questions to answer

word count: 2738

a/n: hola amores!!!!! this series has been so much fun to write! happy reading. let me know what you want to see next :D

part one // part two 

+

“You know what to say when they ask,” Bee reminds you as you sit in your makeup chair, letting the glam team do their job. You’re going for an elegant but simple look that the cameras will be able to capture. You loved wearing bold red lipstick, but for tonight you were doing a pink shade, a touch darker than your natural lip color, to allow the jewelry you are wearing tonight to speak for you on the carpet.

“Yup,” you frown at the mirror where you can see Bee taping away on her iPhone. “I will tell them I let him take me to his house and have his way with me.”

“Y/N!” Bee hisses. “Be serious.”

You’re fed up with all this information for one meeting with Harry. It started as a date, but you doubt anything more will come of it now due to all this unnecessary drama. There hasn’t been a chance for you or Harry to talk about what you’re both looking for in a relationship or if you were interested in seeing each other again.

“Yes, I know.” You take a sip of your chamomile tea, trying to relax. “I’ll say we had coffee, and he’s even nicer in person.”

Bee sets her phone down, able to pick up on your bitterness. “If you had let me know you were going to meet him, we could have prevented this.”

You don’t regret meeting Harry because you got to spend a carefree afternoon with him. It did lead to unprecedented changes in your plans. You think back to sitting in an office instead of Harry’s house for dinner like you had planned.

The office was cold, and the tension in the room was high. Harry sat to your left, and Bee and Jeff, your managers in front of you, stern looks on both their faces. It reminded you of when your parents sat you down and gave you an hour lecture about sneaking out. The talk was so boring you never snuck out again.

“There are pap pics of you everywhere,” Jeff informs you.

It is evident to you where this conversation is headed.

You feel yourself shrink into your chair. This is not something you had planned. Neither did Harry. After your “date,” you planned to meet the following day at five pm, where Harry would have food waiting, and you’d arrive with store-bought wine. You were driving to his house when you got the call. Harry was quick to inform you he had an urgent meeting to attend, and you shared that you did as well. The dots clicked much faster than you liked.

Bee explained that there was no way to stop the photos from going out. This was simply a warning to them to prepare statements if necessary.

“We’ll cut Y/N’s trip short, get her back to America,” Bee tells Jeff as if you weren’t even there able to make a choice for yourself.

“Hey, I’m supposed to visit my sister and my nephew,” you argue.

Bee sighs, knowing you’re right. You haven’t been able to visit them, and it’s all you talked about on your flight. “Call her and ask her to see you tomorrow. You’re coming back in February.”

Bee dismissed your concerns, but you were thankful for the extra day. Jeff pulled out a tablet to show you the photos. There is nothing scandalous. It’s you and Harry facing each other with similar smiles. The last photo is the one that you know is the one that caused all this ruckus. Harry is photographed kissing your cheek. It’s friendly. Nothing to signify more happened or that it was a date. It was simply two friends getting coffee.

“Are you putting out a statement?” Harry asks.

“No, Harry. What for?” Jeff deadpans.

You see Harry frown, but he doesn’t fight his manager because this is Harry’s MO, ignore and move on. You’re not used to this. Sure, you’ve had articles written about you, but you have always been the sole focus, not you being linked to Harry Styles.

“Does Harry have anything to announce? Take away the focus from the photos when they drop.” Bee is always ten steps ahead, and here is another time.

“We have yet to announce his LA opening act,” Jeff offers. He looks towards Harry, who sits there pensive. Harry looks like he would rather be anywhere else than here.

“Wet Leg would be a good distraction,” Harry tells Jeff shrugging as if he’s used to all this fuss.

Distraction.

You were taking this too personally. Harry didn't owe you anything. He didn’t have to say he was simply having coffee with a friend. You were not allowed to say a word because you were insignificant compared to Harry’s world and fame.  

It did not feel nice, and you were ready to return to your hotel.

“Y/N has the Golden Globes press in a few days. We’ll officially blacklist his name.”

You sit there, letting Bee take control of your life. You had forgotten this part of fame. You knew it was too soon for you and Harry to be protecting each other. You went on one date. There was not enough time for feelings to grow, but you did wish things were different because you’re certain after today’s fiascos, you’d no longer be hearing from Harry.

Bee bid her goodbyes as she took a phone call, and you took that as your cue to leave. You wished both men well and hurried into the elevator, eager to get out of the building and hopefully never return.

“Y/N, wait.” A body slips through the elevator doors, and you’re startled to see Harry.

He has a shy look, and you know this is awful for both of you. You had been lost in your own thoughts that you didn’t see how this affected him or how often he must do this with his team to protect his image but mostly his privacy.  

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes. You shake your head to stop him, but he keeps going. “You’re getting the brunt of everything being in interviews and red carpets while I can hide at home.”

He has a point.

“It’ll be fine,” you brush him off, pressing the first floor of the elevator. “Well, I hope,” you joke.

Harry clears his throat, “I was looking forward to this evening.”

You feel your face flush, not having expected to hear him say that. “Really?”

“Mhm…I-I really enjoy your company,’ he whispers in a low voice, careful to keep his focus on you.

You nod, “ditto.”

Harry hears the ding of the elevator, and as he waits for the doors to open, he does something that could get both of them into deeper water, but he doesn’t seem to care. “W-would you still want to come over?”

You turn to look at him, “didn’t we just get told not to see or speak about each other.”

Harry shrugs, “I was never one for following the rules.”

You sigh in disbelief.

“Plus,” he adds on. “What they don’t know won’t hurt them?”

At that moment, you decided that Harry was worth the risk.

Red carpets were overwhelming, and you were looking forward to reaching the end and allowing yourself to have endless drinks of champagne, but before all of that, there were interviews to get through. You were dressed in a glamorous black and white gown by Carolina Herrera with Tiffany & Co. jewels with Christian Louboutin heels. You were going for an old Hollywood look, and your team helped you deliver. Dani, your stylist, knew it would be a stunner on the carpet.

The carpet was full of artists you loved and admired. Your co-stars would stop you for a chat and have you pose for a few photos. It was the most fun complimenting others on their look of the night, but it was mostly amazing to talk about the shows and movies that were being honored tonight.

The first interview went smoothly. It was simple questions of who you were wearing and what was in your bag kind of interview. You knew if the others continued like this, you would be fine.  

Maeve, your wonderful assistant, you’d go as far as to call her a close friend now led you to the next interviewer. Reece was someone you immediately felt at ease with for some reason. You had heard about how they began their career on social media and grew it to what it was today, being able to interview on red carpets and work behind the scenes of different productions. He was courteous in greeting you and complimenting your outfit, and you did the same in return.

Reece smiled at the camera before turning his attention back to you. “Alright, I’m going to ask you Globe related questions.”

“Sounds perfect,” you place your hands over your stomach, making sure your shoulders are pushed back and that you’re camera ready even though you know the camera has been recording from the moment you made it to his side.

“Are there any shows or movies from this past year that were your favorites?” Reece asks.

“Besides my two shows,” you tease. “Abbot Elementary and The Bear were my standouts. For movies, it’s clearly Everything Everywhere All At Once and The Fabelmans,” you gush. The answer was one you did not have to think about. You’ve been doing your best to keep up with all the new movies and shows released last year.

“You have amazing taste,” Reece tells you. He continues on to the following questions. “Any world that has been in movies or shows in the past year that you would actually live to live in?”

You laugh, “too easy I would love to be neighbors with Selena Gomez, also known as Mabel in New York. I’d be such a big fan of the podcast.”

“That would be fun, even with all the murders,” he comments.

It’s easy to settle your nerves in front of a camera, but you’re itching to answer the last few questions. “Is there a favorite line reading you've loved?”

This one comes to you quickly. “Ah, it has to be Angela Bassett “I am Queen of the most powerful nation in the world! And my entire family is gone! Have I not given everything?””

Reece places a hand over his heart. “Hits too close to home. Thank you, Y/N.”

“Of course, Reece. Have a nice evening.”

He shakes your hand but holds it for a second. “Sorry, one last question, please.”

You decided to indulge him and gesture for him to go on.

“One last question then, favorite spiderman?”

You fake a gasp. “Stop, how dare you. I love all three of them. All are so special.” You mean honestly.  “But Andrew holds a special place in my heart. He’s my best friend. Sorry to Tommy and Tobie.” Andrew is someone you met during a film festival, and you instantly clicked. He’s that older brother you always wanted, and now he’s someone you go to when you need support when the industry can get too much.  

“Well, Y/N have a wonderful evening,” Reece bids you goodbye, and off you go.

“You too, Reece.” You mean it genuinely. “It was a pleasure speaking with you.”

Maeve assures you it went well and gestures for you to keep walking. You stop for more photos and are on your way to your next interview when you run into Jennifer Coolidge. She wraps you in a big hug and poses with you for everyone screaming her name. She sends you off with a kiss and a promise to see you inside. Tyler James William is someone you approach because you’d never forgive yourself if you didn’t. You stand in the middle of the carpet, gushing over each other, and it isn’t until you’re both being ushered away that he promises to get in touch soon.

Jean Smart, your co-star in Hacks screams as soon as she sees you. Jean is your favorite person, and you’re quick to let her sweep you away. It’s easy to get lost in conversation, forgetting where you are, and she promises to see you inside soon, seeing as you’re seatmates. It’s an honor to be nominated for such a prestigious award, but you already know there is no award going home with you today, and that’s okay because your time will come.

You’re guided to one final interview with the one and only Amelia Dimz.

“Hi, Y/N, how are you?” She greets with a red carpet smile.

“Good, thank you very much.” You take a second to look her over, and you know you have to say something because she looks absolutely smashing. “Can I say you look stunning?”

Amelia laughs, slapping you, lighting with her cards. “Stop, or I’m going to have you take me on a date.”

You shrug, “I would not mind at all.”

“I have invited you to eat some chicken with me,” she tells you accusingly.

“Have received no such news. We’ll be in touch,” you promise, making sure to give Maeve a look to look into the chicken shop date for when you’re in London in February.  

“Alright, alright. What’s your dating advice for me?” Amelia asks, patiently waiting for your response.

You think it over for a second, look at the camera, then back to Amelia. “Date me,” you say with a smile.

“Oh,” Amelia blushes, losing her train of thought for a second.

“Back to your question,” you tell her, giving her a minute to compose herself. “Put yourself first. Anyone would be lucky to have you.”

She thanked you, her cheeks flushed but continued on. “Do you have any fashion advice?”

You rock on your heels and shrug. “Be comfortable.”

“Right, thank you, Y/N.” She leans in to give you a hug. “One final question,” she whispers. She is giving you the option to say no.

You know what she wants to ask and fuck it, you find yourself nodding yes. Bee has always said she loves a good headline on nights like tonight.

“You were seen out getting coffee recently with a certain English man,” Amelia is careful not to mention his name, but everyone will be able to connect the dots rather quickly. “Do you consider coffee with someone a date, or is that too casual?”

You can answer this one of two ways. There is Bee’s answer where you’re vague, or you can do it your way and create a bit of fun for fans at home and yourself.

“Depends on the company, absolutely.” You share, you’re biting back a grin making sure not to look over at Maeve, who looks ready to drag you away. “If it’s an English man asking you for coffee, it’s absolutely a date.”

Amelia turns to the camera and shakes her head laughing. “Well, there you have it.”

You flash the camera with a big smile and wink. “Bye, Amelia, hope to see you soon.”

You breeze through the last bit of the carpet, waving at the final cameras as you reach the safe space where your every move is no longer being followed. Maeve grumbles how Bee will have both your heads, but you’re having too much fun to care. Maeve hands you your phone, telling you it has been buzzing for a while.

You ignore messages from Bee and your sister and go straight to the newest message from your contact, Harry, with a purple heart. He thought you should give him a fake name, but you’d never because you know your phone's privacy is entirely yours.

Harry 💜

You look gorgeous.

I’m really jealous of everyone seeing you in that dress in person.

I hope you enjoy your night.

I know you must be getting date offers left and right please reject them.

I’ll be in LA in a few weeks.

Dinner and wine at my house when I arrive?

You laugh because Harry is smooth. After dinner at his house, you both decided to take back a bit of control in your life and would continue to see each other behind closed doors. This was just Harry confirming the plans you had set in London.

Y/N

It’s a date.

Not all secrets were bad, especially ones that were as pretty as Harry.

[ereardon]

Golden Hour || Ch. 10

[Bob Floyd x Bradley Bradshaw x OC]

A Bob Floyd & Bradley Bradshaw AU [Hart of Dixie inspired]

Synopsis: Willow, Georgia. Barely even a town, just a speck on a map that you tried to wipe off, mistaking it for a crumb. You’re the outsider: a fancy New York doctor, fresh out of a failed engagement, with zero primary care experience. You’re also the new town doctor, taking over for a recent retiree who was beloved. His son, Bob Floyd, is the other physician at the practice, and takes an immediate dislike to you. But you were looking for a fresh start, and Willow doesn’t seem all that bad if you can get past the fact that there's only one restaurant in town. It helps that you've caught the eye of Bradley Bradshaw, the town attorney, despite the fact that you vowed to take a break from dating. How long until you start to make friends in a town where social circles have been set in stone since elementary school? And what will it take to make Bob Floyd see you’re not as bad as he wants to believe you are?

Pairing: Bob Floyd x OC; Bradley Bradshaw x OC

Tropes: Love triangle, enemies to lovers

Warnings: Angst, cursing, alcohol

Chapter summary: Bradley invites Bob and Olive to dinner. Olive and Bob have a real conversation following their spontaneous kiss

WC: 2K

Masterlist here; previous chapter here

The office was busy by the time you showed up. You were late on purpose, because the earlier you showed up the more likely you were to run into Bob. 

“Dr. James.” Molly was frazzled. You frowned as she showed a handful of paperclipped charts in your arms. “You’re late. We have five patients waiting for you.” 

“Give me two minutes and then send the first person in.” You turned, trying not to look up as you made your way into your office. Closing the door, you collapsed into your desk chair. On the other side of the wall, you heard Bob’s voice, low murmurs. A shiver crawled up your back. 

And then the door swung open. “Doc!” 

“Mr. Peterson,” you said, standing up. “What’s bothering you today?” 

He grunted and sat down, heavily, on the exam table. “This bum hip, like always.” 

You snapped on a pair of gloves and turned to him. “Alright, let’s see what’s going on.” 

The day was chock full of patients. Mr. Peterson’s arthritic hip, two cases of spider bites, one kid with pink eye, an ice cream shop worker with carpal tunnel. 

It was well after seven by the time you stood up and inched your door open, peering around. The hallway was empty, Molly was gone. You breathed out a sigh of relief, grabbing your purse and shutting your office door. But just as you turned, a shadow crossed the floor and you looked up. 

Bob looked like a deer in headlights. He had one hand on the doorknob to his office, his hair tousled. “Dr. James,” he said, voice low and rough. You remembered what his hands felt like on your neck, his lips on yours. 

Your voice gasped a little. “Bob.” 

His blue eyes flashed for a moment and you weren’t sure if it was excitement or anger flooding his features. And then all of the light drained out of his eyes and he turned, breezing past you, practically running out the door once again. 

***

You were sitting on a barstool at Breakers, nursing a glass of white boxed wine, when a pair of hands wrapped around your shoulders, causing you to gasp. 

Bradley spun you around on the chair, a grin spread wide across his face. He leaned down and kissed you, in front of everyone, leaving you gasping for air as he pulled back. 

“Hey there, Doc,” he said, settling onto the seat next to you. “Miss me?” 

You crossed your legs, hooking one heel into the bottom bar of his stool and Bradley placed a large, warm hand on your bare thigh. “Of course.” 

He grinned. “What did you get up to while I was gone?” 

You hesitated. On the other side of the bar, Phoenix was watching the two of you, polishing a glass from a few feet away, her dark hair swept up in a ponytail. You shrugged. “Oh not much. Just work, you know. Lots of patients, had to do some filing and admin.” 

Bradley frowned. “Admin? I hope Floyd isn’t pushing you too hard.” 

The memory of Bob’s kiss flitted across your mind. The way his hand had felt on the back of your neck, tugging you forward with reckless abandon. “No,” you whispered. “He’s been great.” 

He raised an eyebrow. “Great? So the two of you are finally getting along?” 

“Um, yeah, I think so.” 

Bradley pulled his hand from your thigh and smiled, tugging his phone out and placing it on the bar. “Perfect. Then let’s do dinner, the three of us. My place.” 

“Oh, no, I—”

“He’s a good guy,” Bradley interrupted. “And we’ve been friends for a long time. So I’d love if the three of us could hang out.” 

There was something finite about his words. He had made up his mind. You nodded. “OK, sure. Dinner.” 

***

Standing at Bradley’s doorstep, you raised one hand to knock before taking a deep breath. And then you lowered your fist and let out the breath. 

What the hell were you doing? Why was this so uncomfortable? You had slept with Bradley once, and kissed Bob once. Did either of them mean anything? You weren’t exclusive with Bradley, you weren’t even dating. You weren’t sure what you were. 

On the other hand, Bob Floyd acted like you didn’t exist 99% of the time. The other 1% of the time he was actively hating you. 

So why should you care if it was weird for him to see you and Bradley together? 

“Are you going to knock, or do you expect the door to fly open through telekinesis?” 

You whirled around. Bob stood a few steps down on the pathway, holding a bottle of wine. HIs face was unreadable. 

“I was going to knock,” you said. 

Bob stepped closer and you caught a whiff of his soap – minty and herbal – and leaned over, knocking on the door sharply, his eyes never leaving yours. 

The door swung open a second later, Bradley standing barefoot with a kitchen towel slung over one shoulder. “Hey guys, come on in.” 

Bob held out a hand and you stepped inside first, the sound of your heels clacking against the wooden floor. To your surprise, Bradley leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to your lips. A blush crept over your face and neck, and you averted your eyes from him or Bob. 

“Is that for tonight?” Bob nodded, handing over the bottle of wine. “NIce, thanks man. Come on in.” 

You scampered behind Bradley, unable to meet Bob’s gaze, wandering into the kitchen where he had a bowl of guacamole out and some chips. Instinctively, you dragged a chip through the green dip and shoved it into your face to prevent talking. Nerves were bubbling at the surface of your skin. 

“How was the trial?” Bob’s voice surprised you. He was a man of so few words, so having him lead the conversation was shocking. 

Bradley stood at the stove, stirring a pot of beans. “Long,” he replied. “Tedious, as always.” There was a pause. Then, “Anything happen while I was gone?” 

Was it you, or did the air in the room shift? You quickly shoved another tortilla chip in your mouth to cover the silence. Bob put one hand on the counter, not too far from where you sat hunched over the bowl of chips. “Not much,” he replied, nonchalant. “Usual Willow drama.” 

Bradley raised an eyebrow. “Drama?” 

You practically choked on the chip. 

Bob looked at you before responding, “The Mayfields are at it again.” 

Relief, hot like vodka, spread through your body. Bradley laughed. “Really? I don’t want to have to oversee the third divorce.”

“Third?” you asked. 

He nodded, but Bob’s voice was the one that cut through the kitchen air. “Mr. and Mrs. Mayfield got divorced probably ten years ago, and then promptly had an affair together and got pregnant. They got married again before the baby was born, but divorced when Anna turned three.” 

“So they’re divorced?” 

“Nope, got together again a few years later. But from the sounds of it, divorce number three might be incoming.” 

“This town should be its own sitcom,” you said, lifting the glass of wine that Bradley had poured to your lips. 

“So have you changed your mind about our little town, Doc?” Bradley asked, turning around pouring Bob another scotch. You hadn’t even seen him pour the first one. 

You shrugged. “It’s no New York.” 

“Nothing is.” Bradley put the wooden spoon down. “Floyd, remember that time you came to visit me at Columbia?” 

You frowned. Bob had gone to New York? You couldn’t picture him in the city. With all the suits and fast walking and snippy baristas. He would stick out like a sore thumb in his jeans and button down shirts, his Southern twang. 

Bob nodded. “I still think about that Korean chicken place you brought me to.” 

Bradley laughed. “Wow, Koreatown. I haven’t thought of that in ages.” 

You leaned on the counter and watched them. There was something so casual and easy about the way they spoke with each other. It was the first time it dawned on you that they had been friends for years. 

And you were getting in the middle of a friendship.

Dinner was delicious, with black beans sauteed with bacon and pork belly tacos and margaritas so strong your head started to buzz halfway through the meal. 

Before you realized it, you and Bob were standing in the doorway again. 

“Thanks for dinner,” Bob said, reaching out and clapping Bradley on the shoulder. 

Bradley grinned. “Anytime Floyd.” He turned to you, leaning in, his lips brushing against your ear. “You should stay.” 

You pulled back, face frozen, head shaking. “I have a lot of work in the morning,” you whispered. “But I’ll call you.” 

He nodded as Bob opened the door and the two of you were ushered out into the cool night. Before you could even squeak out a word, Bob was halfway down the driveway, speeding toward his house next door. You broke out into practically a jog behind him, running up the stairs to his house in heels. “Floyd!” 

He whipped around, eyes wide, one hand on the door. He was silent. 

You crossed your arms over your chest, suddenly cold. “So this is it?” you asked. “You’re just going to run away every time you see me? What the hell is going on?” you demanded. “Do you take it back?” 

Those last words came out as a sharp whisper. Bob reached out, grabbing your arm and pulling you around the front porch of the house to the opposite side, so you were out of view of Bradley’s home. 

Even when the two of you rounded the corner, his fingers didn’t leave your skin. Instead, he stepped closer, until you could feel the heat radiating off of his muscular body. “No,” he said gruffly. “I don’t want to take it back.” 

“Then what?” you pleaded. “What do you want?” 

“Take a wild guess, Olive.” Bob cocked his head to one side. 

“I don’t know.” 

“Yes, you do.” His voice forced a chill through your bones, a tingling settling in between your legs. “You’re a smart girl,” he whispered. “I think you know.” 

Your chest heaved uncontrollably. No one had ever looked at you the way Bob Floyd was looking at you in that moment. Not Bradley. Not Peter. Not any of the men you had dated in the past. It was all consuming. It threatened to swallow you whole. 

“We always want what we can’t have,” Bob murmured, letting his fingertips drop from your arm. “That’s human nature, I guess.” 

“Is that your diagnosis, Doctor?” 

He nodded. 

You shook your head. “In my professional opinion, it’s better to tell the truth than to hide how you feel.” 

“So you’re a psychiatrist now?” he murmured. 

“God, never.” 

Bob grinned. He lifted one arm, placing it on the siding of the house behind your head, creating a triangle with his body, practically pinning you against the house. You looked up, eyes wide. “Bradley is my best friend,” he whispered. “And you’re my business partner.”

“Almond milk isn’t real milk.” 

He frowned. “What?” 

“I thought we were just listing facts.” 

Bob shook his head and grunted. He was exasperated with you. You were all too familiar with that. “Jesus Chris, Livvy, I swear—”

You interrupted him. “Livvy?” No one had ever called you that before. 

His eyes flashed. “I mean Olive.” He flushed. 

You shook your head. “I like it.” 

Bob leaned down, letting his free hand cup your cheek. “Livvy,” he murmured. 

“Yes?” 

“Shut up and let me kiss you.”  

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[wambsgansshoelaces]

Hi could I please request something about a love triangle with reader, Tom and Greg? I’m so attracted to both of them and can’t chose and I feel like if you’re in close proximity to one you’ll always be around the other so it would be easy to catch feelings for both. Thank u if u do 😘

In Between

Tom Wambsgans x Reader x Gregory Hirsch

be on the lookout for the two different endings! I hope I did this well, enjoy x

Word Count: 2.601k

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” you say breathily, hurrying into the conference room. Tom pulls out your chair for you, gentle smile on his face.

“There’s nobody else here. You’re the least of my concerns.” You throw back a grateful smile, and he pushes your chair in as you sit. He turns to the door, peering out into the hallway, checking his watch. You carefully organize your papers out in front of you, notepad and pen ready for you to take notes. “Corporate time zone bullshit.”

“Start telling them earlier times so they start coming on time,” you suggest, not really serious. He makes his way back from the window, taking his seat next to you.

You both sit together in silence, a smidgen awkwardly, waiting for the room to fill. It’s not like you hadn’t noticed the tension between you and Tom. You could practically saw through it. You always catch his appraising glances or his shy looks. He made an effort to speak with you whenever he could, he showered you in compliments until you were pink. You’re sure you find him just as attractive as he finds you- a lot.

Time spent with Tom always left you with butterflies in your stomach. When you go to work in his office because your office neighbor is way too loud, or just because you need a body double, he has a plate of food and a mug of coffee waiting for you. He’s always taking so much work off of your plate, insisting he do the incessant paperwork for the sake of your mental clarity. You’d gone out a few times before, but just as coworkers at galas and corporate dinners. You’d always find yourselves drawn to each other rather than the crowd, keeping to yourselves and laughing in the corners of every gloriously decadent venue.

After a few stretched out ages, everyone is present and Tom begins the meeting. He turns to you, and for a moment, he wasn’t the confident man you knew him to be. You give him an encouraging smile, and discreetly take his hand and give it a squeeze before he gets up. He takes a breath, stamping down a smile in response, and closes his blazer. He was a good person, you know, nothing but kind and thoughtful, but his presentations bored you to death. It wasn’t necessarily his fault, more of the company’s, but sometimes you wonder why you got into this line of work.

He slides back into his seat by your side, not paying attention when someone else goes up to speak. He leans close to you and drops his voice, so only you can hear. “Wanna ditch?”

“What are we, in high school?” you murmur back lightheartedly.

“Come on.” Tom smooths a hand over his dress shirt, quietly getting to his feet and beckoning you after him. “We have another commitment. Send the minutes when you’re done, and if anything comes up…” Tom’s gaze rakes over the room. Once you’re both out in the hall, he sighs, relieved. “Fucking Christ. And they expect respect from me. They’re probably diddling themselves as we speak.”

“That’s vile,” you say truthfully, but laughing anyway. You both walk slowly, and you realize you don’t exactly know where you’re going. You’re both just wasting time, finding a way to spend more time in each others’ presence. Being together more, when you weren’t working. Not really working, anyway. “I thought my brain was going to leak out of my ear.”

An associate comes power walking through the hall, not bothering to pick their head up from their phone. They end up shoulder checking you, and hard, knocking you into Tom. He sets his hand on the small of your back, throwing a scowl and an obscenity over his shoulder as the perpetrator disappears down the hall. His hand slides up your back and to where you’d been hit, giving the spot a rub. It’s not like it’d hurt, but maybe it was enough to leave a bruise. He readjusts your collar, smoothing out new wrinkles from your shirt.

Tom leads you to his office, beckoning you inside. “Take a nap, I’ll close the blinds. You’re so exhausted. When was the last time you’ve slept? A week ago?”

Even though he was right, you wave him off, settling on one of his sofas. You set your things on the glass coffee table in front of you, taking the moment just to relax. “I can’t. Shit to do.”

He takes a seat at his desk, leafing through a bunch of papers. He knows he can’t fight you, but maybe he can mitigate. “A break, then.”

You sink into the cushions, a you-shaped divot reforming under you. You were here a lot, the couch knew how you were shaped. You don’t know if it’s a bad sign or kind of cute. Maybe offensive?

Tom’s only seated for a few moments before he’s up again and taking a seat flush against you, arm draped over the back of the sofa. Subconsciously, you lean into him, and his hand finds its way to your back and tentatively brushes up to your shoulder.

All the stress seems to melt from his body. His shoulders loosen, his hand gives your shoulder a light squeeze. “You’re… surprising,” is all you can think to say.

“I just need… I just need a bit,” he responds, voice suddenly raspy, hoarse. Your heart splinters as he looks over at you, eyes a bit glassy.

“Are you okay? You can tell me if something’s bothering you.”

Quickly, as if remembering himself, he’s up again and at the door.

Snapping back to reality, you realize it’s time for you to be up again. “Fuckin’ quit scheduling so many meetings in one day,” you mutter, loud enough for him to hear, and get to your feet.

He chuckles lightly. Tom pivots, going back to his desk. “Before we go,” he says, “I’ve been meaning to ask you out to dinner.” You look up, and note his neck is flushing a light pink. He’s standing now, and takes a scrap of paper from his breast pocket as if he’d rehearsed this. He jots down something on it. He folds it in half and presses it into your palm. “Just call me later, okay? It’s my personal phone. I’m sorry I didn’t give it to you sooner.”

The next meeting is as much as a snooze fest as the first. You’re only there because Tom is there. You both work so closely together, and your job overlaps so much with his, that you do things mostly as a unit. But of course, when you work so closely with Tom, you work even closer with Gregory Hirsch. Tom begins on one of his monologues, and you eye the clock. You couldn’t just get up and leave this time, but you had another meeting to get to. You’re not exactly sure how Head of Press & Media will take your being late, but you hoped it wasn’t too bad. You acted as Tom’s voice in the other department. This part of your job is where you split away from Tom, and he relied on you to keep him up to speed and working efficiently.

Well, maybe not only you.

Once Tom had finished with his spiel, scolding certain associates for being ‘a little less than bright’, you’re dismissed, and you have to run off to your next meeting, this time for press. You wave goodbye before you go, earning you a soft smile from him. Since your first meeting had run late, you were now not on track to make it on time for the next one. You pick up the pace, holding your things close to your chest. Of course, the press meeting was in an entire separate building.

You’re not paying attention to your surroundings as you try to rush to the elevators. As you turn the corner, someone else does at the same time from across the hall, and you smack into each other.

“Oh, my god, I’m so sorry,” you manage, only a little ruffled. Poor Greg spilled everything in his arms. You crouch down to help him gather his folders and files.

“No, no, it’s my fault, really. Aw, damn it, where’s my phone?” You look behind you, spotting it, and hand it to him. Once everything’s all pulled back together, he takes the array of papers from you, your hands brushing. “This isn’t how I planned the next time I saw you,” he admits, embarrassed.

You both shuffle into the elevator. It’s going down painfully slowly. You make a mental note to bitch about it to reception to see if they were having the same problem. “Really?” you ask, unable to suppress a smile.

“I mean, I never plan when I see you. That doesn’t even make sense,” Greg says, fidgeting with his sleeves. “What I’m trying to say is I don’t know how to act around you.”

You and him have probably spent days upon days with each other, running errands for Tom. Sometimes, you know Tom sends Greg to tag along with you when he can’t himself, just so someone was always with you. Their relationship was a bit of a mystery to you. If you think you and Tom have sexual tension, he and Greg have sexual strain.

The two of them interacted strangely when you were around. Conversations were hushed, harried, terse. But even from afar, they were like that. Maybe they were both just… weird.

“Um, we’re both going to Press, right?” Greg asks, breaking the silence, the elevator still going down. Suddenly, it clunks. Then stops completely.

You blink, then stupidly press the ‘door open’ button. Nothing happens. “Not anytime soon, I guess.”

“Oh, oh my god. Tom’s going to kill me.” He leans past you, side now brushing against yours, and jams the button a few more times.

“Fucking phenomenal,” you mutter, reaching for your phone. No signal. “Greg, do you…?”

“No,” he all but cries, distressing himself. Quickly, he pushes the emergency phone button on the elevator’s motherboard. A crackly voice pushes itself through the itty bitty speaker, disinterestedly asking for the problem. “Uh, we’re stuck. In the Waystar building, um, between the thirtieth and twenty-ninth floors. It’s bad, this is bad, we have somewhere we need to be-”

“Help is on the way.”

And then you hear the person on the other end putting the phone back into the receiver, hanging up.

You sigh, pressing your back to the wall of the elevator and sliding down into a seat. “Fucking customer service reps,” you mutter.

Greg turns to face you, clearly panicked. “How are you so calm? Why are you so calm?”

“What can we do?”

He pauses. “Climb through the vents?”

“No, Greg, we’re not going to climb through the vents. We just have to wait.” You drop your head into your hands. “God, I can’t fucking take this.”

“What? What’s wrong? Can I help?”

“Just stressed.”

“Did Tom say anything to you? Are you going to get in trouble? Do you need me to talk to him?”

“What? No, of course not. Tom’s not going to do anything.” You pull your head from your hands, instead tucking your knees into your chest and resting your cheek on your knee. “He’ll just get mad at the maintenance guys. Greg, calm down. Take a breath. I promise, nothing’s going to happen.” You stare up at him, and he struggles to make eye contact.

After a few silent moments, Greg pacing the elevator floor, he stops and sits down next to you. He mirrors your position, but his legs are long and lanky, so they stick up towards his shoulders. It can’t be comfortable. His leg jitters nervously, bouncing up and down rapidly. “I feel all… icky.”

“Did Tom say something to you?” You turn your head to look at him, but he’s already staring at you.

“No, it’s just… an irrational fear of elevators. Which have been validated, to be fair,” he admits, not looking away from you. “Like, what if we never get out?”

You stifle a laugh. “You’re afraid of elevators?”

“For numerous reasons.” He shifts so that he’s facing you, then gestures around with his hand. “This being one of them. But it’s not even the worst, you know? Like what if the cables snap, and we plummet to the ground, and there’s nothing anyone can do to save u-”

“Maybe that’s enough.” You reach over and give his arm a squeeze. “We’ll be fine.”

He slumps against you, resting his head on your shoulder. “If I die, I want you to know I really wanted to ask you out the entire time I was alive and knew you but was way too scared to do so and you’re very pretty and I haven’t even come close to liking someone else while I’ve been near you-”

“Greg, we’re not going to die.” There’s a bang, and you lurch downwards. He startles, reaching for you, clinging to you, pulling you close, but the elevator’s movement is immediately regulated and the floors ding away just like they’re supposed to.

He’s immediately on his feet, pulling you up. “Should we still even go?” he asks quietly, glancing at his watch. The door finally open, and you both scurry out.

“Better late than never.”

“I’ll drive,” he suggests, before taking your arm and dragging you to the parking garage. Much later than you were supposed to, the two of you hurry up the stairs of the building Press decided to have the meeting in, Greg carrying all your things. Once on the right floor, he hands them back to you. You hold them with one arm, reaching out with the other to straighten his tie and dust off a bit of lint from his shoulder. He holds the conference room door open for you, and you step in, dazzling smile plastered on your face.

⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆

The workday finally ends, and you don’t think you have the capacity for anything else but sitting in bed, eating ice cream, and watching TV. So that’s exactly what you do.

Your work phone is sitting on your cabinet on silent. You never usually have it like that, but you’d texted Tom from your personal phone, and he’d promised to let you know if anything came up. Tom texts again, telling you to sleep well, tacking on a heart to the end of the message. A few moments later, he send another, saying he’d get your boss to give you a raise if you went to bed on time and got a good night’s sleep. You bid him goodnight, he does in return, a smattering of emojis attached, and realize that Greg had also texted you moments earlier.

He tells you to forget about what he said in the elevator- really, just forger about the entire fiasco. He apologizes if we made you uncomfortable, saying your comfort and happiness was important to him and he didn’t want to jeopardize your friendship because he was stupid and scared. It’s a long rambling of a paragraph, but you understand well enough. You tell him he hadn’t done anything wrong, and that you found him great just the way he was.

Swiping away from the messages, your phone’s message center is displayed. Their names sit on top of each other- Tom, Greg. Greg, Tom.

Maybe you were overthinking things. Maybe they were more into each other than either of them was into you.

You tell yourself it’s time to make a decision. You owe it to them.

And yourself.