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buckets-and-trees · 3 months

Text

EVERY MINUTE OF IT

Characters/Pairings: Alpha!Bucky x Female!Omega!Reader Word Count: 4k Summary: Claimed unequivocally by Alpha Bucky Barnes, leader of the growing HYDRA faction, that's not the end of it. But what exactly is in store for you? What will it mean to be his Omega?

Content/Warnings: omegaverse; reluctant attraction; power dynamics; mild manipulation; threats; dirty talk; explicit smut: spanking, vaginal fingering, biting, rough sex, choking, edging, orgasm denial, slapping, spitting, oral (male and female receiving), unprotected vaginal intercourse and insemination, dacryphilia, overstimulation, erotic picture taking

Author Notes: Part three to what I never planned on being a series - the Alpha Bucky April drabble was only 500 words, the next part hit 1.5k, but this... well, let's just say this Bucky absolutely had his way with both me and my muse. This one will be a make up to tick orgasm delay/denail for MARCH of @buckybarnesevents Build a Bucky Bingo ; and the dialogue, alpha, and pet prompts for the second week of Hot Bucky Summer (thought this was going to be a short little thing I was going to whip out before week two had finished, but alas hahaha).

A/N 2: We've seen only a bit of his rough side up to this pont, but in this part we will truly see mean Alpha Bucky. Don't say I didn't warn you - here and with the actual content warning list.

A/N 3: I tried not to write any plot with this porn, but a minimal amount forced its way in.

He had made good on his threat, using your body for pleasure and for show under the full moon until there was no one left to watch, but you were not sure he had been keeping close track, instead merely taking you over and over until they grey hours of dawn. You had been too exhausted to register anything much after that – being carried away, a car ride, being tucked into a bed.

You had woken up in the afternoon alone.

Alone for the first time in three days.

On hearing you make your way to the bathroom someone had brought in water and left an impressive spread of food that lasted you through the afternoon and evening. You grazed and slept.

Your body and mind had been pushed beyond all previous limits, and so the sleep and rest had been most of those first few days after the full moon and the conqueror’s bonding ritual.

But now, a week on, you are tired, restless, and impatient.

You were in a spacious penthouse, you had been offered many luxuries, well fed by a personal chef, attended to by an assistant, your only restrictions being denied access to a phone or internet and barred from leaving the premises.

Should you have chosen an unplugged retreat or vacation, it would be perfect.

After contemplating and debating internally all morning, at lunch you make your decision. You finish yet another delicious meal, wipe your mouth with the beautiful linen napkin, and then set it down next to the bone china and plated gold utensils. The staff begins to move around you, and your assistant approaches.

Before she can say anything else, you take a deep breath and say, “I need to see him.”

There’s no question of who you mean.

She nods. “I’ll make the request.”

Whether pet or prisoner and left alone for more than seven days, you do not believe your request will be seen as any sort of priority, so when you see the more formal dining table set for two for dinner, your mouth drops open for a moment, and you stop in your tracks.

You turn to your assistant – even though she tries to afford you most of your privacy, she is ever on the edge of your presence. She looks as surprised as you. “I was given no response other than that they’d take the request under consideration.”

You nod, then pace, padding barefoot across the hardwood floor in front of floor-to-ceiling windows, until you finally hear the rustle and then commotion of activity that announces his arrival.

Your heart races, but it’s only a few more moments before the large and imposing alpha, Bucky Barnes, appears in front of you.

“Omega,” he says with a mere nod of his head, no pretense.

Your eyes narrow a fraction, wary of his seemingly easy demeanor. “Alpha.”

“Shall we?” he asks, and motions to the table.

You nod and take a seat as he does.

Within seconds, the meal is brought in by two attendants and the chef, and Bucky thanks and praises them very simply.

He occasionally looks at you, regarding you, but does not speak.

Before long, you huff, and he looks up sharply, pinning you with his steel blue eyes, harsher than at any point since he’d arrived. “What?” he demands.

“What is all of this?” you start, gesturing your hand to indicate the penthouse. “And where have you been?”

He sets down his knife and fork and straightens a little more. “Is it not to suited to your liking? You can change anything you want. This is your place.”

“My place?” you ask.

“Yes, your place. It is not far from the place I’ve taken up residence.”

The revelation is not surprising, but somehow more irritating. “And what? You’ve had me and now you’re discarding me?”

“I should have thought you’d want your own place.”

Maybe you should want your own place, away from him. And yet…

“I should be wherever you are.”

“What?” he scoffs. “So you can be embroiled in my affairs and bring me down? ‘Keep your friends close and your enemies closer?’”

The accusation wounds you, though you know it’s only logical – and you know what you’re thinking and feeling isn’t logical. You have determined to put off thinking about it.

“I’m not your friend,” you state, trying to keep your voice as even as possible. “but I’m not your enemy either.”

“What should I call you then?” he challenges.

You raise your chin a fraction. “I’m your Omega.”

He doesn’t speak or move immediately. Instead, his eyes somehow fix you even more intently. There’s a burning in your chest under his scrutiny, but you remain still.

Finally, he stands and moves toward you, the two of you never taking your eyes off the other.

“You are my Omega.”

He comes to stand behind your chair, and you remain unmoving. He takes your chin in his left hand and tilts your head to expose your neck to him. He leans down and noses along your jaw, inhaling your scent and putting your body on alert. You feel the curling tendrils of want stir in your core, already awakening for him. He tilts your head even more and draws his teeth along the side of your throat, causing a shiver you can’t suppress, and he chuckles darkly and licks at the fresher of the two bonding marks he gave you. His hot tongue, insistently pressing at the bite elicits a small noise from you, and your right hand shoots up to card into his hair. Your full omega side wants him, has started to slicken your pussy for him already, you can feel it. You know your alpha can smell it.

He bites over the mark, but not roughly enough to break the skin, and you arch up for more, but he pushes himself back up, away from you and the crook of your neck.

“So needy,” he remarks, “I like this.”

The first few days you’d spent with him, he’d kept you full of his cock, tortured with pleasure, overwhelmed, exhausted by him and the recipient of a seemingly insatiable lust unleashed on you.

This feels like the predator is going to play with his prey, and you bite your lip. He pushes your head, tilted to the left, to the right to drop into his other hand, clearly testing your compliance. It’s gentle, but it’s dominant. Back to the left, then to the right, and then he dips to nip at your ear, and you gasp.

Bucky releases your head from between his large hands then pulls your chair away from the table. “Up.”

You stand. He puts one hand on your hip and ushers you around the edge of the table and to the side, in the middle, and turns you to face the wide expanse of mahogany and its centerpiece of fresh flowers – white peonies, white roses, white hydrangeas.

“Put your hands on the table,” he instructs.

You press the palms of your hands onto the smooth, dark wood. Your omega side is ready – even eager – to comply, but with your own long game to play, you know you must play out whatever game he desires now.

“Arch your back,” is his next direction.

Keeping your breathing even, you do, hips jutting away from the table, on display for him.

The back of his hand lands at the nape of your neck, and he drags his knuckles slowly down your spine. Your body rocks back, seeking more, as he reaches the small of your back, and he hums in self-satisfaction.

While his vibranium hand plants itself on your hip, he moves the other around to skim slowly over your stomach, then up your rib cage, and to your breast. He gropes the round flesh through your shirt and bra, but the fabric does nothing to quell how the pressure stokes the fire growing in you.

You feel the heat of him press up your back as his hand moves now up your neck, turning your head to kiss him. You push back against him, and he ruts his bulge slightly into your ass. Your lips are hungry in the kiss, but it’s like he only provided his lips for you to kiss him, receiving what your lips want to give. He moves his hand back down to your chest, but this time slipping beneath the neckline and going flesh to flesh to palm your breast. He kneads diligently, almost methodically, and you know all of this is designed to warm you up, tease you, get you burning for him. He’s still largely a stranger to you, but you also know you can’t resist him. He’s spent so much time already playing with your body. He knows where and how to touch you to make you respond to him after those first days and nights spent naked with him.

Bucky moves again, ending the kiss, drawing away from your back and removing the hand from your breast. You whine, but that hand goes to the small of your back again, the vibranium hand squeezing your hip as he forces you spine to resume the curving posture for him once more.

“We’re only getting started, Omega. Be patient.”

You huff, and he laughs.

The fingers of both his hands slip into the top of your waistband. He slowly pulls your pants and underwear down over your hips, and down your legs to mid-thigh. It restricts your bottom extremities, and that plays into the mental game he’s clearly playing with you. His hands move up the back of your naked thighs, and then palms your ass with both hands. He squeezes both cheeks, goes back to palming them again, then withdraws his right hand and slaps that cheek harshly. You jump and yelp, but he merely goes back to palming and squeezing, soothing the smacked flesh. Then another slap, and you hiss at the sting over the first sting. His vibranium hand continues groping your round flesh, but instead of soothing the second smack, his flesh hand dips down to your dripping hole, where he inserts two fingers, then quickly adds a third.

“Alpha,” you moan, and your head falls back, eyes closed both to hold back a couple of tears and to soak in the barrage of sensations.

He doesn’t answer, but his fingers continue dipping in and out, slow and shallow.

He delivers another harsh slap, immediately returns to the maddening fingering until you’re keening and trying to hump his hand.

Abruptly he grips your hips with both hands and turns you around to face him. The cool metal hand grips you by the neck, tilting your face up helplessly to him, and this kiss is messy, demanding, teeth nipping at your lips. You kiss him back as well as you can as he is in full control of your head and holds you where he wants you. Both your hands hold tightly to his forearm, and you squeeze.

His other hand goes to the cut of you again below, but there’s more fervor there this time. He plunders your mouth and plunders your pussy, and you’re losing your breath, but you have no wish for him to relent as you feel the powerful orgasm you crave building and barreling towards you. His fingers curl against the spongy spot on your inner wall, this thumb is demanding against your pulsing clit, and his tongue is licking dominantly into your mouth. You’re trembling and clutching at him, moaning, only when your breath hitches, inches away from bliss, he pulls back.

You cry out as he looms over you. His smirk is cruel, and his eyes spark with fire.

“Alpha!”

He licks his one of his fingers, just one.

“Alpha, please,” you groan.

“My well-mannered Omega,” he coos. “We’ll make a mess of you yet,” he says. You’re unsure whether it’s a threat or a promise, but you have no space or time to think as he moves you again, hoisting and pushing you by the grip on your chin around and away from the table until your back is flush against the wall.

Bucky pushes you down to your knees, pinches your mouth open, then spits on your tongue. "Swallow it."

You don’t think, just swallow as his eyes bore into yours as he towers over you.

He strokes his thumb over your cheek – nearly a caress, and you can’t help leaning ever so slightly into his touch. Then his thumb moves from your cheek to your lips, tracing them before pressing down to open your mouth again. He inserts two of the fingers that had been in your cunt into your mouth, and you close your mouth and begin to suck without him having to say so. The look on his face shows his approval. As you suck, there’s something so soothing about, the weight of his fingers pressing down on your tongue, the stead rhythm, that it that lulls you even further into a state of submission for him. Your eyes begin to droop.

He chuckles and withdraws his fingers, wiping them on your face. “Don’t want that so soon in our evening.”

He begins to unbuckle his belt, and you reach for the button and zipper, but he bats your hands away and slaps your cheek.

You look up sharply at him, reaching to soothe your cheek.

“Ask nicely for your Alpha’s cock, Omega.”

His first nights with you were about physical domination. This is the other half, yielding, submission.

You think best how to ask, before saying, “Please let me put my lips around your cock, Alpha.”

He unbuttons his trousers but keeps his eyes on yours. “Tell me how you want me to use your mouth, Omega,”

“I…” you bite your lip. You aren’t a stranger to sex, but speaking so directly about it isn’t something you’ve done with any of your partners in the past.

Bucky lowers the zipper. He pushes the band of his boxers down far enough to free his cock, and you whimper. He fists his arousal slowly. “You want it, then tell me what you want exactly. You’ve already let me use your body in so many ways, we both know you want more. What are you craving?”

You wait only another beat before answering, “Want you to fuck my throat.”

You are impressed at the evenness of your own tone in that moment, and his lips tick up as well.

Bucky widens his stance, then leans down to wrap his left arm around your head, holding it – almost cradling it – in the crook of his elbow. The he pushes his cock to your lips, you open for him, he pushes in, and starts truly fucking your mouth. The first few thrusts are slow, but insistent. He fills your mouth with more of him with each of those first thrusts. Then the head of his cock hits the back of your throat. He thrusts out and in again, again, again. His other hand strokes your cheek. Then he slaps it, and you groan around his cock.

“Mmmm, fuck you feel good,” he echoes your groan. “Gonna take all of your alpha’s cock down this pretty throat,” he says, and his hand moves down to your neck, feeling himself push in there.

Your eyes are tearing up, and the tears quickly start to spill over as he continues to use your throat, never removing himself completely now that he’s overtaken your mouth. He slaps your cheek twice in quick succession and you sob around his cock as you can manage. It’s hard to breathe, and your chest heaves. You brace yourself against his thighs, and he straightens and pulls out of you.

Bucky moves quickly, taking you by the shoulders and tossing you into the middle of the floor – rough but not violent.

“Clothes off,” he barks, but it’s he didn’t need to employ an alpha command to get you to comply. You barely have enough time to discard your pants and underwear the rest of the way, and only manage to get your shirt over your head in the time it takes him to get naked.

He’s on you the next instant, covering your body with his. With his chest pressed down against yours, you feel how his breathing is just as heavy as your own, glad he’s not as unaffected as he’s tried to play this encounter.

You hitch your thighs up around his torso and squeeze your knees around him.

But he doesn’t give you what you’re most anxious for yet, instead pausing to study your face.

“Such a pretty mess,” he admires.

Heat pulses through your body, his praise undeniable to your omega side.

He dips his head to lap up the salt of some of your tears, tongue dragging slowly up your cheek. When he draws back again, he merely looks at you. His eyes seem to be looking for something, but you don’t know what. You try not to give him anything outside of this moment.

His pelvis is lodged between your hips, so you squirm beneath him, hoping your hot, dripping cunt will call him back to your pressing needs. He groans and drops his forehead to yours, another sign he’s not as cool and detached as he was at the outset.

“Please, please fuck me, Alpha,” you beg.

“Fill you up with my cock? With my seed?”

“Yes, Alpha!”

He draws his hips back and you reach down and help line up his cock with your hole. He spears in with no mercy, and you don’t need or want it. You groan together as he fills you completely.

Your mouths meet again, and it’s a combination of rough messy kisses, nipping and bites, licking, mingled heavy breaths. It’s primal and unhinged, and there’s no thought to it as he continues to fuck you.

The pace at which he thrusts is relentless and just what you need, but also not enough.

You want more and you whimper and beg through kissing for it.

Bucky continues fucking you and pulls away from your lips, but in no way is he done overwhelming you. Leaning heavily onto his vibranium arm planted next to your head, he moves his other arm and presses his inner wrist up and down your neck insistently. The sound that escapes your mouth is broken and needy as the flooding of his scent directly In and around you engulfs your senses. Then he’s also sucking on your original bonding mark until you are a heaving, panting, crying mess, clawing at his back, unable to even put coherent words together to beg for him.

His shifts just enough that his pubic bone grinds down against your clit as he pounds into your pussy. You are practically vibrating with the impending orgasm, and as your alpha can undoubtedly sense that through the bond, he bites down on your mark, and you scream and fly into your release. Your walls clench hard around him, and he growls through two more powerful thrusts before he shouts, and you feel the heat of his seed star to fill you up. He pumps and pumps until he’s left every drop he can inside of you, then collapses on top of you.

He doesn’t move, pressing you down with all his weight as you both recover from the ecstasy you’ve just experienced. You almost move to stroke your fingers up and down his spine, but you quell that impulse. You do allow yourself to keep your hands on his back though – still, but connected to this man, your alpha, who dealt you such rough but undeniable pleasure.

Finally, Bucky pushes up off you, but surprises you when he scoops you up and carries you away bridal style, heading toward your bedroom.

“Alpha?”

“You really want to live under the same roof?” he asks.

“Yes,” you answer simply.

He glances down at your face, brows furrowed, then looks back ahead as he heads down the hallway.

“Okay then.”

“Yes?”

“Yes,” he affirms, entering your room.

He tosses you onto the bed, and crawls up over you again. He reaches beneath your back to unclasp your bra, and you let him pull it from your shoulders and toss it off to the side. Closing the gap between your bodies, you relish the feeling of his bare chest against yours, his chest hair teasing your nipples. He grips your chin yet again, this time with his vibranium hand, and looks into your eyes with a steely, cold stare.

“If you’re anything other than the good omega I require, I will send you back here, but it won’t be like this last week has been. You will be in absolute exile. Don’t test me – there will be no chances.”

You give a single nod of your head.

He pushes up and leans back then, kneeling above you.

“But you don’t want to jeopardize or risk that, do you?”

“No, Bucky.”

It’s the first time you’ve called him anything other than alpha and he clocks that, you see the flash of acknowledgement in his eyes.

“You want to be with your alpha, you want the limited freedom you know I can give you if I choose to, but you also have your own agenda”

It wasn’t a question, and you know you can’t fool him – you know he is too smart for that, and you know he knows you are intelligent in your own right. He made it clear when he closed in on your people’s territory that’s why your compliance and claiming you as his omega was part of the deal of surrender to spare any more bloodshed.

“Cross me and your future will only be visitations when I require you to service my ruts.”

You don’t doubt his threat.

“Do we have an accord, Omega?”

“Yes, Alpha.”

The words you two exchanged the fateful night of that initial surrender.

He nods.

“It seems fitting to seal it by kiss.”

You sit up and then kneel before him on the bed, he bends his head down to kiss you. It’s fervent, solemn, but he cuts it off before it develops into anything more.

“Stay here,” he orders, sliding off the bed.

That was an alpha command – wholly unnecessary except to remind you of his power.

You scowl at his retreating form, then huff once he’s out of the room.

He’s quick, and when he comes back in the room, he is slowly stroking his cock with one hand, and holds his phone in the other. He steps up to the edge of the bed.

“A kiss here, as well,” he says, pushing his hips forward.

You crawl to him, lower your head, and kiss his cock. He nods at you, indicating he expects more. You take the tip of his semi-hard cock into your mouth, lave your tongue around the tip, and then suck, looking up at him. He takes a few photos, moaning at your ministrations.

“Fuck you couldn’t look more pretty and more ruined,” he whispers. He tosses the phone down, then pushes you off him and back onto the bed, manhandling your hips to get you planted in the center of the mattress with your thighs splayed open obscenely.

“Only fair for me to finish sealing the agreement and kiss these lips as well.”

He dives in like a man starved, despite the rounds you’ve just finished. He pulls your next orgasm quickly from your fluttering pussy. You would be surprised, only you’ve come to accept that he has already acquired a dangerous – and delicious – knowledge of your body.

He looks up at you and grins and then goes in immediately for another.

You try and push him away and close your legs, feeling overstimulated, but he growls and roughly forces your thighs open again.

“Your one chance of being my good omega is already begun. So, you’re going to let me eat the pussy that belongs to me until you’re a sobbing overstimulated mess and think you can’t possibly take any more, but you will. And since this should be the last night we ever spend in this bed, when I’ve had my fill of lapping at your sweet, dripping cunt, I’m going to see if I can’t fuck you hard and long enough to break the bed.”

You can only hope your gamble to deal with the devil of HYDRA will not be your undoing.

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest full Fine Line Collection

Everyone check your pulse, please. Mine is gone.

I'm not saying this is officially a series, but I think we HAVE fallen into a collection territory... Unless y'all are through with this Alpha Bucky...

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #alpha bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfic #female reader #aspen wrote something #fine line collection

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hairyjocktf · 4 months

Text

The New Cub

Jaden was a real estate agent in Denver, and quite a good one at that. He prided himself on that fact, having been the top agent at his firm for four years running. He was only 27 too, having gotten his license after high school with ease. Once he got that first commission check he never looked back. This had been a big week for him, closing a deal on a multi-million dollar house that was netting him a nice bonus. It’d taken a lot of work and effort, but as he walked into his apartment just hours after the signing he breathed a sigh of relief. He’d planned to take a few days off as a reward, some time to pamper himself like he deserved. He walked into his room, stripping off the well fitted blazer before undoing the buttons on his shirt. Water gushed from the faucet as he filled his tub with a warm bath and opened the windows, letting in that cool fall air. His belt and pants fell to the floor next as he admired his slim body in the mirror.

Jaden was the ideal twink, with a tall and thin form that he kept supple and hairless with a meticulous daily routine. He slowly rubbed his hands down over his tight stomach, feeling the smooth skin he loved before sliding off his underwear. The warm water bubbled as he stepped in, sliding his body below the surface as water cascaded across his shaved legs. The tension in his shoulders melted away, the water sapping away the stress of the week. Birdsong echoed in through the open windows, and Jaden entered a state of pure relaxation. For all of five minutes, at least. Unable to be alone with his thoughts for too long, his long, near skeletal arm reached from the tub and grasped his phone. This may be his vacation but he sure wasn’t going to spend it at home relaxing.

He quickly opened up grindr. He glanced at the dozens of messages from the last few days but didn’t open a single one, opting instead to scroll and scroll, unsure of what he was actually looking for. Every few seconds he would get a tap or message, he knew his profile worked. It had for years, with his perfectly smooth and slim body appealing to a wide audience. He normally went for the tech guys who were in perfect shape, but that didn’t seem appealing today. Neither did a younger twink. He was about to put the app down when he got a message from what looked to be a guy in his late 30s, but in great shape. Good definition, and fully shaved, he noted.

“Afternoon gorgeous,” the message said, “got any weekend plans? Been looking for a handsome man to spoil a bit.” Jaden paused. Normally he didn’t care for offers like this, but he’d been unsatisfied from anything else so far. Plus, this was his weekend to spoil himself, why not let someone else help out? He typed out a response.

“Hey there :) Would love to be treated nice this weekend, what do you suggest?” He read it and deleted it all in disgust. “Thanks babe, I’d say I deserve a bit of spoiling this weekend, what's your offer?” he typed again, and then sent. A few seconds later a reply had already shown up.

“I’ve got a nice house with a mountain view, and I can promise the best meal of your life and the best sex you’ll ever have. Your choice for the details, of course,” the man said with a winky emoji. Not having to cook dinner was pretty appealing, and if it turned out to be mediocre he could always leave. It was just the first night of his time off after all.

“Sounds lovely,” Jaden sent back, “Where’s this beautiful estate of yours?” A location appeared just seconds later. It was out in the western fringes of the city, a hefty drive. He knew the neighborhood though, and it was a nice one. Couldn’t hurt to give this guy a shot, he thought, rising out of the now lukewarm tub waters.

After a lengthy session of getting ready, Jaden set out for this luxury evening he’d been promised. The sun was already beginning to dip in the sky, promising a lovely sunset over the mountains. He pulled off the highway after about thirty minutes, navigating the twisting residential roads before finally arriving at a slightly secluded house at the top of a ridge. His first reaction was to how beautiful the property was, being a realtor and all. The view the man had offered seemed to be true, now he just had to test the rest of it. He checked himself in the rear view mirror, making sure his hair was tufted just right before stepping out into the cool evening air. He walked up the steps to a heavy oak door and rang the bell, hearing it echo inside. Heavy footsteps shook the ground as they approached, the door unlocked, and Jaden’s eyes went wide.

The man in the doorway was not the man he’d seen on grindr. This guy was a full-fledged daddy bear, older, fatter, and much, much hairier. He answered the door in just his tight underwear, showing off his large body that was completely coated in hair. Numerous tattoos were buried under the fur, barely recognizable. A thick salt and pepper beard adorned his face, which wore a wide grin.

“Well look at you kiddo, glad you showed!” the man said with a deep, smoky voice.

Jaden was taken aback, he’d never been in this situation. It wasn’t like the photos he saw were just a little out of date, this was an entirely different guy! At a loss of what to say, all he managed to get out was, “You… you’re not the guy in the pics!”

The man laughed, “Oh those photos, they were of my last project, don’t worry about them. Name’s Glenn. Why don’t you come in?” He took a step forward and reached out his hand.

Jaden’s brain was on red alert, he’d been catfished, lied to, and he needed to leave immediately. The old man in front of him was not at all what he was into, but that was the least of his concern at this point. What did he mean by ‘last project’? Why would he use pics that weren’t him?

But suddenly, as Glenn stepped forward, a warm air washed over him coming from inside. It was smoky, almost rustic, but also smelled strongly of sweat and musk. His numerous trains of thought came to a screeching halt. He took a deep inhale through his nose, the smell dulling his senses in a way he couldn’t possibly notice. The outstretched hand looked so welcoming suddenly, and hadn’t he been promised dinner? The worries about the man were quickly fading, replaced by feelings of comfort. He took Glenn’s hand and stepped through the doorway without another thought.

The inside of the house was larger than he’d expected, decorated almost in the style of a mountain cabin. It was cozy, with lots of bookshelves and wood paneling that had fallen out of style among his customers, but he strangely liked it here. Glenn led him through multiple rooms until reaching a large patio overlooking the mountains, the sunset still gaining colors in the background. Glenn sat him down on a large sofa.

“Make yourself comfortable, I’ll be right back with some food,” he said before trotting back into the house. Jaden stared out over the vista, wondering briefly why he’d said yes, before that thought too fell out of his mind. His mind was relaxed, yet a little foggy, almost similar to the feeling of poppers. He slouched further into the cushions waiting for Glenn to return with whatever feast he’d prepared. He caught himself even drooling at the thought, which shook him somewhat out of his daze, he couldn’t be acting like that. Just then Glenn walked back out with a huge plate of lamb chops, still sizzling. He set it down on a nearby table and motioned for Jaden to join him.

He sat down at the table and looked over the spread Glenn had prepared. The man hadn’t lied, it was an impressive feast. Jaden usually didn’t eat red meat but something about tonight felt different. As soon as Glenn sat down that same strong scent returned. This time it was more pungent, more reminiscent of the smell of sweat, and it made that foggy feeling return stronger than it’d initially been. But Jaden forgot about it when Glenn looked over with a smile.

“I think you’ll like this, son, it’s a tried and true family recipe after all!” he exclaimed before digging in. The word son rang in Jaden’s ears for a moment before he too dug into the food.

Despite his previous aversion to red meat he scarfed it down; it was absolutely delicious. He barely had time to speak in between bites, but Glenn didn’t seem to mind, watching Jaden devour the meal he’d prepared. Soon enough, his plate was empty, and Glenn admired the bulging stomach he could see pressing against Jaden’s tight shirt.

“Fuck, that was amazing,” Jaden said between burps. What was going on with him? First eating all that food and now burping like some degenerate caveman? But he was far past caring, already entering a sort of food coma. Glenn got up and went back to the couch, gesturing for Jaden to follow. He did so eagerly and tucked himself under Glenn’s open arm. Jaden would have never previously hooked up with a bear, but he was surprised to enjoy the feeling of a large furry body embracing him. Even more surprising was how obviously his dick sprang to life in his pants when Glenn’s hand dipped under the fabric. Glenn pulled Jaden closer to him, smiling at him as he stealthily attached a testosterone patch on Jaden’s back. It was time to see how far he could take this one.

The combination of Glenn’s powerful musk and enormous meal had Jaden completely subdued, ready to accept anything. His thick hands glided over Jaden’s smooth skin, sending shivers through his body. No other guy had been this effective with just his hands. Glenn ramped it up from there, kissing up and down Jaden’s body, feeling him shudder with pleasure. He rubbed his own hairy body against Jaden’s hairless one, subliminally inflicting him with desires yet to be realized. He couldn’t wait to see what Jaden would become. The next few hours were a blur as the sun fell below the mountains and the stars lit their passionate embrace. Glenn edged Jaden for hours, keeping him on the brink of ecstasy. He could feel the prickle of hairs as they began resurfacing in Jaden’s shaved groin. Finally after hours he let Jaden finish, spraying cum all over his slim body. Glenn massaged it into his skin as they cuddled, and Jaden passed out shortly after. That was just the beginning, Glenn thought to himself as he applied another patch to the sleeping Jaden’s body.

Jaden arose the next morning to the smell of breakfast in the making; Glenn was preparing another feast for him. His body was still sore from the night before, causing him to groan as he got out of the bed. Glenn poked his head into the room.

“Morning, handsome,” he said with a chipper voice, “food’s almost ready!”

“I appreciate it but I should probably head out,” Jaden replied, looking for his clothes on the floor.

“Naw, what’re you sayin’ that for? We’ve got plenty more time,” Glenn assured him, stepping further into the room. That same familiar musk washed over Jaden again, and just like that he was more agreeable.

“You’re right, and I’m starving,” he said with renewed energy. Glenn came back moments later with a platter stuffed with waffles, bacon, what must have been a dozen eggs, and more. The urge to stuff himself again took hold of Jaden, who tore his way through the breakfast. Glenn watched with a grin, seeing Jaden’s belly puff out just a little more than the night before. They spent the rest of the day cuddling, making out, having more sex. Jaden was in heaven, not noticing when Glenn applied new patches to his back after the first ones had fallen off. His thoughts about getting back to his apartment faded while Glenn’s thick scent fogged up his head. It all felt so good, why would he want to leave?

That evening they showered together, Glenn’s sweat covering Jaden along with his own cum. He sensually washed Jaden’s body with his custom soap, scented like pine and infused some ingredients to encourage hair growth. He felt up and down Jaden’s body, noticing some areas that weren’t quite so smooth anymore. Hairs had begun to surface not only in his groin, but across his thighs, and even on his chest. Just small pinpricks for now. As they were drying off afterward Glenn placed another patch under Jaden’s shoulder blade. He also noticed how Jaden’s previously boney frame had softened just a tad.

The days continued to pass in a similar manner, Glenn and Jaden spending every moment intertwined as Glenn slowly but surely molded Jaden. He was changing day by day from the definition of a twink to something else. Brown stubble sprouted sparsely across his chin and lip, his chest had begun to push out into soft pecs adorned with their own fuzz. His previously shaved armpits had stubble pushing out, with new hairs joining each day. His similarly shaved pubes were returning with a vengeance, growing in quicker and spreading further than they ever had before. Fat was clinging to his thin frame, he was filling out.

As Jaden’s body hair started coming in, Glenn would spend more and more time rubbing his hands through it. It was an electric feeling for Jaden, he’d never known it could feel that being hairy. And he was slowly craving it more and more. Glenn continued putting testosterone patches on him as well as a number of other products he’d tried with other guys before. He wanted this cub to be perfect. Jaden’s vacation had long passed but he was oblivious, forgetting more and more each day about his previous life as he dedicated his new one to Glenn. Every day he rubbed against Glenn’s weathered, hairy body and desired it all for himself. He loved the attention, being spoiled and cared for. He didn’t even notice that every meal was huge to ensure he packed on the pounds quickly.

Days turned to weeks, as Jadens body continued to mold to Glenn’s form. Glenn decided it was time for more progress, and introduced Jaden to his home gym. He slowly introduced a routine before pushing Jaden harder than he’d ever exercised in his life. Glenn took pride in having some strength under his gut, and he wanted his cub to have some solid muscle too. That’s when the testosterone patches turned to injections. Stronger and more effective, Glenn was pushing his cubs transformation into full gear.

The thin wisps of hair that dotted his chest thickened and multiplied, with larger pecs pushing out as well. The chest hair spread out from his nipples and up towards his neck, and even out towards his shoulders, connecting with the pit hair that had really started to sprout. What had once been a smooth shaven pit was now erupting into a forest. The hairs darkened, grew coarse and wiry, and really began to hold his sweat in. Between that and the workouts Jaden was starting to produce his own sweaty musk at a rapid rate. His beard also grew denser and darker, peach fuzz flooded with testosterone until it became real fur, pushing out of his face. Every day the hairs grew longer, darker, and Glenn was there to feel it all, stroking his cub’s growing beard as it came in.

Each day for Jaden began to follow a pattern; he ate plenty, worked out for hours, and was intimate with Glenn for the rest of it. He would do daily testosterone injections and used Glenn’s hair growth wash. He had grown to love what was happening to him, with continuous positive reinforcement from Glenn, who would comment on his progress. He would point out during sex how much larger his cock and balls had gotten, immediately giving Jaden an erection. It was true though, what had once been a thin six inch cock was now pushing past eight and as thick as a beer can, with balls the size of lemons dangling below.

His pubes had hit the same growth spurt. What had once been a small shaven patch had erupted into a verdant jungle of hair. Over the weeks they had pushed out slowly, growing darker and curlier, tangling together as more and more hairs pushed through the skin and sprouted out. The bush spread out from the base of his cock, coating his entire groin and reaching up to his stomach and out onto his thighs. His massive balls received their own dense fur coat; the wiry hairs so thick you could barely see through the forest. Hairs had even started climbing up his shaft, giving it an almost animalistic look. Glenn loved this, edging Jaden for hours every day playing with his thick pubes and enormous balls. The hairs blended seamlessly up to the rug on his chest, coating his continually growing belly in more and more hair.

Jaden had put on so much size that his clothes no longer fit. Glenn of course supplied him with everything he could want, though he rarely wore more than just underwear. He loved the way a tank top looked while working out, his gut pressed tight against the fabric while still showing off his hairy chest and shoulders. His forearms grew thick with muscle as fur coated them as well. His thick thighs met the same fate, with hair sprouting all the way down to his feet. His beard thickened further and spread higher up his cheeks, leaving him with a dense covering that tangled with Glenn’s own when they kissed. His body had doubled in size, with those workouts giving him a solid muscular frame. Glenn made sure that was still softened by plenty of chub though, stuffing his cub at every meal.

Fall changed to winter, and Jaden was nearing perfection as Glenn’s cub. They were inseparable, spending every day together as Glenn pushed the cub to be the best he could be, perfected for his own enjoyment. Jaden was enamored with his daddy bear, aware of the changes he’d undergone but not worried about his past self. As snow began to fall outside, his new mass and fur coat kept him warm even when outside, since he rarely cared to put on a coat. It was even better for snuggling by the fire with a full fledged bear, one who promised to only make Jaden more and more like himself. Jaden was now a true cub, in love with his daddy bear and looking forward to a life of growing.

#male tf #hairy tf #hairy #beard #hairy chest #hairy pits #hair growth #cub tf #my writing #bear tf

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mistydeyes · 1 year

Note

This is my first time doing this!!!!! can you please do 141 with a rich reader! Like she buys them cars,supplies,homes,etc but not in a sugar momma way like “ I’m make money……..and my love language is gift giving” like imagine them walking into her house mansion and is like “this is 10 times bigger than my flat building” and she’s like “oh shush….besides this is your home now” or when she picks them up to go to the pub she pulls up in their dream car and their like “love your car” she like “it’s yours” and throws the key. And when they give her gifts she ADORES them (it’s some purfum she likes) she’s just loves spoiling her baby and they don’t know how handle Being so special! CAN YOU PLEASE MAKE A REACT ON THIS ITS BEEN ROTTING MY MIND

hehe thank you so much for requesting! we love expensive taste and a woman who's love language is gift gifting!!

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summary: When the 141 met you, they had no idea what kind of life you came from. However from extravagant vacations to luxury vehicles, you make sure to treat your man right.

pairing: Taskforce 141 x fem!reader

warnings: swearing

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price

Looking at John, you can tell he enjoys the more expensive taste in things. Holidays are always a joy for you both as you spend your hard-earned salary on practical yet extravagant gifts. For your anniversary, you wanted to impress. Earlier in the year for your birthday, he had gotten you a bottle of Baccarat Rouge 540 and you were over the moon. It had it's own shelf in your home and he always made sure to compliment the rich, sultry scent when you wore it. This inspired you as you dragged John to the bright red building in Grasse. You had spent the last week in the south of France, seeing the sights and enjoying the extravagance of wine and pastries. He had been wondering where you were going as you maneuvered through the streets and eventually walked up the path. "This is the final part of a French tour," you smiled as you entered, "a perfume-making class!" As he chuckled at the idea, you checked yourselves in with the minimal amount of French you knew. "What made you pick this?" he asked as you waited for your perfume instructor. You looked around at the various creations and bottles that glistened in the afternoon sun. "You always talk about wanting to find the perfect scent," you commented, "especially when you have one of your fancy military balls or ceremonies." He nodded as he cozied himself onto the leather couch. "Well looks like this is the perfect place to do so," he smiled, kissing you on the forehead. "Don't worry, I'll make sure to pick an expensive-smelling one for my luxurious husband."

soap

"This can't be right," Johnny mumbled as he arrived at your address. You told him you lived in the English countryside and he expected a cottage fit for a granny. He was not expecting a castle that looked like it stretched various football fields. The exterior was extravagant and he was calculating the price of your marbled columns before you opened the door. "Johnny, a pleasure to have you," you smiled as you let him into the foyer. He took a minute to look at the not one but two staircases you had leading to the upper floor. Furthermore, the interior looked like a smaller version of Versailles. He thought he knew luxury when he saw Price's flat but that was a shoe closet compared to this. "Are you alright?" you questioned, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder. "You live here?" he asked and gasped at the way his voice echoed amongst the mansion. You laughed for a moment before looking back up at him. "Yes, I do," you replied as if it was a silly question, "it's quite nice." He turned back to you with a shocked face. "This is more than nice," he said, gesturing to your extravagant home, "I was not picturing this during the drive." You blushed a little at the realization that this wasn't the typical home he had been accustomed to. "Well do you want a house tour?" you offered and he immediately took the offer, "let's start with the first library." "There's multiple?"

gaz

Kyle looked at his watch as he wondered where you were. "The missus running late?" Price asked as he searched for his car keys. "Probably had a meeting or something," Kyle said, looking back down at his phone, "perks of dating a CEO I guess." Just as Price offered him a ride, a silver Rolls-Royce Spectre came revving in front of the two awe-struck men. "Sorry I'm late boys," you said as you got out, "hope Kyle stayed out of trouble long enough, John." "He's a good one, Y/N," Price replied as he gave you a quick hug. He smiled back at you before waving off and walking over to his own vehicle. "This a new company car?" Kyle asked as he examined the pristine exterior and the practically silent hum of the EV engine. You had a small smile on your face as he tapped the front of the car and looked into the windows. "It's new but definitely not company-issued," you smiled, wrapping your arms around his torso. "Didn't think you needed a new car," he continued and the suspense was killing you. As you opened the car door and sat in the red leather passenger seat, Kyle looked at you dumbfounded. "You want me to drive?" he questioned as he moved the seat back into a comfortable position. "Of course, babes," you said, practically bursting with happiness, "you should drive your own car home." There was a brief moment of mixed screaming and excitement as he realized this was his. Once he was finished (and you stopped laughing), you turned on the seat warmers. "Go ahead," you smiled, "take us home in your new toy."

ghost

Simon was never one to gorge himself on the finer things in life. He would save 80% of his paycheck and spend the rest at the grocer's or off-license. He often would have to hold you back from ordering items for him or buying something at Armani on a whim. "Return it." you could hear Simon say behind you and you sheepishly closed your laptop as you knew you had been caught. "You need new jeans though," you tried to convince him but he shook his head. "I could get a pair of Wranglers for less than £47.50 on sale," he responded and that's how most conversations ended. However, you had spent your time finding him an expensive gift that you knew he would value. "What's this?" Simon asked as you pushed over a small parcel. "I know you don't celebrate your birthday but I got you something," you smiled before sitting down with him on the couch. He shook his head as he ripped open the packaging. Inside was a small box that depicted a pair of sturdy-looking earplugs. "For when you exercise or go on runs," you commented, "they're Beats Fit Pro." He opened up the box and you watched as he adjusted them into his ear. "You know I can just use those wired ones," he said before trying them out. You shook his head as he admired the noise-canceling quality. He was enjoying the gift no matter how much he said it was unnecessary. "Well if you don't like them I can always return them," you joked, reaching your hand across the couch to get them before he pulled it away, "yeah, that's what I thought."

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alexiroflife · 3 months

Text

‘don’t ignore me’

“Across the Earth” Part 1: satoru gojo x reader

part 2 | part 3

Synopsis: you travel to NYC for spring break completely oblivious of satoru’s plan to follow you there

to sum it up: satoru does not take being avoided by you very well

WC: 12,731

The late afternoon glow of the setting sun milks the empty classroom through the row of glass windows touching the floor up to the ceiling. Most classes for the day have ended, and students scatter about the campus in search of food, study spaces, and each other’s company. It is no later than five pm, two days out from the university's suspension for spring break.

The chaotic atmosphere of the large campus is finally subsiding after a month’s long hectic craze of last minute assessments and projects as people prepare for their much needed vacation from strenuous academics.

Satoru Gojo and his best friends lounge peacefully inside their empty philosophy classroom, soaking in the rich rays of orange sun. A comfortable silence has settled over the group as Suguru works to finish an essay and Shoko toys with her lighter, flicking it open and closed repeatedly as she watches the small flame ignite and dwindle in her palm.

Satoru, oddly quiet, has been tapping away at his phone, hunched over the back of a chair so that he is facing his friends who sit properly before him at desks. The three pay each other no mind, wrapped into their own dazes, when Satoru breaks the stillness and thrusts his phone into their faces.

The two stop, snapping up from their trances instantly, the glow of Satoru’s phone screen disrupting their concentration. Satoru says nothing, waving his phone back and forth tauntingly in order to keep their, what he assumes will be, short-lived attention.

They lean forward to examine what the device has to display and scrunch their noses as their eyes dart over words and pictures that stand out to them in clarification of what Satoru has done.

Email confirmation. Seven day stay. Hamptons, New York, USA.

Suguru looks up first, confusion and distrust swimming in his hazel eyes. Shoko puts her lighter down and takes Satoru’s phone from his hand gently next to peer down at the images of the extravagant, luxurious villa plastered all over Satoru’s phone with her own eyes.

Satoru taps the back of his chair eagerly, eyes swapping between the brunette and the ravenette with an enthusiastic smile. “So? What do you think? You guys excited or what?”

Suguru crosses his arms atop his desk, leaning forward with eyes slim with suspicion as he tries to process what he has just seen. He places his pencil down next to his unfinished paper with the understanding that inquiring about whatever his best friend is planning will take a good chunk of time out of his work hour.

“Satoru…” he begins tiredly, searching the snowy haired man’s jubilant expression for whatever true intentions lay beneath it, for there was always a reason why Satoru did the things he did. This applied especially to when his scheming led to greater absurdity, his actions as loud and ridiculous as the reasons he executed them. “Why did you rent out a villa in the Hamptons?”

Satoru shrugs. “The real question here, Suguru, is why not?”

Shoko swipes her finger over the plethora of pictures Satoru’s email confirmation has to offer, brows jumping with subtle interest with each snapshot. “You want to go… to America?” she poses softly in a mumble, eyes glued to the phone.

“Ah, no. Correction: we are going to America! As a group!” Satoru exclaimed, leaning back with outstretched arms. “For spring break! Aren’t you guys excited?”

Shoko finally looks up again, meeting Satoru’s eyes blankly, while Suguru rubs his forehead in exasperation. “And why would we be doing that?”

“Well, because the first class round trip tickets are booked, and so is our stay, which you’re looking at right now,” the blue eyed man explains as though telling his friends two days before break that he paid for their expenses to travel across the world is completely justified and, far worse, normal. He leans over to point at the dates listed below the email confirmation on his phone, guiding his friends’ eyes to his finger. “See? Our stay starts Saturday, so we have to leave tomorrow.”

Suguru’s lips part in shock, eyes widening. “Wh- tomorrow?”

“It’s a twelve hour flight and we’ll be jet-lagged. Gotta plan ahead.”

The black haired man thinks he can just about wring out Satoru’s neck when that sentence falls from his mouth, for everything he is suddenly presenting is hardly something that has been planned ahead.

Shoko looks over to Suguru to see what he is thinking and finds the agitation mixed with sheer awe at Satoru’s audacity will likely lead into yet another argument between the two that she is forced to witness from nearby.

“Satoru, please tell me you’re joking,” Suguru scoffs. “We can’t just up and hop on a plane to America tomorrow- we have class, and none of us are packed for a week’s trip in a completely different country,” he reasons. “And America? Why the hell would you want to go there of all places?”

“Yeah, why not the beach?” Shoko chimes in monotonously, handing over Satoru’s phone to its owner. “There’s so many other options outside of the country. Like Bali, Greece, the Bahamas-”

“Or staying home and not springing a full trip out of nowhere onto your friends a day in advance?” Suguru interjects.

Satoru takes his phone back and pouts. “The Hamptons is on a beach, you guys. Didn’t you see the pictures? Our villa is like two seconds from the water,” he says. “Besides, who’s never wanted to go to the U.S.? Don’t you think it’ll be fun?”

“No, I don’t,” Suguru deadpans. “The Hamptons is in New York, Satoru. Don’t you know what New York is like? It’s disgusting.”

“How would you know? It’s not like you’ve ever been,” Satoru pokes out his tongue. “And what you’re thinking of is New York City. Where we’re staying is two hours away,” Satoru corrects. “It’s perfect. We can spend most of our time lounging in our big house and on the beach, and whenever we feel like it, we can drive down to the city to explore! It’ll be good to get a change of pace for us to embrace tourism.”

“I’m not going into that city,” Suguru frowns, and Satoru sighs loudly.

“Don’t be so reclusive, Suguru. You may like it.”

“I won’t.”

“Have a little faith!” Satoru groans, eyes peering dramatically over the frames of his round glasses. “We’re juniors. We shouldn’t just sit around at home all break doing nothing.”

“That’s not the point, Satoru.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, you don’t like America,” Satoru waves his hand. “But you’ll get over it once you actually get there.”

“Do you think they’ll be friendly?” Shoko asks, lifting her chin in thought. It’s clear that she is already mentally preparing to indulge Satoru by going on this trip, for she had nothing better to do than to spend it away with her friends. After all, there are worse fates than shacking up in an outrageously expensive villa in the states.

“Who, Americans or New Yorkers?” Satoru questions. “Either way, no, not at all,” he concludes, answering his own question. “But it’ll still be fun!”

Shoko shrugs, leaning back into her chair and propping her feet atop her desk. “As long as there’s water and food, I’m set.”

Satoru grins. “See? Look at that, Suguru, Shoko’s on board. So stop complaining and just go with the flow.”

Suguru clenches his jaw, astonished by the things he is hearing. He does not understand it. Not one bit. Satoru, though constantly flaunting his privilege to travel around, has never expressed direct interest in going to America. While he has toyed with the idea playfully in the past, Suguru had never taken his comments seriously because, to be perfectly frank, who would?

He knows something was up by the glint in Satoru’s eyes alone. Suguru knows his best friend very well, like the back of his hand, and knows entirely too well when there is an alternate angle to his seemingly random madness. After all, Suguru always found himself directly in the center of his spontaneous proposals.

Therefore, when Suguru’s glare on Satoru hardens as if he is trying to physically see past his thick skull and into his mind’s contents, and Satoru stares back with a frozen smile, he knows that his gut instinct is correct. “What are you up to?” the hazel eyed man asks, furrowing his brows.

Satoru’s smile stretches but does not quite reach his eyes. “I’m not sure I understand what you’re asking,” he replies coolly. “I simply want to treat my friends to a nice vacation. Is that so hard to believe?”

“Yes, it is.”

The albino slumps, rolling his chin over the rim of his seat grumpily. “You think so little of me, Suguru.”

“If it makes you feel better, I wouldn’t if I didn’t know you so well.”

Satoru’s bottom lip juts out and brows angle as he ponders the comment. “I’m not sure I know how to respond to that one.”

“Just cut the bullshit, okay?” Geto shifts in his seat, raising a brow at his sulking buffoon of a friend. “You’ve always got a reason for doing something, and this is no exception. So spill.”

Gojo’s eyes wander beneath his dim lenses, bouncing over every object of the room as his playfulness diminishes with Suguru’s accusation. “God, when did you get that stick shoved up your ass?”

“Since I’m twenty-one with a future career to think about. And so are you,” Suguru bites. “Stop stalling. Out with it.”

Satoru exhales again, closing his eyes. “I don’t know what to tell you. I hate to disappoint, but I’m only doing this out of the kindness of my heart and my hunger for exploration. You should be ashamed, throwing around these accusations and insinuating that there’s something more I want other than to have a once in a lifetime experience with the people I hold dearest to my heart-”

“You think, maybe, this has something to do with (Y/n) mentioning that she was going to New York for spring break the other day?” Shoko jumps in, her words droning on as if she were bored and her attention now elsewhere on her own phone, but her presented notion striking realization and dismay in the boys beside her.

Suguru’s eye twitches as everything pieces together in his mind. It was you. How hadn’t he understood sooner?

Satoru had taken a particular interest in you ever since freshman year orientation.

While he, Shoko, and Suguru entered university having known each other all throughout high school, you were the new addition into their lives that Satoru had been rather insistent upon acquiring.

It started with the freshman presentation in the auditorium. You happened to sit next to Suguru at the end of the row while Satoru sat on his other side and Shoko on his. You caught the blue eyed man’s eye immediately without even having to speak. But when you did, it was not to him but to Geto, leaning over and asking quietly if he knew where one of the dorm rooms was located, for you had yet to adjust to the size of the campus.

Satoru watched intensely out of the corner of his eye as Geto explained to you that he lived in the same building and would gladly show you around after the presentation. You thanked him kindly, a sweet smile rising to your face to match the charm in your light tone. Satoru nudged his friend harshly in the side when you turned away, ignoring the glare he tossed into his direction and leaning to whisper that he thought you were hot.

Geto was quick to shove him away and hiss a warning, for he didn’t want Satoru scaring you off just after he made your acquaintance. Nevertheless, Satoru was determined from then on to learn who you were. And learned, he had.

You were attending University to study art and history, your hometown about five hours away from the campus by car. You were an only child, but came from an incredibly academically pressured environment. You were an honors student, here on scholarship, and you were so very talented. Your parents had wanted you to pursue something more practical, something that would show for the hours of mathematics and science practices that had been forced onto you while you were in high school, but the strenuous impact of high expectations and terribly little breathing room had pushed you into a different direction.

You adored learning. You had a skill for it. You liked understanding the lens through which history has been told, how artists have come to detail the past, how history takes a hand in not only your daily society but the way in which daily society remembers it through art. You wanted to travel, to create, to fill your head with knowledge of past and present worlds, and though you could have been anything, this school and this path was what you chose.

Your parents, of course, had not approved, so you were forced to work for your position at the university because they refused to fund you financially. You applied to numerous scholarship applications until you were accepted by over three, wrote hundreds of drafted college essays that eventually crafted your best piece of writing yet, and worked two jobs during school and the summer whilst simultaneously maintaining straight As. You worked damn hard, and all of that work had led you to where you were today.

You had only mentioned about a quarter of that information to the friend group as they led you to the co-ed dorms that they coincidentally all resided in and asked you questions to get to know you, but Satoru had learned the rest over the months and years.

Despite Suguru’s warning for Satoru to back off, he did just the opposite and crowded your space as the four of you walked to the dorms after orientation. He was chatty, buzzing with an aura of privilege that you just could not seem to acclimate yourself to, at least not at first. Even so, Satoru was quick to welcome you into the group, inviting you to lunches and over to his shared room with Suguru within the span of barely two days. You were overwhelmed, to say the least, but grateful to have made friends so quickly.

Satoru found himself intruding into your life just as he did with anyone else. No matter where you went, he had always found a way to turn up unexpectedly. Sometimes, he was alone, and other times, he was with Suguru or Shoko or both.

As time went by, Satoru knew that he had gotten on your nerves the more comfortable you became. Gojo had blinked, and you went from a timid, kind stranger to the loud, bubbly, brazen woman you are today, who told him to leave you alone when you were trying to study and he was buzzing around your room like a nagging fly, and man, did he adore it. He adored your attention, whether it was positive or negative. He adored how your reactions to his lack of personal space proved that you were acutely aware of his presence, of his space, of his body near yours. He adored how, though you considered yourself to be friends with all three of them, he remained the only one that you would constantly bicker back and forth with when he did something to agitate you.

He adored everything about his interactions with you, for half the time they were the only thing motivating him to trudge out of bed and take on the day.

You, on the other hand, had very different opinions of Satoru Gojo. The first time he spoke to you, he reeked of privilege and presented himself as a position in such subconsciously. He was the stark opposite of you, having been handed a place in school, a legacy, an estate, and money that could last him, his children, his children’s children, and so on, for centuries to come. He was in a clear position of power, holding his head high and strutting about campus as if he owned the place.

Your first impression of him was that he was an arrogant, pompous brat.

As you got to know him, Suguru, and Shoko better, however, your disinterest in him faltered and you truly did begin to view him as a friend and as someone you loved spending time with. Though he was still spoiled as all hell, he was funny, he was intelligent, he was smart, and he was hardworking when he wanted to be. He wasn’t a bad guy at all though he was preposterously clingy and bothersome, but in an endearing, playful kind of way.

Nevertheless, Satoru Gojo would always be someone who viewed himself as above you. Someone who toyed with you for fun, who said and did things solely to get a rise out of you, who flirted with practically the entire population of girls on the campus, and who found it funny when professors berated him because they were just too “uptight.” Satoru was a brat, through and through, and you knew that he’d only hover around you if it served well for his entertainment.

This fact hadn’t bothered you before because you thought you understood the dynamic that Satoru had built with you and with many others, but when you started feeling pangs in your chest when he grinned at you or envy bubbling in your gut when another girl approached him to ask for his number, your stomach sank with fear because you knew that your feelings were shifting against your better judgment.

Consequently, you began distancing yourself from Satoru as best as you possibly could. Your texts went from all caps to lowercase as your tone dried, you stopped by his apartment with Suguru less throughout the week, and when he tracked you down, throwing an arm around you and asking what you were doing for the night, you would tell him you were busy studying with people who didn’t exist.

It hurt you to behave in such a way, for you could tell that Suguru and Shoko were beginning to notice not only your shift in demeanor, but Satoru’s obsessive panic over why you were talking to him less. You tried to keep your friendships with the two separate from your feelings for Gojo, but the task proved quite impossible due to how attached the three of them were to each other. No matter how far you tried to pull away subtly, Satoru was there. Everywhere.

This is what led you to decide that a trip out of the country would do you some good. You had always wanted to go abroad and your professor had presented an opportunity to you in New York to do research with a colleague on a selection of artifacts presented in the MET gallery. You scraped up the money for a ticket and an AirBnB in SoHo, along with the generous help of your university’s study abroad funding, and set the date. You had mentioned that you were going away to Shoko a few nights ago over the phone, but were unaware that your voice was on speaker as Shoko got ready for the bar with Suguru and Satoru catching wind of your brief conversation in the background.

Gojo must have seen the opportunity to catch up with you, and snatched it.

Suguru groans, rubbing his hands over his face as he takes it all in. The only reason Satoru is so set on this trip is because he will be hijacking yours.

Satoru rolls his eyes, sitting back up and crossing his arms stubbornly over his chest, displeased with the general reaction to Shoko’s observation. “Like it’s a crime to be in the same place as her for spring break. That could be purely coincidental,” he tsks, casting his gaze to the ceiling.

“Satoru, oh my god,” Suguru grumbles.

“What?! It’s not a big deal! We’ll be two hours away from her and we can hypothetically visit her in the city if we decide to one day.”

“Are you seriously staking this entire trip on the chance of seeing (Y/n)? Satoru, I’m pretty sure she’s not staying home for a reason.”

“Duh, because she has a research thing.”

“No- I mean, she’s trying to get some space,” he urges. “From us.”

The notion does not sit well in Satoru’s chest, so he decides to ignore it. “Impossible. She loves us.”

“I don’t doubt that, but I also can tell that she’s been distant and wants a break. A break… far away,” Suguru emphasizes the last few words with earnest. “Come on, you had to have noticed too.”

Had he noticed?

It’s all Satoru can think about, day in and day out. He looks at your text messages, reading back over your loud responses from months ago that have resorted to short words with periods, and at times nothing at all. He wonders why you don’t visit him often anymore, why you blow him off every single time he tries to hang out, and his heart hurts at the thoughts.

He doesn’t know what he has done wrong or if he has upset you in any way. For a moment, he thought it was a mutual distance that you were putting between all three of you, but the night you had called Shoko telling her about your trip and not him really put things into perspective. You were avoiding him. Not Suguru, not Shoko, but him, and he has no way of knowing why or how he could fix it.

He misses you, and he’s not ready for you to decide that you want nothing to do with him anymore, so he’s following you, chasing after the chance that perhaps there is something he can do to make you laugh with him, smile at him, whack the back of his head again like you used to.

“I don’t know, Suguru… maybe it’s you she’s trying to distance herself from,” Satoru hisses through his teeth, purposely deflecting blame from him as a coping mechanism. “I mean, after all, you do get in a crabby mood after certain classes. You probably said something mean to her one day and didn’t realize.”

“Shut up, you idiot, we both know that didn’t happen,” Suguru denies confidently, for he knows exactly why you have been stepping away.

He has seen it in your eyes when you look at Satoru, the way you unintentionally cast annoyed glances Suguru and Shoko’s way when the four of you are out and Gojo is stopped by an enamored pretty girl, looking to drag him home with her.

He sees the love all too well, in the both of you. He and Shoko both do, but they can not for the life of them understand how the two of you have been so blind to it. If you had opened your eyes for one second to see the reason why Satoru would wake up every morning to text you random, insignificant thoughts or followed you around like a lost puppy, you wouldn’t have been distancing yourself the way you are now.

Nevertheless, Suguru supposes he understands. Satoru can be a lot to handle, and when you are trying to look up at him from the bottom of the pedestal that the world has placed him upon, it is terribly difficult to meet him eye level and see the truth in his gaze.

“You need to be honest with yourself,” the black haired man proceeds. “And you can’t just intrude on (Y/n)’s privacy because you want to. It’s not fair to her.”

“What do you know about what she wants,” Satoru mumbles bitterly under his breath, turning to look outside the window in hopes of the scenery outdoors drifting him away from this enclosed conversation.

Suguru shakes his head to himself, watching as Suguru pouts. “She’s not just your friend. She’s a friend to all of us,” he says, voice growing softer as he knows this is a sensitive topic. “Yes, it’s sad that we don’t see her as much anymore, but you have to respect her wishes. We shouldn’t go on this trip. Not if it’s to see her.”

Satoru is stubborn. Incredibly stubborn. He was raised receiving everything he asked for and more, therefore, he did not understand the concept of not doing something if he wanted to do it. And of course, when it comes to you, Satoru is willing to challenge all barriers in order to get to you.

So he shakes his head in retort and allows a smile to return to his face. “Even if I were bringing us to America for her, which I’m not, the trip is already fully booked and paid for,” he grins, and Suguru feels the color drain from his face. Shoko chuckles quietly to herself in amusement, all too familiar with the shenanigans that Satoru pulls. Only she finds it far funnier and less agitating than Suguru. “So either way, we’re going. No ifs, ands, or buts. And as a matter of fact, I'm feeling extra touristy this year. I say we hit the MET while we’re in New York too. You know what they say… when in Rome,” Satoru nods, entirely too satisfied with himself.

Suguru pinches the bridge of his nose, reluctantly accepting his fate. “I hate you.”

“Tell me about it,” the white haired man smirks.

“Even so,” Suguru starts, picking up his pencil once more in a half-attempt to conclude his closing paragraph. “We still have class tomorrow. Don’t we, Shoko?”

The said brunette hums. “True, but we’re not really going, are we? It’s the last day before break. No one will be there.”

Satoru stands abruptly, rekindled pride bursting in his chest. “Exactly. You’re gonna have to skip class just this once, Suguru. We’ve got a flight to catch,” he grins and Suguru grips his pencil so hard it almost snaps.

_______________________________

You huff as you slam your suitcase onto the hard floor of your temporary residence for the next week. The door shuts gently behind you, and you are finally gifted your first moments of isolated peace within your room. You step around your bag, exploring the space excitedly. You’re exhausted from your flight, more exhausted than you believed a person could be, but the spark of thrill buzzing in your body from making it overseas after a long journey is fresh in your mind.

The space is far bigger than you thought after having been told of horror stories about New York’s cramped style of living. You have a cute kitchen that connects directly to your living space, which leads to a small balcony that overlooks the bustling streets and crowded stores of SoHo, New York. You see the corner that rounds to your bedroom and bathroom with a full shower, but rush to the balcony first. You throw the door open and step out, the muffled sounds of the city instantly hitting your ears with crisp clarity. You are seven floors up, looking down with wide eyes and a large smile, taking in the smoggy air and rows of brick buildings. You think to yourself that it is absolutely perfect.

And what is best of all is that there is no Satoru in sight, no reminder of the heavy weight that weighs on your chest each time he is near, no image of his perfect face and haunting blue eyes, or that messy hair white as a cloud, or those glossy lips that always curl into a sinister smile.

No, none of that here. You are free of him, of this burden of love for the next week, and you feel you can finally breathe.

You settle in, unpacking your things and tucking your clothes away in the drawers, claiming the sunlit space as your own. You have a meeting early tomorrow morning with your professor’s research colleague at Central Park before heading into the museum, so you figure you could take the rest of the day to grab some food and rest, far too tired to explore a good chunk of the city due to the flight.

You go to sleep peacefully that night, the view of the city and busy noise surprisingly calming you into your slumber. Unbeknownst to you, however, while you drift off into a dreamless sleep, Suguru, Satoru, and Shoko are lugging their bags through the East Hampton airport.

You’re up bright and early the next morning. The first thing you do is check your phone subconsciously for messages from Satoru before recalling that your once steady text communication had come to a slow halt because of you, and that you two are in separate parts of the world. You pause, heart panging suddenly at the thought of Satoru, before shaking your head and pushing the thoughts away. This trip is not for you to sit around and think about that moron. You have work to do, sights to see, research to accomplish- and a meeting in an hour.

You rush out of your AirBnB after a half an hour, waving your hand aggressively on the sidewalk to hail your first cab. One eventually comes along after three have passed, and you set your destination for the South Side of Central Park. You dig into the cash fare you set aside specifically for cab rides and step out into the path leading into the plethora of greenery and liveliness of the park upon arriving.

You are instantly filled with childlike wonder when you catch sight of street performers, vendors, horse drawn carriages, and artists. You look around, teeth biting into your lip harshly to suppress your smile. Though it is early morning, it’s already loud and busy as people rush to work or take morning jogs down the street.

Your phone rings before you can wander off to where you are not supposed to be, and you see the name of the colleague you are supposed to meet pop up. You quickly answer and trek off into the park, following his directions and finding him sitting at a bench atop a large rock.

He is much younger than you expected when you approach him. He may be a few years older than you are now, stubble shading his face and brown hair cut short. You smile when he catches your eye, and he’s standing, reaching out to shake your hand with a warm grin.

The two of you talk about your education, your experience with art history, and the goal of the research you would be helping him accomplish for your professor back at home. The two of you walk and talk as you head to the east side of the park to reach the MET gallery.

He, who you learn to be named Aoto, is a grad student in his mid twenties attending a school in the city, an alum to your current college. Aoto is helping your art history professor collect data on how certain artifacts on display in the MET gallery have been discovered and acquired over the years, and to categorize them by culture and country of origin. Your job is to assist by essentially organizing the data and taking note of his findings by following him around galleries, lectures, and meetings, and you can not be more excited to start.

You then ask the dark haired man about his experience in the city, curious to know what New York is like from an insider’s perspective. He almost laughs and tells you that living there has changed his life for the better. He admits that it takes some getting used to at first, but once you have spent enough time here, there’s no going back. New York is a melding pot, he tells you, where anyone can work toward anything. It is a tough city to attempt to conquer, but it rewards you with so many connections and experiences that you can not find anywhere else.

You take his words to heart, already admittedly inspired by the atmosphere around you. It is nothing like home, so boisterous and hectic, but lively, eclectic, and artful. It intrigues you.

You're snapping pictures left and right when you reach the MET, a wide, tan building with large banners cascading over the walls, advertising wonderful areas of exploration and collections within the museum. Aoto, far more casual than your professor had led on, chuckles at your excitement and offers to take pictures of you in front of the building with your camera. The two of you are standing on the steps of the museum for at least fifteen minutes, distracted by capturing images on your phone, before trekking inside.

And inside, your heart bursts as this building is where you are meant to be. Ancient Greek sculptures, fragments of middle eastern fabrics, plates collected from the Byzantine Era, works capturing prominent artists of the Harlem Renaissance, and more captivate your eyes, your heart, and your mind; the museum is a melding pot of history, new worlds different from the last lurking around each corner. You jump between signs, unsure of where to go next as you take it all in.

Today, Aoto spends by giving you a tour and familiarizing you with the environment. He works there part-time with a membership and is able to give you an in-depth analysis of as many galleries as you can conquer within the few hours of time you have set for the day.

When the tour concludes, he gives you a brief assignment to write down a list of the galleries you would be interested in focusing on for your short participation in his project as well as what you observed about certain artifacts that are on display. It isn’t much, but he wants to get your mind pumping with something before he puts you to real work throughout the rest of the week. You accept your task happily, moved by the pieces of history that you have already seen in the span of less than one day.

For the rest of the afternoon, you find a nearby cafe and get to work, fixated completely on the works that have caught your eye in the museum. You type away the hours, jotting down observations, things that moved you, things that confused you, things you want to see. The sun is setting again before you even notice, and you get a buzz from your phone that brings you back up for air and concludes the dive into a rabbit hole that you have traveled through for a good chunk of the day.

Aoto’s name pops up again, this time in a text.

Dinner? I can show you a good spot near where you’re staying. We can talk work : )

You don’t see any reason for you not to accept, so you text back and agree. He sends an address instantly, and you’re packing your laptop and rushing out of the cafe to hail a taxi to head back to your place and put away your belongings before walking to your destination.

You conclude that this is a nice change in pace from the constant harassment of Satoru as you sit across from your research partner at a bar and grill down the block from where you’re staying. It’s casual and friendly, refreshing, new.

You talk about tomorrow's plans, your interest in the Arms and Armor gallery and the Islamic artifacts that you have analyzed earlier in the day. You also discuss your observation of missing fragments of Syrian tile or the preservation of torn carpet from centuries past. Many of the artifacts kept in the MET are still missing parts of itself that may likely never be recovered.

Once you finish discussing the day, Aoto tells you that tomorrow, you’ll be meeting up with him and a historian who will walk you through the findings of the Islamic Art collection.

It is late when the two of you finish up. You step outside of the dim restaurant onto the sidewalk and into the cool air, facing each other to kindly bid farewell until the following day.

You smile to yourself as he walks away, heart fulfilled with the promise of a new week abundant with all the things you find joy in doing. You think to yourself that you are so very lucky to have been granted this opportunity, to travel, to learn, to experience, and that your spring break will be absolutely amazing. You grow excited even at the prospect of telling Shoko and Suguru about it when you return home.

You turn over your shoulder and prepare to walk home, eyes to the dark sky above before you lower them to look ahead…

And your face drops.

You squint, stopping dead in your tracks. Are you dreaming? Hallucinating? You must be, because there is no reality in which your eyes have caught a glimpse of that porcelain glow of silky hair in the midst of people walking by.

You scrunch your brows, a sudden aggressive sense of anxiety taking over you. Your heartbeat rises, the notion alone of seeing what you think you see makes your palms run cold with sweat and your body hot all over. No, you must be seeing things. Your mind is playing tricks on you, because there is no way in all hell that you just saw Satoru Gojo on the streets of SoHo, New York.

But then a path clears when people scatter to the sides, revealing two tall figures and a shorter one ahead, and your jaw hangs wide open.

You have got to be fucking kidding.

You wish someone was, that a prank is being played on you in poor taste, but your eyes have unfortunately not mistaken you. You could recognize your three friends anywhere. You watch in awe as Satoru Gojo, Suguru Geto, and Shoko Leiri saunter their way up the sidewalk into your direction.

Satoru is looking around him with a childlike smile, flashing pictures of random people and alleys that hold no significance. He busies himself with the exaggerated pictures, looking everywhere but ahead of him, which tells you that he knows full well that you are standing nearby.

Shoko stands behind him on his left with a cigarette propped between her lips, looking off across the street at an ice cream shop that catches her eye, and Suguru looks the most miserable of them all. Clad in dark, baggy sweats, he slumps on Satoru’s right, glaring in judgment at the people that brush by him, too close for his taste.

You don’t know what to say or do. You have half the mind to just turn around and walk off into a different direction, but Satoru’s eyes meet yours behind those damned glasses that he never took off of his face before you can even think about it

He lowers his phone and parts his lips in feigned shock, cupping a hand over his forehead and leaning over to catch a better glimpse. He opens his arms wide upon detecting your face and his posture straightens.

“(Y/n)! What a surprise, is that you?!”

His voice carries, turning heads as his tall form practically skips over to you and glomps you in a hug. You grunt, eyes wide and body frozen as the feeling of his body embracing yours fails to register very quickly. You stare off through wisps of white hair, tormented confusion written all over your face. Satoru is rocking your body side to side suddenly, acting as though you have not seen him in years, and for the blue eyed man, it may feel like just that.

“It’s so good to see you!” he sings, pulling back with his large hands gripping your shoulders. You look up at him with a blank stare as he beams, pearly whites shining and fair skin tinged with a hint of pink on his cheeks. He chuckles when he looks at your expression, the bubbly sound making your head spin on your neck. “You look so shocked! Did you miss me?” he asks smugly, voice dipping lower as he leans his head in with a smirk.

You're speechless, stunned by his presence and distracted by his gut wrenching beauty.

How the hell is he here?

“Wh-” you stammer. “How- why are you-?”

“Why am I here?” he asks your unfinished question for you, and you nod stiffly. “Wanted to do some sight seeing for spring break, and I heard New York is great for tourists,” he grins, whipping out his phone camera once more to swiftly rush to your side and wrap an arm over your shoulders and snap a selfie of the two of you. You blink, the motion too quick for you to keep up with. Satoru steps back and looks down at his screen with a smile. “Aww, how cute! This one’s a keeper, for sure.”

A tinge of irritation captures you in the midst of your stupor when Satoru makes the picture of him smiling happily next to your ‘deer-in-headlights’ expression his new lockscreen. He’s messing with you, just as he always does, and for a moment you ponder whether this is truly a coincidence meeting him here or not.

Suguru and Shoko slowly make their way over to the two of you. “Oh, guys! Look who I ran into,” Gojo gestures proudly to you. “Isn’t that funny?”

His friends do not look in the least bit surprised. When Suguru’s eyes swipe over you apologetically then back to Satoru with lingering annoyance, your suspicions are confirmed within seconds. “So funny,” Geto smiles tightly.

Despite his blatant displeasure in being here, Suguru is quick to mask his irritation and make his way over to you to hug you in greeting. “Sorry about this,” he murmurs to you before pulling away, and you’re reeling, overwhelmed.

Shoko comes to you next with a soft smile, eyes lighting as she nudges your shoulder playfully. “Long time no see, huh?

“Y-Yeah,” you stutter, flashing her a quick smile before glowering angrily up at Satoru. “What are the odds that we all find each other in America?” you hiss.

“I know, right?” Satory shakes his head as if marveling at a joke. “The universe has a funny way of bringing us all together.”

Your eye twitches and your cheeks burn. You’re flustered, having been caught off guard by the one person you were trying your hardest to get away from. Now he’s here, after following you around in your heart, mind, and back home on campus, he has followed you overseas into another continent.

You can’t escape him.

“So what are you up to? It’s dangerous to walk out here at night alone,” he says.

God, he is so insufferable. The very sound of his voice makes you want to slap him across the face in hopes that it will buffer whatever simulation you have been plopped into that has forced you to face Satoru Gojo of all people.

“Have you started your research yet?” Shoko inquires.

“Um… yeah, I got started with some stuff today. I actually just finished meeting with my research partner…”

“Oh, you were with someone then?” Satoru asks, pretending not to care. You can tell simply by the way he shoves his hands into his pockets and lifts his brows as though clueless. One thing you have learned about Satoru over the years is that his vision is eerily impressive and he observes things from miles away. In fact, he brags about his keen observational skills all the time, therefore, if he was able to see you from afar, he would have been able to see Aoto bid you farewell and walk away too.

“She just said she was with her research partner, Satoru,” Suguru adds, voice monotone.

“I know, but I didn’t see any woman near (Y/n) before I saw her.”

You clench your jaw. “It’s a he,” you clarify flatly, eyes sharp on his face.

He nods slowly. “Ohhh, really now?” he hums, and you fight the urge to strangle him. “That’s interesting. Cool, good for you.”

“I’m sorry- what- I mean, how are you guys even here?” you change the subject to get clarification. “I didn’t think any of you were traveling for break. Shoko, you just told me the other night that you would be home.”

You don’t miss the exhale that Suguru breathes and the way Shoko’s eyes dart instantly to Gojo. “That’s a great question,” Suguru says. “Why don’t you ask Satoru? He’s the one who wanted to travel so bad.”

Satoru looks over at his best friend out of the corner of his eye, eyes hard as if warning him not to give him away.

“Is that so?”

“You know me, (Y/n),” he turns to you giddily. “I love to go outside the box.”

“Clearly,” you bite, and he only grins that same stupid grin. You understand now. It was all his idea, as always. “So then, where are you guys staying? Here in the city?”

“Actually, no,” Suguru grumbles.

“Satoru’s rented a place up in the Hamptons.”

“The Hamptons?” you reel at Shoko’s revelation. “That’s a two hour drive from here!”

“We know,” she and Suguru say in unison, and you look at Satoru accusingly.

“Why would you make that drive at this time of night?”

The white haired man rolls his eyes. “As if it’s so crazy to want to rent a car to drive down to the city.”

“On our first full day on vacation, yes. It is,” Suguru says.

“Well, I wanted to see Times Square.”

“Times Square is on the other side of the city.”

“Okay, and? We can’t make detours along the way?” Satoru argues sassily. “Plus, my decision to make a detour and stop in the closest neighborhood led us to our friend! You guys should really be thanking me for reuniting us all like this.”

You almost wish you can’t believe this, but sadly, you do.

Satoru Gojo is the only person you know who has not only the means, but the funds, and the audacity to book a last minute trip to New York solely to disrupt your peace. You can tell by Suguru’s face that he is not keen on spending time in the city, for he had always told you about his pet peeve of large crowded areas with unsanitary conditions. New York is the last place he would want to be, and the only reason he would even find himself here is if his nuisance of a best friend forced him to be.

While Shoko does not look bothered to be in the city at all, you know her very well. Shoko is low maintenance, but she likes to relax, to unwind, and she most likely much prefers the Hamptons and the beach over an impromptu drive into a city with no water or signs of relaxation.

And then there was Satoru, arrogant, hardly ever serious, and all too pleased with himself. He knows exactly what he is doing, showing up in the same part of the city you told your brown haired friend you would be residing in for the entirety of your stay. The pictures you have posted on social media hours ago likely led Satoru to this very spot, where he stands with an air of satisfaction and delight around him.

You witness the way girls’ eyes linger as they walk by, his presence giving off that of a model’s. He clearly is not native to the city, for you all stand out like a sore thumb, but Satoru specifically gives off a vibe of untouchable refinement and value that not many have seen before.

You hate him, how much attention he gets anywhere he goes, how he is so painfully aware of it. You hate how smug he looks, how pleased he appears to be in your presence after having shown up so unexpected. You hate him and those captivating round eyes complemented by snowy lashes glimpsing over round frames. You hate his irritating smile that prods into subtle indents of dimples in his lower chin and the stretch of pink lips that you catch yourself ogling at during the worst of times. You hate the way he dresses so well, how he stands confidently adorned in a loose, linen shirt and jeans, and how his clothing smells of him hand in hand with his intoxicating cologne.

You hate him. You hate him so much. You hate how he won’t leave you alone, not even for a second, not even when you think you’re safe. He returns to haunt you, to flaunt himself all around you with no regard for how he makes you feel. He’s a brat. A spoiled, self-concerned, childish brat who you love with all of your being and you hate him.

“Since we’re all here,” Satoru begins slyly, interrupting your train of thought with a shrug. “Why don’t you show us where you’re staying, (Y/n)? For old time’s sake.”

You try to regulate your breathing before you actually find yourself punching the white haired bastard beside you in the face. First, he springs himself onto you in the middle of the street, and now, he’s asking to intrude on your space. What gives him the right?

“I don’t think (Y/n) would want us marching into her space like that,” Suguru says pensively, doing his best not to further agitate you. He must have already seen the look on your face and determined that it is time for him to drag Satoru away from you and give you some breathing room. “After all, you’re working here, aren’t you (Y/n)? We wouldn’t want to distract you anymore than we already have.”

“Nah, (Y/n) would love to have us! Right?” Satoru speaks for you, moving behind you to cup your shoulders into his palms again.

You tense, his scent consuming you and his body heat radiating into yours. He’s so tall, you can feel his body dwarfing yours from where he stands so close.

You want to kill him.

“Come on,” he probes, grip on your shoulders tightening. “Just this once and we’ll be out of your hair.”

You know it's a lie the moment he speaks it into existence. Never once has Satoru come and gone so easily when you were involved. He always ensures to make a show of his pestering, sticking around you for as long as possible until he finally decides that he is happy with himself. You know that if you agree to letting him in, he won’t leave. At least, not for a long while.

“Leave her be, Satoru,” Shoko waves at him. “She’s sick of your face already.”

“No one could be sick of my face, Shoko. It’s a work of art.”

“For real, Satoru. Let’s get out of this city already. It smells horrible,” Suguru adds.

“Hold on a minute, would you? We’re not going anywhere until we hear a yes or no from (Y/n).. Don’t be so impatient.”

Satoru happily places the spotlight onto you as your friends await a response.

Your first instinct is to tell them that it is getting late, that they should probably start heading back soon so that they are not driving past an unreasonable hour. You want to rid yourself of the thought of Gojo, of his eyes, his smile, his smell, his presence. You want to tell him off, to tell him that you want him gone, to go about your week as if nothing has happened.

You want to find the strength to do so badly, but you can’t.

As you stand there with your friends surrounding you, looking at their faces, you realize that you have missed them despite your desire to avoid Gojo for selfish reasons. You miss late night study sessions with Suguru in his apartment while you exchange laughs as well as answers for problems you were unsure about. You miss sneaking off into secluded areas of the campus to spark a flame in the dusk with Shoko, smoking until you were inebriated enough to bang on Suguru and Satoru’s door and demand food. And most of all, you miss Satoru. You miss the way he pestered you, the way he showed up outside of your classes, the way he took your phone to sneak a few pictures into your camera roll, the way he lounged on your bed and ranted to you about his father for hours while you listened as you painted your nails at your desk.

You miss his company. You miss the way he makes you laugh. You even miss the way he makes you frown.

You hadn’t realized before how difficult it had been to keep your distance from these people until seeing them here with you, and a wave of guilt sinks over your body. Suguru and Shoko are clearly attempting to do damage control before damage is inflicted by urging Satoru to leave you be, and them along with him, but despite your eagerness to stay away from Satoru, you find you don’t want him to leave you be. You don’t want any of them to leave you be. You miss your friends, and to turn them away now would be like rejecting them forever.

The four of you are out of the country together for the first time. You would be cruel to waste this opportunity to spend time with them after weeks of trying to step away.

So you sigh and give in, knowing that it is exactly what Satoru wants. “It wouldn’t hurt to have you guys over,” you say shyly, and Suguru and Shoko perk up. “Hell, we’re in America. Why not? I missed you guys.”

Shoko smiles, and against Suguru’s distaste for the city, he smiles tiredly with the shake of his head. He can only imagine that this trip will go into a far more chaotic direction that he had already believed.

Satoru rejoices loudly, linking his arm around yours and yanking you to him. “Alright, (Y/n)! Lead the way!” he projects, marching forward and pulling you along with him. You stumble to catch up with his large strides.

“Alright, alright, I’m coming! Just slow down, you idiot!” you bark as he drags you past Shoko and Suguru.

The two exchange glances, sharing the same knowing look, before following suit.

The four of you stop to grab pizza and a few beers on the way before entering your AirBnB. After Satoru familiarizes himself with the entire space, nosily peering into every nook and cranny, the four of you settle in the living room to eat with the balcony door open, allowing the spring breeze and ambiance of the city to drift into the space while you all keeled over in laughter, reminiscing over the past few years you have spent in each other’s company. Hours fly by until two empty pizza boxes sit in the middle of the floor, forgotten by your boisterousness.

“Wait, wait, wait, hold on,” Shoko wheezes with laughter, leaning over in her seat on the sofa she shares with Geto to put out the ashes of her cigarette into the mug on that table. “What about that time Satoru got plastered and tried to scale the side of the science building?”

You and Suguru burst out cackling. You crane over your lap and Suguru throws his head back, amusement overcoming your bodies. Satoru rolls his eyes, tilting back the beer in his hand to prevent you all from seeing his smile.

“Oh my god,” you cry. “He- He was yelling at us- for trying to tell him that the bricks- were too flat for him to grab!”

“And then he made it up like five inches before falling flat on his ass!”

The three of you howl at the memory, stomachs aching from how hard you are laughing. “And his face after,” Suguru adds, swiping his hand over his face. “He was pissed at us like we did something wrong.”

“Because it was your lack of faith that fucked up my concentration,” Satoru butts in after lowering the bottle from his lips, thumb smoothing away drops of alcohol from his mouth. “I bet you I can climb that old ass building now. I know what to expect this time. I’ll be prepared.”

“Sure, and you’ll break a hip this time around too.”

Satoru flips Suguru off from across the room, to which the dark haired man smiles with feigned politeness.

“God, we used to get drunk like every weekend,” you say, placing your empty bottle on the floor next to the pizza boxes. You sit sprawled out between the couch and the chair that Satoru occupies, legs crossed before you. “How the hell did we get anything done?”

“Beats me,” Shoko chuckles, cooling down from her fit of giggles. “I don’t think I went to one class sober back in freshman year.”

“That sounds to me like you have a problem,” Satoru smirks.

“And you don’t? You’re a lightweight who actively chooses to get wrecked off three shots then makes it everyone else’s problem.”

“Wouldn’t me being a lightweight mean I’m less addicted?” he leans over his spread legs, sitting his elbows on his knees as he cradles his beer in his large palms.

“No, it means you’re worse than any of us,” you tease, looking over to find Satoru’s eyes already on you.

He raises a brow. “Oh yeah? What about you, miss ‘emotional drunk?’”

You can hear Suguru snort, and you’re whipping your head between the two, offended. “Shut up! I don’t get that emotional.”

“(Y/n), you are so sappy when you’re drunk,” Suguru snickers. “One minute you’re taking a shot, the next you’re crying about how much you appreciate our friendship.”

Your face goes red. “I do not!” you deny.

“Oh, yes you do,” Shoko agrees.

“‘You guys, I just don’t know what I’d do without you!’” Satoru imitates your voice by scaling his own up a pitch, pressing a hand to his chest to encapsulate a touched emotion. “‘You all make me so happy! I love you all so much!’”

“Shut up!” you demand, fighting a laugh as Shoko and Suguru stifle their own.

“‘Satoru, I know I’m mean to you all the time, but I don’t mean it! I love having you around! You make me smile!’” he sighs dreamily, batting his eyelashes, and your friends are laughing loudly again.

You crawl over to where Satoru sits and slap his shin hard, to which he looks down at you and grins snarkily. “Ow.”

“I do not sound like that,” you argue.

“Sure you do. I should know, I'm the one you always ended up babbling to.”

“Liar,” you groan.

“Whatever you say,” Satoru taps your nose lightly with his finger and you quickly swat his hand away.

“Oh! Suguru, do you remember that time (Y/n) cried over your hair?” Shoko brings up.

It’s their turn to make fun of you now as you cross your arms stubbornly and listen.

“She told me that she was crying because she was happy for me that my hair is so long,” the hazel eyed man recalls.

“I mean, who wouldn’t?” Satoru chimes in. “Suguru was blessed with such beautiful, luscious hair, who wouldn’t cry over it? Isn’t that right, (Y/n)?”

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up,” you murmur. “At least I’m kind when I’m drunk.”

All eyes immediately turn to Suguru, and he freezes, laughter dying in his throat. “What?”

“You’re a fucking asshole when you’re drunk, Sugu, that’s what,” Shoko says.

“Oh please, I’m not that bad.”

“Tell that to those girls you made cry at the bar last year.”

Suguru grunts, pursing his lips in embarrassment. “I told them I was sorry.”

“Doesn’t make you any less of a monster off vodka,” Satoru says, and Geto throws an arm pillow at the blue eyed man’s face.

You smile to yourself, leaning back on your hands and looking out the window at the city lights. “This is nice,” you say aloud.

Suguru and Shoko hum in agreement while Satoru stands to his feet after putting his bottle on the floor. “Isn’t it?” he announces loudly in content. “Aren’t you glad you ran into us and invited us here?”

“You invited yourself here,” you correct with a roll of your eyes. “But yes, Satoru. Yes I am.”

“We’ve missed spending time with you, (Y/n),” Shoko says. “You left me alone to deal with these two idiots and all they do is fight.”

“Because Satoru doesn’t take anything seriously,” Geto adds.

“It’s only ‘cause I love ya, Suguru.”

“Shut the hell up.”

You chuckle, bringing your knees to your chest. You glance at your phone beside you and see that the time reads 1:34 am. You cringe, unsure of where the hell the time went. “Damn, it’s late,” you say.

Suguru glances at his own phone and his brows jump. “Oh shit, yeah,” he observes. “Sorry, (Y/n). Didn’t mean to take up your entire night.”

“No, no. It's fine, I’m actually really glad you did.”

Shoko stands, stretching her arms behind her back with a sigh. “So, we hittin’ the road or what?”

You can feel Satoru’s eyes on you in an instant, and you already know what he is going to suggest before he even opens his mouth to ask. You curse yourself internally because you know that you will regret proposing what you are about to propose, but you can’t bring yourself to watch your friends head out so late and drive two hours out to where they are staying.

Once again, Satoru’s decisions have become your problem.

“Why don’t you guys just sleep over here for the night?” you suggest.

“...Are you sure?” Suguru questions. “I’m sure you’re busy tomorrow… and you’ve only been here one night.”

“It’s not a big deal. I meet with Aoto at ten tomorrow, so I’ll have plenty of time to get ready and see you guys off. Please, I wouldn’t forgive myself if I let Satoru drive you all back this late.”

“Aoto?”

“My research partner.”

“Ah,” Suguru nods, eyes flickering up swiftly to Satoru’s face before landing back on yours. “Well, if it’s not any trouble for you, we’d appreciate it.”

“Not at all. The four of us have had hundreds of sleepovers, this isn’t any different.”

“Alright, then. Thanks.”

The moment you stand up, Satoru is leaning himself against you, resting his heavy head on yours and squishing against your cheek. “You take such good care of us,” he coos, giggling when you try to push him away but struggle under his weight.

“Satoru, get off!”

The next twenty minutes fly as you spend them setting up the pullout in the living room (that you have only just discovered) and moving the coffee table to lay extra blankets and pillows next to the pullout. Suguru and Shoko take the bed while Satoru teases you about letting him sleep in the bed with you. You tell him to fuck off and he winks.

Suguru and Shoko pass out within minutes, likely exhausted from Satoru pulling them along with him all day. You see Satoru setting himself up on the floor, taking off his glasses and setting them aside, when you sneak past quietly to step out onto the balcony.

You aren’t tired. Your mind is racing and your nerves are jumping with their awareness of Satoru sitting in your living room. You exhale softly, leaning over the railing and looking down at the still busy streets, watching taxis round corners aggressively and pedestrians chat loudly. You close your eyes, setting your arms on the rail and your cheek atop them, listening to the sounds and savoring the feeling of the cool night breeze against your flustered skin.

You soak in at least five minutes of silence before you hear feet padding behind you and the door opens and closes again. You lift your head and turn to find Satoru joining you. He walks up quietly and stands beside you, peering over the ledge in the same fashion you had as you avert your gaze.

He does not say much, shockingly. Sleepiness is finally catching up to him as he looks down lazily, peacefully, unshaded blue eyes glossy beneath his long lashes. The soft distant lights of the street lamps illuminate his face with a dim glow while he hunches over, watching calmly.

It is quiet between the two of you for a moment before he’s talking, a deep voice sending chills down your spine. “Do you like it here so far?” he asks softly, voice low.

You nod, pursing your lips and keeping your gaze down. “Yeah, it’s nice,” you tell him gently. “Really different from home, but nice. I like it.”

“I can see the appeal,” he agrees. “It’s busy like Tokyo.”

“Yeah, it is,” you nod. “I don’t think it’s Suguru’s style.”

A huff of amusement breathlessly leaves Satoru’s lips, the corners of his mouth curling. “It definitely isn’t. I had to practically drag him out of his room to get him to come with.”

“You know Suguru. He’s picky.”

“Very.”

“Shoko seems to be cool with the city though.”

“Mhm. There’s not much she doesn’t adapt to.”

“That’s true…” you mumble as a lull in the conversation arises. “...Satoru, why are you-“

“So what’s your research partner like?” he interjects, turning to look at you now. You furrow your brows, meeting his eyes when you face him. His face is serene, still, yet his eyes tell a different story. They’re alive with an eagerness for his question to be answered, a curiosity, a hint of frustration. You grow confused.

“…Why?”

He tilts his head. “I can’t ask about the person my friend is working with?”

“I- no, it’s just an abrupt question.”

“I don’t think it is,” he disagrees. “What’s his name again? Ayano?”

“Aoto,” you correct sharply.

“Right. So? How is he?”

His eyes don’t waver, and you pucker your lips with befuddlement. “I mean, he’s nice. I only just met him today, but I like him so far.”

“Yeah?” he says. “You must. I mean, you just met him and he’s already taking you to dinner.”

“…For work, Satoru. Dinner for work,” you say firmly, put off by his comment. “And he was being nice because I’ve never been in the city before.”

He nods and hums nonchalantly. “That makes sense,” he says, though you doubt he’s very understanding.

“Is there something wrong?”

“No, of course not,” he answered quickly. “It’s just, we haven’t talked in so long and you’re already…”

You leaned over on your elbow and turned to face him fully. “Already what?”

He smiles to himself and lowers his head, picking at his fingernails. “I don’t know,” he mumbles. “It’s just been weird, that’s all. I had to find you in America to get you to talk to me.”

A still silence settles in the air again as you stare at him, attempting to comprehend what is going through his mind. “Satoru,” you begin, and you almost think you see him jump when you say his name. “Why are you here?”

His eyes glance up ahead of him before back down at his hands over the railing. “I told you, already. For spring break.”

“You expect me to believe that of all places in the world, you chose to come to the same place that I told Shoko I was going?” you question and he only shrugs. “I’m not dumb, Satoru. You’ve always done this.”

“Done what?” his brows angle.

“This,” you emphasize to yourself. “You always find ways to- to-“

“To what?”

His eyes are on you again, vibrant, intense. You struggle to respond under the isolation of his gaze. “You know what I mean. It’s just what you do. You push your boundaries with people,” you say eventually.

“Am I pushing a boundary with you by being here now?”

“I don’t know, Satoru, I just don’t think it’s a coincidence that you show up down the street from me in a completely different country.”

“But what if it is?”

“It’s not, though.”

“But if it is a coincidence, would you still be upset? Would you still be asking me why I’m here?” he questions. “Because I think you would.”

“The point here, Satoru, is that it’s not a coincidence and we both know it. That’s the only reason why I’m reacting this way.”

“So what I don’t understand, right,” Satoru starts and you can sense a tone of hostility creeping into his voice, though it remains mellow,” …is why it’s all of a sudden strange for me to want to spend time with you.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“But you’re so busy focusing on why I’m here instead of just the fact that I’m here.”

“Yeah, because I know you.”

“Do you?”

You straighten yourself, trying to act as if his words did not sting. “What’s going on, huh? What’s the issue?”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out, (Y/n). You stopped answering my calls and texts, you don’t hang out with me anymore, you leave the country without telling me…” he stops himself before he can go any further and turns to look down at you head on again. “Help me understand, did I do something wrong?”

You sigh and lower your gaze. “Satoru…”

“I just need to understand what happened between us. We’re friends, and all of a sudden you’re acting like we’re not. Even Suguru and Shoko see it, but you still talk to them more than you talk to me these days.”

“It’s not-“ you pause, trying to figure out what you want to say. You don’t want to talk about this right now. Not here, not with him. It’s too much for you to get into, especially so without revealing how you feel about him. “I’ve just been-“

“Busy?” he interjects, and you deflate.

“Yes, actually.”

“Okay,” he nods, ripping his eyes from you as if the sight of you temporarily blinded him. “I can handle you being busy, (Y/n), but I can’t handle being ignored. And you can’t tell me that you haven’t been doing just that.”

“I haven’t been ignoring you.”

“You’re lying.”

“No, I’m not,” you argue. “I’ve been giving myself space. It’s different.”

“But why do you need space from me? What did I do?”

“It’s nothing you did, per say, Satoru.”

“Okay, then why?” he pleads. “Why won’t you talk to me anymore? Why aren’t you happy to see me? If I haven’t done anything wrong, why have you pushed me away? If there’s nothing, then that would just mean that you chose to step away from me for no reason, and I refuse to believe that’s true.”

You can tell by the way he speaks that you have truly affected him by stepping away, affected him in a way you did not realize you had.

You honestly didn’t think he would have cared either way if you had waned off your contact, but you were clearly very wrong. After all, like Satoru said, you’re his friend above anything else.

He’s looking at you again, desperation swirling in his crystal irises. “So just tell me, (Y/n). Tell me what it is. What did I do? What can I do?”

You sigh, hardened exterior softening, because how could it not when he’s giving you those huge puppy dog eyes.

“If I hurt your feelings, I didn’t mean to,” you tell him. “That wasn’t why… I’m sorry.”

“I’m not trying to get you to apologize for something you knew you were doing, I just want to understand why,” he says gently. “But if you don’t want to tell me… I guess that’s fine. I can’t force it out of you. I just thought you should know that I’ve missed you.”

You feel your heart do that thing it does every time Satoru is around, and you melt slightly. “I missed you too.”

Then, he’s smiling again, as though he wasn’t just upset. Eyes bright and cheeks warm as he turns to you with a newfound warmth returning in his composure. “Did you really?” he inquires, bending over slightly and craning his neck down to you with a low lidded eyes and cheeky grin.

You scoff, pushing his head away and turning your head to the side. “Don’t push it.”

“Yes ma’am,” he teases. “But seriously though.”

He steps closer to you, eyes peering down at you with a soft gleam. You look up and stiffen as he nears further into your personal space, his hand gripping the rail as the other tucks into his pocket.

“Don’t ignore me again,” he mutters, gaze piercing into yours. “Please.”

You stare at each other wordlessly, air bristling through your hair as an intensity swelters between you. You blink, swallowing nervously. “O-Okay. Sorry.”

He hums, a smile stretching over his face once more, and ducks down to wraps his arms tightly around your waist, hoisting you up in the air as he embraces you. You squeak, your arms grasping at his shoulder blades to steady yourself once you're off balance. “It’s okay, munchkin,” he squeezes you tightly. “I could never stay upset with you!”

“Satoru, put me down!” you hiss, face flustering.

He chuckles, setting you gently back down onto your feet. You put bashfully, straightening out your shirt as he looks at you sweetly. “Man, am I glad we made up. I would have done something crazy if this went on much longer.”

“Oh, you mean crazier than flying all the way to fucking New York?” you quip and he grins.

“I told you, I’m here for vacation. Not everything’s about you, you narcissist,” he says, and you can feel a vein bulging in your forehead.

“Sure,” you grumble.

“Anyways, since we’re all already here, I think we’ll stay in the city one more day before heading back up to our place.”

You quirk a brow. “Um, you think Suguru is gonna be okay with that?”

“Not at all, but I’m the one driving, so he’ll have to be fine.”

You shake your head to yourself, laughing quietly. “He’s gonna kill you one of these days.”

“I’d like to see him try,” Satoru says, making his way over to the patio door. “Oh,” he stops and turns over his shoulder. “What’s your schedule like tomorrow?”

“Well, I told you, I have a meeting at ten.”

“Oh yeah, with Aromo.”

“Aoto.”

“Same thing,” he sighs loudly, turning his eyes up. “Whatever, either way, we should all hang when you’re done. You know, before we head back.”

“While that sounds fun, Satoru, I’m here for research. I’m not sure I'll have much free time.”

“Right, like you’ll be doing work all day,” he says sarcastically.

“...Yeah. I might be,” you repeat with a straight face.

“Uh huh. So, we’ll see you at one?”

“Wh- Satoru, I have to check with-”

“Great! Text us and we’ll meet you wherever you are when you’re finished,” he cuts in, not even allowing the word no to hit his ears.

“No! Satoru-”

“Good night, beautiful,” he blows a dramatic kiss, swinging the door open. He reduces his voice to a whisper, mindful of his sleeping friends on the pullout behind him. “See you in the morning~” he wiggles his fingers in a dainty wave before leaving the balcony and shutting the door behind him, plopping himself down on his makeshift bed after making his way around the couch.

You look after him in agitation, finding yourself alone and processing what Satoru has just said to you, the way he looked at you as he begged to understand why you took steps away from your friendship, the warmth of his arms as you held you tight, the gleam in his eye when he asked you not to ignore him. You shiver as the moments replay in your head, making you wonder how things have come to this.

You sigh and turn back around to look out at the city one last time before turning into bed. It’s going to be a long week.

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storiesofsvu · 1 month

Text

Decadent Desires Ch 16

Emily Prentiss x fem!reader warnings: language, alcohol, smut, oral, life chats about shitty childhood experiences. nothing too bad.

For a little insight to the resort, check out these vids: https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMrqQUKe3/ (for the sake of the story we ARE pretending that this is an all inclusive & food/drinks aren’t an extra cost!)

Emily spent the next couple of days flipping through brochures and scrolling through various locations the Waldorf had but nothing pulled her attention like the one in the Maldives did. Each time she had a spare second to let her brain drift from the task at hand she found herself daydreaming of white sand beaches, stunning turquoise water and the luxury of experiencing all from your own private villa. She needed to go, whether alone, with a friend or with you she honestly didn’t even really care at this point.

So she began to plant the seeds, slowly, spreading them out over time and making sure to nurture them, casually having them drop into conversation. She knew she couldn’t just spring and entire vacation on you, there were multiple things to think of, arrange and take care of before any of that could happen.

First it was a casual conversation the following week, asking about the info drop at Heather’s house, if you really didn’t celebrate Christmas or if she was just teasing, that you had some fun traditions with friends for that time of year. When you said you didn’t, your tradition was usually solo pizza and sweatpants, she could successfully check off the first box on her list.

Second, she lucked out, a mutual friend posting a beachside selfie to their Instagram story that she was able to send to you, her caption reading ‘must be nice’. A few seconds later your reply came through, ‘god, there are few things I wouldn’t do to be oceanside in the sun right now.’

Third, you were out for dinner together at what was a pretty trendy and touristy spot in town and when you server greeted you they asked if you were on vacation. You both laughed it off and after they left you let out a soft groan, muttering about how you hadn’t been on a vacation since the last election. Emily half teasing, asked if you even got vacation time with a job like yours and you chuckled, explaining that Heather was nice enough that if someone from her team didn’t use their vacation time for one calendar year it would carry over to the next, you had about four months racked up, sitting there getting dusty and practically begging to be used.

The fourth and final nod for her to bite the bullet was when she was leaving the Waldorf one morning, the concierge calling out to her, waving her over with a warm smile. They asked if she’d done any thinking about the Maldives, saying that reservations were filling up pretty quickly and they didn’t want her to miss out on the opportunity. They went as far to say that they’d put a thirty six hour hold on a villa for her and that she should definitely think about it, it was a once in a lifetime experience after all. It only took a minute as she chewed on her lip, thinking about her own piled up vacation time and how happy Bailey would be to have her out of his hair for at least a week and she was pulling out her card.

It originally hadn’t meant to be a surprise, she had been planning on actually bringing it up to you, seeing if you were interested and had the actual and emotional time and energy for something like this. There was technically still a chance all you wanted to do over the break was rot in your bed eating takeout and not see a single human at all. Which is why she spent more time fidgeting around with dates than even making the decision to go in the first place, making sure you should have time on both sides of the trip to do whatever it was you’d want to not celebrate the season. She reminded herself that this was nothing out of the ordinary, this wasn’t some huge, luxurious, grand gesture or anything, sugar babies were very regularly taken on vacations like this.

So what if it just so happened that The Maldives were a little fancier than Florida?

Your coat was already on, unbuttoned and loosely opened in the front, bag dangling from your elbow as you stopped in the doorway to Heather’s office.

“You wanted to see me before I left?” You asked, lingering just a few steps into the room, “and please don’t let this drag on too long, I’ve still got to go find a couple of new dresses before dinner.”

Heather glanced up from her laptop, “oh, I just wanted to let you know your vacation request was approved, glad to see you’re finally using up some of that time.”

Your head tilted, nose scrunching slightly as you stepped further into the room, “are you sure you’ve got the right person? Amelia and I do have incredibly similar work emails…I only put in for three days.”

She turned back to her laptop, clicking through a few things before looking back up at you, “definitely not Amelia.” She shrugged, “you’re getting paid for the time off, you may as well take advantage of it.”

“I—” Before you could fully formulate a response, there was a clatter of noise behind you and you turned just in time to see Tony catching himself on the doorframe, nearly tripping over his own feet as he entered the office.

“Oh good, I managed to catch you before you left, McGee just would not shut up—”

“What the hell are you doing here?” You asked, glancing between him and Heather, the grin slowly beginning to curl her lips up.

Tony shrugged, nodding toward your boss, “she told me to show up at three, pick up her black card and take you shopping for some summer clothes and the sluttiest bikinis we could find.”

“Bikinis?” You raised a brow, turning back to Heather who simply smirked, handing Tony her card and waving the two of you off.

“Well, get going. Would hate for you to be late for dinner with Emily.”

“Emily…” Tony taunted, “ooooooo… now we’ve got a naaaaammee.” He began to prod at your side, jabbing at your ribs before you punched him in the stomach.

“You stop talking right now and maybe I’ll even model some of the bikinis for you.”

He immediately froze, mimicking zipping his mouth shut and throwing away the key as his eyes sparkled and you rolled your own with a scoff before dragging him out of the office.

Obviously, Emily had absolutely no reason to be worried about you being shocked or turning down the accidental surprise. But if she had any lingering hesitancies, they were certainly blown away the second the jet touched down and you were escorted to your own private yacht to journey across the ocean to the island resort.

Greeted with fresh warm hand towels and given a mini tour of the boat you were offered a variety of drinks, choosing coffee first to wake up from the plane ride followed by a champagne toast to kick off the start of your vacation. The journey to the island was only similar to a ferry in that it was a boat over water, you were given free reign of the vessel and even offered the opportunity to drive through the calm waters. With the sun basking down on you, most of the time was spent on the roof of the boat, picking through a handful of tapas and getting endless refills of champagne, the true sense of relaxation soothing deep through both of your bodies.

Resort staff greeted you at the island, whisking your bags away for easy transport while you were offered fresh watermelon juice to check in with, making sure that all of your accommodations were set up properly. A brief tour of the main lodge was given, a few of the dining and gift options shown off before you were escorted to a golf cart for a tour of the full private island and all of the amenities you had to take advantage of over the next week and a half. Emily’s hand naturally fell to your thigh while you rode, her thumb stroking at your skin and you couldn’t help but pick up her hand in yours.

Arriving at your overwater villa you almost instantly wanted to scold Emily for how much she must have spent on the place, but between the staff making sure you had no more questions and your distraction by the luxury resort, your thoughts were quickly washed away. The first door opened to the large outdoor space, bicycles for getting around the island on your own, a large cushy porch swing and cozy seating area that was covered, looking out into the ocean. Beyond that was the sun soaked piece of the porch, multiple loungers looking directly into the water, nets sitting directly over the ocean to relax in and if that wasn’t enough, your own large private pool and a hanging daybed on the other end of the area to tie it all together.

Through another door and you entered the inside of the villa, floor to ceiling windows that could slide open to let the fresh salt air breeze around you no matter what time of day. A king sized bed that you just knew was going to be the comfiest thing you’d ever sleep in facing the windows for ample sunset views, large television on an angle from the bed for those late night movie binges and of course long black out curtains for those mornings you just wanted to sleep in. The bedroom had its own mini bar and coffee station, a complimentary bottle of wine and basket of fruit and treats left out for the two of you to enjoy. The small hallway leading to the bathroom had a glass floor to see straight through to the crystal waters. The bathroom itself was huge, two glass walled standing showers and a tub that would easily fit both of you facing yet another wall of sliding doors.

“Emily…” you breathed out, turning back to face her, “this is insane.”

“First vacation in four years? I like to think it has to be pretty memorable.”

“No kidding.” You replied, eyes still scanning around the villa as you leant in, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek. “I don’t even know where to start…” You couldn’t help yourself turning on your toes trying to soak it all in.

She chuckled softly, leaning in and kissing the back of your neck, “well… I heard you might have a couple of new suits… you could start with one of those.”

“I do suppose working on my tan would be a good first choice.” You glanced over your shoulder at her, a gleam in your eye as you practically skipped back to the bedroom to change, eager to take advantage of the warmth and sun.

You’d been sprawled across one of the outdoor loungers enjoying the sun while finally getting a chance to start on one of the many books in your to read pile for the majority of the morning. An empty cup of iced coffee on the table beside you along with a plate of very succulent and incredibly fresh fruit you were still occasionally picking at. Your finger slid through a page, realizing you’d come to the end of your current chapter and your head rolled back toward the villa, Emily had been napping when you first came out but she wasn’t in the bed any longer.

Curiosity (and the desire for a coffee refill) got the best of you, letting out a content sigh as you stood from the lounger, padding back up the deck to the villa. Emily had pulled a cover up over her swim suit, sat at one of the chairs with her laptop in front of her. You clicked your tongue, but she didn’t seem to notice you returning inside as you walked up behind her, your arm reaching over her shoulder to gently shut the laptop.

“Emily…” you warned, your lips brushing at the side of her neck, “now is not the time.”

“Just one—” She was cut off from even unlocking her phone as you plucked it from her hand, nipping at her neck.

“You pick up your work phone one more time and I’m throwing it into the ocean.” You murmured into her ear, your hand sliding up the back of her neck, threading through her hair as you moved it off to one side. “I didn’t even bring my work phone. C’mon.”

With a slight sigh, she pushed back from the desk, standing up to face you, her first thought that you were going to drag her into the ocean. Instead she was met with your hands toying with the knot of her cover up, gently nudging her further inside the villa.

“You left the BAU in JJ’s very capable hands, if there’s some sort of freak emergency, they can call your personal cell.” You got the robe undone, letting it drape over her shoulders, “you deserve this vacation as much as I do, if not even more. So relax,” the back of her knees hit the bed, her tongue darting out to wet her lips as she noticed the way your eyes were darkening. “You need it, and I’m gonna do everything I can to make sure you come back from here as refreshed as possible.”

“Sounds like a pretty good offer.” She teased and you laughed.

“It’s a guarantee.”

With a gentle nudge from you, Emily fell back onto the bed, shifting until she was comfortable laying against the lush pillows and you dropped over her. Your mouth returned to her neck, pressing sticky kisses into it as your hands began to roam. She could feel the warmth wafting off your sun soaked skin, the slightest hint of coconut from your sunscreen and you had completely invaded her senses. Any singular thought about work gone, every worry melting away a little bit more each time your lips brushed over her body.

Emily let out a soft moan as you trailed down her collarbone, fingers shifting the fabric of her suit to the side to suck a nipple into your mouth, bringing it to a peak before repeating the action on the other side. You kissed, licked and sucked your way across her stomach and down her body until you were settled in between her legs, fingers slipping into the bottoms of her swim suit, sliding it to the side to give you full access to her pussy. Her breath caught in her throat as you blew cool air onto it, fingertips brushing feather light over her slit before pressing into her clit and her eyes fell shut.

“Fuck…”

“You like that?” You murmured, fingers running through her folds again, this time pressing a little harder, dipping into her wetness before swirling around her clit and she let out a low moan.

Rather than wait for a response you leant forward, tongue swiping through her folds, flicking at her clit and your lips curved into a grin at the sound that came from between her lips. Your mouth eagerly wrapped around her, tongue dipping into her cunt, groaning over the sweet taste of her juices. Emily’s hands quickly found their way into your hair, tugging at the up do while trying not to grind herself onto your face.

She could feel the pleasure flying through her already, little sparks shooting off every time your tongue brushed through her, her pussy getting wetter and wetter as her breath started to pick up. In any other situation she felt like she’d be a little embarrassed about how quickly she was turned on and by how much. How the simple movements of your mouth against her cunt had her practically whimpering already, her lower lip trapped between her teeth. However there was something so incredibly different about this, the wide open doors, the entire ocean ten feet from the bed almost feeling like the two of you were exposed to the world when you were actually in your own little bubble. Rather than the sounds of the city, honking cars, people yelling, constant traffic all she could hear was the gentle waves of the ocean, the occasional bird and of course you groaning into her pussy. The entire thing was wildly erotic yet intimate and somehow the most relaxing thing in the world.

As if you could sense the little bit that was Emily still holding back you reluctantly pulled your mouth off of her, your thumb replacing it, pressing through her folds and rubbing at her clit.

“Don’t hold back, there’s no need to keep quiet.” You murmured, nipping gently at her inner thigh and her lip burst free, a gasp coming from the back of her throat.

“Shit!” She felt her hips buck up off the mattress as your mouth returned between her legs, this time wrapping around her clit. “Oh god that’s good.” She couldn’t help but let out a whine, “more, please!”

Your tongue flicked varying patterns across her swollen clit and your hand snuck up between her legs, two fingers easily slipping into her dripping cunt. Her thighs twitched around you, a low swear leaving her lips as her eyes scrunched tighter shut and the fingers in your hair tightened. You wasted no time, crooking your fingers with each thrust until she cried out.

“Fuck! Right there!”

A smirk took over your lips and you increased the pressure on her clit, feeling it throbbing between your lips as her pussy fluttered around your fingers. You picked up the pace, matching the timing that her hips would jump up off the bed, small cries escaping her lips as your fingers continued to brush the sensitive spot over and over again. Each time she felt you pressing just a little bit harder, lingering just a little bit longer and before she knew it her body was shaking, your hands pinning her thighs to the bed as you fucked her through her orgasm.

“Christ.” She muttered, running a hand over her face and you laughed softly.

“Feeling more relaxed?”

“Yeah.”

“Hmm…” you grinned wickedly up at her from between her legs, your fingers beginning to smear around her juices, “your words are still pretty coherent, I think I better give it another go.”

She couldn’t even open her mouth to protest before you were back on her and she let out a low moan, head dropping back into the pillows. Every single thought left her, the only thing remaining was the feeling of your mouth, warm and wet on her pussy and the soothing sounds of the ocean as you brought her to her peak another four times.

Neither of you had even realized just how much you both needed the break, away from your time consuming and draining careers, to be so far from society out on your own little slice of heaven over the water. Waking up with the sun daring to peak through the curtains, the sounds and smell of the ocean drifting through the villa was one thing, but getting to truly enjoy it, lounging tangled in the sheets while coffee brewed and breakfast was delivered, half the time drowsing off again until you were truly rested, was a whole different story.

Between enjoying the privacy of your villa, warm ocean water and exploring the resort you definitely got your share of vacation. Dinner down at an extensive beach BBQ, the buffet so long you couldn’t possibly fit everything you wanted on even two plates, surrounded by people having a good time, live music and a DJ to keep everyone entertained. There were movie nights under the stars, a variety of genres to keep everyone happy, the earlier the movie the more PG, the darker the sky got, the more fun was had.

You were allowed to completely relax and be yourselves, there was no worry of having to uphold an image, no one cared about who you were or your reputation. Between that and the privacy of the resort, you were free to do whatever you want, and that included public displays of affection. There were no potential spying eyes of FBI management or staff of other government officials who were always looking for dirt. You were free to be you and more importantly, be together. Emily’s hand playing with yours over the table top, tracing the lines of your palm with her fingertip, your arm interlocking with hers as you walked down the beach, her hand on the small of your back to direct you out of the way of foot traffic. The freedom brought a whole new level of peace to an already incredible vacation.

Back at the villa one night after a few rounds of trivia accompanied by fruity cocktails, the hotel staff had made a nightly round to freshen up the mini bar and offer to light a fire in the pit on the veranda. Knowing your night was far from over and you’d very much enjoy more time in the fresh air you accepted the offer, Emily grabbing a couple of the smaller blankets to drape over two of the chairs outside. She heard the shower come to a halt in the other room, followed by the swooshing of the door and sounds of you drying off and searching for clothes.

“Hey, you want a beer or some of this sangria?” She called, picking up a few bottles from the mini bar to examine them.

“Oh my god, beer please. No more sugar or I’m gonna wake up with the world’s worst stomach ache.” You called back, tugging on a pair of pj shorts before finally finding a tank top for under your Georgetown hoodie.

Emily had wandered out onto the patio, cracking both beers and placing one down onto the table for you as she got comfortable by the fire. You came out a few minutes later, one of your hands shaking out your wet hair while your eyes were on a couple of smaller bottles in your other hand.

“How much do you know about hair care?” You asked and Emily huffed out a laugh.

“Boxed dye will destroy it, just let it be natural.”

“So no vote on whether argan or coconut oil is better?”

“No.” She chuckled, taking a swig of her beer.

“Whatever.” You shrugged, dropping the two bottles onto the table before scooping up your beer to take a swig, settling in the chair beside her, a happy sigh leaving your lips at the warmth of the fire. Placing your beer down on the table you slid the hair elastic off your wrist, flipping your head over and gathering all your hair up into a ball.

“Okay, no!” Emily protested, her hand smacking your arm.

“What?” You asked, straightening up as you tightened the band.

“Your hair is soaked and even after washing probably coated with a mix of chlorine and salt, you do that and sleep on it, you’re gonna wake up with it matted so bad it’s practically dreadlocks. At least put it in a braid.”

“It’ll be fine.” You shrugged, “and if I try to braid it it’ll be just as messy.”

Emily gave you a side eye glance, her head tilting in near disappointment, “I’m not dealing with your complaining over knots tomorrow, go find a comb and then come here.”

You shot her a glance but put your beer down to search through the villa while Emily picked up the two bottles of serum, reading through the blurbs on the back before choosing one and you returned to the front of her chair. She pulled a cushion off the spare chair, placing it at her feet as she shifted forward so you could settle on it between her knees.

“Sit.”

You did as she asked, plopping down onto the pillow and handing her the comb as you began to tug the elastic out of your hair. You could already hear Emily grumbling behind you at the harsh way you were treating your hair, her hand quickly wrapping around your wrist to stop your movement, taking the elastic from you to delicately remove it from the already forming knots.

Her fingertips slid up the back of your scalp, softly shaking out your locks, slowly combing through to make sure there were no big knots to be worked through gently before she brushed it with the comb. Emily parted your hair, pulling the comb through it until your hair was smooth and you let out a happy sigh, relaxing further against her.

“You want one or two?” She asked, smoothing back a couple of fly aways with her hand.

“I’ve only got one elastic.” You replied, holding it up and she laughed.

“One it is.”

Moving the comb back through your hair once again she began to style it in preparation for the single braid, gathering pieces of your hair between her fingers as the comb found a home on her lap. Somehow every pass of her fingers matched the rhythm of the waves softly crashing against the sand, drifting underneath your villa. Emily hummed happily, her eyes drifting from your head to the horizon.

“God it’s peaceful out here.”

“Tell me about it.” You replied, a dream-like smile on your cheeks. “And a world better than plates clattering, screaming children, adults yelling and overplayed Christmas music. I can only hear Silver Bells so many times before I want to rip my ear drums out.”

Emily laughed, her fingers slowing to fix a couple pieces of hair, “is it just Christmas you skip out on celebrating or is it all holidays?”

“I think most are useless.” You shrugged, “Halloween’s pretty cool but it kinda loses appeal as you age. First you’re too old to trick or treat, then the parties are all about getting wasted. Thanks to the job I get to be incredibly passionate about the Fourth of July, but fuck celebrating much else, there really isn’t a point. It’s not like I often have the time off to fly home for one single night and lousy dinner anyways.”

“That why you leave the country, avoiding your family?” Emily asked with a smirk you couldn’t see and you were quick with the rebuttal.

“I don’t see you itching to get anywhere to bicker over cold potatoes, under seasoned macaroni and overcooked turkey….”

“You’ve got me there.” She replied, earning a small laugh from you. “When was the last time you were home?”

“Years ago.” You groaned, taking a swig of your beer, “I went back the first couple of years after graduating Georgetown. I no longer had the excuse of full time school to focus on and they said they’d pay for my flight and that I deserved a break.”

“Good old fashioned bribery.”

“Exactly.” Your eyes drifted back to the ocean, watching the way the moonlight was sparkling against the water and felt relief wash over you once again, “as soon as I got to the house I was immediately yelled at because the living room wasn’t clean. Like that was somehow my fault? I understand that yeah, I grew up in that house and was staying in my childhood room, but I hadn’t been home in over seven years, I’d like to think you’d qualify as a house guest at that point.”

Emily dryly laughed again and you could feel her fingertips stroking just over your hairline, the touch soothing you, keeping your heart rate down while you reminisced on the not exactly fantastic holidays.

“I had to make sure my room was clean, despite it being half full of storage and no one was going to be seeing it. I’d get woken up at the crack of dawn and coerced into cleaning, prepping food, cooking and told to be better and go faster, this needed to be a successful Christmas after all. Like, I had nothing to do with planning a far too extensive menu and the entire house was my parent’s mess and I certainly didn’t add a single person to the guest list. We’d go over to a cousin’s house for dinner and everything would be coated with dog hair so why was I tasked with dusting the top of the China cabinet that no one would see?” A huff escaped your lips as your shoulders dropped, the sounds of the ocean soothing through you, your breathing beginning to match the pace of the waves and Emily’s fingers tickled at the back of your neck as she began to scoop up the longer pieces of hair. Your lips curved up into a happy grin, your voice softer when you spoke, “why would I want to be anywhere like that when I could be somewhere like here?”

Your hand gently squeezed at Emily’s ankle and she felt the warmth of your touch slowly spreading through her entire body at the sentiment. Sure, it was very possible you were just referring to the expensive over ocean villa complete with endless drinks and food and a view to die for. But there was a piece of her that just knew you were also alluding to the company, the time spent together and how there was no doubt it made for a superior holiday.

She thought about her own time returning home the few years she did and chuckled sorely, “my job very quickly gave me the excuse to not go home, I remember one year I finally could show up so I figured I owed my mother that much. I got there and the house was full of people, more than half that I didn’t even know. I grabbed a drink, some finger food and was practically ignored by everyone, which I guess made sense as most of them didn’t know me and those that did hadn’t seen me in long enough they didn’t recognize me, or maybe it was that they didn’t know how to treat me like an adult. Everyone else around the house was so much more important than me it didn’t seem to matter, half the time my mother wouldn’t even realize I was there until she found me hiding in the kitchen helping with dishes and she’d shove a drink in my hand, shooing me out of there to go mingle.” Emily reached out, grabbing the hair tie off the table, wrapping it around the end of the now finished braid. Her hand slid over it, making sure there weren’t any lumpy bits before she traced your hairline again, pulling out a couple of shorter pieces, twirling them around her fingers and leaving them to frame your face. She leant forward, hands on your shoulders, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head, “you’re done.”

Your hand reached up, squeezing at hers as you stood, half turning back to her, “thanks.” You shot her a smile, scooping up your beer before settling into your own lounger.

While neither of you continued to say anything pertaining to your not so great holidays of the past, you knew that the unspoken words were still there. That this was far more enjoyable than any of the previous ones could have ever imagined. That you would much rather have each other by your side over pretending to celebrate on your own back home, warding off invitations and insistence from friends or coworkers to join them in their festivities.

There was no better place to be than a tropical paradise, a cold beer in your hand and the warm salt air wafting from the ocean directly into your home for the week.

__________________

@mickey-gomez @momlifebehard @daddy-heather-dunbar @maybe-a-humanbean @rustyzebra @leftoverenvy @kades95 @dextur @supercriminalbean @emilyprentisssluvr @lex13cm @zizzlekwum @emobabeyy @riveramorylunar @scorpsik @onmykneesformarvel @inlovewithemilyprentiss @regalmilfs4me @ara-a-bird @inlovewithmiddleagewomen @kmc1989 @irishavengersassemble @hopedoesntknow @venromanova @waitaminuteashh @noahrex @imlike-so-gaydude @wittygutsy @cx-emerald-cx cx @momily @nilaues @borinxnovak @soverign @v3nusxsky @mccdreamys-writes @l4yne @obsessedwjill @asolitaryrose3 @lisqueen @mrs-prentiss @whitewinewithice @d33pd3sire-blog @daffodil-heart @maximoffcarter @i-lovefandom @chimnlex @moonlightjxuregui @chestnutninny @gamma-rae-bursts @just-moondust @idkifimasub @gaydragonwitch @dowsedwithbleach @divergentalwaysandforever-blog @m1lfsh4ke

#emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #criminal minds #decadent desires #emily prentiss fanfic #emily prentiss series

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toomanystoriessolittletime · 5 months

Text

relax

Summary: Frankie knows just the thing to make you forget about your shitty workweek and make you excited for your honeymoon. And it's not just the glass of wine he is offering....

Pairing: Frankie Morales x fem. reader

Wordcount: 2k

Rating: E

Warnings: established relationship, toxic work environment, Frankie being the best hubby, nakedness, teasing, flirting, banter, alcohol, spitting, smut (oral f receiving)

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You released a long sigh after you parked your car behind Frankie’s in the driveway, letting your head fall back against the headrest of your seat, your eyes closing as you took a deep breath.

Home at last.

It had been a very busy week at work. Which could have to do with the fact that you now officially had a whole week off and the head of your department made you feel like taking a whole week off was an attack against him personally so he had you working overtime and made sure to call you out at every chance he got about the audacity of taking days off.

You should really quit your job.

You had joked to Frankie about selling pictures of your feet instead, but the longer you thought about it, the more appealing the idea became.

He did tell you you had pretty feet….

Shaking your head you opened your eyes.

It was very not feminist of you to dream about being a stay at home wife and mom and not having to bother with work. But god did you wish for exactly that.

But all of this would be a problem for after vacation you. In twenty four hours you would be on a plane to Hawaii on the honeymoon you had been looking forward to ever since you married your husband almost nine months ago.

The wedding had been a small spontaneous affair, so Frankie and you had decided to save up for a big and luxurious honeymoon.

Getting out of the car you immediately got out of your heels, bending down to pick them up before you made your way towards the front door.

The house was a work in process. Both you and Frankie enjoyed spending your free time working on slowly finishing up your forever home.

You unlocked the door, your shoulders immediately relaxing as you stepped inside. You could hear music coming from further inside the house, and if you had to guess, you’d think that Frankie was in the kitchen. Something you confirmed as you walked deeper into your house as your nose inhaled the scent of garlic and tomatoes and herbs.

Frankie had cooked dinner the whole week, his work times more flexible, perks of being his own boss. Him and Will had opened a gym in the last year which was gaining more and more members. A joint effort of them being good at their jobs, and their office manager/ social media person posting thirst traps of all the Delta guys working out to the gym’s instagram account.

You watched your husband for a couple of moments, his broad back towards you. You could see that his hair was still wet, dome drops of water having dropped to his shoulders, darkening the fabric of the grey shirt he was wearing.

He was so damn attractive. You still asked yourself, how a man like him ended up not only choosing your but loving you so deeply, you sometimes did not know how you deserved it.

„Honey I’m home,“ you smiled as you walked towards him, pressing your chest against his back, your arms wrapping around him as you took a deep breath, inhaling his fresh scent.

„Finally,“ he said and you smiled before he turned in your arms and pulled you against his chest.

„Hi,“ you smiled sleepily up at him and he smiled back.

„Hi,“ he kissed you softly.

„Good timing. Another ten minutes and I would have come and got you,“ he whispered and you smiled, your chin resting against his chest as you looked up at him.

„Would have loved to see that. Bet my boss would not dare to talk to you like he did to me,“ you sighed and he frowned.

„He’s still being an asshole?“ He asked and you just shrugged.

„When isn’t he?“ You asked and Frankie shook his head before he kissed your forehead.

„But now you’re free for a whole 9 days. And I am gonna make sure my wife is gonna do nothing but relax,“ he promised and you smiled.

„Yeah?“ You asked and he nodded.

„Starting with dinner. Then I’m gonna run you a bath while I finish packing our suitcases and then I’m gonna eat your little pussy until you pass out and fall asleep,“ he winked and you raised your eyebrows in interest.

„Seems like you got it all planned out, huh?“ You grinned and he nodded, before his lips found yours again.

„Been thinking about it all day,“ he mumbled, slowly kissing down your jaw, his hands both running down your body until both of them rested on your ass, pushing you against him and you could feel his hard cock pressing against you.

„How I’m gonna make you sit in the armchair in the bedroom,“ he mumbled in between kisses.

„How I’m gonna make out with your perfect little pussy until the asshole who moved in next door can hear you screaming my name while I make you cum over,“ he bit softly into your neck, „and over,“ he moved his hips, „and over,“ he bit again and you gasped, already dripping into your panties.

„But first,“ he hummed before he looked at you with a grin, „we gonna have dinner,“ he slapped your ass and took a step back to finish cooking and you groaned loudly, hearing him snicker.

„Mean,“ you pouted and he turned his head to look at you.

„You love it,“ he winked and you sighed before a small smile formed on your face and you stepped closer to him, getting on your tiptoes.

„Payback is a bitch, Morales,“ you hummed against his ear, one of your hands running up his thigh, before you softly squeezed his half hard cock through his sweatpants.

He turned his head to look at you.

„Bring it on, Morales,“ he winked.

You could hear him humming in the bedroom next door, having just gotten out of the bathtub feeling more relaxed then you had in a while. Setting your glass of wine down on the sink you reached for your body lotion, beginning to rub it into your skin.

You were glad you had scheduled a waxing appointment on the last weekend, leaving your skin super soft as your fingers rubbed over it.

When you were finished you eyed your robe hanging at the door, before a small smirk sneaked to your face. Grabbing the wine glass you made your way towards the bedroom, deciding to find out how your husband would react if he found you waiting all naked for him.

Leaning in the door you watched him kneel on the ground in front of both of your suitcases which had been packed to military precision. You did not even bother to try to pack your suitcase anymore, knowing Frankie was doing a way better job anyway.

Letting your head fall against the door as you watched him you smiled.

„You enjoyed your bath?“ He asked, having noticed but not seen you.

„Very. I feel refreshed and very relaxed,“ you hummed, taking another sip from your glass of wine.

„Perfect. And great timing. I finished packing so we can enjoy our evening and get to….“ The rest of his sentence died on his lips as his head turned over his shoulder to look at you, eyes widening when he saw you waiting for him, completely naked.

„What are we going to do baby?“ You teased with a grin and he groaned, before he turned around, still on his knees.

„I know what I am going to do,“ he said, his voice hoarse.

Licking your lips, your bit into your bottom lip, before you slowly walked over to one of the armchairs that were sitting in front of the window, sitting down.

Crossing your legs you gave him a coy smile.

„And what are you going to do?“ You asked.

„Worship the woman that I love,“ he said before he made his way towards you, on his knees. If you wouldn’t already be naked, his eyes would have undressed you, his fingertips drawing a line up your leg as he reached you, leaving goosebumps all over you.

He kissed you knee as he knelt at your feet, before he slowly uncrossed your legs and parted them so he could sit down between them. His eyes never left yours as he slowly kissed up your inner thigh, humming against your skin. He pulled one of your legs over his shoulder, inhaling you deeply when his nose brushed over your clit.

You were about to set the glass of wine you had down, when he stopped you, shaking his head.

„Want you to relax and drink it while I….“ He kissed all around your pussy and you exhaled with a sigh, the hand that was not holding your glass coming to brush through his soft hair.

„God I missed this,“ he groaned, his tongue licking up a straight line from your opening to your clit, making you whimper.

„It hasn’t even been a week,“ you smiled, your fingers scratching over his scalp, making him shiver.

„Five days. Too damn long,“ he grunted before he got to work. His tongue lazily playing with your clit, in no rush to make you cum.

He was playing the long game and you were there for the ride.

By the time you were getting desperate, your glass was empty.

Emptying your glass, your eyes on Frankie you moaned softly when his tongue dipped inside of you, the moan he released downright pornographic as he tasted you.

„Always taste so fucking good for me,“ he hummed and you sucked your bottom lip between your teeth.

Sometimes you had the urge to film him when he was between your legs, pleasuring you, because you had never met a man who enjoyed eating pussy so much.

You wanted another reminder of how much the man you had married loved you.

„Oh fuck,“ you moaned when two of his fingers entered you.

He parted from you only to spit against your pussy, making you gasp, fingers still inside of you, going straight for that spot that made your whole body shake, your hand setting your wine glass down as his lips went back, sucking your clit into his mouth.

And suddenly you were close.

„Shit baby. Move your fingers… yeah… just like… oh fuck,“ you moaned, your hands now playing with your tits, Frankie’s unoccupied hand coming up to cover your right hand on your tit while he worked your body towards your orgasm.

„I’m gonna cum….“ you whimpered, your hips moving against his mouth as his tongue flicked over your clit, your body shaking as you came, moaning his name, your hand buried in his hair, keeping him close as he lapped at you until you relaxed, practically melting into the chair.

Softly he continued to lick you until he pulled his fingers out, making a big show of sucking them clean.

„I love you,“ you sighed and he grinned, his cheek resting against your thigh.

„You only say that because I just ate your pussy,“ he joked, winking at you and you huffed a laugh.

„True. But I also love you when you not eat my pussy,“ you said and he laughed.

„I’m glad,“ he said, kissing your inner thigh.

„And as much as I like seeing you on your knees for me, I think you should get up,“ you grinned at him and he raised his left eyebrow.

„I think you should get up and lay down on your back on our very comfy bed and get out of your clothes,“ you said all serious, while drawing a line with your finger down to your chest, his eyes following your movement.

„And why is that?“ He asked.

„Cause I wanna ride your cock.“

#my fic #Frankie Morales #Frankie Morales x fem. reader #Pedro Pascal #francisco morales #fanfiction #fanfic #frankie morales fanfiction #fan ficion #pedro pascal characters

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monzabee · 1 year

Text

beach read - mv1

masterlist

Summary: The one where you and Max go on a holiday for the first time, and you realize just how much you love 'Vacation Max'.

Pairing: max verstappen x reader

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: fluff!! vacation max, bagels and beans slander (from someone who lives in amsterdam, guys, i’m just the messenger here), max is an angel.

Request: “Yn is the new girlfriend of max verstappen, and they are going for the first together on a holiday, first location Greece and then the netherlands where he gets her a promise ring with a lot of fluff thanks” - this was requested by @maximeverstappen !!

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! a request came in with a holiday concept and you know I had to use a title from an emily henry novel. can you tell i wrote this while listening to the entire mamma mia soundrack? The first AND the second one because we don’t discriminate. thank you, anon, for the request, i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms.

There is a big difference between on-season Max and off-season Max. After dating for a few months, you begin to see the differences between the two, which is a lot. He is a man of habit, Max is. He wakes up at the same time every morning to train during the season, and he has his breakfast a certain way before going about his day – which you guessed it, is planned from start to finish. But he’s different when he is on break. If the two of you decide to go back to Monte Carlo to enjoy the sun for a little bit, his demeanour changes from the ‘Mad Max’ everyone deems him as into what you like to call ‘Vacation Max’.

The first location of your vacation is a small island in Greece called Skopelos. With all of his alarms turned off from the minute the season enters into a break, the two of you have the luxury to sleep in. You try your hardest not to let the sun shining through the windows bother you because of how comfortable you are in your current position – snuggled into the covers with Max cuddling into you. But since the two of you were very tired last night and forgot to close the curtains, you’re unfortunately the victim of the sun shining through the room. You try to get under from Max as slowly as possible to not wake him, but his arm tightening around your waist paired with a groan are both indicators of the fact that you’ve failed to do so.

He mumbles in a deep morning voice as he hides his face in your hair to get away from the sun. “Stay, liefje, we’re on a vacation.”

“Max, the curtains.” You whine, wriggling in your place, you try to get away from his hold while you let out a groan.

“Shh,” He shushes you, as his arms slowly turn your body towards his and gently makes you place your head on his chest. “Better?” You let out an appreciative hum, followed by a yawn, which makes you close your eyes and promptly go back to sleep. You wake up much later and decide to find a breakfast spot to try instead of spending your morning in the small boutique hotel. You’re in the middle of putting on sunscreen when Max pops his head into the bathroom, his head tilted to the side with wonder. “What are you doing?” He asks while moving to stand behind you and wrap his arms around your waist.

“Sunscreen.” You mumble, blending the SPF into your skin. You turn in his arms towards him once you’re done with yours. “Your turn.”

He shakes his head in disagreement, voicing it with a whine as you start applying the crème on his face. “It smells disgusting, liefje.”

“But it’ll keep from burning like bacon.” You smile at your handiwork once you’re done, giving him a small kiss on the lips. “Perfect.”

You end up having breakfast by a small café near the sea, the table your waitress sits you in is so close to the water that it’s basically seafront. You share pancakes and fruit for breakfast, and you convince him to try Greek frappe, a type of whipped iced coffee. You’re surprised when he drinks the entire glass in one go, claiming that it’s his new favourite way to drink coffee. The rest of the day is spent on the beach; the two of you go for a swim in which Max’s competitive side takes over for a second when you decide to race to the shore. He pulls you towards him by gently tugging your leg when you’re just about to pass him and get to the shore first.

You let out a loud laugh while splashing water towards him to slow him down. “You’re a cheat, Max Verstappen!” You yell as he comes out of the water, sending a boyish grin and a wink towards your way, in which you poke your tongue out to him in response.

He helps you to dry off with a towel before he does it himself, and you thank him with a small smile and a kiss to his cheek. When you lay down on the lounge chair, he’s quick to follow you, finding himself a place between your legs, face down, with his chin resting against your stomach. Not a long time pass before his breathing evens out and he drifts off to a sleep. One of your hands occupy itself by playing with his damp hair whilst the other one hold the book you’ve specifically packed in hopes of reading it on the beach. With Max taking an afternoon nap, you read your book in peace for a while.

“What are you reading?” Max asks, a sleepy look in his eyes.

You dog-ear the page you’re on before turning you attention to the man who’s looking at you with a drowsy pout on his face. “Beach Read, it’s a book I picked out at the airport.”

“Is it good?” He asks before putting his head back down and this time leaning his cheek against your stomach. You smile softly and let out an affirmative hum as your hand’s movements continue and slowly lull him to another nap. “Can you read some to me?” He asks, his arms also wrapping themselves around your body.

You chuckle as you open your book to the page where you left off. “Of course, Max.”

The rest of your week in Greece is filled with sun and sea induced sleeps and fresh fruit, and you see another side of Max, which is relaxed and laid back. You think you like this side of your boyfriend.

The next location of your vacation with Max is actually Amsterdam. You’re not really sure why you’ve chosen such a lively place after spending two weeks in a calm Greek island, but you’re excited to explore the city with him.

“We are not going to Bagels & Beans, schat.” He announces as he passes through the hotel room, looking for his wallet and phone.

“What?” You ask, poking your head from the bathroom and thus taking a break from doing your makeup. “Why not?”

“It’s filled with tourists, that’s why.” He says, smiling as he shakes his head because of the perplexed look on your face.

You let your pout take over your expression. “But it’s supposed to be very good.” You try to argue, stalking towards him and fisting his shirting gently. “Can we try it out, please?”

“Schatje,” He groans, placing his palm over your cheek and letting his thumb caress your cheekbone. “The tourists.” He seems to remind you.

“They’ll be all over the city too; maybe we should just pack up and leave, then.” You argue while rolling your eyes but leaning against his touch, nevertheless. “I heard they made really good sourdough bagels.” You sing in a light voice.

“You are trouble, you know that?” He asks you with raised eyebrows.

“Yes, but you love me.” You grin, he doesn’t disagree with you as he rolls his eyes.

The breakfast over at Bagels & Beans go swimmingly if you say so yourself. There’s a smug look on your face as Max eats his bagel in record time and goes inside to get a second one because “Have you tried their wasabi mayo? It’s simply lovely.” You choose to go for creme cheese and strawberry jam on a sourdough, which is to your liking. The two of you walk around the city the entire morning and afternoon, taking pictures on the bridges over the canal, even though Max complains that it makes you look like tourists – “We are, tourists,” you remind him, or going into shops which sell knick knacks, you end up buying a small model of a clog for your parents, liking the bright colour of it and the painted details. You eventually find yourself in a farmers market, looking at blooming flowers and sampling all kind of cheese, Max even shows off his juggling skills to you at a fruit stand with tangerines and lemons. Before you end the day with dinner, you convince him to get some tulip

seeds for your garden back home.

“You don’t have a garden, Y/N.” He reminds you while holding all the different pack of seeds you hold out his way.

“Well maybe I’ll start one with these ones.” You argue – and you end up planting them in small pots over you balcony when you get home, too.

The next day, he takes you over to the Van Gogh Museum. You’re looking around you in awe the entire time, dragging Max from painting to painting and reading all the descriptions. For some of the displays where there’s only Dutch descriptions are provided for the moment, he’s more than happy to take on the role of translator for you. The two of you spend some time in an immersive part of the exhibition for a while, just sitting down and talking about life while also enjoying the paintings being reflected onto the surfaces of the room via the projector. He smiles so widely when you attempt to pronounce some of the Dutch words you’ve encountered over the past few days, and the glint in his eyes making you smile the same way. After leaving the museum, he takes you over to a stand to try Dutch pancakes for the first time.

“What’s the difference?” You ask him while eyeing the pancake on the carton plate.

“I’m not sure,” He replies. “But it has Belgian chocolate on it as well, so you’ll probably like it.”

“Max, I think this is you in a dish.” You joke, making him send an unamused glare to your way.

“No, schatje, that was a very bad joke.” He announces as he shakes his head.

You shrug, taking a bite of the oversized pancake as you let out a small sigh. “But this tastes so good, though!”

Still full from your little culinary tour over the city of Amsterdam, the two of you opt for a very late dinner. By the time you and Max arrive onto the boat he rented out for the night, the night sky is filled with stars, and you can see all of them through the sky roof of the boat. Everything is the epitome of romance, from the way the table is set with a singular rose as its centrepiece, to the moonlit atmosphere of the boat, to the way Max pulls out you chair for you to sit. The two of you enjoy your dinner over a bottle of wine, and by the time the dessert is served, there is a slight tint to both of your cheeks from the alcohol and the laughing. Max holds your hand over the table in his, leaning forward slightly as he makes sure he’s not missing a word of what you’re saying. He realises, in that moment that it doesn’t matter if you’re talking to him about the most exciting thing in the world or the most tedious, he will give up everything to hear the excitement in your voice.

“Do you remember that restaurant we had dinner in Greece, the one where you had to catch your own fish? The look on your face was hilarious, Max! I don’t think I had more fun in my life than I had in this past few weeks.” You laugh, tilting your head to the side as you lock eyes with the man sitting across from you. “Thank you, my love.”

“You’re welcome.” He replies, tangling his fingers in yours as he smiles – though there is more of a mischievous undertone to it than usual. “I have something for you, but you have to promise me you won’t freak out.”

You let out a giggle while shaking your head. “Just what every girl wants to hear before receiving a gift from their boyfriends, Maxie.”

“Oh, hush.” He shushes you as he leans sideways for a moment to take out the small bag which was behind one of the legs of his chair. There’s a smile on his face which indicates that he’s proud of himself. “There you go.”

“Was that there the whole time?” You ask, eyeing the small bag while cautiously playing with the small ribbon tied to one of its handles with your free hand.

Max gives you yet another one of his unamused looks, motioning the bag with his head. “Will you please just open it?”

“Okay, okay,” You breath out, pulling your hand from its and carefully opening the package, being mindful so that you don’t destroy it completely. You eyebrows furrow as you notice the small box, taking it out and inspecting it before you open it. “It’s a ring.”

“Yes! Do you like it?” Max asks with a boyish smile.

“Ring.”

He nods. “Yes, liefje.”

“Why is it a ring?” You ask, your eyes finally finding his once again. “What kind of ring is it?”

“Well I think it’s gold, darling–”

“Max!” You exclaim, head shaking in disbelief. It is a gold ring, and on it there are engravings of small flowers with carefully placed, small gemstones.

His expression remains serious for a second, and then he smiles. “I’m not proposing.” He continues as you exhale a relieved breath. “It’s a promise ring,” He clarifies, “I’m not proposing, yet.”

Your voice is almost inaudibly soft. “A promise ring?”

“Yes, liefje.” He nods and get up from his seat, walking towards your chair and getting on his knees while takin the ring box out of your hands. “It means,” He starts explaining as he takes the ring out and places it on your ring finger. “That one day I will replace it with a real one, and that I can see myself getting old with you.”

“You can see yourself getting old with me?” You repeat in a breathy voice, even though you’ve been sitting down all the time.

“Yes, schatje. I call you my ‘love’ at least once a day, I thought that would be an indication of how I feel about you.”

“I know how you feel about me.” You say in a confident voice. “You love me and I love you.”

“I love you.” He confirms. “And I can’t wait to marry you, one day.”

“One day.” You affirm. He presses his lips against yours, and as you kiss under the moonlight on a boat in Amsterdam, with Max’s lips tasting like red wine and crème patisserie, you realise just how much you like ‘Vacation Max’.

#monzabee #requests open #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 smut #formula 1 #fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #imagine #fluff #angst #smut #max verstappen smut #max verstappen fluff

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blughxreader · 1 year

Note

Do you think escape for batsis is in the realm of possibility if she pretended long enough? I’m talking like 5-10 years of playing the long game. Enough time to gain everyone’s trust, and maybe she even grows to like them too, but still wanting her freedom back, would she possibly be able to escape the manor with enough time and ingenuity?

... Trips outside with Platonic Yandere Batfam... HC

Honestly, I doubt you could escape. Between the chip they secretly planted in your leg upon your kidnapping, the hidden agents that trail you on your outings, and the Bat's propensity to have their eyes on you at all times... it's unlikely.

But if you convince them you love them and if they're comfortable with their security system, you can finagle your way into a cozy little adventure outside!

In the beginning, after a year or two of living at the Wayne Manor and warming up to the Bats, they would consider letting you leave the house. At first it's only to private islands during carefully scheduled vacation times.

Luxury villas, private chefs, un-disrupted skylines, new books / notepads / art supplies so you can capture the moment (and so they can frame it)... It's pretty sweet actually, especially if you've ever had an "old money aesthetic" Pinterest board.

Just you, a charcuterie board of aged meats and cheeses, and Dick's leg against yours because he insists on touching you... and Tim's camera shuttering every 4 minutes... and Damian's loud insistence on having your eyes on him... and and and

After a few years, if they feel like you genuinely love them and are happy then you can convince them to let you go out! Just allow 1-3 business days for preparation.

(Also: trips outside are also an excellent bargaining chip for rights with you. Tim's "Sleep in my bed for a 10 consecutive (preferable) or nonconsecutive days this month and we can get boba and browse a bookstore" vs Damian's "If you tell Jason he's fourth favorite, I will ask father to rent out Gotham Museum for the evening so we can view the new post-impressionism exhibition" (I.E. he wants to go SO BAD but is afraid of rejection))

Jason and Damian are the easiest to convince. Just offer them an in-depth discussion on a book you two read together or a drawing/reading date, and they'll call all necessary contacts that second.

Dick and Bruce are like, "hn. but there's plenty of things to do at home."

If you begged, Dick would fold faster. Like, "Fiiiine. But only if we can rent the venue and go in disguise." Because he's not mentally prepared for paparazzi to think you two are dating.

Bruce, on the other hand, has three sleepless nights leading up to the outing and insists you hold onto him without fail the entire time.

He's most likely to rent out the rooftop of a restaurant and hire a famous ensemble. The Batkids are invited sometimes, but these trips are mostly for you and him to make some memories. Tim, Steph, and Duke 100% will pretend to be waiters. Dick disguises himself as the pianist and fumbles through the first few songs before he's invited to eat with you two.

Last but not least, Timmy. Hardest to convince but you can also get some unique, crowded locations out of him. However, because it's crowded he will handcuff you two together. Sorry, not sorry.

It might be fun going to a gaming arcade and playing a single player game with each of your hand's though. He might also introduce you to his friends as well! Game nights with them are always exciting.

for more yandere batfam, visit my masterlist!

#yandere batfam #platonic yandere #platonic yandere batfam #yandere dc #yandere batfamily #yandere x reader #yandere #yandere batman #yandere bruce wayne #yandere headcanons #yandere dick grayson #yandere jason todd #yandere damian wayne #yandere tim drake #yandere scenarios #yandere imagines

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catboyieejeno · 2 years

Text

"Let him look,"

pairings: bf! yuta x afab! reader summary: The boys invite you and Yuta on a trip for Mark's birthday, but when Jaehyun makes a few too many plays at you, Yuta reminds you that you belong to him. contents: established relationship, pining, slight fluff, angst, jealous sex, oral (m&f receiving), unprotected sex, orgasm denial, praising/praise kink, switch! yuta (i know, what a surprise, but trust me on this), minors dni count: 6.6k

"What do you think? Black or Red?" You hold up your two options for swim wear, dangling the pieces on either one of your index fingers.

Yuta looks up from his phone and at you, immediately locking it and putting it aside, suddenly very interested in the topic of your debate. He squints his eyes and furrows his brow in thought, trying to picture your body in each one. Although he has a crystal clear image in his mind paired with his choice of preference, he instead huffs, opting for a cheeky response.

"I don't know, I think you'll have to try them on," he smirks with a shrug.

"First of all, you've seen me in both of these," you scoff, giving him a playful glare as your hands fall to your hips, "and second of all, we're already running late. You're not even ready, and at this point, we'll get there after Mark does,"

Last week, a few of the boys invited the two of you on a weekend-long trip to the coast for Mark's birthday. Since they were on break from schedules and practices for the next two months, this would be the perfect getaway trip to celebrate their much needed hiatus and their friend's birthday, all in one.

Mark is one of the members you are closest to; In fact, he’s the one that introduced you to Yuta and the rest of the guys. Naturally, Johnny insisted that you had to go with them and accompany Yuta.

The two of you have your own room with an infinity pool and deck awaiting your arrival.

It had been forever since the two of you had gone on a vacation alone, with all the promotions the group had to do recently, and the mere thought had been giving you butterflies ever since the plan came to be. Sure, you have Yuta all to yourself often, for days at a time, but to have him alone in a luxurious hotel room has your mind spinning.

“Fine,” he sighs, sliding to the edge of the bed, hands pulling you in at your waist. His mouth connects to the skin of your stomach, exposed under the brim of the short top you’re wearing, while his eyes looked up at yours the whole time, “wear the black one,” he mumbles between kisses, “makes you look sexier.”

A blush creeps onto your cheeks and you run a hand through his long hair, sighing audibly. “Finish packing,” you insist.

Yuta rolls his eyes but obliges nonetheless, getting up to put the last of his clothes and toiletries in his bag. Johnny had let you both know he’d be there in the next 20 minutes, but the by the look of your bedroom and the mess of clothes that scattered every surface, he might just leave you two behind.

You and Yuta pack quickly and quietly, other than the one or two times you remind each other to take something you otherwise might’ve forgotten. When all your bags are zipped up and waiting with their owners by the door, a honk from outside paired with two or three texts to Yuta’s phone let you know your ride is here.

It’s a warm day outside, your favorite kind of day. Suddenly feeling excited, you get in the car while Yuta accommodates your belongings in the trunk. Biding hello to everyone and rambling about how highly you were anticipating the trip, you take your seat in the middle next to your boyfriend and beside Haechan.

Jaehyun sits at the passenger side, arguing with Johnny, who is driving, the whole way to the resort about which turn to make or what street to go down. Initially, it's rather amusing to watch them quarrel, but around the third time that Johnny takes the wrong exit, all of you realize you might actually never get to your destination.

This back and forth between the boys lasts until Haechan urges that they pull over, letting him direct instead, having grown far too annoyed with the bickering.

“Taeyong, Jungwoo, Doyoung, Taeil and Mark will have all turned 40 by the time we get there if we’re going at this pace,” Haechan snaps, tapping Jaehyun’s shoulder, “switch with me.”

Johnny laughs, turning the wheel and parking the car on the side of the road. There, the two boys switch, Jaehyun taking Haechan’s old spot beside you. As he sits, he offers you a warm, dimpled smile.

—

After a much smoother navigation (thank you, Haechan), the five of you manage to make it to the hotel, somehow beating the other boys which earns your group time to set up and settle in.

Everyone splits into their rooms, agreeing to meet up by the private pool after dropping off all the luggage and changing, at which time Mark would have arrived and the birthday shenanigans could commence.

The hotel is large, walls painted in a bone color with a blue trim. It’s clean and filled with plants and fountains, giving the impression of an outdoor space.

Yuta leads you through the lobby and up into your suite by the hand, tapping in the key card. As soon as the door shuts with a click, he drops the stuff on the bed and turns around to face you.

“Come ‘ere” he whispers, opening his arms.

You tilt your head defiantly and walk over to him at a torturously slow pace, which you know well enough that Yuta has no patience for. It takes him no more than a second before he reaches out for you and pulls you close until the two of you are chest to chest. His lips press against yours, gently at first, hands finding their way to your hair, then down your arms until they happily situate themselves at your hips.

The kiss quickly becomes a little more feverish, eager. You wrap your arms around his shoulders to keep steady, unable to resist mewling into his mouth as he breaths into yours.

"Mmph, baby," you mumble against his lips, "We have to-"

"I know, I know," he nods, pulling away for a second to look at your face, "But we're on vacation," he reminds you, "Mark isn't here yet, we can spare a few minutes,"

Deciding he's right, you use one hand to push him back and onto the edge of the king-sized bed, taking a seat on his lap. He grins at the prospect of you finally giving in, and leans back momentarily to look you up and down. He takes in your figure as if he’s never seen it before.

A groan rumbles in his throat at the sight of your breasts that sit tightly underneath the material of your shirt and he desperately dives for your neck, leaving slow, wet kisses along your sensitive skin. He stalls there for a moment, then trails his lips to your shoulder blades and back down toward your chest. His hands slide up your stomach and under your shirt until they each grab one of your boobs.

"I can't believe I have you all to myself in this huge room. God," he pauses, "the things I'm gonna do to you,"

You smirk, but it doesn't distract him from catching the redness that appears on your face at the direct nature of his statement.

Immediately, his pants feel significantly tighter; Yuta knows how bold and shamelessly needy you are in bed, never afraid to tell him how good he makes you feel or what you want him to do next. Nevertheless, it is always a turn on for him to see you crumble at just his words.

Reaching a hand up to hold his jaw, you bring his face closer to yours and your lips make contact again. He hums against your mouth, bucking his hips up subconsciously. In response, you roll your own down to meet him halfway, relishing in the much needed friction between your legs. The smacking sound of your open mouthed kisses and the panting that came with it were the only sounds in the room, with the exception of a few moans that couldn't be suppressed by either of you.

Until now; a knock on the door makes the two of you break apart, a very annoyed expression replacing the previously lustful one on your boyfriend's face.

"What?" He calls.

"Mark's here, Taeyong just told me they're parking," Johnny responds, voice slightly muffled behind the door.

You and Yuta look at each other and you laugh at his flushed cheeks and swollen lips.

“Alright, going!” he grumbles.

"We'll continue this later, baby boy," you move to get off of him, but not without letting your hand brush along his semi-hard crotch, "you’re lucky those swim trunks are loose,"

"Very funny," He scoffs, pressing a light smack to your ass as you turn around and head for your bag, pulling out the black bikini he had picked out for you at home.

You begin to slide off your shorts, taking your precious time since you know he's still watching. Through the reflection of the mirror, your vision follows his right hand as it squeezes his clothed dick, lip caught between his teeth and eyes narrowed, anticipating your every move. Your shirt is soon discarded too, leaving you in nothing but your undergarments.

Now, you can take your bra off on your own, but it’s just too easy to tease him.

"Help me?" You mumble with a pout, walking over and turning your back to him, letting your left hand brush your hair over your shoulder, exposing the clasp of your bra to him. As if that wasn’t enough, you sit between his legs, pressing the curve of your ass right on his lap, making him grunt.

He easily undoes your bra, fighting the urge to flip you over and fuck you right here as he presses your face into the pillows, not caring that everyone else is waiting for the two of you downstairs. But instead, he decides he’d rather wait. If you want to to keep being a tease, that’s fine by him.

He knows you have plenty of self control, but he also knows he has more; and so, he’ll let you continue your little game, knowing that at the end of the night, you’ll be begging and crying for him to fuck you.

Newly encouraged and eager to see his plan play out, Yuta slides out from behind you and walks over to the bathroom, leaving you alone, practically naked in the main room and unable to torture him further. As you huff and slip on your bikini in defeat, Yuta rests his arm against the closed bathroom door, readjusting his bulge so that it’s less visible. He does this only after pumping himself into his hand a few times pretending it was you, unable to resist the vividness of his imagination; however, he quickly stops for two reasons: if he keeps going, he’d be fully hard and unable to hide his erection from his friends. That, and Mark had actually gotten here now, and there was more than just sex planned for this weekend.

When he comes back out, you’re sitting pretty on a chair out in the deck, shades on your eyes, your black bikini hidden under a matching black cover up.

“You look beautiful,” he compliments, a beaming smile appearing on your face as you see him approaching, “Let’s go downstairs, yeah?”

You eagerly nod, and the two of you go downstairs to meet up with the rest of the boys.

The private pool they rented out was full of inflatables and water guns, and you almost forgot you were at an adult’s birthday party until you saw the nearby bar full of drinks of all colors being served by two bartenders.

All of the members are already gathered around the pool. The boys that had ridden in the car with you had already gotten in it seems, an obvious tell being their wet hair that sticks to their foreheads.

Mark, who still seems to be taking in the surprise, gets a bright blue drink shoved in his hand, “Yo, what is all this?”

“Start drinking, birthday boy, you have a long way to go before you catch up to us,” Johnny laughs, turning to face you and Yuta, “You two grab a drink, too, It’s about time you made it down here,”

Mark notices your presence and immediately pulls his drink away from his lips, almost choking in the process, “You came?”

“Of course I came, Mark Lee. You thought I’d miss your birthday?” The boy laughed and gave you a side hug, other hand grabbing Yuta’s to clap him up, “Let me get a drink, I can’t let you sip alone,” you insist.

“I’m gonna go set this down, yeah?” Yuta gestures at the tote bag slung over his shoulder that you packed with sunscreen and towels. You nod in acknowledgement and walk over to the bar where a bright pink drink catches your eye. From his seat on a lounge chair, Yuta takes off his tank top and starts applying sunscreen. To his right is a table where Haechan, Jungwoo and Jaehyun were setting up beer pong.

“You wanna get in with me?” Yuta asks, pressing a kiss to your cheek. You shake your head.

“I’m not hot enough yet,” you explain, “In a little,”

He nods and leaves one more kiss on your cheek, then disappears behind you and toward the pool.

“We’re gonna play beer pong, you wanna join?” You look up at Jaehyun, debating your options. He furrows his brows at the hesitance on your features, “Come on, I don’t have a partner,”

Sighing in defeat, you hold out a finger at the red solo cups Jungwoo was filling with the fizzy yellow liquid, “Alright, fine. But I don’t like beer. If they score, I’ll sip from my drink,”

“Don’t worry,” Jaehyun smiles, “I’ll drink for you,”

“It’s me and Jungwoo versus you and Jaehyun,” Haechan nods.

“Alright, alright. Give me a second.” Placing your drink down on the table by the rest of your things, you slip off your cover up and sandals, pulling your sunglasses down to your eyes from where they sit on your head. Reclaiming your drink and taking a generous sip, you walk back over.

It’s your turn first. You lean down, lining up the little white ball encased in your fingers with the cups on the other side of the table.

You’re too concentrated on your shot to notice, but Yuta, stood in the fresh, cool water of the pool, had been watching you ever since you took off the sheer cover up. His eyes trail your body, studying the way the impossibly small triangles of fabric hug your breasts and push them together, or the way your ass perks up, thanks to the way you’re arching your back trying to play.

He watches, amused, until he notices one small detail: he isn’t the only one checking you out.

With his hands on his waist, tongue poking the inside of his cheek, Jaehyun’s eyes look you up and down watching as you make your shot and score.

Instantly, Yuta’s jaw clenches tightly, but something Taeyong says momentarily takes his attention off of what he’s witnessing. As soon as he answers his friend though, his eyes are right back on you, warily watching your interaction.

Your ball lands into one of the cups at the front row, earning you a high-five from your partner.

Jaehyun’s turn is next. “Blow on it for good luck,” he whispers, holding the ball up to your lips. You blow softly, breaking into laughter halfway through, “if I make this, it’s all thanks to you,”

“Hurry up and throw it already,” Haechan whines, waving his arm around.

Jaehyun gives you a playful wink and tosses the ball. It lands in a cup.

“Dude, no way you guys are beating us,” you gloat. You rest your elbow on Jaehyun’s shoulder, putting on a cocky look as you watch the boys on the other side grab the cups and down their drinks.

“Yeah, yeah, watch this.” Jungwoo shoots and makes it, but Haechan misses, taking a few seconds to wallow and recover his pride.

You pick up the cup, about to drink the disgusting beer inside, when Jaehyun stops you, taking the solo cup from your hand. “Sip from your drink, I promised you I’d have the beer.”

And so, the game continues: you and Jaehyun score mercilessly, leaving the two other boys trying to negotiate a rule change or argue about who has drank more between the two of them. Before every toss of his ball, Jaehyun would insist you blow on it, claiming you were his good luck charm. This didn’t sit well with Yuta, who had started making his way over to you. There was only one cup left on Jungwoo and Haechan’s side and it was your turn.

“Baby,” Yuta calls. You turn around, pulling your shades up to see him better. “Let me put some sunscreen on you,” he suggests, “Your cheeks are getting red,”

“We’re about to win-“ Jaehyun tries, but you hand him the ball.

“It’s alright, you got this. Take my shot for me.” You toss him the ball and he holds it up like he's done for the previous rounds.

“Let’s make sure this goes in, yeah?” As he waits for you to blow, Yuta’s annoyance gets the better of him and he grabs the ball, throwing and making it in from where he stood behind you to finish the game. The two losers start going on about how that was cheating, but Jaehyun doesn’t bat an eye, not truly catching on to Yuta’s hidden distaste for the way he was interacting with his girlfriend.

“Princess, come here,” he straddles the lounge chair, grabbing the bottle of sunscreen and gesturing for you to sit, which you do, crisscross between his legs with your back facing his chest. His hands rub the lotion onto your neck, shoulders and thighs, massaging your muscles in the process. Your head falls back on his shoulder.

“That feels nice,” you mumble lazily, turning your face to leave some kisses on his neck. His skin felt cold, no doubt reflecting the temperature of the water.

“Mmm.” He hums, “How much have you drank?”

“Just the one. I’m gonna grab another now,” you reply. Your hands overlap his, helping him spread the sunblock along your thighs. You felt him squeeze every so often, making you chuckle to yourself.

“Don’t play beer pong anymore,” he mumbles, “Get in the water with me,”

“I will, as soon as this soaks in. I’ll put my feet in for now,”

“Okay,” he agrees.

“Yuta!” Mark shouts, waving him down from the pool, “Volleyball!”

“Maybe later, Mark-“

“You can’t say no! It’s my birthday.”

"Your birthday's tomorrow." He argues back.

You laugh at them, nudging your boyfriend, “Go, make him happy. I can finish applying it on my face.”

“Alright, baby.” He leaves you with a peck on the lips, going over to the water and immediately splashing Mark as soon he gets in.

You put some sunscreen on your hands, rubbing it together and spreading it across your chest and stomach. The sun felt warm on your skin, and you could tell Yuta was right about your cheeks being red because they were hot under the pads of your fingers. You covered your face in the protectant, then opened your eyes as you notice the darkness behind your lid. A tall figure stands in front of you, blocking the sun.

“I noticed you drank all of your drink during the game so, I got you another,” Jaehyun extends his arm, holding out a yellow drink with a pineapple wedge on it. You thank him, wiping your hands on the towel to get rid of the extra product and taking it. He presses his own glass against yours as a cheers and the two of you take a sip.

“Mm, this one’s really good,” You claim, “I think I like it more than the pink one,”

“Mine’s good, too. You wanna try it?”

You and Jaehyun switch drinks and try each other’s. As soon as the sour taste of the kiwi hits your tongue, you huff.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“Yours is better.”

“Have it,” he grins. You immediately shake your head, handing it back to him.

“No, no. It’s yours, here,”

“Seriously, it’s okay. I like the pineapple one more.”

“You’re just saying that,” you shake your head again.

“I promise,”

Giving him a doubtful look, you sigh, “Fine.”

“You gonna get in?” He asks you, tilting his head toward the pool.

“Oh, yeah,” You nod, getting up as you remember you promised Yuta that you’d join him in the water. Your sunscreen has to have absorbed by now, so it should be fine to get in. You leave your shades on the chair, standing up fully. As you’re about to walk past Jaehyun, he stops you by grabbing your forearm softly.

“Wait, you have, uhm-“ His hand comes up, “Here,” he uses his thumb to swipe away a streak of white sunscreen on your cheek, “There you go,”

“Oh, um… Thank you.”

You sit by the edge of the pool, slipping your feet in and shuddering at the temperature of the water. Your eyes search for Yuta among the members playing volleyball but you don’t find him there. Instead, he’s leaning against the side of the pool. You wave him over, oblivious to the daggers he’s glaring your way, but he doesn’t budge.

Jaehyun sits beside you, reaching down and scooping up some water with his hand, splashing you.

“It’s cold!” You complain, squeezing your eyes shut.

“It feels better once you go in, come on.” He encourages, jumping in so the water is at his waist. It splashes you and you shriek, holding an arm up. He grabs your drink from your grip, setting it down beside you, then pulls you into the pool.

“Oh, my god. It’s freezing,” You gasp, “holy shit.”

“But it feels good, right?” He laughs.

Unbeknownst to you and Jaehyun, Yuta had been watching your entire conversation from a distance. He scoffs, beyond tired of all the drink-sharing, giggling, and skin ship going on between the two of you. His face is growing hotter by the second as he watches the way Jaehyun keeps glancing down at your exposed chest, breasts glistening and bouncing on the surface of the water. His teeth are starting to hurt from the way he’s been gritting them together.

“Fuck this,” he mutters to himself.

He pulls himself out of the water, walking past the two of you and towards his towel to dry off. This catches your attention and your head spins around as you call for him.

“Babe?”

He doesn’t answer.

“He probably just went to get a drink-“ You ignore Jaehyun, knowing that something was wrong and pull yourself out of the water, too.

“Yuta, stop.” You try again.

When you’re both out of sight from the rest of the members, he finally turns around, seething.

“Yuta-“

“Oh, I’m sorry. Were you having fun?”

“What?”

“Forget it,” he scoffs. “If you wanna talk, we can talk in the room, not here,” He snaps, glancing behind you at Taeil who was approaching, fetching the volleyball that had flown out of the water, completely unaware of the conversation happening between you and Yuta.

“Okay,” you breathe, “yeah.”

You follow him up to the suite in silence; the air is tense and heavy, almost radiating with the anger Yuta is feeling. He opens the door and throws his towel to the side, running a hand through his hair. Still, he doesn’t say anything until you speak first.

“Yuta,”

“What the fuck was that, huh?” He spits, arm gesturing toward the pool.

“What was what? What are you talking about?” You ask, genuinely bewildered.

“God, you’re fucking dense.”

“Excuse me?” You snap, eyes narrowing.

“You mean to tell me that you didn’t notice the way Jaehyun was eye-fucking you the whole day?”

“What the fuck are you talking about, Yuta? He wasn’t eye-fucking me, he was just-“

“What? Being nice? Grabbing you a drink is being nice? Caressing your cheek and pulling you into the water by your waist so he can stare at your chest is being nice?” He rambles, raising his voice, “Insisting you blow on the ping-pong ball as if that has any fucking effect whatsoever on how-“

“First of all,” you snap, holding a finger up. “You don’t have to yell. Ever.” You take a breath, trying to keep your voice steady, “and you don’t get to call me dense.”

His eyes soften slightly, but you can still see the anger tainting his features. His voice, however, is now significantly lower, in both volume and tone, “I spent the whole day trying to get you to go in the water with me and spend time with me and where were you? Playing beer pong with Jaehyun. Lounging and sharing drinks with Jaehyun. The only reason you went in at all was because Jaehyun carried you in. He was flirting with you in front of my face.”

“I’m sorry,” you shook your head, “It didn’t seem like that was his intention and if it was, then I’m sorry I didn’t notice. I hope you know,” you reach for his hand and he lets you, “that if I even suspected it was like that, I would’ve put a stop to it.”

He sighs begrudgingly.

“Do you not believe me? You don’t trust that I would?”

“I trust you, I do.” he admits, “But it’s hard to believe that you didn’t notice the way he was looking you.”

“Let him look,” you grab both of Yuta’s hands, wrapping them around yourself, “He’s only fooling himself.”

You can tell he’s still very upset by the way he casts his eyes at the ground, but his arms pull you in anyway, shoulders relaxing under your hands as you rub them.

“I love you, okay?" He finally looks up at you, "I’m sorry I didn’t catch on. And in all fairness, if that was you and another girl, I’d be fucking mad, too,” His eyes look between yours, and he sees the genuineness of your words and your apology.

“I’m all yours, baby." you continue, "He can look all he wants; that doesn’t change the fact that you’re the only person that I want to touch me and look at me that way," You bring his hand down to your ass and his hand squeezes the skin instinctively.

“I’m still kinda mad,” he warns.

“That’s okay.”

“I should be fucking furious,”

“Mhm,” you hum against his neck, teeth grazing the skin there.

He lets out a hiss at the feeling, eyes fluttering closed for a moment as he swallows thickly, “You do look good in that bathing suit,”

“What, this?” You ask, leaning back so he can look at you. Your hands hold your breasts, squeezing them, “Is this what he was staring at?”

He gives you a slight look of warning that tells you not to push it, but you know very well what you’re doing and just how far to take it.

You shake your head, “That’s too bad,”

“What is?” Yuta asks.

“That he can’t ever see them like this,” you single-handedly reach behind you and pull at the string tied around your neck, letting the material fall and expose your breasts, full and round and perfect, displayed for your boyfriend's hungry eyes.

“Fuck,”

“Sit back, baby,”

He scoots onto the edge of the bed, hands at your waist as you straddle him, giving him a perfect view of your boobs. One of his thumbs brushes over your nipple, the other hand going behind his head for support.

You take your time, leaning down and peppering open mouthed kisses on his torso, tongue dragging down his stomach until you reach his belly button ring where you stop and look up, watching his expression twist into lust through your lashes. His dick twitches at the sight before him, mouth hanging open.

“This is the best decision you’ve ever made,” You joke, kissing around the piercing. You tug at it with your teeth until he hisses, free hand grabbing at your hair to pull you up.

“Stop fucking teasing me, it’s all you’ve done all day.”

“Since you’re so mad, why don’t you show me? Show me how mad you get when your friends stare at me,”

In a mere second, Yuta flips you over, using your hair that twists around his right hand as leverage.

“You think you’re funny, huh?”

Even with your voice strained from the pain of your hair being tugged, you muster up a smart-ass reply, “Yeah, you know, I’d say I am rather funny somet-“

His left hand grabs your throat harshly, lips attaching themselves to yours to shut you up. “Take off your fucking bottom piece,” He says into your mouth, breath mixing with yours as you let out a strangled moan. Your hands work quickly to untie the remaining bikini piece, hips lifting to pull it off of yourself and toss it to the side. As soon as you do, he settles comfortably between your legs, grinding himself down into you.

“Oh, my God,” you breathe out, eyes rolling back at the direct friction against you.

“I’m gonna eat you out baby,” He tells you, “But you’re not gonna come,”

A whimper escapes your lips, but you don’t dare say anything or attempt to argue this time. You watch as he slides down your body, kissing every spot on the way down like you’d done to him just moments ago, leaving wet marks and streaks along your skin.

When his face is finally between your legs, you hike them up, resting your thighs on his shoulders. Mouth agape and eyes half open, you watch as he brings his thumb up to touch you, rubbing slowly.

“Mmm, Yuta,”

“I know, baby, I know.”

He licks up your folds, once, twice, then three times, lapping you up as many times as he deems necessary before finally attaching his mouth to your clit, sucking and licking at your sensitive bud. At the overwhelming sensation, your eyes roll back.

You try to reach for his hair but he grabs your hands and intertwines your fingers with his, holding them at your side. Unable to help yourself, you roll your hips, grinding yourself against his tongue.

At your desperation, Yuta moans, the sound vibrating through your core. Every so often, he presses a kiss to you, then leans back to take in the sight of your glistening core. He looks at it as if he's been starved, and maybe he has with all your teasing earlier in the day. He's ravenous, mouth and tongue working against you wonderfully, leaving you a writhing mess beneath him.

"Yuta, oh, I'm gonna-"

"No," He interrupts, but doesn't stop what he's doing. He lets go of one of your hands, his index and middle finger slipping into you.

"Please, please let me-"

"No," he replies, tone much sharper this time, "I better not feel you come around me or so help me God, I'll leave you here like this,"

Knowing better than to question the sincerity of his threat, you take a deep breath, trying to suppress the feeling in your stomach that begs you to let go.

Yuta removes his fingers from inside of you and pulls down his own shorts. He had become too aroused while pleasuring you, and his dick was begging for any kind of stimulation. He pumps himself into his hand, using the precum that leaked from his red tip and your left over wetness on his fingers as lubrication.

"Let me help you," you whimper, squirming, "Please, I'll be good, just let me help you. I can't," a moan escapes your lips, "I can't take it anymore,"

For a second, he looks dangerous, as if he'll continue his merciless efforts, but he ultimately slows his tongue, settling for your compromise.

You pant, attempting to recover for a brief moment as he lays beside you on the bed, pulling his shorts all the way off.

"Baby," he calls. You turn to him, getting up on all fours. Your face is right by his cock awaiting his next command, one of your hands wrapping around the base of it. Yuta sits up for a second, grabbing you by the back of your neck to bring you in for the most sensual kiss you've shared in a while. It's messy and needy, but simultaneously slow and drawn out. He's savoring you and the fact that you're his.

His tongue swipes at yours, and you can taste yourself in his mouth, moaning at the lewdness of the situation. As he pulls away, you look into his eyes, waiting for him to tell you what he wants.

"Suck me off slowly. I don't wanna come before I've been inside you."

Nodding obediently, you do just that. Your soft, swollen lips place a gentle kiss on the tip of his cock and you drag them down, taking your time as he requested. Eventually, you replace them with your tongue, making sure to get him all wet so your hand will be able to slide on his length with ease.

"You're so fucking hot," he praises, letting both of his hands rest behind his head.

Part of you wants to be good and please him the way he asked of you, but the ache between your legs reminds you of the way he left you hanging no more than five minutes ago. Even now, you feel like you're so close; like if you just used your imagination and clenched around nothing, you'd reach your orgasm.

Hence, you conclude that returning the favor wouldn't hurt, right?

You take him fully into your mouth until he hits the back of your throat. Involuntarily, you swallow around him and Yuta hisses, hips bucking up. Wasting no time, you start bobbing up and down on his dick, letting him all the way in each time. Your pretty eyes are watering but you remain, still looking at him, loving the way his face contorts into pleasure.

Your lips come off of him with a pop and a string of saliva is the only thing left behind. You use your hand to stroke him, taking extra care to squeeze at the tip.

"Mmm, don't stop,"

"Or what?" You provoke, tucking a strand of hair behind you ear as you slow the motion of your wrist.

He sucks in a sharp breath, lifting his hips to meet your speed, "Please, don't stop," he whispers, looking down at you.

"You want me to use my mouth again, baby?"

He quickly nods, reaching out to hold your jaw and draw it near his swollen tip again. You let him guide you as you wrap your lips around him, sucking and licking until he can no longer suppress his groans.

"Okay, okay," his hand goes to pull you up, but you resist, feeling him twitch, "If you-fuck, if you keep going m'gonna come,"

With a gasp, desperate to replenish the lost oxygen in your lungs, you take him out of your mouth, both of your chests heaving.

"Was that good?" You ask, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

"So fucking good."

"Good enough that you'll let me come now?"

He laughs at how direct you are, pulling you on top of him, "I'd like nothing more, beautiful."

Lining yourself up with his dick, you slowly sink down, head falling back at the way he fills you up. Yuta sits up and wraps his arms around your waist, using his hands to help you guide your hips. He moves you slowly at first, giving you time to adjust.

Even though he's being gentle, you're still so sensitive from earlier that your walls instantly clench around him. Consequently, his teeth dig into your shoulder as he tries not to come, grabbing your hips and lifting you until the only part of him that's in you is his tip.

"Yuta, stop teasing," You whine breathlessly.

"Am I in?"

You nod, "Yeah?"

"Then I ain't teasing,"

He slams you down until that he's so deep inside you that you gasp, then quickens his pace.

There were no words to describe how good and full you felt, finally getting to do what you both were looking forward to all day. He hisses every time you tighten around him, your walls so narrow that you were practically milking him.

Having you face him as he fucked you was his favorite way because like this, he could see your fucked out expression the entire time he pumped in and out of you. He could study which movement of his hips made your eyes roll back or your lips part. He could watch you fall apart, all because of him.

"That's so good, Oh, my-"

He lets out a throaty groan,"You're so fucking tight,"

When he feels your movements falter and notices your breath hitch in your throat, he knows you're close. Bucking his hips up, Yuta helps you ride out your orgasm, brushing your hair back with one hand so he can still see your features.

"Yuta, I-"

"Shh," he coos, "I know, baby. Come for me, you're doing so good,"

At the feeling of your walls fluttering around him, his head collapses onto your shoulder. He nuzzles his face there, biting his lip and praying he can hold off his own orgasm until you've finished enjoying yours.

But it's so, so hard. With the way you're panting in his ear, squeaking out little words and praises that are unintelligible, nails clawing at his back, cunt squeezing him, he can't resist anymore. He comes inside of you with a shudder.

Even when he's overstimulated he keeps going until he's entirely sure you've come down from your high. Only then, does he pull out of you.

"Holy shit," you whimper.

"I love you," he reminds you, still short of breath.

You smile down at him, brushing away a sweaty strand of hair from his eyes. Your lips press down to his for a sweet kiss.

"I love you, too. So much."

"Let's clean you up, yeah? Stay here."

You nod as Yuta gets up, grabbing a white towel from the bathroom before returning to your side, gently spreading your legs and wiping you down.

"You wanna head back down to the pool?" you ask, turning to glance outside where the sun is no longer in the sky, "It's getting dark,"

"We have a pool right here." He reminds you, gesturing toward the infinity pool on the deck, "Besides," he starts, putting the towel of your mixed fluids in the bin, "I don't think I want Jaehyun seeing you in a bathing suit for the rest of the weekend."

You laugh, sitting up on the bed, "What about Mark? It's his birthday,"

"His birthday is tomorrow, not today."

"Okay," you nod, "Let's get in our pool,"

He hums and leans in, scooping you up into his arms and walking with you toward the door.

"Wait," you pull away, looking down at both of your naked bodies.

"What? You don't need a bathing suit for this pool,"

"Oh, is that right?" You giggle. Yuta nods, giving you another kiss and stepping down the pool steps, pulling you both into the water.

+.*·

requests r open :D

+.*·

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assexpansion · 1 month

Note

You asked me to write a story about a girl falling asleep in a special hot-tub at a spa, so how about I ask you this:

A petite girl who's spending some time at her new private pool in her new home, where something occurs, of course granting her breasts, belly and butt of tremendous proportions? I'll leave the details to you, you're a writing genius after all <3

Off The Deep End (18+/Incest/Hyper)

After 8 years of education, 2 diplomas, and a successfully defended thesis, a well-deserved summer break awaited Ariana at her parents' new home. They welcomed their short but high-achieving daughter with welcome arms and began the tour of the small mansion. Their daughter was enchanted by the luxury abode, especially its pool...

Ariana was feeling burnt-out by the last push of studying, so the family's mansion, where she'd be fed and could relax, was like a dream oasis. Then, she noticed the back of her older step-brother Benji's head under the backyard gazebo. Her dream cracked. Her parents encouraged her to chat and catch up with him, noting that he was in charge of preparing the new pool, before returning inside to cook a 'Welcome Home' dinner for their favorite child.

She approached Benji, who was faced away and on his phone with earbuds in. Typical. He never made any effort to be nice to her. So why should she? While Ariana was off making their family proud, Benji had taken the low road of slacking and wasting away his life. The last thing she wanted to do was make small talk with him. It was bad enough that they were related.

"Hey, gues what? Im back! They really went all out with this place, huh?" Ariana said as friendly as possible.

Her eyes flicked to the small screen her brother was looking at.

"Benji... are you... watching porn?"

The distinct figure of a huge-titted, big-bellied, fat-assed blonde woman struggling to sit up from her seat was there, plain as day. Ariana paused in surprise and disgust as she saw the ridiculously proprotioned pornstar from behind Benji's shoulder. The side of his face was expressionless and slightly slackjawed as he watched. Ariana could hear faint, feminine groans from his earbuds with each lurch of her huge body.

"Umm, what the fuck are you watching?" Ariana snapped. "Benji! Im right behind you!" She cried out, stomping her foot down to get his attention.

But Benji made no sign that he had heard her, immersed in the video. He was totally enamored with the triple-extra-large woman on the screen. She was perfect, he thought. Who needed money or school when a clear purpose in life; to serve, worship, and feed a happy, fattened woman was right there? His own daydream was shattered as Ariana ripped the cords out of his head and began yelling in his ear.

"What the hell do you think you're doing watching that out here?!"

Benji's face flushed in embrassment. He raised his hand in admittance, still holding his cellphone with the video playing out loud as he spoke.

"Okay, okay. It's off!"

"God, I'm just so heavy!" It played.

"I didn't think anyone was around!" Benji snapped.

"My stupid fat ass can't even get up!"

"I guess.. welcome back, Ariana." He mumbled.

"I'm such a big, brainless butterball!"

Ariana snatched the device and paused the video. She held the phone to her brother's throat like a knife.

"I've only been here for five minutes and you've already found a way to ruin it." She growled. "Don't let me catch you watching this again."

Benji nodded and gingerly took the device out of her hands.

"Now, how about you get the pool ready so I can start my vacation?" She asked, more of a demand than a question.

The siblings split apart with Ariana resting in a different outdoor seat under the gazebo while Benji gathered the pool conditioners. His earlier cowardice festered into a black anger as he thought about how she had treated him. Ariana was perfect, and he was nothing. It was all he had heard throughout his life. The nerve of that stuck-up little brat. I'll show her, he thought.

Ariana watched as her lumpy step-brother poured a half gallon of pool-aid into the calm water. Unbeknownst to her it was mixed with a large scoop of a secret powder he'd stored away for a special occasion. The pink grains in the white solution slowly mixed into the aquamarine water. Whatever, she deserves it, especially after sneaking up on him. He tested the water with a strip and deemed it safe. Benji hid his knowing smirk, putting on a solemn face as he approached Ariana.

"Hey, so... I'm sorry about that. You're right. That was gross and not cool of me." He said with a sincere tone. "I know we fight, but Mom and Dad just want us to be on good terms with each other. I think they want a little bit of you to rub off on me." He said calmly.

It was easy to lie when you know you've already won, Benji thought. "Anyways, I was going to have the first dip in the new pool, but... would you like to have the honor?"

Ariana was slightly shocked by this more compassionate side of her brother. Maybe he was turning over a new leaf. Wow! And all it took was catching him watching fat fetish videos. Who knew?

"What I saw is going to burned into my mind, but... sure. Thanks, Benji." Ariana said, only gritting her teeth a little.

She swiftly changed into a two-piece swimsuit that showed off her trim body and cautiously stepped down the pool's ladder. Benji sat on the seat nearby, fiddling on his phone as she dove headfirst into the spiked mixture.

"How's the water?" He asked as Ariana surfaced.

"Not bad. Cooler than I thought." She answered, glancing towards him. "Are you looking at more of those videos?"

Benji rolled his eyes. "No."

"I mean, I guess it's okay that you do. It's weird, but everyone's got different tastes. Just keep it to your bedroom, okay?"

"Got it, loud and clear." He said in monotone, trying to go along with whatever she said to act casual.

It was easy to take the high road when he knew that she'd have her just deserts. Ariana treaded water in the shallow end, not quite tall enough to touch the bottom. Unbeknownst to her, Benji's dissolved powder had begun absorbing into her skin the moment she had entered the pool. As it did, the tiny clumping grains collected throughout her small body, stimulating and reforming Ariana from the inside.

"I don't mean to re-open that can of worms, but can I ask why? Like, why do you like those... types of women?." She called out across the quiet backyard.

The flushed Benji had to consider that. However, it was difficult to when his step-sisters' breasts were beginning to fill her swimsuit. The green cheetah pattern was clearly warping, even through the ripples of her twirling arms. His focus dulled as he stared at the B-cup breasts that she had never had before. Mouth slightly agape, he shook to his senses and tried to remember the question.

"Well, umm... I guess it's a, uh... primal thing. You know, like if a woman is big and happy, then that means she's cared for... and can bare children." He said off the fly.

Ariana held the edge of the pool to breathe and considered his answer. Below her elegant nose and dark lips, the tops of two bulges began to rise out of the water. Her C-cups swelled to D-cups in a matter of seconds as the osmotic powder filled the growing woman up. Benji watched her breasts inflate and settle, dropping into fat tits that began to poke out from the sides of her swimsuit as she pushed off and resumed treading water. With each rotation of her limbs, they looked thicker and thicker. Benji needed to talk or do something to stop himself from ogling her.

"Maybe that's where it stems from, but there's more to it. Like, individual preferences." He continued, trying to keep her attention from drifting.

"Fair." She said, nodding with an agreeing raise of her eyebrows. "But, it's, like, so extreme. That woman was what? Four thousand pounds?"

He looked beneath her blossoming breasts to the totally out of character potbelly that was pushing out from Ariana's midsection, making her look a few months pregnant.

"That's right." Benji said. "And I bet that woman in the video makes more than you and me both ever will."

"At the cost of her body, though." Ariana finished wistfully. "But, after six years in school, the thought of cashing out and going brain-dead isn't half bad now that I think about it."

A nagging righteous voice told Benji that enough was enough. His step-sister had already changed more than it would need to totally affect her life. It's already done then, another voice countered. Benji knew their parents had bought this mansion and it's pool on a whim while she was completing her second degree, sure that even if their finances fell apart, the brilliant Ariana would find a high-paying job to support them. Benji rolled his eyes back and saved the thought of her extreme proportions in a business suit. Her chances of being taken seriously with huge H-cups were slim, Benji selfishly thought. Maybe she'd be better at something else.

"Would you ever consider it?" Benji asked, wincing as she slowly swam her much rounder body towards the pool ladder.

"Only if I was desperate" Ariana answered promisingly.

She kicked fattening thighs that wouldn't look out of place on her mom, he thought. In just a minute or less, the powder had turned Ariana into a stacked, plump sex goddess.

"Well, this might be easier than I imagined then." Benji said with a grin as he stood up.

As she reached the ladder and began to pull herself up, Ariana noticed her body felt four times heavier than it was before. Benji walked toward the ladder where his step-sister was realizing just how big she was. Followed by him were their parents carrying the 'Welcome Home' dinner. Ariana flashed him a dead eyed sideways look of cold rage as she looked up from her changed body.

"Oh, you are so dead." She breathed before all of hell broke loose.

#expansion #assexpansion #breastexpansion #expansion caption #breast expansion #caption #ass expansion #giant breasts #weightgain #giantess #This took sooo long to write because I wanted to go off in a million directions and it became dense as hell!

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jerzwriter · 27 days

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Welcome Brooke Vivian Carrick!

In my headcanon for Tobias & Casey, little Brooke joins the family on August 30, 2025. But I'm delivering this incredible artwork to you one year earlier! This lovely commission is from none other than the incomparable @/artbyainna on Instagram. I've run out of amazing things to say about her, but she never, ever disappoints.

I had hoped to write more about Brooke's birth story—and maybe one day I will—but I really wanted to share this before the end of August. Some HCs about Casey's pregnancy and Brooke's birth can be found below. Maybe I'll write a little more about them one day. I sure do love this little family!

You can find some stories about this time in Round Two and more about Tobas x Casey on Tobias x Casey's Masterlist.

Caption Pietro (the cat): To me, he's saying "Not impressed!" 😂

Pregnancy/Birth Headcanons:

As with her first pregnancy with Sammy, poor Casey was pretty much nauseous for the first three months. That was even more challenging with a toddler underfoot. Fortunately, Tobias was always quick to tell her to rest, and grandmas Vivian and Rose were all too happy to step in when needed.

The minute morning sickness ends - Casey is famished and has tons of cravings. Tobias was better prepared for that this time. This time around, she wanted Greek salads and French fries most of all. See a little Insta edit about that below.

Tobias made it clear he wanted a big family; Casey made it clear she was the one who had the babies, and he agreed; it was her call. They never said definitively that this was their last, but they both believed it was. They really took time to cherish every moment of this special time.

Casey and Tobias were happy to see her sex drive was insane during this pregnancy, their friends asked how they noticed a difference? lol

Tobias arranged a 'babymoon' vacation when Casey was seven months pregnant. He wanted to go to one of their favorite islands in the Pacific, but he wasn't keen on Casey traveling so far from home while pregnant. He also wasn't about to take her to any states that could jeopardize her life if she were to have complications, so that limited his choices. They ended up at a luxury hotel in Cape May, New Jersey. He got a suite on a separate floor for Vivian and Rose, too. This way they got some relaxation and they could all spend time with Sammy - but Mom & Dad got plenty of alone time, too.

Once again, Tobias insisted they were having a daughter, so he never even looked at boy's names. Girl's names were also a challenge; neither could come up with anything they loved. Finally, his Aunt Cher suggested Eden or Brooke for Edenbrook. They loved the idea and decided to wait until the baby was born to see if she looked more like an Eden or a Brooke. Obviously, Brooke won! She was given Tobias's mother's name, Vivian, as a middle name.

For most of Casey's pregnancy, Sammy was unimpressed about the idea of a new baby, but toward the end, she decided it would be fun. So she was eager to meet her little sister, and when they brought Brooke home, Sammy really thought it was a present just for her.

Pietro, their cat, was obsessed with her baby bump throughout her pregnancy but had no interest in Brooke once she was born. Casey and Tobias joked it was an odd way to learn their cat was a Republican.

Like her sister, Brooke was anxious to enter the world and came a little earlier than expected. Her due date of September 20th became a birthdate of August 30th. Casey was in labor for 5 1/2 hours, but there were complications, and it was decided it would be best to have a C-section. Tobias was at her side through it all (and she was telling him to get a vasectomy most of that time....)

They were overjoyed when little Brooke was safely delivered, and they spent the next few days in the hospital suite marveling over her and trying to wrap their heads around the fact that they now had two little girls. Tobias was outnumbered, and he loved it.

Here's a little edit about Casey's cravings - well, at least the food cravings - this pregnancy lol

#open heart #open heart choices #choices open heart #choices #choices fanfic #playchoices #playchoices fanfic #choices stories you play #tobias carrick #tobias carrick x mc #tobias x casey #brooke carrick #samantha carrick #the carrick girls

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thelightsandtheroses · 8 months

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2. soak up the sun

Let's Get Lost Chapter 2 | Frankie Morales x female reader

Summary: You and Frankie aren’t together anymore but you’re in a good place. However, spending a week together for your mutual friends’ wedding on a luxury resort might challenge that slightly and realising you’re still in love with your ex is a sure-fire recipe for disaster … Tropes: it was always you, getting back with the ex, beach!Frankie (you know *that* photoshoot) miscommunication, only one bed, good parent Frankie Chapter Warnings: 18+ MDNI, refereneces to past drug addiction, discussions of food, small mentions of various insecurities and body image, passing reference to alcohol, Frankie and the reader are parents to a toddler, past break-ups. Word Count: 2807 Notes: Thank you for the lovely feedback so far - it's meant so much to me and I hope you enjoy this update. I have a lot planned for this fic. The chapter title is from Sheryl Crow's song of the same name.

Previous | Series | Next

There’s nothing quite like a breakfast buffet. Whenever you travel, you can’t help but judge the hotel, judge the entire stay by the quality of the breakfast. If the coffee is good, if the food is fresh and tasty, if it feels welcoming … that’s the magic formula - for you, at least.

After an inauspicious start to your vacation, you’re hoping that the breakfast will be a silver lining, that you can recharge before trying to resolve the room situation.

It was hard to sleep last night. You were so aware of Frankie on the other side of the pillow barrier, so anxious over everything that had gone wrong. You couldn’t play your sleep stories or calming music and your room and bed felt so unfamiliar.

You need to relax.

You need to hold things together for Lia and Clara, because this week is about them and not the messes of your current state of mind or relationship with Frankie.

Clara is holding Frankie’s hand and happily pulling him ahead as he tries to guide her to the right place.

When you arrive in the veranda, you can see Lia, Benny, Will and Sophie, Wil’s wife, as well as Santiago already occupying a large table. Lia waves you over with a smile.

She immediately pulls you into a hug as you approach and you’re hit with your friend’s comforting presence, her familiar scent of coconut and vanilla. “Finally,” she says, “Now we’re all here.”

You look over to see Frankie giving Santiago a one-armed hug before Santi pays attention to Clara.

“Clara, look at you,” he says, adding in Spanish, “you’re so tall now, huh?” He nods cordially to acknowledge you as you sit next to Sophie.

“Heard your flight got delayed?” Will asks calmly, his arm casually resting on Sophie’s chair. Sophie’s intelligent and smart and incredibly pretty to boot. You do get on with her, but you can’t help remembering Will and Sophie’s wedding every time you see then. It’s an automatic, almost Pavlovian response that leaves you with a dry throat and sweaty palms. You’re sure she remembers that night too. It was a real lowlight for you and Frankie after all.

You hope Benny’s wedding will be an improvement.

Surely it can’t be any worse than Will’s?

You break out of your reverie and look over at Will, answering his question, “Yeah, it wasn’t that bad. Only a couple of hours in the end.” You can’t mention the room debacle yet and judging by Frankie’s subtle nod to you, he’s in agreement with you on that. “How’s the coffee?” you ask, the hope palpable in your voice.

“Amazing,” Sophie says, “Really good quality and fresh.” She winks at you, clearly remembering your breakfast litmus test.

Well, that’s something then.

Fifteen minutes later, you’ve almost finished your first cup of coffee, Clara is eating her eggs under her Tio Santi’s careful supervision. It’s funny watching Santi with her; he never struck you as particularly paternal, perhaps because he never seemed to put roots down anywhere, but Clara adores him. She adores all of Frankie’s close friends. Benny is brilliant with her, so’s Will.

Despite Frankie having less and less contact with his biological family over the years, he’s given Clara the gift of his chosen family. You can’t pretend to understand the bond and brotherhood between Frankie, Will, Santi and Benny - it runs deep. It’s enough to know that they’re his brothers. They’ll always be his brothers.

You take a bite of your own breakfast, daring yourself to relax just a little. Sophie’s right - the coffee is good.

Hope loosens the tight thread around your stomach just a fraction.

“What’s your plan for today then?” Lia asks. ”Just settling in?“

“I think someone wants to go to the beach,” you say, indicating Clara.

“A beach day sounds great. We should all go, before things get hectic.”

“Thanks,” you say in a low voice. “What do you need from me over the next few days? I know I’ve been a shitty bridesmaid recently, so just tell me what you need.”

“Right now? We’re good. I’m just so glad you’re here,” Lia says.

It’s peaceful. The steady rhythm of waves flowing and withdrawing barely conceal the soft giggles you can hear from Clara with Frankie a few meters away.

Next to you, Lia and Benny are sunbathing. Lia is lounging against him, a glossy magazine in one hand and what you suspect is a frozen strawberry daiquiri in the other hand. The two of them look like models; skin glowing in the sun, colour coordinated swimwear and sunglasses in place. They’re perfect for each other.

It hits you suddenly; you’re surrounded by couples. Even Santi is off flirting with someone by the water.

You scrunch your toes into the golden sand and exhale slowly.

It’s hard to stop your brain thinking about work for the first few days of a holiday; you find your fingers automatically twitching as they want to reach for a phone or laptop to check emails and messages.

They can cope without you. You know that. It’s just your anxiety, just the corporate machine and it shouldn’t matter. What you should be thinking about is your family, is Lia’s wedding, being a good bridesmaid, a good mother, a good friend and co-parent with Frankie.

You think back to your conversation with the hotel staff before coming to the beach. It turns out there is no alternative room for you or Frankie until the final night of your stay. The hotel is fully booked, so unless one of you stays somewhere else then you’re stuck in the same hotel room for most of the week.

It’s not fair on either of you to be somewhere else either - not when you’re both in the wedding party, both Clara’s parents.

It doesn’t feel like you have much of a choice.

You’re not sure how to tell Frankie about the conversation you’ve just had with the hotel. It isn’t your fault, not technically, but somehow it feels like another in a long list of failures.

You watch your daughter building a sandcastle. She looks so happy; half covered in sand and clapping her hands in delight as Frankie carefully lifts the sandcastle bucket. You hold your breath for a second in the hope that one particularly shaky looking turret holds out.

She’s having a great time at least. That’s what you really wanted.

You put your book down, standing up to go and join the two of them.

“Hey Clara, mum’s here,” Frankie says, waving you over with a smile. You can’t help but notice the way sand has slightly stuck to his thigh while he’s been building the castle with Clara and how he’s already unbuttoned his shirt by a scandalous three buttons.

“Hi sweetie,” you say, “that is an amazing sandcastle. Did you build that one all by yourself?”

Clara purses her lips, deep in thought. She looks at Frankie and then at you and for a second she nods then shakes her head. “Daddy helped.”

“Only a bit,” he says kindly.

“Yeah, I can tell someone with an engineering background has been involved,” you joke which earns you one of Frankie’s best smiles. It’s one of the dazzling ones that made you fall in love with him the first time.

“Did uh, everything go okay with -” Frankie begins as he stands up, grimacing briefly and covering it immediately.

“We can talk about it later,” you say, smiling unnaturally brightly and quickly looking at Clara and then the others.

Frankie immediately understands your implications - you watch a range of emotions dance across his eyes before he settles with a similarly bright but false smile.

“It’s not a big deal,” he says. “We’ll be fine. It’s just a week, right?”

You smile weakly and nod. There’s always the bathtub, maybe Frankie was right about that.

You can hear music lightly playing as you and Clara walk back into the hotel room. She’s stifling a yawn, clearly already tired from the day’s events so far. There’s just enough time for you to have a quick shower before you head out for the early family dinner you have planned.

Frankie and you have discussed it in depth and spoken to the hotel babysitting service but you agreed to save that for wedding related events. There’s no reason the two of you can’t work it out between yourselves the rest of the time and ensure at least one of you is with your daughter. Plus, the whole idea’s about giving Clara that family holiday, right?

Frankie’s reading on the bed and looks up at the two of you.

“Hey guys,” he says as Clara immediately bounds towards him.

“Daddy!” she cries, as though they have been separated for weeks not a couple of hours.

He shakes his head, raising an eyebrow at you.

Your only response is a quick shrug. “Do you mind if I have a shower before we head for dinner? I’m thinking if we both use the bathroom before we put Clara to b-well, you know where -”

“Sounds like a plan. I had a shower when I got in, so it’s all yours.”

“Great.”

Frankie places his book face down on the bed and diverts his attention to your daughter.

You loiter for just a moment before heading to the bathroom; you’ve been looking forward to this shower all day. The hotel bathroom is well appointed to say the least and the fancy, rainfall shower with all the attachments and luxurious smelling shampoo has sung to your sun and sand stressed body.

You start to feel relaxed as you wrap the white fluffy towel around your body and continue your self-care routine. Why not allow yourself some small indulgences while you’re on holiday after all?

It’s then you realise that you forgot your clean clothes. You were wearing your beach clothes when you walked into the bathroom; your costume is now hanging up to dry after all, taunting you slightly, and your cover up is sheer and oh, you have made a definite mistake here.

You feel the heat rising as you try and think about what to do.

“Frankie, can you just shut your eyes a minute?” you ask, pursing your lips as wrap the towel tighter around yourself.

“Why?” Frankie calls from the room then you hear him make a slightly embarrassed sound as he clearly figures it out. “I mean, it’s okay. It’s fine. Just uh, just tell me when.”

It’s fine, you think, you used to date after all. He’s seen you so many times in far worse states. For a second you remember how things used to be between you and Frankie. At one point, you wondered if there was a surface in your house you hadn’t been with him on. He seemed to take that as a challenge when you asked him.

You can almost hear the echoing laughter and memories as they sweep over you, a wave of emotion, regret, sadness and then finally a sad tang of bitterness.

You take a deep breath. “Okay, now,” you say and then you open the door.

He has his eyes covered with one hand but he has a wicked smirk and you can’t help but wonder if he is peeking, if he thinks you still look … no, this isn’t healthy.

You shuffle around in the towel to try and discreetly change, almost tripping over one of Clara’s toys on the way.

The clatter makes Frankie straighten slightly.

“False alarm,” you say, voice low as an unspoken tension fills the room.

“Good,” he says, one hand still casually covering those eyes.

You finally pull your trousers up and tug the light white top over your shoulders.

“Okay, it’s safe now.”

“Great.” He looks over at you with a slight smile. “You look good, cielo.” The old nickname slips out and his eyes widen, panic filling his face.

The tension in the room thickens. Somehow it feels like you’re in two realities simultaneously; one where Frankie is still yours and this one – the one where there’s scores of shared memories, pain and change between the last time he called you cielo.

You can’t even remember the last time he called you that.

It’s not as though you knew it was the last time after all.

“Thanks,” you reply softly, not sure whether to acknowledge the name or not. “You’re not doing too bad yourself.”

He raises an eyebrow at that, his cheeks fiercely colouring, then he stands up from the bed - your bed. “We should go get some dinner, huh, Clara?”

The early dinner serving is filled with families like your own. You take a sip of your soda and look out at the beach ahead of you. You think you can see Lia, Benny and the others in the distance, still taking full advantage of their time away from it all.

“You could have got a drink,” Frankie says suddenly and quietly. He looks down and away from you as you look over at him.

“I have a soda,” you reply, furrowing your brow.

“I saw you reading the wine list and the cocktails and - it doesn’t bother me.”

“Frankie, it’s fine.”

“I’m just saying, it won’t upset me or anything, or trigger me. I-I’m in a good place, right now.” He looks at you with his deep soulful and hopeful eyes. You believe him, even fighting against that tiny anxious voice in your mind that remembers the past year.

That doesn’t mean you feel particularly comfortable drinking around him right now though.

“I don’t want a drink tonight,” you say finally, “but thanks, Frankie, for saying that.”

He shrugs. “‘S nothing.”

“No, it’s not. It’s - I’m - we’re all really proud of you, you do know that right?”

His cheeks colour slightly. “You shouldn’t have to be,” he says finally, before turning his attention to Clara in a clear signal the conversation is over.

“I was thinking about the itinerary you sent through.”

“Okay?”

“You didn’t allow yourself much time for yourself.”

“I’m a bridesmaid, Frankie, any time I’m not with Clara, I should -”

“How many books did you bring with you?”

“That’s beside the point.”

“It really isn’t.” Frankie takes a forkful of his rice. “So, how many?”

“Four.” It had been wilfully naive. A combination of the books you kept hearing Lia and other friends talking about, books you’d wanted to read for so long but had gathered dust on your bedside table, and finally one of them was a stress induced purchase at the airport bookstore for the sheer audacity of your flight being delayed.

“Four books?”

“I probably won’t finish any of them.”

“Why not? You’re not on your own here with Clara and Lia doesn’t need you for every moment you’re not with our kid. I’m here too, sweetheart, so read your books and do it all. Spend tie with Clara, do the wedding shi-stuff, wasn’t that the whole point of this?”

“What about you?” you ask gently, “You should - you should have the same too. I know things have been tough and trust me, if anyone deserves a vacation -”

“We both do.”

“Okay.”

You both watch Clara cheerfully spooning spaghetti and then meet each other’s gaze again.

“I’m glad we’re doing this.”

“Me too.”

“I can’t imagine it’s easy. Maybe I should have got a twin room with Santi.”

“Like he would have let you block his chances with a holiday fling,” you joke.

“That’s why there’s always a bathtub option.”

“Absolutely not. Besides, this is family, right? Benny’s your family, Lia’s as good as mine. And this one,” you indicate Clara. Your daughter who has her dad’s eyes, so many of his features, and yet, so much of yourself too. She’s a blend of the best of you both, you think. “You’re both my family.”

“Same,” he says, looking up at you carefully, “That’s never changed.”

There’s a silence.

“Sweetheart, what do you want to do tomorrow?” you ask Clara, even for her babbling to break the moment.

She takes a deep breath and places her fork down on her plate. Frankie suppresses a giggle at her serious expression. “Well,” she begins.

The two of you raise your eyebrows at each other, the tension broken. The moment’s passed.

You feel muddled on this vacation. There’s something about Frankie looking at you in his vacation clothes, glowing with sobriety and adoring your daughter that makes you feel …. something. Something you’re pretty sure you shouldn’t feel about him.

Tag List

If you would like to be added to to the taglist please let me know. As a reminder this blog is 18+ - minors do not interact and I block blank/ageless blogs.

LGL tag-list: @morallyinept @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 @beboldbebravethings @spishsstuff @bitchesuntitled @redcake333 @missladym1981 @kungfucapslock @dinoflower-reads @kirsteng42 @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @casssiopeia @beboldbebravethings @devotedlyshybarbarian @emilyfarias16 @sageispunk @amyispxnk @lola8888673 @maryfanson @lu62 @ilovepedro @katw474 @softstarlite

Everything Pedro tag-list: @harriedandharassed @pedrostories @hiroikegawa @pedrosaidsheispunk @pastelnap

#frankie morales x female reader #frankie morales x reader #triple frontier fanfiction #frankie morales #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie catfish morales #triple frontier #fic: let's get lost #frankie morales x you

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rosepetalmark · 9 months

Text

nonsense.

warnings: nsfw | mentions of alcohol/being drunk, sex, swearing, possession!kink (kinda) pairing: young! coriolanus snow (pre hunger games) x fem! reader summary: a late night drunk call with your best friend turns spicy -> inspired by "nonsense" by sabrina carpenter -> 4.7k words

he was drunk. you knew the moment you answered the phone that’s been constantly ringing throughout your house the past ten minutes. you hoped it was the wrong number. or someone wanting to discuss flower arrangements with your mother. lavish renovations and additions to your house never stopped, prompting you to never bat an eye at the never ending late night phone calls catered towards your parents.

the luxuries never seemed to end, not when you’re a member of one of the most elite families within the capitol.

but it wasn’t a wrong number. it was a number that was all too familiar to your memory, one you called frequently whenever you wanted a close friend to chat with.

it was unusual for him to call you so late at night, especially on a friday. he normally was buried in textbooks, determined to maintain the top spot in the class in order to gain him the plinth prize.

but tonight was different, because you know he, and along with all your classmates, were at clemensia dovecote’s party. you decided to skip out on the party your dear friend clem was hosting, still recovering from the hangover you experienced last week from the party marcus hosted at his parents vacation home.

anything personal and as scandalous as a party was forbidden at the academy, as academics, poise, and determination were all factors each and every student were expected to uphold. anything less than such would result in expulsion. that didn’t stop you and your fellow classmates from having sneaky get-togethers filled with alcohol and capitol grade drugs, many of which were obtained from your parents' homes. you all knew how to have fun, but you also knew how to keep such fun underwraps. none of the academy students wanted to face repercussions for their actions, so it was mutually agreed upon to keep such excursions to yourselves, with no further reminiscing or discussions held the following monday when school commenced.

coriolanus however, didn’t want to miss out. he skipped the last few parties because he wanted to focus on his assignments, determined to maintain his more than perfect average to ensure he was top of the class. a miniscule drop in his average would eat him alive, as anything less than perfect was a failure. that was the snow mentality after all.

tonight was different. coriolanus desperately needed a break from school, the bags under his eyes and disheveling of his hair making it well known that he was eating his notes for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. he was also most likely in attendance due to the upcoming week off for students within the academy with it being winter break after all.

you could barely muster a hello into the phone once you decided to answer it, a giddy laugh emerging from the opposite end. you could tell he was incredibly intoxicated; he always was a lightweight.

“heyyy,” he chirped, his deep voice admitting to the abundance of alcohol swimming in his body.

rolling your eyes, you couldn’t help but laugh at the state he was in. it’s been a while since coriolanus had fun and left his room, always rejecting any forms of interaction away from his homework and readings;always putting his academics first, friends and parties at the very bottom of his list.

except for you. he always managed to squeeze you into his more than tight schedule.

“shouldn’t you be at a party right now?” you question.

“haha. well i was there.” he began to giggle, his voice drifting off as he began to ponder what he was going to say next. “but after a few hours it got pretty boring. festus and felix left an hour in because they’re leaving early for their road trip tomorrow, and i think hilarious went to hookup with someone. lucky man. oh, and livia threw up on clemmy, i think? not sure though.”

“why are you laughing?” you question. it wasn’t out of the ordinary for coryo to be a giggly mess when he was drunk, as it was a complete shift in his demenor compared to his sober state. when he was sober, he was cold and polished, so it was never a surprise to see him transcend into his altered state- he needed to let loose and be free more often.

“why didn’t you help clem out? you know she’s never going to let livia live it down that she threw up on her, let alone probably ruined one of her new dresses.”

“because i want to laugh!” he pouts, completely ignoring your question about his friends. well, friend. clemensia was a close friend. livia was barely an acquaintance. “i think i’m fairly intoxicated and that’s probably why but, wow i feel so light. content even. i don’t believe i’m drunk to the point where i won’t remember anything, but this is a nice shift in my state, like amnice little pick me up”

rolling your eyes, you couldn’t help but think of how much of a pompous ass he was sounding like. even when he was drunk, he had to sound intellectual.

the last time you went out with coryo was months ago, right when the spring semester ended and you were all finished for the summer. but you never saw him drunk. he was always composed in social settings, never allowing his guard down when those around him were getting drunk or high. he has a reputation to uphold, and he never wanted to appear as less than flawless.

“why’d you call me so late, coryo? you never call this late. you're never drunk for that matter either, might i add.”

“i was bored and wanted to play a game with my lovely best friend,” he exclaims.

“coriolanus, it’s one in the morning. i'm in no mood to be playing a game right now.”

“come on. it’s not like we’re going to play a board game or video games or anything. i'm too lazy for that now. 21 questions is what i want to play.”

“i haven’t played that game since we were kids, coryo.”

“why not?” he kept pestering, not seeming to let the concept of a meaningless game go.

“because we’re not 13 and you’re not a perv trying to touch boobs for the first time in your life! you already know as much about me as i know about you. i doubt there’s anything more you’d like to ask about my life.”

and that was true. coryo kept his circle small, but even within that small circle, you were the closest to him. out of everyone at the academy, you were the only one who knew about his living condition. the only one who knew about his grandma’am’s obsessive singing of the anthem every morning. the only one who would pick up the pieces after a meltdown about his education, deeply understanding that he needed the plinth prize in order for a successful future at the university and within the political realm.

you’d be lying to yourself if you didn’t imagine any romantic future with him, but you knew that was hopeless dreaming. you read him like a book, and you knew he’d only marry for the sole purpose of having an heir and carrying on the snow legacy. romance and relationships were not a priority to him.

success and power were.

“what’s your favorite colour?” he asked, cutting you off from your thoughts, not allowing you to voice your objections about this silly game to him. you truly did not want to play this game, let alone be awake right now. but if it’s what makes your best friend happy, you’ll give in for a few minutes.

“purple.”

“what is your favorite day of the week?” you ask, unamused with how the game began.

“friday,” he hums, “it gives me hope that i can relax and see my friends on the weekend before all the stress starts up again on monday.”

sighing, you couldn’t help but notice how exhausted he sounded. behind the deepness in his voice and eagerness to continue communicating,you envisioned the bags under his eyes to be anything but clear and healthy, with dark bruise-like colors covering them;a clear representation of how overworked he has been lately.

“why don’t you take a break from school?” you ask more seriously, knowing that he wouldn’t ever give you a straight answer when sober. at least when he’s drunk he’s completely honest, and with an honest answer you can find ways to help him.

scoffing, you could tell he was appalled by such a question. “you know i can't,” he whispers, raking his fingers through his long blond curls, a habit he does when trying to make himself less anxious in stressful situations.

“i need high grades. i need the plinth prize. i need to go to the university. if not, who will support tigris and grandma’am? who will support me? i can’t let my reputation-my family's reputation falter due to my lack of ambition.”

your heart broke for him. it truly did. all he ever tried to do was survive. to continue on the successful path that was once set in stone for him. but once his father died, that path crumbled within the blink of an eye, leaving coryo to be anxious every day for the rest of his life.

“sweetie, you know that won’t happen.” you say, trying to emit some positivity into his life.

“and you don’t know if it will.” he defends, his voice growing a bit higher.

“yes i do.” you say, trying your best to comfort him over the phone. “you’re coriolanus snow. you can do absolutely anything you put your mind to. it just makes me sad watching you burn yourself out trying to stick to a timeline that doesn’t even matter when you’re throwing your health and happiness down the line.”

“that’s not what i’m doing.”

“yes it is, coryo! you’re going to kill yourself if you continue at this rate.”

“anyways, i’m in no mood to argue.” he said, bringing the phone closer to his ear. “next question! and no more emotionally complex ones, please.”

with such a vast switch in conversation, you begin to ponder what you’re going to ask him. it’s been a while since you’ve played this game, your mind blanking on any possible question to ask your best friend that you highly doubt you don’t know the answer to.

“uhhhh,” you murmured, fiddling with the string on your pajama shorts to help your brain think of something to say.

yawning, he couldn’t help but become annoyed at your lack of effort in this game. “you’re taking too long, so i’ll go. when’s the last time you had a really good fuck?”

“huh?” you half yell, completely shocked at the words that left your best friend's mouth. you’ve had conversations about your sexual experiences only a handful of times, but coriolanus was always more quiet and discreet when sharing such details. never in your life would you have thought you’d hear such a bold statement come from his mouth.

“when’s the last time someone fucked you really good? i don’t remember if we talked about it or not, the last guy i remember was festus but that was months ago. or was it felix? either way, i don’t remember many details so now is the time for you to share them, my dearest best friend.”

warmth was all you felt throughout your body. not only were you shocked, but you were slightly turned on by the dominance he was eliciting through such a raunchy question. you don't know if you’re feeling this way due to embarrassment, or because deep down you wished he was one of the guys on your list that you’ve fucked.

the typical best friends to lovers trope,whatever lovers meant in this century, has always lingered at the back of your mind whenever you thought of your relationship with coriolanus. you love him, you truly do, you can ever see yourself marrying him. you’ve established a level of comfort and vulnerability with one another where you feel like you’re both open books.

you’ve always thought he viewed you both as too close to be romantic partners, not wanting to change the dynamic you’ve built for yourselves. but friends with benefits? you’ve thought of it a few times. a lot of times actually. you just never thought to bring up the idea simply because he’s your best friend, and because he was always busy. he left scandalous hookups and rendezvous strictly for summer, keeping them so deeply locked in his mind you had to pry for the tiniest of details.

“felix was the last guy i slept with actually, however i enjoyed myself with sejanus more. felix was decent, but it took me like 20 minutes to finish. it’s like he wasn’t even trying to get me off, like he was just there to get his dick wet and leave. sejanus, my god he was good.”

“how good?” he asks, his voice getting deeper, his eyes widening as you go into further detail about the best sex you’ve had in a while.

“aren’t you so curious,” you joke, thinking back to how well sejanus treated you during your last hookup.”it was maybe like three months ago? maybe four, i can't really remember the timeline but my god did he make me feel so good. i swear i came like three times, corio, it was crazy. i never thought i’d have sex on a kitchen counter but one minute he was showing me the blueberry muffins his ma made, and then the next thing i knew my back was digging into the countertop and he was eating me out like it was his last meal on earth it was phenom-”

“i bet i could make you feel like that again,” he said sternly, his voice appearing angier.

“wait, w-what?” you stuttered, needing to know if you heard him correctly.

“i said”, he coughed, clearing his throat. “ i could make you feel that good. better, even.”

“corio,” you sighed, a sense of eagerness lingering in your voice. you could feel your face heat up, his words are heating you up. “you’re um, you’ve had a lot to um. what i’m trying to say is-”

“i want to fuck you.”

“you’re drunk, coriolanus. you’ll probably forget you had such a thought in the morning and you’ll laugh it off if i bring it up to you so um, yeah. we can gloss over this and just pretend you didn’t just uh- yeah, you did not just say that. you’re speaking nonsense.”

the smart, energetic, compassionate boy you call your best friend has turned stoic, yet there was a sense of hesitation in his voice. “please, i promise i’m no longer drunk, and i one thousand percent mean what i said. when have i ever lied?”

“considering about an hour ago you were wasted, i’d rather wait to have a conversation about this with you tomorrow or something.”

“so come over.”

“what?”

“come over and we can talk and i can guide you through all the times i’ve had a hard on because of you or how i’ve touched myself thinking about you. or how i'd get jealous of every guy that’s ever had the opportunity to touch you and make you feel good.”

“why didn’t you say something i don’t know like, like forever ago?” you were becoming eager. desperate to understand the words coming from his mouth. desperate to know that they are true.

“oh,” he sighed. “school you know. or you’d be with someone. i didn’t want to interfere with your personal relationships, seeming as they should be kept quiet. talking to you tonight and hearing about you with sejanus, of all people, my goodness, why? but anyways, it stirred something within me and i really needed to tell you. and part of this may be because i’m horny and haven’t gotten laid in a really long time but you’re also so beautiful and funny and god please say something because i’m so hard.”

your breath was hot. you let out a long exhale, trying to wrap your mind around the absurdities leaving his mouth right now. “you’re talking nonsense, coryo.”

“i’m not, and you know it.”

and you know he’s not lying. you know he’s a terrible liar. he’s told you many times that he can't tell a lie to save his life.you want him to kiss you so hard that neither of you can breathe. you want him to treat you like a fragile piece of glass, to take his time with you, covering every delicate part of your body with harsh, dark love bites. you want everyone to know that your body was his and his was yours. you want him to beg for every part of you before he could even lay a single finger on your body.

you want to fuck coriolanus snow.

nervousness shot through your body. were you actually going to go over to screw your best friend? the thought had crossed your mind several times, but you never imagined such intense and intimate thoughts would come to life. you’ve always felt some sort of sexual tension with him, so why not enjoy it and move on?

“i’ll be at your place in twenty,” you say, abruptly ending the call and grabbing your shoes and a sweater.

you were on you way to fuck your best friend. ___

you barely made it up the stairs of the penthouse before you were whisked away into coryo’s room, his lips eagerly attacking your neck as you brought your hands to his messy curls to tug at.

your back was slammed up against his door, his plump lips aggressively kissing every inch of your body, touching you like he was starved of intimacy and lust.

kissing him was invigorating. you can’t believe you’ve spent all your life away from his luscious lips and rough touch. you’ve only been in his physical presence for less than five minutes, and you already know he’s going to treat you so well.

you know you’re not going to be able to walk properly for days.

but as coriolanus continues to pepper loves bites down your neck, his hand trailing toward your chest, unzipping the hoodie you threw on when you left your house, you couldn’t help but wonder if this was right. he was your best friend after all. you’ve never done anything romantic with one another. the most physical thing you’ve done was hug, which was only done on a rare occasion. physical affection was banned in the academy, and coryo had a composed reputation to uphold when out in public in the capitol. hugs were left for late night goodbyes or comfort when needed-nothing less, nothing more.

breaking away from his devouring kisses, you bring yourself to stare into his lustful blue eyes. “should we be doing this?” you whisper.

fear struck his face and you could feel his body tense up, his tight grip on you faltering as the words left your mouth. “is this not what you want?” he questions, his face scrunching in confusion. “we can stop if you don’t want me.”

the words “if you don't want me” were floating through your brain. how could he possibly think you don’t want him? he’s everything anyone could ever want and more. you’ve been yearning for this moment for as long as you could remember.

“coryo.” you sigh, bringing your hand to his delicate cheek, rubbing your thumb against it. “i only want you. i just don’t want this to make things weird between us, that’s all. you’re not just another guy for me to fuck.”

you could tell your words had an impact on him, as his hard on was pressed against your thigh, growing with your confessions towards wanting him. needing him.

“princess.” he growls. “nothing will change, i promise. i want you more than you could ever imagine. okay?”

“mhm, yeah okay. sorry. i was just overthinking.”

“no need to overthink, love. it’s just you and me, right?"

“right.” you answer, your confidence slowly coming back. you bring your lips back to his, slowly regaining the hunger you felt for him on your walk over. you two carry off immediately where you left off, his lips back on yours, your hands back in each other’s hair.

“what’s your favourite position?” he asks, his breath becoming heavier in between kisses.

while coriolanus begins to unzip your sweater, you begin to ponder. missionary never fails, but you’ve waited too long for this moment to partake in such a mundane position. reverse cowgirl hits all the right spots, but then you won’t be able to see coriolanus’ face as he cums. you want to see him crumble. you want him moaning in your ear from the pleasure he feels. you want tears streaming down your face from how good and deep he fucks you.

“i want to ride you,” you say confidently.

“that’s my girl,” he smirks, lifting you up. you wrap your legs around his waist, bringing your hands to his cheeks as you begin to kiss him deeply, him walking you to both to his bed so he can show you how good he can make you feel.

he’s on top of you, pressing his body deeper into yours as you continue to makeout with each other, your tongues aggressively intertwining as one. it’s like you’re both animals in heat. you can’t get enough of each other, touching every available part of your bodies as a means of becoming closer to each other. he quickly slides down your shorts, his pants shortly following, and you push your hips up, slowly grinding into his dick. he’s so hard. and big, from what you can feel. you need him in you. now.

“coryo,” you whine, rubbing your hands up his chest, signaling that you want his shirt off, the only article of clothing left preventing your two naked bodies to be pressed together as one.

“mhm?” he questions, continuing to kiss your flushed lips.

“please, i need you now,” you beg, signaling for him to roll over and pull you on top of him. it’s as if he can read your mind, as he turns over instantly and grabs you by the waist, throwing you on his thighs. he places a chaste kiss to your lips, then lines his hard on with your entrance. he stares into your eyes, silently asking if you were ready. you quickly nod, and the moment you sink down into him, you’re in ecstasy. you start off slow, trying to adjust to his size, slowly but surely picking up the speed once you’ve become adjusted to him.

“god you take me so well, baby,” he moaned in your ear, your walls clenching around his dick as you continue to grind into him. his hands were gripping into your hips, and with each thrust you were seeing stars, something you’ve never felt when with anyone before.

“you feel so good coriolanus. so good mmh,” you pant, your legs becoming sore as you continue to bounce on him. “no one’s ever made me feel this way before.”

“not even sejanus?” he questions, smirking as he thrusts into you a bit harder at the mention of his enemy's name.

“no!” you moan, basking in the pleasure he’s providing you. “only you, coryo. no one’s ever fucked me as good as you. just want you.”

“good.” he says, continuing to match your rhythm. “i don’t want you fucking anyone else. or thinking of anyone else. just me, baby. can you do that?”

you slow down your rhythm, grabbing him by the nape of his neck and pulling him into a hunger-filled kiss. he matches your rhythm, indulging in the kiss you two are sharing. “coryo, i’ve been dreaming of this moment for so long, please. i just want you. only you. not just physically,” you sigh, both in pleasure and in sadness.

you want him, way beyond sex. you want to hold his hand in public. you want him to cup your face and kiss you when something excites him. you want to be the mother of his children. the first lady to his president.

you want him to consume you in all aspects of your life.

“i want you too, gorgeous.” he grunts, the shakiness in his voice and slowed down thrusts signalling that he was close. “it’s only ever been you.”

you grip onto his shoulders, picking your pace back up, feeling your high fast approaching. you slam your hips into his, causing his dick to twitch inside you, his eyes rolling far back into his head.

“i love it when your eye roll because of me.” you cry, continuing to sink your body deeper into his. “i’m so close, coryo.”

he adjusts his grip on your body, helping you grind your hips deeper into his. he moans in agreeance, sensing you were becoming tired, aiding you both in your climaxes as he thrusts himself deeper into you, hitting you in all the right places.

you’re so overwhelmed by the pleasure you’re receiving. your breath is hitched and your thighs are aching, but you refuse to give in to your exhaustion. this feels too good to give up, and you can tell coriolanus felt the same way. his thrusts were becoming sloppy, a bead of sweat slowly trickling down his forehead as he continues to pound into you, desperate to finish.

the hums of his moans were deep in your ear, eliciting the knot in your stomach to final loosen, and all you see is white. coriolanus continues to pump himself in you, slowly coming deep in your core as you continue to ride out both of your highs.

“you’re doing so well baby.” he moans, his pace being more spaced out, your orgasms getting the best of you. you both sink into one another, your movements stopped, giving you both a breather to catch your breaths and gather yourselves. coriolanus slowly pulls out of you, hugging your waist to ensure your physical contact isn’t broken.

his cheeks were glowing, and you couldn’t help but place a gentle kiss to his collarbone. coriolanus tucks the loose piece of hair lingering by your forehead behind your ear, staring into your eyes with such admiration, hardly breaking eye contact as you examine his beautiful face.

“this wasn’t how i thought my night would turn out.” you giggled, tracing circles on his chest.

“neither did i, but i guess a lot of stress and a little posca can do wonders.” he explains, smiling at your joke.

you stare back into his blue orbs, wondering what he’s thinking.

“i meant it when i said i want you.” he confirms. “i tried to deny my feelings for you for so long, believing that if i maintained my studies and didn’t partake in relationships, i’d have everything together. but that was a lie, because you consume my every thought. i don’t think i can live another day without you being mine."

“are you just saying that because you’re jealous i slept with sejanus?” you joke, attempting to process the heartfelt confession that slipped from his lips.

scoffing, he couldn’t help but press a kiss to your forehead. “well, that was an error on your part but i’ll pretend it never happened for my ego’s sake. but no, i’ve realized i’ve held my feelings in for far too long, and it’s time i’m open about them and with you. i like you, very much. and i’m hoping there’s a future for us together that is beyond platonic friendship.”

bringing him in for a deep hug, your bare bodies becoming one, you can’t help but feel content with how this night is going. you started the night off thinking you’d be annoyed asking coriolanus questions about his favourite animals or guilty pleasures, not engulfed in his warm arms, blushing at his crush confession towards you.

“i like you too, coriolanus, and i would love to be your girlfriend.”

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow smut #young coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow fluff #coriolanus snow fic #tbosas #coriolanus smut #coriolanus fluff #tbosbas fic #the ballad of songbirds and snakes

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thetorturedbuckydepartment · 2 months

Text

chapter three: the truce

pairing: Bucky barnes x plus-sized!SHIElD!reader

masterlist

summary: being a SHIELD agent, you have a knack for analysing people, particularly when it comes to attraction. you have everyone figured out, sorted away into the boxes you've created. But there's one man you can never seem to figure out, the very bane of your existence -- Bucky Barnes. On the field, he is a saint, helping you dodge bullets and taking knife wounds in your name. Around the building? Public menace number one, always poised to insult or to spar with you.

After being sent on a 6-month-long torture-cum-vacation with the very man, could all this change? Could you finally figure out what has been bubbling beneath the surface for years between the two of you, the juggernaut that you know you cannot stop?

warnings: language, mention of being fostered and it being terrible, more hints to reader’s past, dead mother, mentions of sex and reader being dom

word count: 2.7k

taglist: @cjand10 @mcira @calwitch

PREVIOUS PART

A/N: I enjoyed writing this sm! as always, please let me know what you think, all comments and reblogs and likes are heavily appreciated!! love u all <3

You didn’t expect moving to be so much work, and…so much fucking tape. Ever since you escaped the hellhole of your foster house, you’ve been living in the Tower, only ever having to unpack a duffel and a suitcase full of clothes and shoes and makeup.

The good news that comes from being so tired is that you barely have the energy to argue with Bucky, often falling asleep on the couch halfway through dinner. The TV will continue to blare in the background, and Bucky will continue to chew silently. He lets you take the naps, gently waking you up once he’s done, and handing back your freshly heated dinner plate right back at you, just so you never eat a cold meal. In all honesty, it’s been wonderful.

Somehow, he’s nice to you, now. The two of you haven’t officially called a truce, but it goes unspoken, you suppose. You find yourself helping him more than usual, and certainly have stopped insulting him. You don’t know why. Why he’s being kind, and smiling, even in the privacy of your own home, where nobody else but the two of you have been, so you know for sure that there are no bugs or secret cameras.

The neighbourhood has been pretty quiet, and it seems the Senator is currently on a vacation of some sort, so you haven’t had the chance to profile him in person, or his house. Your own is quite nice, large with a swimming pool in the back garden. It’s modern, and neat, and oozes luxury.

If you weren’t so fucked up, if you still wanted the ring and kids and picket fence, you would’ve loved it here. You can almost see it — a partner grilling an assortment of meats and vegetables that have been marinating in a secret spice mix for hours, kids splashing and playing about in the shallow end of the pool, you and other guests lounging on the chairs as the sun sets, washing everything in sight in hues of golden orange. Or if it’s just your family, maybe sneak some affection from your partner with a hand around their waist and a kiss pressed to the back of their neck. It’s perfect. Given that Bucky’s from the 40s, he must be losing his mind. He’s pretending, albeit, but he’s gotten the simple life he must’ve dreamed of and clung to. It’s a shame he’s with you.

Which brings you to right now, standing in front of the oven with your arms crossed, waiting for an old-fashioned timer to go off. You stare at it, at the minutes ticking by. There’s nothing much left to do. You’ve already unpacked all the kitchen crockery, throwing away the last of the cardboard. The blue frosting and white icing is mixed and ready on the counter, and you hate yourself. It’s March 10th, today. Bucky’s birthday.

His kindness in these past two weeks has completely swayed you, so here you stand, baking him a fresh batch of cupcakes you’re going to be decorating, just for him. You don’t know why, it feels like you glanced at your new phone, registered the date, and all you did was blink and now here you stand. Bucky’s still fast asleep in his bedroom.

That was another relief of the house — there were two bedrooms. Thank God, the two of you sleep separately. You’ve shared a bed before, on several missions and attempts to get the two of you to enter a state of permanent civility, and oddly enough you missed those nights sometimes.

When you weren’t tired enough, so the nightmares ran rampant in the small area of your brain and the large expanse of your imagination. Sometimes you’d wake up pressed tightly against him, and you knew he must have held you to ground you. Other times, he’d still be fast asleep, and you would often trace all the intricate ridges and details of his vibranium arm. You’ve gotten adjusted to the sight of his brand new, human arm, but you miss the black and gold. You’d rather die than verbally express so, but you miss it. You miss the way it soothed you, distracted you. The way it created space in your mind for something that wasn’t torturous memories lashing out at you.

If he knows about it, he’s never said anything. About the nightmares. Not even two nights ago when you had woken up screaming and trying to escape out the window, desperate to escape a phantom wielding a bloodied knife. He’d just calmed you down, talked you back to the centre of the room and held you.

He likes doing that a lot now, finding excuses to touch you. It’s comforting, like you’ve been on edge your entire life and are just now finding peace. You hate it. You hate everything about your current situation, but it’s simultaneously a humongous relief. To not have to constantly have your guard up and be ready to fire insults like they’re bullets. You can just be, and revel in the way he’s not treating you like he’d rather be anywhere else.

The timer goes off. The cupcakes cool. The recipe is something your mother taught you — your only remaining inheritance you carried with you. You smother them in frosting, writing HAPPY BIRTHDAY BUCKY with one letter on each cupcake, leaving two for free reign. You chose to simply put the number 107 on each of them, and arrange them on a wonderful, dark blue tray.

You let yourself smile, proud of the work you’ve accomplished so far, at only 9AM in the morning. And then, a voice grubbed over with sleep, yet not as annoying as you remember calls out.

“Whatcha bakin’ there, doll?” You turn to him, rubbing his eyes and yet thankfully wearing a shirt. His hair is still messy, and you move forward to fix it for him as he shoots you another lazy grin. This has become somewhat of another step of routine between the two of you. He always wakes up with messy hair he cannot be asked to comb, and you got tired of berating him for it. He’d complain theres no mirror around and being to pout until you huffed and fixed it for him.

You try and pretend like you don’t notice his conspicuous eyes fixed on your face like he’s desperate to memorise it.

“Happy birthday.” You decide to keep your words simple, staring directly into his eyes, so blue that they make some long-forgotten muscle in your chest restart.

You turn around to ignore that feeling, heading back to the counter where your frosted treats await. You miss the desperate, aching look of longing on his face. It brings back memories of him, of how he acted the last time you bothered to remember one of the most basic facts about him — how he’d pretty much thrown your gifts across the room and stormed out of his own birthday party without so much as another word.

He swears to be different now. To be different to you. In all honesty, it didn’t take a genius to figure out why you dislike him so, but on the journey here, he was finally able to read between the lines. It’s pathetically embarrassing to admit why he acted that way towards you, especially now. He wonders if you’d laugh at him, shape it into another painful weapon to aim for his diaphragm.

“Happy Birthday, Bucky. I know being stuck with me isn’t ideal, well, let’s be honest, you’d probably rather be back in cryo—.”

“No I wouldn’t,” he replies all too fast, staring down at the tray in your hands. He tries to ignore the rampant beat of his heart as he registers that you finally called him Bucky, instead of literally anything else. He knows you do it to spite him, and admires that you’d still never call him the Winter Soldier, despite how deep the faux hatred between the two of you ran. Well, faux hatred on his part.

He’s been in love with you for years. And when he finally realised it, you’d already moved past trying to be nice to him. He’s missed his chance with you, he knows this. But he finds himself growing more and more desperate with every passing year to manufacture that chance. But every time he builds up the courage, it seems you’re too busy flirting or eye-fucking literally anyone who isn’t him. And it crushes him beyond belief, every single time.

Without fail.

“Oh, okay. Didn’t mean to bring that up. Erm, I made you these cakes. They’re my mum’s recipe, and as far as I know you’re not allergic to anything in here.” He plasters a grin right back on his face.

“Aren’t you gonna sing for me, doll?” God, you wish you could hate that nickname. But it’s a step above Butterface, that’s for sure. And as much as you hate him, it is his birthday. You don’t know how much you can bring yourself to deny him, especially what with all the kindness he’s been showing you recently.

“Do you want me to?” God, Bucky wishes you could love him back. That those beautiful eyes he dreams about so often, just stare at him with some warmth, some fondness. Like you did when he first got here, when he didn’t deserve your affection. But those versions of the both of you are long gone.

“‘Course I do. It’s my birthday after all.” You roll those pretty eyes and huff, pretending to be annoyed.

You grab the candles from the cutlery drawer you bought in a last minute impulse on your grocery shopping run, and stick them in two of the cupcakes, lighting them with your lighter — the only physical inheritance from your mother. You still remember that night, when she pressed it into your small hands and begged you to hide underneath the bed, before all hell broke loose. She always had a lit cigarette in her hand, and the smell of ashes always brings memories of her floating back to you. It’s a simple golden one, engraved with a venomous snake on the front and her name embossed — her name before she got married. It’s your most prized possession. Bucky watches as you run a thumb over it with that fond look in your eyes, and his heart catches in his throat. You’ve never been more vulnerable than you are in this moment, not even when you were on the floor crying over the thought of pretending to be married. All of your guards are temporarily lowered, and he sees how your hard exterior gives way to something softer and warmer, a version of you long buried under the stresses of your job and the malice you exude in his presence.

And he’s obsessed with the ring on your finger, the way you play with it when bored or pensive. Actually, he’s just obsessed with you. You begin singing with a small, yet seemingly genuine, smile on your face. He thinks it’s the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard.

You have a lovely voice, even if it’s reserved for showers and to be lost in impromptu choirs. But his heightened senses mean he can still pick your voice out of the crowd, can still feel the weight of it wash over him like a perfect blanket. He wishes you’d cling to him like that, like the songs you sing when you think nobody’s listening or paying attention.

And then you call him Bucky again, and his heart goes out the window. He’s practically vibrating where he stands and clutching his fists to his sides in trying not to kiss you. You wouldn’t like that. When you finish, he closes his eyes and wishes for you like he does every year.

He guesses a lesser man would’ve lost hope, after seven birthday wishes asking for one person, and yet still having them so close yet so out of reach. But he’ll beg, every year, until someone out there decides he shall have no more. He’d beg for you any time, in any way you like. His heightened sense of hearing, and the two of you living on the same floor, means he already knows how much you enjoy being begged for pleasure. How much you enjoy being in charge.

When he first got to New York after Wakanda, the only room that was available was across the hall from yours. He didn’t mind. Even though he’d completely forgotten how to talk to people he finds insanely attractive, so insanely enigmatic that all he can do is try his best to not let drool drip out of his mouth when he watches you do even the most mundane things like eat cereal with your hair still messy from a long night, in a sports bra and joggers. Showing off every inch of that perfect body he’s worshipped so many times in his dreams. It’s why he hasn’t moved out of there, because of the perverted side of him. Something he’d rather die than admit.

And of course everyone in the damn building knows, how could they not? When they see the way he looks at you when you storm out of a room, how he almost misses the punching bag when he sees you training weights across the room with sweat slicking your hair to your forehead. He thinks you’ve never looked more irresistible, and he’d do anything to get his hands on you, in any way you allow. Why do you think he asks you to spar so often?

You grin at him. “Bucky privileges are only for these 24 hours, then I go right back to James. And I got you something.” You hand him the tiny box, gift wrapped in blue as he looks at you with an adorable blush on his face.

“You really didn’t have to do all of this, doll.”

“I wanted to make you feel more at home. And I needed to talk to you about something.” You’re wearing one of his old flannel shirts, folding your arms across your chest. You’d requested some of his bigger, older shirts to wear, and had told him it’s considered a form of deep intimacy in the 21st century. And those six shirts are all you’ve worn around the house, often with biker shorts on underneath. You know, just to drive him to ridiculous heights of insanity, of course.

“We should call a truce. Officially. I mean, we’re being civil, and it goes unspoken. But officially, for the record, we should call a truce. At least, not be mean to each other. I wanted today to be the beginning of it, end date TBD.”

“Yeah, that’s fine with me. Now, can I open it?” You nod, gesturing at the box. You watch his face as he delicately unwraps your birthday gift, for any signs of discomfort on his face. If he’s truly okay with the peace you’ve proposed between the two of you.

“Come here.” He commands. You’re surprised how quickly you comply, walking across the counter to stand mere inches from him. You wonder if he’s going to treat this gift like he did the last, and make sure you end up crying this time.

“This is a wonderful gift, doll. I really, really love it. Thank you.” Before you can protest, he pulls you in for a quick side hug. You don’t miss how his blue eyes glow as he takes the New York keyring out of it’s container, running his thumb over the Statue of Liberty.

He feels…so warm. And so cosy, all perfect for snuggling up. You find yourself wishing he hadn’t pulled away from the hug, desperate to feel more of his warmth against you than ever before. You suppress the need as it emerges, but you’re not strong enough.

“Yeah yeah. Whatever. What do you wanna do today? We could go out.” You try to remain impartial, but it’s proving difficult.

Keeping up all of your guards and walls is becoming more and more difficult with each passing day, and you find yourself becoming soft. The one thing you despise, but you also crave.

You have no idea what’s happening to you.

And it’s terrifying.

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