#Three buttons to turn AC off

[steampoweredwerehog]

The interior designers of the 2023 Kia Forte ummmmm need to be beaten with hammers

[pynkfairyheart]

pairings: peircer eren x black reader

warnings: smut 18+, kinda pervy eren

Good girl

“Hello?” Your soft voice rang over the chimes as you entered the tattoo parlor.

The shop was quiet, seemingly empty besides the softening chimes of the door and surprised cursing down the long hall.

“Shit- yeah. Just give me a minute. My apologies” The culprit of the cursing called.

In the meantime, you took a look around the lobby. The reviews didn't do the place justice. The largest wall contained a bright colorful mural, contrasting beautifully with the dark floors and connected black walls.

While admiring the piece of artwork, heavy thudding from the long hallway turned your attention to the most gorgeous man you had ever seen.

You never believed in love at first sight, up until now. You hadn't even known the man's name yet, but you craved him. The reviews warned you the entire staff was attractive but they clearly left out that this man was a god.

His long hair was pulled into a low bun, strands falling in his face, the color contrasting against his pale skin. He was tall, with a full sleeve on one of his muscular arms, and his green eyes had you drowning immediately. He couldn't be Onyankopon, they said he was a brother. Maybe Connie or, Levi-

“Hi, I'm Eren” He introduced himself after swallowing the large knot in his throat.

While in your own trance, you failed to notice how he froze the moment he saw you. The bright light you stood under showcased the sparkles of your pretty brown skin.

Your legs were on display as a result of the simmering heat outside, thick thighs causing them to roll up slightly. The fitted t-shirt you wore allowed the hardened buds of your nipples to peek through, despite the hot weather.

Eren never considered himself a pervert but the way his mind instantly thought about sucking on them till you begged him to fuck you had him thinking otherwise.

“Hi, I'm [☆]. Is this a bad time?” Oh, he could have come on the spot, your voice sounded even better without the numerous walls separating you and god your perfume had him wanting to devour you on the reception desk.

“No, no I just don't know how much I can do for you, the AC is out in all the rooms but mine and I don't even know how long that's gonna last so if you're looking for an hour long tat session you'll have to come back” He crossed his arms, muscles contracting against the white tee.

“Oh no, I'm just hoping to get a few piercings but I can definitely come back another time”

“No, I can do a couple of piercings. What were you thinking?” He grabbed the paperwork from under the counter, praying one of them would be your chest.

“Uh well, I want the other side of my nose, belly button, venus dimples, and my nipples but I understand if you can't do all of that or the last one I'll just come back”

“No, no I can do it,” He said too quickly, clearing his throat awkwardly before handing you the paperwork.

⋆⭒˚.⋆

“Good girl. You're doing such a good job for me, pretty. Just hold on for one second, lovey”

He was currently doing your last dimple piercing. The pain was unimaginable at first but as soon as the praises left his mouth all was forgotten besides the growing stickiness that rested between your thighs.

He praised you after every piercing a variation of “Good girl” “You're doing such a good job for me” “That's it, baby. You did so good” flowed from his pink lips. You could never decide which throbbing to focus on, the one from your new piercing or the throbbing of your clit.

With three new holes in your body and damp panties, it was now time for the piercing both of you were dreading yet excited for.

“Do I just take my shirt off here?”

“Wherever you're comfortable, baby. You can go in the bathroom or stay in here and I'll give you some privacy” He felt like a teenage boy again. His dick twitching at the thought of seeing you exposed.

“No, it's okay you can stay in here I don't mind”

“Oh. Okay,” He perked up. Giving you some privacy he turned his back, pretending to be busy when in reality he was trying to think of anything but you getting undressed behind him. Despite his concentration, all he could focus on was the sound of your necklaces and bracelets clanking at the movements you made.

He knew your nipples were still hard, especially since he took advantage of the working AC and he wondered what your moans would sound like if he flicked his tounge repeatedly over the bud, or if he pinched them in front of the mirror while you begged him to fuck you as you pressed your ass against his hard-

“I'm ready” Your soft voice broke him from his thoughts.

If his self control was any less he'd have gotten on his knees to worship you. There you were. Looking everywhere but him, tits exposed. If it weren’t for the fact other men besides him would see, he'd tattoo this image of you on his bare forearm.

“Are you ready?” He suppressed a groan.

“Mhm”

“Okay stand up for me” He led you to the mirror where he prepped each bud. During the process, you felt as if you could crawl into yourself. The most beautiful man you'd ever laid eyes on had his hands on your breast. Despite the occasion being nonsexual, you were convinced your arousal would start running down your thigh at any second.

“Is this okay?” He stood behind you.

You gave a simple hum of approval, thoughts gone as he explained how the process would go. You convinced yourself you could handle it, that it would all be over soon.

That was until he rolled the bud in between his fingers, the whimper you'd been holding escaping you.

‘fuck’ ‘fuck’

“Shit, I'm so sorry I- I didn't mean to do that, please understand I had no malicious intentions I just” He stumbled over his words.

He was just explaining the step by step process of the piercing. He wasn't thinking, just craving. He wouldn't have realized his actions if it weren't for the sound you let out. The sound he knew he'd replay in his head the moment you left the shop, stroking his cock as he imagined it were you down on your knees in front of him.

“It's okay” You reassured him. Your big eyes staring up into his through the mirror.

“I didn't…I don't mind”

⋆⭒˚.⋆

Before you knew it you were bouncing on his cock. His moans muffled as his mouth engulfed your breast. Tongue slightly grazing your nipple with the flickers of his tongue before sucking harshly.

He was stretching you out so good, leaky red tip repeatedly hitting your cervix as his frenum piercing brushed against your walls. The added pleasure contributing to the pace of your bounces as you chased your high.

“E-eren please” You whined, attempting to push his head away from the assault on your breast. His hair was everywhere, the ponytail holder long gone the moment your hands entangled in his hair. Your buds were so sensitive, every suck and swipe of his tongue had you squeezing around him, every clench releasing your cream that pooled at the base of his cock.

“Fuck” He groaned, reluctantly giving your boobs a break. His hands gripped the soft flesh of your ass, groping the brown skin before placing a hard slap on your cheek.

“Talk to me, pretty. You like this? Like bouncing on daddy's cock hmm?” His arms wrapped around you tightly as he fucked up into you.

“Oh my- fuck” You gave him control. Your head resting on his shoulder as you let out pornographic moans into his ear.

“Answer me, mama” Another slap landed on your ass.

Before you had time to register the mix of pain and pleasure on your flesh, the gentle pressure of his finger rubbing circles on your puckering hole had you seeing stars.

“Fuck y-yes. I love it so much, daddy. Please don't stop” You whined. Tears of pleasure wetting the crook of his neck.

By no means was Eren a fast finisher but boy was he trying his best to hold on, you're pussy was just squeezing him so tight, the added tension on his scalp as you tugged on it every time he hit the spongy spot along your walls had his nails digging crescents into your skin.

“I'm so close, daddy, please”

“Let go mama” He pressed hot kisses along your neck and shoulder.

In that moment you came, your pussy tightening around the large girth of his cock. Clear liquid squirting from you in streams as he continued his thrust. Your arousal splashing and dripping onto the chair.

With sweat dripping down his forehead, and stray hairs sticking to him, his thrust became sloppy and his breathing became heavier.

“S-shit” He whimpered, head thrown back as he came harder than ever. Repeatedly pushing his load back into your pussy.

“Lemme take you on a date. Please” He panted once you both came down, his hands roaming your body as he looked down at you, green irises peeking out behind his blown pupils.

“Okay, yea- oh” A broken moan escaped you as he moved your hips up and down his length once again.

“Eren” You whined

“Don't tell me you're wiped out after one round, pretty girl. I know you have more in you, mama. Be a good girl for daddy”

for my eren girlies. this is probably the fastest I've ever wrote bc i just needed peircer eren. oh also how do yall feel about pegging bc i feel peircer eren can be a bit subby sometimes ttm. mwah <3

pt.2 wit the pegging ໒꒰ྀི˶˃ᆺ˂˶꒱ྀི১

[astonmartinii]

honey, honey [mamma mia part three] | formula one social media au

drivers: sebastian vettel, fernando alonso & jenson button

mamma mia | no more ace to play | masterlist | tips

yourusername

liked by jensonbutton, charles_leclerc and 1,098,455 others

tagged: fernandoalo_oficial, sebastianvettel & jensonbutton

yourusername: little chick is finally showing and these old men are still obsessed with cars even though i'm RIGHT THERE !!

view all comments

user1: oh to be the one receiving those photos of fernando

user2: yeah yeah they're having a kid BUT the sheer amount of seb + fernando + jenson content we're gonna get

fernandoalo_oficial: so you go to goodwood with them but don't come to my race :(

yourusername: babe they outnumbered you but we'll be there in canada !!

jensonbutton: sorry some of us didn't choose to be a fossil in an f1 car. just hurry up and retire

yourusername: woah woah, let nando have his lil hobby

fernandoalo_oficial: y/n tell him he can't call me old

yourusername: jenson, fernando isn't a fossil, you know we prefer the term precious artefact, please apologise

jensonbutton: i'm sorry???

user3: omg this is going so fast

danielricciardo: ahhhh y/n is showing !! this is so exciting

sebastianvettel: chickie is the size of a lemon i think

danielricciardo: and you'll all be in canada?

yourusername: yes! i can't wait to meet all of you

danielricciardo: *can't wait to meet chickie's god father

fernandoalo_oficial: daniel you know we haven't decided that yet

jensonbutton: also i've partied with you, why do you think i'd trust you with my kid?

danielricciardo: ummm every child is entitled to a fun uncle ??

user4: i am once again stating how fucking obsessed i am with this set up

yourusername

liked by mickschumacher, jensonbutton and 1,298,450 others

yourusername: my personal favourite snippets of the god father applications. not sure it really made me trust any of them any more than before.

view all comments

user5: i was not expecting to actually see the applications but they defo didn't disappoint

maxverstappen1: ummmmm @charles_leclerc what do you mean? you are the instigator YOU pushed me into that puddle

charles_leclerc: it's okay max get it out (@sebastianvettel @fernandoalo_oficial @jensonbutton see how i am able to de- escalate this situation)

maxverstappen1: try and de-escalate this foot up your literal ass

charles_leclerc: i will put you in time out (i.e. watch your ass going into turn one)

yourusername: you guys realise this is not helping the application right?

maxverstappen1: nuh uh who wouldn't want a world champion as a god father

charles_leclerc: low blow verstappen

yourusername: girlies chickie has dads with seven championships between them so i really don't think she'll be impressed by two

user6: i'm sorry but roscoe hamilton as the reference is killing me

user7: full government name and everything

sebastianvettel: you guys laughed at me but this has amused me to no end

yourusername: you're a genius and i love you for this

user8: L BOMB?

jensonbutton: i take back calling the idea dumb, you were right :(

sebastianvettel: oh how the tables have turned

fernandoalo_oficial: can we all just agree that we never thought those dumbasses would actually fill one in?

yourusername: it makes me even more excited to meet them

jensonbutton: trust me the charm wears off real quick

user9: the way kimi wrote nothing and will probably end up being the god father anyway

jensonbutton

liked by fernandoalo_oficial, alexalbon and 832,087 others

tagged: yourusername

jensonbutton: best thing about pregnancy cravings is i have an excuse to use seb's insane car collection and brush up on my french

view all comments

user13: on dad duty with the dad angle he's ready

user14: honestly my heart is so warm over the fact that they've all embraced the situation

user15: girl we saw jenson and nando at mclaren together ... it's been coming

user16: oh and that one podium with jenson and seb they just need a girl they all liked to get their shit together and that's the most them thing ever

sebastianvettel: a man goes to one meeting and suddenly julie is being taken on grocery runs

jensonbutton: y/n wanted bagels so ?

sebastianvettel: i know we're having an actual kid but be careful with my mechanical kids as well

jensonbutton: do you forget i'm literally a driver too honey

yourusername: thanks for the bagel baby bagel dates 4 ever

fernandoalo_oficial: cream cheese and salmon WITHOUT ME?

yourusername: we put it in the fridge for when you get home :(

fernandoalo_oficial: awwwww really ???

yourusername: we love you (but also you can't eat soft cheese or raw fish while pregnant)

fernandoalo_oficial: it's the thought that counts?

user17: god this looks like domestic bliss, how does one come about three men to have a kid with in the swiss mountains?

yourusername: honestly i'm so lucky

sebastianvettel: we're luckier

jensonbutton: we're luckier

fernandoalo_oficial: we're luckier

yourusername: fucking hormones are making me ball my eyes out

f1

liked by estebanocon, yourusername and 1,239,086 others

f1: category is ... baby presents !! y/n y/ln made her paddock debut with sebastian vettel and jenson button to support fernando alonso 💚

view all comments

user21: omg seb in his aston martin gear to support nando

user22: imagine showing this to someone in 2010 i think they would have a heart attack

danielricciardo: i had the best present ever god father is in the bag

charles_leclerc: i read your application there's no way, plus seb loves ferrari so my gift will be the best

mickschumacher: lets be real my application was the best

estebanocon: eh i think kimi's was the best

mickschumacher: he literally wrote nothing ????

estebanocon: and yet he outdid all of yall... embarrassing for some

user23: i feel like this fight to be god father is gonna end with a fist fight in the parking lot

yourusername: and i'll be there with my popcorn

sebastianvettel: maybe let's not encourage fighting

yourusername: why not, these squabbles over being in charge if all FOUR of chickie's parents die are the most entertaining thing in the world to me

jensonbutton: lets halt it on the fighting and dying talk okay (i will also be front row to watch these morons fight)

maxverstappen1: if it's a fist fight clear win for me imo

fernandoalo_oficial: how did we get here (i will referee)

danielricciardo: respectfully maxy, i will beat your ass

maxverstappen1: NUH UH

kimiraikkonen: i'm winning no question

sebastianvettel: now that i agree with

yourusername: i thought you were against fighting?

sebastianvettel: i guess it would be kind of funny (especially because any physical violence is an immediate red flag)

user24: okay but can someone actually let us know who got what cause i know these men probably got the dumbest shit that can never actually be used by a child

user25: there's a thread on twitter!

fernandoalo_oficial

liked by maxverstappen1, yourusername and 934,045 others

fernandoalo_oficial: old man still got it 👍 thank you to the team for your help, needed to impress y/n with my day job x

view all comments

user27: impending fatherhood got nando looking like he can make it an eight championship house

sebastianvettel: @yourusername he's good but i was better

jensonbutton: @yourusername and i was even better x

fernandoalo_oficial: ummm this is literally my post about MY podium?

sebastianvettel: i would've won but that's just me 😬

fernandoalo_oficial: 2013 called and it wants your attitude back 🤨

jensonbutton: it's been ten years guys... (i would've also won)

sebastianvettel: well my trophy cabinet is the fullest so chickie will know who was the best by that :)

yourusername: the sexual tension is killing me, how did yall not shag back in 2010?

jensonbutton: too busy winning and being sluts elsewhere x

maxverstappen1: yall claim you would've won? yall wouldn't get close to me sorry not sorry

sebastianvettel: oh look who's out of the running for god father

maxverstappen1: NO I TAKE IT BACK

yourusername: don't worry maxy, he's joking the bee keeping suit went down VERY WELL

charles_leclerc: he's such a cheat i didn't even know they existed :(

maxverstappen1: you snooze you loose

yourusername: @charles_leclerc i'm craving pasta, i heard it's good in the ferrari hospitality

charles_leclerc: on it 🫡

fernandoalo_oficial: so is no one going to congratulate me?

yourusername: CONGRATS BUB! turns out you ARE great at your day job (and very sexy drenched in champagne)

sebastianvettel: i agree

jensonbutton: i agree

yourusername: once again how did yall make it through the 2010s

user28: i'm trying not to be weird about this but i know their sex life must be crazy

yourusername

liked by jensonbutton, danielricciardo and 1,403,677 others

tagged: fernandoalo_oficial

yourusername: baby's first f1 weekend and daddy nando did not disappoint (neither did the grid, yall are so generous thank you)

view all comments

user29: i am so unwell this is all so cute i might die

fernandoalo_oficial: i would get any shit box on the podium for you guys

yourusername: NO BRAKES! NO TYRES! OUT OF THE POINTS!

jensonbutton: babe that was over five years ago...

yourusername: ummmm i'm doing my research on your careers? i'd never watched f1 i needed to catch up

sebastianvettel: who showed you this?

yourusername: oscar and lando said they'd give me a quick fire history lesson

fernandoalo_oficial: @oscarpiastri @landonorris i've won 32 races and you show y/n that?

landonorris: funny?

oscarpiastri: we also showed her multi 21, sorry not sorry seb

sebastianvettel: not my four championships?

oscarpiastri: justice for my manager

user30: obsessed with how y/n can watch old races and most of the time one of her bfs win 😭

alexalbon: so great to finally meet you! the albon pets hope it's a girl!

yourusername: don't tell them i told you this but me too

jensonbutton: we can literally all see this?

yourusername: you guys would be such girl dads lets be real

user31: potential girl dad seb, jenson and fernando DO NOT THREATEN ME WITH A GOOD TIME

user32: do NOT let seb name them he's already used all of the good bond girl names

sebastianvettel: i'll have you know kinky kylie is a top tier name

yourusername: for a car. do not suggest any names affiliated with any spy films

sebastianvettel

liked by astonmartinf1, mickschumacher and 1,459,832 others

tagged: yourusername, jensonbutton & fernandoalo_oficial

sebastianvettel: thought i'd have a quiet life after retirement, i thought wrong

view all comments

user33: the BEAR ???

user34: what if i die so i can be reincarnated as the f1 baby

jensonbutton: always arguing over who is the best driver but yet i am always designated driver ... makes you think

sebastianvettel: you're the one who pulls the "i'm the oldest" card ... makes you think

fernandoalo_oficial: only one of us is still racing ... makes you think

yourusername: someone is waiting to go to bed but some people are arguing in the comment section ... makes you think

user35: this kid is going to have the most entertaining childhood ever...

yourusername: @fernandoalo_oficial retire so you can join the crochet club

fernandoalo_oficial: no can do i need to bring home the bacon (and beat lewis)

lewishamilton: why am i catching strays? can i join the crochet club instead of fernando?

yourusername: it's strictly bring your own yarn and real housewives only

lewishamilton: make it beverly hills and i'm there

fernandoalo_oficial: ummmmm ??? @mercedesamgf1 ur driver is retiring you heard it hear first

yourusername: you guys gonna beef over crochet as well?

fernandoalo_oficial: yes.

lewishamilton: yes.

jensonbutton: okay nando you're the only one we're waiting for, we're debating god fathers

fernandoalo_oficial: one sec my pr team called me, turns out you can't make up a rumour that lewis hamilton is retiring, who knew?

maxverstappen1: VOTE FOR ME PLEASE

charles_leclerc: you've won enough this season, let me have this one

mickschumacher: i'll bring breakfast in the morning for three votes at least

yourusername: do NOT try and bribe the jury.

note: PART THREE! okay so it's finally here and i hope it's what you guys were looking for... the race for god father is heating up and the name arguments are only just starting... i am enjoying the pregnancy content but i'm excited for baby time !!!

taglist: @boiohboii @vellicora @faithm120601 @raizelchrysanderoctavius @luv4kani @minkyungseokie @eugene-emt-roe @magical-spit @ironmaiden1313 @jaydaaasworld @whoreks @rainerax @nonsensical-nonsence @laneyspaulding19 @chelseyyouraverageluigi @lxclerc @gemofthenight @woweewoowa @tagteamedbitch @imagandom @mypage-myfandoms @mehrmonga @asparklysoul @unstableplant @motorsp0rt @multilovebot @lili-flower03 @its-elias-world @jolixtreesunn @nothingfuninthislife @rileynicol3 @kodzuvk @mochimommy2002 @fluffyspaceprincess @roseseraj @black-swan-blog27 @nyrasslut @justdreamersdream @asfaraslifegets @why4anne @ineffableperson @leilanixx @lunyyx @pupbistro @gaypoetsblog @rafaaoli @champomiel @sadsierra2 @rainerax @lokietro

[usoppsstar]

🦀"Meeting Granny" Fatherhood Luffy drabble pt 2

S:This is how I imagine Dadan and Luffy's daughter meet for the first time

Tw: Tiny bit of angst/fluff/ just a drabble/ spoilers if you're not at Marineford; there might be mistakes🦀🦀🦀

Pt 1

***🦀***

The mountain bandits stand there in shock as you and Luffy casually make your way down the trail, a huge smile on his face as he continues to wave. The baby on the floor turns her chubby body around and reaches forward with short arms and grabby hands.

“Pa-pa!” she stutters the way a baby does,and Dogra and Magra have to stop Dadan from flipping onto her head again. Her mind was reeling as she tried to process the information that was slowly piecing itself together.

“Luffy!? Wha-?! Who-?!” Dadan just stares with her mouth open, words failing to make their way out. What was Luffy doing here all of a sudden? Who was that woman and why did the kid just call him papa? All the questions storm in each of the trio’s heads as you and Luffy finally walk up to them.

“Papa!” The little girl says more urgently as you both walk up to her. Perhaps she was waiting for you two and was tired now.

“There you are, button! Did you have fun exploring where papa grew up?!” Luffy asks her cheerily as he picks her up under her armpits. It's right then, when Luffy hoists her up onto his forearm that the dots connect. With their faces side by side, there was no doubting it. This little girl is Luffy's daughter. The realization only gets clearer for them when they look over at your face as you frown at Luffy, most likely for encouraging your one year old daughter to wander around a forest by herself. Dadan watches the three of you interact before finally finding her voice.

“Luffy! That's you isn't it!? What're you doing here!? Who are these people?!” she shouts as she gestures wildly, her afternoon randomly bombarded with familiar and unfamiliar faces. Luffy just looks up from where you're both picking leaves out of your daughter's thick hair, and laughs heartily.

“It's been a long time huh? It's so good to see you guys!” He keeps trucking, completely grazing over Dadan’s questions. Dogra and magra don't seem to notice because they're quickly ready to walk over and greet him, happy after not seeing the boy they helped raise after so many years.

“Luffy! It's good to see you too-!''They're about to say before they both come to a rough stop behind one of Dadan’s arms.

“Hey! Forget all the pleasantries dammit! Is this your kid!? And is she the mother?! Someone answer my questions!” She demands before huffing and puffing while you all look at her, even the baby who has her tiny hand in her mouth. Luffy just blinks at her before humming.

“ Well,this is my baby, and this is y/n. We made her because we're together and had se-!” He explains with a hand on his chin before being cut off by a tiny voice.

“Granny??” Your daughter asks curiously while pointing at her, and then turns back and looks at the both of you. Dogra and magra smiles but Dadan just sputters helplessly.

“what!? I'm not your-?!” She tries to correct her but Luffy just laughs out loud.

“Yeah you can call her granny!” Luffy casually encourages his child. Dadan tries to deny her new “grandchild” again but when everyone just starts laughing and talking away, she just sighs and smacks her forehead.

“Let's just go inside and eat.” She groans and Luffy cheers as you all walk inside behind her.

***

After a full day of talking, laughing, and catching up at a large party the bandits decided to throw, everyone has started to wind down. Luffy took off with you, who dadan found out was not Luffy's wife or something but a member of his crew that has been with him romantically for a long time, into the forest to show you his, Ace, and Sabo’s old treehouse. The rest of the mountain bandits have either gone off to continue drinking at the pub in the village, or are passed out from partying so hard. Dadan herself is sitting at her chair by the window, a cigarette in her mouth but not lit, and your and Luffy's baby fast asleep in her arms. She didn't want to take her of course, but Luffy plopped her in her arms with a smile and took off, similar to his grandfather. Only, dadan knew you'd both be back for her this time.

“Yur a spitting image of your father y’know that?” She grunts softly while lightly tracing over your daughter's features. Just like luffy, she had hair as black as ink, big round eyes that naturally search for friends and adventure, and a shade of skin that's loved by the sun, a little darker than her dad's but still similar. She guesses she can thank your genes for that richness in hue, that and the thick curls that protect her little head.

“ They're soft as silk.” She thinks to herself as she gently tugs at a coil, watching it stretch before bouncing back into a tight curl. She could tell you took good care of her hair, from the way it shined she knew it was moisturized, and the way she could easily comb her fingers through it without waking her up. There wasn't a tangle in sight. She had never tried to force Ace, Sabo, or Luffy to tame their unruly hair. Shit, she hardly knew how to do more than French braid the thick hair on her own head because she was never taught how to take care of it. The same wouldn't be able to be said for this kid though, because she was a well taken care of baby. Everything about her was smooth and soft, everything, down to the little hands and feet she crawls on. Ace had been the same way when garp had first dumped him on them, so soft that even a dangerous gang of bandits like them couldn't stay angry at him for very long. Until he got older and turned into a little demon anyway.

Unlike Ace, Sabo, and Luffy, and even her own bastard parents that had left her to fend for herself so long ago she could hardly remember how it happened anymore, she would grow up with you two in her lives. You'd both be beside her so there'd never be a moment where she'd have to ask what her parents were like, and who they were. She'd never be chucked into the arms of a couple of mountain bandits and left behind to make her own way. The little girl in her arms would grow up happy. Dadan could see it as clear as day, as if it were all playing out in front of her right then.

“Shit.” Dadan huffs with a wobbly voice, feeling tears burn at her eyes. It's right then that you and Luffy come back.

“Yeah I'll go get her!” He shouts before jogging over to dadan’s window. You thought it'd be cool for you both to spend a night in Luffy's childhood home, but he suggested inviting the bandits onto the sunny with the rest of the crew. That way Sanji could make something better to eat with the things you both hunted today.

“Dadaaan! Come back with us to-!” He shouts as he jogs but stops and slows down once he sees his sleepy daughter. He smiles and leans onto the frame.

“Oh she's out huh?” He laughs a little while playing with a coil of her hair. He gazes at her happily for a moment before he hears a sniff and glances up. Dadan sits there with her face pinched up in a frown, one trembling hand holding your baby and the other covering her face.

“Luffy.” She says his name quietly and Luffy just watches her silently, his hand still gently petting his daughter's hair.

“Yeah?” He responds in his normal tone of voice, waiting patiently for her to speak her mind. Dadan just breathes shakily for a second, steadying herself, before speaking up.

“You take good care of her, got it? Don't you ever leave her alone, or-. If you let anything happen to her I'll kill you.” She cries with tears streaming down her face. She's trying to sound hard, but her voice is somehow still gentle towards the child she took care of for so long. She acts as if it for your daughter's sake but she wonders if she's just trying to protect her heart from the same hurt she felt when Ace was killed. Luffy just looks at her with wide eyes, not at all offended by her threat, before grinning brightly.

“Of course!” He laughs, and they all have a party even grander than the first on the Thousand Sunny.

***🦀***

A/n: randomly finished this! Thanks for reading!🦀🦀🦀

🦀Taggies: @triangularz ; @cookieswithay ; @stoneaf

***🦀***

[lilac-5ky]

TOJI AND VIRGIN READER!

The Favor (officeAU!Toji x virgin!Fem!Reader)

Plot: The first day you met Toji, he told you everything on his CV was a lie. Three years later, he's your beloved work husband, the one you go to when you decide it's time to lose your virginity.

Tags: Office!AU, loss of virginity, fingering, oral sex (f.receiving), agee gap (reader mid 20s, toji mid 30s), soft!dom toji, dirty talking, praising, pet names (sweetheart, darling, kid, wife, whore, slut, etc), aftercare, toji catches feelings after fucking you, daddy vibes without the word, friends to lovers dynamic, size kink, lube handjob, MDNI obviously.

A/N: Combined your idea with my intense need to write an office!au. Hopefully this turned out to your liking and you forgive me for writing this much filth LMAO

Masterlist | AO3 | Requests

For promotion, for demotion, for raises and for cuts, in overtime and in bureaucracy, until layoff do us part.

In the insufferable reality of Japanese corporate life, a work spouse exists to shoulder the burden of overdue deadlines and never-ending stacks of paperwork. A husband who, in spite of not being bound to you through marriage, has vowed to stick by your side until either one of you breaks free from the shackles of human resources; your work husband.

You met each other on your first day at the company, both of you passing interviews for the same lowly position of staffing coordinator.

Your first impression of candidate number 9 was that his suit wasn’t really his but was likely borrowed from someone whose bicep wasn’t the size of their thigh and calf combined. Your second impression was whispered to your ear as the dark haired man rose from his chair and paraded down the interview room, nonchalantly letting slip that his bachelor’s degree along with every bit of qualification on his CV had been faked.

Whether that was a declaration of war or a testament to his unparalleled confidence, you wouldn’t know until a week later when you were assigned to the same miserable office corner, sharing a desk, a title, and a secret whose value skyrocketed once you became acquainted with your work place’s imposing policies.

One word would get both him and his knowing smile fired, but the moment you shook hands with Fushiguro Toji and promised to get along, you signed yourself up for a long-lasting partnership.

Over the three years you worked together, each grew out of their initial post. Your all-nighters paid off and you got promoted to an HR assistant, meaning you didn’t have to memorize everyone’s coffee order any longer, while Toji flourished as the department’s eye candy.

He’d ceased pretending that his broad shoulders could be boxed in second-hand suit jackets, and instead opted for rolled-up button-ups with the occasional monochromatic tie—a fit that put his sculpted physique into full view and threw the entire female populace out of balance.

He was an objectively good-looking man who bordered on great. The type to be conscious of their effect on others, cutting corners with suggestive glances and smiling his way out of otherwise unforgivable report oversights. Every woman in the office was openly in love with him. Even your supervisor referred to him as the team’s ace and discreetly unbuttoned her cleavage in his presence.

You realized then, they’d sooner let go of you and your hard-earned master’s, than part with the department’s mascot.

Despite the differences in skill and appearance, your sense of kinship survived the passage of time. Perhaps you’d subconsciously fallen victim to his charms, but whenever you saw his thin brows furrow and his right foot threaten the unresponsive copy machine with a killing blow, you couldn’t look away. This is a favor; you’d remind him at every formal email and resume assessment you helped put together.

And favors are repaid.

While Toji couldn’t assist with payroll processing, he always had the scoop on who cheated on their spouse with whom and whose bra was filled with padding—which you didn’t find all that interesting, but turned into a fun game of guess the cheater during dull 9 a.m. meetings.

On mornings when the alarm was hurled at your bedroom wall, he made excuses for your absence, and on work dinners, he saved you a seat away from all the grabby drunks.

Toji was far from a good person. His mere presence in a company you’d broken your back to get into was a mockery of your efforts. He led others on and got into muffled shutouts over his phone behind the water fountain, where he thought no one was listening in.

That’s how you found out about his eight-year-old kid and the custody battle with his allegedly “psychotic” ex-wife. He didn’t know you knew because you never told him. Everyone had skeletons in their closet, and it wasn’t your job to sort his out. As far as your work marriage was concerned, he was a good husband who diligently fulfilled his marital duties—all except one, which you feared the pretext of a favor wouldn’t begin to cover.

“Here’s your poison,” you slid the scalding coffee cup in his direction, mindful of the papers on his desk. “Black Americano with four shots of espresso and no sugar to compliment your wretched dark soul.”

Toji raised an open palm in your face, motioning for you to wait until he was done punching words on the keyboard and pressed save file. Your eyes were drawn to his fingers, threaded with faded scars that followed the expanse of veins down his wrists, dipping deep below the white cotton of his shirt. Another unsolved mystery you hadn’t gotten to the bottom of.

He brought the cup to his equally scarred lips, defying the steam spirals with a long-drawn sip. “Unnecessary intro, but thanks.” He gave a lazy smile. “Aren’t ya a sweetheart?”

You dropped your beverage on your side of the desk and swiveled your chair nearer. “Think you could do said sweetheart a favor?

“A favor, huh?” His breath was laced with caffeine. “Depends. If you’re asking for a buck, ‘fraid I’m all dried up till the end of the month.”

So he isn’t planning on paying for his order.

“I make more than you.”

“Doesn’t mean ya can’t find yourself in a pickle.”

You shook your head, stealing a sip of liquid courage from your mocha. How did people ask those things again?

Your contemplation lasted long enough for him to turn his head back to work, filling his home screen with enough tabs to distract you from his unfinished round of solitaire.

“What are you doing after work?” Your voice cracked into shards of uncertainty.

“Nice try.”He sneered. “You dug your own grave taking on the grievance procedures from the union. Climb out on your own.”

“Not everyone offloads their work load on others, Toji.” You rolled your eyes, scooting even closer to make sure only he’d be the recipient of your next words.

He sensed something was off because he wasn’t pretending to input random lines into the search bar anymore, and while he studied you, you studied him back. You had your doubts about this, and you weren’t sure he was your type either. You liked your men responsible and mature—like Nanami from sales, who would’ve been your first choice if your legs didn’t turn into jelly the minute you saw him.

Toji was the safe option. You talked to him. You joked with him. You were used to him, and more importantly, you trusted him. All the lack of qualifications in his job, he made up for with his experience in that other field you were a stranger to.

“Hey, kid.” His voice mellowed down with a beat of concern, a heavy hand landing on your shoulder. “If you’ve gotten yourself into trouble, I—”

“Please have sex with me.”

“Make yourself at home.” He nudged your back into the apartment, glancing over his shoulder to make sure you were following even after he’d pulled away.

Moving forward felt hard—as if you’d forgotten how to. You weren’t sure whether to wipe your shoes on the mat or stash them in the corner. You didn’t know which foot to put forth and what set of slippers to pick. Every decision suddenly mattered a lot more than it should.

You’d never been to Toji’s house before, and up until a few hours ago, you couldn’t fathom standing at his doorstep either. You weren’t that close so as to meet outside work hours, but you were about to get a lot more up close and personal.

The way he accepted your request with a mere, almost offensive, okay still boggled your brain. You’d considered every question he could possibly ask, painstakingly compiling your list of answers like a witness called to the stand, only for him to not speak a word of it—not even when it was just you and him and the solitude that came from enjoying lunch a hundred stories above Tokyo’s bustling streets.

He seemed to have forgotten all about your plans, up until he pulled over at the bus stop where you were waiting and stuffed you in the front seat of his car.

“You coming?”

Kicking your heels off your feet, you skipped straight through the hallway, your head turning left and right as if you were at an art gallery. You didn’t know what to expect, but a high-end apartment in the heart of Minato wasn’t it. Neither your income nor his justified an inox steel kitchen with mahogany wood flooring—let alone a direct view of the illuminated Tokyo Tower.

You were so bedazzled by the city skyline that you nearly missed the hastily buried socks peeking beneath the kotatsu, along with the cobwebs his untouched bookshelf flaunted. Much like his suit, his apartment was handed to him by someone whose love for both their books and spouse had run out.

“Whaddya think?”

Toji stalked behind you, his reflection in the glass becoming more defined with every step he took. He was holding something in each hand—two glasses whose orange liquid sparkled in place of the stars.

You turned around slowly, accepting your share with a small smile on your face.

“Your ex-wife has good taste.”

He blinked, taken aback for a split second. He wondered what gave it out—the pink slippers or the flipped-down picture frames you’d yet to notice—and somewhere down the line, he got the wrong idea, beaming with an unwarranted “Thanks.”

“I meant the house, not you.” Although you couldn’t blame him for his inflated ego when every female practically dropped their panties at his feet. Especially not when you were there to do the same.

Your teeth clicked sharply against the glass as you tilted your head and sipped on what tasted too sweet to be whiskey. Apple Juice?

“That’s not alcohol.” You stated.

“Ever thought of becoming a detective?” Toji padded toward the leather couch, spreading his thighs across the two middle cushions.

“Ever thought of becoming a comedian?” You retorted, squeezing in to his left. The furniture would’ve been big enough to fit you both, had he been considerate. “So what’s the joke? Too young to be drinking, or hard liquor ain’t for pretty girls like me?”

“Nah.” His head dropped on his shoulder, both propped against the headrest. “Need you sober for what’s about to happen.”

You mirrored his stance, your knees touching as you folded them on the smooth leather. “And what’s about to happen?”

“I think we both know, or else ya wouldn’t have followed me here.” He wet his bottom lip, pretty green eyes clouding dark.

A certain dryness gnawed at your throat, the pink color of his tongue appealing to you more than it should. You weren’t interested in Toji, but the strands of black that fell over his forehead painted a cuter image than you were used to seeing at the office. You wondered what he’d look like with his hair pushed back, all slick from beads of sweat rolling down his temples. And when you realized you couldn’t pin any of those thoughts on the alcohol, you took another sip, hurriedly averting your gaze.

“How many have? Women from work, I mean.”

You were surprised to hear him state “None,” and even more surprised that he claimed not to mix business with pleasure. You could think of at least three coworkers you suspected he fooled around with. At least so they bragged in the ladies’ room.

“So why bring me home?”

“‘Cause you asked.” Toji said gruffly.

“You fuck every woman who asks you to?”

“Only the cute ones.”

Your cheeks flushed red as you reminded yourself to take his words with a grain of salt. He wasn’t interested in you any more than you were in him. This was simply platonic—almost transactional. He’d do what you asked, and then you’d pay him back with another, mundane favor like sorting mail in his stead.

You finished your drink, your eyes licking up the remaining drops at the bottom of the glass. “This line works?”

Toji shrugged. It probably did. He probably didn’t even have to open his mouth for it to work. While the moment you opened yours—

“Want more?” He motioned to your glass. You nodded, extending your arm, only for his expression to turn sour. “I’m not your fucking maid. Bottle’s on the counter.”

You sighed, getting up so he wouldn’t see your eyes roll at his comment as he shoved his glass in your face. Who’s the maid now?

Aimlessly, you strolled into the kitchen, taking longer than necessary to fill both your glasses. You didn’t mean to start snooping around, but you couldn’t help yourself from seeking a sign of his presence in his picture-perfect apartment. Houses typically reveal something about their residents, and while the display of crystal glasses spoke plenty of his ex-wife, there was no evidence of Toji’s personality.

You weren’t interested in him—just curious. That’s what you kept telling yourself as you picked up a frame stowed away behind an empty cookie jar.

Four smiles greeted you, the brightest belonging to a young girl with elongated bangs, holding a boy who strove to copy his sister’s expression. Their parents stood behind them, a beautiful woman with long brown hair tucked in a ponytail blissfully leaning against the shoulder of a Toji that seemed less happy the longer you processed his strained features.

“She left.” The proximity of his voice startled you. The frame danced between your fingers until he snatched it, his jutted-out chin betraying his annoyance. “Took the kids, left the house and me behind. Ain’t that what ya wanted to hear?”

You shook your head, about to drop to your knees and beg for forgiveness on his parquet. However, the hostility that rose faded as soon as he threw the picture in the first open drawer and returned to the living room, leaving you to fetch your drinks. Then you remembered the phone calls. They weren’t on good terms.

“Having kids isn’t bad. Nor being divorced.” You handed him the glass, assuming your previous position on the couch. “Doesn’t ruin your cool guy image whatsoever.”

“Who said I care about that?” Toji snorted.

“Then you wouldn’t care if anything slipped in front of your fan club?”

“Mind your own fucking business.” He hissed. You chuckled. Sharing a couch wasn’t that much different from sharing a desk, and sharing two secrets was the same as sharing one.

“What are your kids’ names?”

“Kid,” he corrected. “Megumi.”

By the name, you assumed it was the girl. You were wrong. You tried to ask something about his son’s mother, but somehow you couldn’t find one right thing to say, since the woman in the photo wasn’t the boy’s biological mom either. You were lost. The more cryptic answers he gave, the more unanswered questions you ended up with.

Your plan took a backseat while Toji trod the sensitive topic of his divorce to that “bitch,” who’d taken his kid from him out of spite. The custody battle was tipped in her favor, courtesy of a legal system that’d rather see a child separated from its biological parent in the face of cold cash.

Megumi only visited every second weekend of the month, which explained his father’s eagerness to leave early on certain Fridays and come late on the following Mondays. He didn’t need to say this, but you understood his reasons for cheating his way into the company. A proper job looked good in court, and whatever earned him those scars was far from proper.

Both your hands emptied as you finished your second round of drinks. Your head would be buzzing if there was alcohol involved, but you didn’t miss it. Toji was hard to engage, and talking to him felt like running into one brick wall after another. However, working out of those dead-ends was preferable to clinking glasses with some guy who wouldn’t quit boasting about his Ivy League diploma or his burning passion for vocaloid singers—both cases reflecting the sad reality of blind dating in your twenties.

“So.” Toji drawled, a burly arm stretching behind your head. “Why you want me to fuck you? Can’t find good dick in the market?”

Your mind went blank in an instant, every excuse and curated version of the story vanishing when you needed them the most.

“I—um,” you cleared your throat, while your eyes scanned over his body.

There was a lot to take in: the fine lines of his pecs, highlighted under the taut white fabric; the black tie hanging loose around his unbuttoned collar; the hem of his shirt that dangled out of his fitted pants, exposing the tiniest window to the happy trail on his lower abdomen; his slim waist and his thick thighs; the curve of his bum; and the light touch of his fingers closing around your shoulder. You traced the same route of landmarks, finding yourself returning to his achingly handsome face and the playful curiosity in his eyes that had you shifting in your place.

All the reasons for someone to want to be fucked by this fine specimen of a man were right there, and you picked the most inclusive one. “Because you’re hot.”

The ends of his scar drew apart as Toji smiled a wolfish smile. He inched closer, your back hitting the armrest when his right hand caged your body between his arms and the couch.

“Bullshit.” A tickle from where his nose brushed against yours, and a thud from where your heart dropped inside your chest. “You think I wouldn’t know if ya had the hots for me, kid?”

“N-not everyone throws themselves at others.” You tried to reason.

“Maybe. But attraction comes with signs.” The side of his hand grazed the corner of your eyelid. “Batting your pretty lashes,” he trailed off, rough knuckles softly tracing the apple of your cheek. “Blushing your cheeks red.” The pad of his thumb swiped down your cupid’s bow. “Biting your lip raw.” He continued with his eyes, glancing at the skirt that lay high above your knees suggestively. “Pressing those plushy thighs together.”

“You do none ‘f those things.” Toji accused. “So why the sudden itch? Indulge me, and I’ll pound that pussy till ya scream.”

The promise of his words forced a gulp down your throat as your thighs involuntarily rubbed together. You started to reconsider. You didn’t want to fuck him just because any man would do. You wanted to fuck him because it was him and because every patch of skin he made contact with begged to be touched again.

“I’m a virgin.” You admitted, voice low, and stare even lower—utterly defeated as he flinched away in surprise.

You wondered what he’d say. A virgin at your age? was the most common response, followed by Is something wrong with you? and typically concluded with You sure you’re not a lesbian?

Everyone preaches how precious innocence is, but no one wants the pressure of taking it. What men really want is a woman who is both a saint and a slut—a woman who can suck their dick ten inches deeper than they can provide while simultaneously shying away from every insinuation of sex.

The problem is with the poor souls who belong in either category without adhering to the other, because squeezing your legs shut is just as faulty as spreading them open for the public.

Seeing as Toji remained silent, you realized you wouldn’t get an answer, and maybe it was for the best. You didn’t want to put a strain on your work relationship. It’d take a while to look him in the eye again, but in a month or two, you’d laugh about the incident over a cup of soggy store-bought noodles like nothing happened.

“Sorry for bothering you.” You mumbled as you picked up your last vestige of dignity and stood on your feet, only to be anchored by a set of fingers that tightly gripped your wrist.

“Sit.” His unfaltering gaze confirmed the sincerity of his command.

You thought about breaking free and dashing to the door. You thought about how much it’d actually hurt to let him ridicule you, and the tears started to build up on their own. And when you didn’t do as you were told, he towered over you with a palm that was eager to cup your cheek, tilting your face in position for him to print a rough kiss on your parted lips.

“I said fucking sit.” Toji repeated, while you contemplated how someone who spews words so harshly could have such soft lips.

Sheepishly, you fell back onto the couch, expecting him to follow suit and not kneel on the floor like he did. “What’s the story?” He asked, large hands taking hold of your knees and slowly rubbing them apart.

“What makes you think there’s a story?” You prayed that he couldn’t feel your heartbeat bounce across your body as if it were an empty vessel.

“With you, there always is.” He licked his lips as his eyes settled between your thighs, darkening with lust the second they were met with the damp patch in the middle of your pink lace knickers. “Wanna hear all about it while I feast on your little hole.”

“You’re not gonna fuck—”

“First things first, sweetheart. Gotta make sure y’are all prepped before I stuff you with my cock.” Toji smiled, pushing your skirt until it rolled over your stomach. “If ya gonna scream my ears off, better be from pleasure, mm?”

You nodded, watching as his slender fingers slid your underwear off and temporarily—you hoped—shoved it in his back pocket. You saw him marvel at the sight of your exposed cunt and wished you could peer into his brain to hear him curse himself for not coming up with this idea first.

You looked so pretty down there, your puffy clit safely tucked behind its hood while your lips shimmered with your wetness—the scent so intoxicating his pants tightened into a size too small.

He was already considering his next favor. Now that the door was open, he’d make sure it never closed again. Bending you over the copy machine was the front-runner. Getting a print of your tits squeezed against the scanner while he blows your back, his palm muffling out the pathetic sounds you let slip—he’d be lying if that wasn’t what he fantasized about whenever you refilled the ink cartridges for him.

“Ya ever touch yourself here?”

His thumb swiped over your clit, drawing an incomplete circle that ended with light flicks around the sensitive nub. Left and right. Up and down. Searching for the combination that’d have your body answer in place of your mouth, and when your hips bucked forward, he knew exactly where to press.

“Y-yes!” You whined, more as a reaction than an answer to his question.

“And ya ever push a finger in?” He continued, teasingly dragging his thumb between your lips.

“Just one. Rest hurt.”

“Mhm, bet they do.” He hummed as he tasted you on his finger, exaggerating the suck with a soft pop. “Ever had a guy kiss ya there before?”

Toji gave his own answer as he buried his head in your pussy, the sticky mix of his saliva and your juices trickling down your entrance while he made out with your clit. You struggled to keep your thighs apart, the raspy grunts at the back of his throat vibrating against your mound in joint symphony with your breathy moans. His tongue felt so good soaking on your slick that you felt yourself melting into a pool of pleasure.

“Get talkin’ or I’ll stop.” He warned, slowing down with broad, near-maddening, strokes that occasionally dipped between your folds.

“I wanted to w-wait,” you panted. “Wanted to fall in love first, but then I waited too long, and—ngh, fuck, right there!” Toji pinched your folds apart, his stare lecherous as he sucked the puffy pearl into his warm mouth.

Your body jerked in response, the leather squeaking hard beneath your bared ass. You weren’t sure at what point interest surpassed curiosity, but the signs were all there, manifesting as heat in your cheeks and blood that threatened to drop from your chewed-up lip.

His jade eyes narrowed into a shrewd reminder. Putting your thoughts in order was impossible, but if you stopped, so would he.

“Everyone ‘round me started d-doing it, and I was the only one l-left.” You tried to regulate your breathing through your nose, your throat turning hoarse from all the strain. “Went on a bunch of blind dates, but the guys were t-turned off, and—how the fuck are you so good at this?”

Toji chuckled, the pink tip of his tongue parting your lips in a languid motion that made you shudder. “Let’s just say my marriage didn’t fall apart ‘cause of this.”

He mounted your knees atop his shoulders and neared your entrance, with his middle and ring fingers ghosting over the softness of your pulsing slit. “Gonna use my fingers now. Be a good girl and cum on them, will ya?”

The first digit pushed forward, much thicker than any of your fingers. You felt so full already—nails digging into the cushions, while he thrust in and out of your walls, curling the lone pad to find a spot so sweet it elicited a moan of equal sweetness.

“Ya did well to come to me.” He continued, his raspy voice effortlessly sexy. “Kids these days don’t know shit ‘bout pleasing a woman.”

The veins on his wrist flexed along with his scars as his ring finger joined in the action to defy your previous claim. There was no pain. Only immense waves of pleasure leaking through your squinted eyes as hot tears beaded your eyelashes.

“Doin’ so good for me, darlin’.” He praised, repeatedly hitting the swollen bundle of nerves inside your throbbing cunt, bringing you closer to the edge with each thorough pump.

“Maybe I was wrong, hm? Maybe that’s what ya wanted all along. I know I did. Fucking wanted my hands on this pussy since I first saw ya fidget with your little skirt at that interview.”

“Toji—”

He dived between your legs again, his hand maintaining the same erratic pace even while his tongue hungrily lapped at your clit. Your head lolled back, the tension in your guts rapidly building up until you came undone, your pussy clenching and creaming around his calloused fingers.

You’d never finished so hard on your own, the tremors of your orgasm ringing in your ears and jogging your memory.

Your first impression on that day was sadness, right? Sadness over the wedding band the handsome stranger hid in his pocket right before entering the building, thinking no one else caught sight of it, and embarrassment about how your impure thoughts for a married man followed you into the shower every night after work.

“Atta girl.” A present-day and very-much divorced Toji licked his lips into a smile. “Their fucking loss.”

His knee pressed into the gap between your thighs as he stood on his feet and prompted you to open your lips. You took his fingers in your mouth, licking your cum off while your chest heaved with one labored breath after the other.

“See how good ya taste?” Toji cooed, rhythmically fucking his fingers on your tongue before removing them. “Sweeter than honey.”

“Thought you didn’t like sweet things.” His coffee order came in mind.

“How ‘bout we make an exception?”

You weren’t sure what got into you when you grabbed him by the tie and pulled him forward, kissing him with such vigor you’d never experienced. You always thought of losing your virginity as checking an item off your bucket list. You didn’t imagine you could ever lust after someone the way you currently lusted after Toji, your desire escalating into an all-consuming need.

His tongue moved as skillfully in your mouth as it did when it explored your pussy, dancing with your own rather than overpowering it. You liked kissing him. You liked kissing him so much that you wanted to incorporate it into your morning hellos and your evening goodbyes, dragging yourselves into an endless loop of returned favors.

Without breaking the kiss, Toji hoisted you up from the couch and held you in his arms, his palms finding the perfect excuse to grab onto your ass while he carried you across rooms you didn’t care enough to see. A door creaked behind your back, and soon you were tossed onto a large body of endless softness—a bed, you realized as Toji hastily shoved a couple of pillows behind your head.

“Ever heard of that stupid nickname that goes ‘round work?” He whispered in your ear while his fingers worked on undoing your blouse. “How they call ya my work wife?” His palms slid around your ribs and back to unhook your bra. “Guess this makes it our wedding night, heh.”

You rolled your eyes, holding back a chuckle. “Don’t you feel any shame calling me your wife when you’re about to fuck me on your ex-wife’s bed?”

“My bed now, and what I say fucking goes.” He stripped your body from every garment, salaciously gawking at your nude figure on his (her) satin sheets.

You didn’t feel too bad about showing your body, but his stare was almost intrusive—especially with how he hadn’t lost a single article of clothing himself.

“Such a gorgeous body, wife.” He dragged out the final syllables, hoping to elicit a reaction separate from the soft pants you let out as he caressed your soft curves—both much softer than the bedding you were splayed across, liquid velvet in his hands. “Such a good little wife, saving herself for her husband to deflower.”

“Why thank you, husband.” You chortled, cupping his face in a deep kiss.

You knew Toji was the right choice. Not because touching him felt like winning the lottery or because he knew exactly what he was doing, but because he could’ve made this situation a lot more awkward and didn’t. He made your first time feel special, granting your wish of doing it with someone you loved, even if it was all an illusion that’d fade come tomorrow morning.

You almost thanked him as he began to unbutton his shirt, the display of corded muscles and pale scars breaking the dam between your legs. Whatever your type might’ve once been, was no more. It was all Toji, with his clenched fists lifting the weight of his brawny, veiny arms, his shoulders so wide you could ride on them, and the self-complacent smirk your stupefied expression brought to his lips.

“This ain’t an exhibit, sweetheart.” He mocked. “You can touch all ya want.”

He didn’t need to say it twice for your palms to roam his body, starting from his neck and slowly gliding down his torso, feeling out the tension in his steeled abdomen. His skin was smooth, except for the few unruly hairs leading down to the bulge in his crotch, whose sight alone made you lick your lips and buck your hips into his. You wanted to see the rest of him.

“You are the hottest divorcee I know.” You smiled earnestly.

“Ya know lots of ‘em?” Toji cocked his head while you shook yours with a giggle. “Don’t be so flattering.”

“I do have a great-aunt…”

“Oh, please.” He groaned, allowing you to laugh it out. He didn’t like how his bottom lip twitched as he struggled to contain a chuckle of his own. He’d long sworn off girls that made his heart skip a beat.

“Think y’are ready?” You nodded. Repeatedly.

Digging his knees into the bed, he stretched an arm toward the nightstand, fishing for a bottle in one of the drawers. Lube, you realized as he settled it beside you to remove his pants, flinging them along with his boxers to the other side of the room.

Your eyes widened at the sight of his cock, an expression that didn’t look too good considering fear was about the last emotion you should be experiencing.

He was packing in every sense of the word. Long, thick, and definitely heavy as it hung above his hefty balls, the reddened tip pointing at your entrance. It wasn’t like you’d never seen a cock before. Porn existed, and so did perverts in trench coats, but comparing either one to him was both disrespectful and a huge understatement.

“Don’t go cold on me now, mm? It will fit.” He read your mind, taking your hand in his and slotting the bottle in your fist. “Prepped you so good for it. You’ll see; you’ll like this more than my fingers.”

“Promise.” He added, squeezing your hand reassuringly. You chose to trust him, and when he brought your other hand to his shaft, you knew what he was asking you to do.

The bottle spurted a thick glob of liquid that your palm smeared all over his cock head. Toji watched with bated breath as you stroked his length, each thorough pump of your delicate hands warming him up.

He deserved a pat on the back for not cumming right then and there—the distinction between the clear lubricant and his creamy precum becoming more prominent while he throbbed and twitched in your tight grasp. He thought about how much tighter your walls would be, milking every drop he had to offer while you writhed beneath him, with little ah-ah-ah’s and Toji please’s complimenting the squelching of your tight virgin cunt.

“That’s enough.”

He pulled your hand away and cracked the bottle open once more, rubbing a small quantity between his fingers and then scissoring them in your walls. You clung onto him, your hips chasing after his touch. Cute.

“Eyes on me, darlin’.” Toji leaned close enough so that your field of view was consumed by his face. “Keep your eyes on me, breath in ‘n’ out, and it won’t hurt one bit. I’ll take good care of ya.”

Your legs were parted as he ran his cock between your folds and pressed down firmly, his hand moving to your hip once he guided the first inches inside.

Toji was the first to react as he sank in deeper, about two-thirds in when he felt your pussy snare around him like a vice, the warmth of your walls making him curse under his breath. His last fuck was less than a weekend ago, and yet he felt like one of those loser kids he scorned earlier. He’d forgotten just how good being inside a virgin was—a one-and-done deal that would cease to amaze him after he fucked you into his shape.

“All good?” He remembered to ask, taking your strained yes at face value.

Small creases formed over your forehead, contorting your expression into a pained wince the further he sheathed himself into your wet cavern—and when his words weren’t enough, his lips took over. He kissed your worries away and cradled your breasts in his palms, doing everything in his power to keep the pain to a minimum as his hips met with your pelvis, bone against bone and skin against skin, until he finally bottomed out.

A whimper cut your kiss short, and for a second he feared tears would stream from your glassy eyes, not considering the possibility of your shaky legs wrapping around his back and your swollen, pretty lips calling out his name with a stuttered moan.

“F-fuck me, Toji. Please—fuck, I need you so badly.” You begged, dropping the pretense of composure.

“Yeah? Want me to fuck your little virgin pussy?”

“Y-yes, Toji, yes!”

“Yes, what, doll?” He teased. “Say it.”

“Please be my first, Toji.”

His grin turned feral in a heartbeat, your words stirring something in him that he could not explain.

He was prepared to spend the entire night fucking you at a snail’s pace, buttering you up with praises, and pampering you as if you were a golden egg goose, but now he didn’t have to. He could fuck you exactly how he pleased—fold your knees onto your stomach and hold down onto your thighs, pussy all exposed to where he could watch his cock pound into your hole and hear each and every strike of his balls against the fat of your ass—and you would take it.

But when he looked down and saw the ring of red that’d formed around his shaft, he had a change of heart. Maybe another time.

Planting his fingers on your hips, he withdrew slightly, purposely aligning his tip with the roof of your cunt. He didn’t have to go hard to make you happy. All he had to do was hit that one spot, and you’d be coming back for more. Having a steady thing wouldn’t hurt either. It was convenient—certainly better than burning gas driving across town just to pick up some random slut he’d tire of five minutes into her over-the-top screams. At least you lived close by.

With lavish strokes, he rolled his hips against your own, dipping forward to grind his pubic bone against your mound. It didn’t take long for the stimulation to get overwhelming, your hair falling from your strict work up-do all over your sweaty forehead while you thrashed around the sheets, huffs escalating into whiny moans.

“Sh-shit, gonna cum, Toji.” You managed, though there was no real need to tell him.

Your body responded perfectly to his, wetness gushing over his cock while your walls tightened impossibly around him. He fucked you through your high, wrapping his arms below your shoulders and muting your blissful sobs to chase after his own release. Your breasts were squeezed against his pecs, pebbled nipples making him regret not giving them the proper attention.

This wouldn’t be the last time. Your body was like a playground to him, and he sure as hell wasn’t done playing.

“My fucking work wife.” Toji grunted possessively in your ear, nipping at the lobe. Only his lower half moved, a constant snap of hips bouncing through the room as the second lewdest sound after the ones you traded. “Wanna send your ass crawling to work on all fours. That’ll show them, mm? Show them who fucked you so good. What a—fuck, what a good slut y’are f’me. From a virgin to my whore—hah, make ‘em all so jealous.

“Shhhhit, ya like that?” He interpreted your clenching as he willed. “Wanna start a rumor? Fuck on every desk, in every stall, and have everyone know?”

“Yes, Toji! Yesyesyes, want everyone to know you f-fucked me.”

You went back and forth between panting out his name and chanting yes, as those were the only two words you could mindlessly repeat. He wasn’t joking about making you scream. You were on the verge of passing out, so engrossed in ecstasy that you’d lost track of how many times you’d climaxed.

“‘s too much, T-Toji!” You begged, burying your head in the curve of his neck and breathing in his musk. You were both so sweaty, glued together like two puzzle pieces.

“One more, sweetheart. ‘m so close—wanna feel ya cum with me.”

He toyed with your clit until he started to fall out of pace, drawing his cock out before it was caught in the spasms of your pussy. A hefty load burst in his fist as he jerked himself off to your fucked-out form, hot drops of cum spraying your stomach like creamy droplets of rain.

Neither of you realized how soaked the sheets were until Toji left the bed, his eyes not faking their surprise. You didn’t seem to be in that much pain, and yet the amount of blood and wetness was at least equal to carnage.

Would it be a dick move to task you with his laundry?

He spared you a glance, not bothering to hide his smugness. Your legs were still trembling, your breasts puffing up in your struggle to breathe through your agape lips. He was tempted to tell you off—something cheesy like, “Want somethin’ in your mouth that badly?”

“Hey, kid. You are not dead—are you?” He asked jokingly, laughing through his nose as you found the strength to flip him off. Now that the effects of your orgasm were wearing off, so was your obedience.

“How’d ya like your first time?” A thumbs-up this time. “A’right. C’mere.”

The longer he let the stain settle, the more of a bitch it’d be to remove it. That’s what Toji told himself as he picked you up in his arms and carried you into the bathroom, returning to the bedroom only to roll the sheets into a ball he’d later discard in the washing machine. He wasn’t avoiding looking at your cute face, and he definitely didn’t think of your weakened infant-like state as cute when he scrubbed your thighs clean with a wet towel either.

A weird image sparked in his memory, one from the many nights you’d spent working side by side at a dimly lit office. He remembered you ordering him takeout and looming over his head like a vulture while he went neck-to-neck with the vicious spreadsheet program. You insisted on tutoring him, claiming your dressy outfit was a result of canceled plans—even though you kept stealing glances at the clock—and staying with him until the wee hours when you didn’t have to.

You really were a sweetheart, an angel, and all the other terms of endearment he used on you knowing they made your lips stretch and your eyes sparkle. But that wasn’t for you to know.

“Toji?” Your voice jolted him out of his reverie—frail, but not as frail as the hands that wrapped around his own to snatch the towel.

What could he say to make you leave without any harsh feelings coming back to bite him in the ass?

He pondered his options while you bent forward from where he’d seated you on the counter by the sink. You held his limp dick in your palm, gently wiping the dried blood and cum that clung to his girth.

It was sickening how quickly he stiffened, all ready to ram it in your pussy and fuck you with the mirrored view of your ass in the backdrop, but what truly made his guts churn was the little cheeky smile you beamed with. He stood by his words. Virgins were the biggest sluts.

The towel dropped to the floor as you pointed his cock at your entrance, and that was all the convincing he needed.

“Fine.” Toji sighed, pinning your wrists on the cold quartz counter top. “You can stay the night, but mention work and I’m kicking ya out.”

This is definitely not how you say it.

You made it to the office the next day after a brief raid on your apartment. Going to work in your previous day’s clothes screamed, “Look at me! I got laid!” And as fun as creating all those fantasies with Toji was, you could do without earning “Hated Employee of the Month.” Everyone hated you for being friends with him as is.

He waited until you’d changed into a presentable outfit and dropped you off a block further away for precaution. You shared your final kiss in the car, wasting a whole fifteen minutes sucking each other’s faces off like teenagers at a drive-in. Dating a colleague was against the rules, and you didn’t want to date Toji either. Not that he’d asked. Not that you expected him to ask.

Losing your virginity was a lot more complicated than you thought.

He counted on you to bring coffee, and you would have if an intense craving for spicy tuna onigiri didn’t win you over. The convenience store was right around the corner, and its coffee was honestly not that bad if you squinted your eyes and fooled your senses a bit.

You grabbed two onigiri from the stand—in case Toji felt like stealing yours—along with an apple juicebox, both as a means of thanking and poking fun at him. You paid for the items and walked to the office, nauseated by the butterflies that swarmed in your stomach. You should’ve really eaten something instead of having your final hookup at the breakfast table.

A few people greeted you in and out of the elevator to the forty-seventh floor, some commenting on your looking less gloomy than usual, but that was about it. The world spun the same way it did even before you had sex. No big change or mind-blowing epiphany; just a euphoric feeling of accomplishment that dissipated the moment you saw the stack of documents waiting on your desk.

“That’s just the tip of the iceberg.” Toji magically sprouted from behind, loaded binders balanced on his arms—the same arms that’d lavished you with affection all night long. “They had a fall out at one of the subsidiaries, and now we gotta clean up their shit.”

And back to reality we go.

“Where’s my coffee?” He searched for a cup on his desk.

You pushed your desperation aside and held the juice to his face with a smile that turned awkward the longer he took to accept it.

“It’s um, you know.” You stepped closer, placing the box atop his mountain of files. “Thank you.”

“Also, got you this, so don’t even think of taking mine.” You balanced the onigiri beside the juice and plopped down on your chair, an antsy, blushing mess that refused to meet his stare until he looped an arm around your headrest and attached his mouth to your ear.

“Care to do me a favor?”

[dearest-tobio]

"so this is it?"

oikawa's eyes glimmer with the tears threatening to spill down his cheeks. he surveys your face, a mirror of his own. the logical reply is to affirm that this is, indeed, the last time you will see each other, in the coming-and-goings of a busy airport.

despite the words already on the tip of his tongue, he doesn't bring himself to say it. 

he can't bring himself to say it.

instead he pulls a thin sheet of polaroid film tucked away in the folds of his jacket, fingers shaking as he passes it to you. "remember that road trip with iwa, mattsun and makki?" he laughs, devoid of mirth. "dancing under the stars?" 

you stare at the picture, a bullet shattering the last shield to your defences. "yeah," you whisper, mustering the little energy you had left. "the first time you told me you loved me."

the photograph passes from him to you. the memories flash in your head: raucous sing-alongs to songs on the car radio, dim blaze of the makeshift campfire, gentle feel of oikawa's lips on yours. these trips were the hallmark of your friendship of five, but with everyone moving everywhere, you wonder if you could ever experience another. 

"this isn't goodbye."

"oh, tooru." you giggle, despite it all. "when will you learn that you can't have everything? no matter how hard you try."

"i can," he insists stubbornly, gripping the handle of his suitcase with burning fervor. "argentina's just five years, ten—"

"and who's to say that we won't fall out of love then? i won't fall out of love then?"

the remark is a knife piercing oikawa's already bleeding heart. it hurts you just as much as it has wounded him, but you knew that it needed to be said. he has to learn to let go.

oikawa glances down at the watch on his wrist—a gift from you on your first anniversary. he remembers why you decided to buy it for him. your laugh, ringing through the air as you remarked: "so you can't weasel your way out of being late for our dates anymore."

the hands are damning. two hours before his flight leaves. two hours before he departs for a country miles away from everything he's ever known: his family, his friends, you.

"thanks for taking the time to see me off at the airport," he clips, barreling away from the topic at hand. "do stay in touch."

he turns away from you, struck by how it's too much to bear. his rationale screams at him to hold you close one last time, but his pride insists on moving forward. he makes his way towards the immigration gates, when he realises he has one thing left to say. tilting his head to face you, he smiles the smile you fell in love with as he makes his final plea:

"wait for me to come home."

the same six words come to mind as you hover your mouse over the option of buying tickets to the upcoming netherlands and argentina mens' volleyball match.  foolish, you think. he's moved on. he's forgotten. yet you can't help but click the purchase button, and now you find yourself amidst the throngs of supporters in tokyo national stadium.

after all these years, oikawa tooru is still as radiant as ever.

he is wrapped in swathes of argentinian blue, glowing with confidence in his skills. a shaky pass from his teammate doesn't deter the expertise of his set: he tosses it in a graceful arc towards his team's ace, who then smashes it without remorse to the dutch side of the court.

the match continues with argentina strengthening the lead, enabling them to win three to none. all throughout, oikawa dazzles. you expect no less from the boy you loved. the boy you love.

before heading for the train back home to miyagi, you dare yourself to take a peek at the boisterous celebrations on court. oikawa is hoisted on to a teammate's shoulder as they crack open bottles of champagne, yelling out exclamations of joy in a language foreign to your ears. by chance, oikawa's eyes meet yours, and it is like you're back at the starry night so many years ago, swaying in his arms. 

he climbs down from his raised pedestal, rushing in hasty steps to make his way to you. as he envelops you in a hug, you are unable to discern between the longing and exhilaration rushing in your veins, so you giggle. despite it all.

"i'm home."

masterlist

[jirsungs]

ep 11: love like the movies

word count: 2.8k (i am SO sorry.)

Walking into the small dimly lit nightclub, you and your friends were immediately blasted by the sudden breeze of the AC. None of you complained though, it was getting hotter in the area and you needed all the air-conditioning you could get. 

But despite the cold air, you could still feel yourself sweating with how anxious you felt. You were dreading to hang out with Jisung alone, not because you hated the guy but because he made you nervous. This time alone with him meant you had to be nervous around him with none of your friends to come to the rescue. 

It was Rockway’s first gig of the week, and it wasn’t long before Haechan invited your whole group to come watch. However, this gig started later than usual because they didn’t start their set until 7 pm, closer to when their performances regularly ended.

As soon as Rockway takes notice of you and your friends’ arrival, Mark and Chenle share a teasing look before Chenle nudges Jisung and signals him to look in your direction.

“Look whose girlfriend just walked inn…” They both sing-song and the younger brushes his friend off, trying his best to remain civil. But of course, inside, he wasn’t, in all honesty, the thought of you being called his like that had his heart swelling and his face heating up. 

He just hoped his friends didn’t notice. Jisung says in a warning tone, pointing at the both of them, “Play it cool, guys. She said we’re just friends, so that’s what we are.” He also hoped his words came out coherent because his brain couldn’t properly process him saying that you’re “just friends.”

For the rest of the time, Mark and Chenle kept their cool, and Rockway’s performance turned out great. They performed four original pieces then ended with two covers. Their opening song was an original piece composed by Mark with the help of lyrics by Haechan and Jeno.  You could say that their gig was pretty successful. 

It was now 8:30 pm and Jaemin and Ningning were currently dragging you to say hi to the guys, or more so, Jisung. Yeonjun and Renjun followed shortly behind, ignoring your pleas to help you get out of your two friends’ grasp.

Jaemin and Ningning stop, still with you in their hold and you turn around to be faced with Jeno and Haechan. Jaemin greets them with a big smile, “Hi, guys! Great performance as usual.” 

“Yeah, Haechan, you killed it… like, wow.” Ning admires.

The bright singer replies with a flattered chuckle, “Aw, shucks. This performance wasn’t my best.”

His attempt to be humble only gets replied with Jeno smacking him on the arm, “Shut up, just take the compliment.” 

Haechan’s pained wince makes you three laugh. Not long after, you’re freed from Ning and Jaemin, and Yeonjun and Renjun catch up, joining your conversation with the two band members. 

Renjun’s concentration on the conversation didn’t last long because, in his peripheral, he noticed Mark and Chenle pushing Jisung toward your group, which the younger continued to protest without making it obvious that he was nervous to go up to you.

But of course, Mark and Chenle couldn’t let that happen. Mark rests his arm around Haechan’s neck while Chenle squeezes himself and Jisung in next to Jeno, “Hey guys, what’re y’all talking about?”

You focus on Jisung as he stands there next to Chenle and avoids all contact with you. He’s dressed in a baggy black hoodie with a black and yellow flannel buttoned on top of it and of course, it wouldn’t be him if he didn’t pair his outfit with baggy black pants. 

You seriously wonder how someone can wear such dark clothing in the summer. You still had to fan yourself even with the outfit you were wearing. A tank top and a skirt, and here he was, not sweating in the slightest. 

Before your friends can indulge themselves in their conversation again, they acknowledge the awkward tension that’s floating above you and Jisung. That’s when they take matters into their own hands. Ning pushes you closer while Jeno and Chenle do the same. 

And that’s how you end up almost pushed against his chest, his eyes finally meeting yours. Well, kinda… even with your shoes slightly making you taller, you still need to look up at him. 

“Um, hi.” Jisung sheepishly says, his hand rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment. 

You should’ve found his action funny because it feels like something you’d see out of a cheesy romcom, but you don’t. Instead, it makes you smile, “Hi.” 

The situation almost feels unrealistic. You’re both centered between your friend groups as they try to play cupid. The rest of the nightclub around you stays chatty and dimly lit, though you can still see his features. Fireworks or some stupid love song should be playing right now. Seriously, something should break this before Jisung succeeds in having you fall too deep into it. 

Then, Yeonjun gags in disgust, “Get a room!”

Oh, thank God for Choi Yeonjun. 

As if on cue, all of your friends immediately shooed you away to hang out on your own after that. The mixed laughs and exclaims “Get her home safe, Ji!” and “Use protection!” from your friends as you walk towards the exit of the nightclub got quieter and had you both embarrassed. And then it was just the two of you.

“Shall we?” Jisung asks, holding the door open for you. You smile at the nice gesture before walking through and saying a small “thank you.”

You begin to walk down the sidewalk, keeping the same pace with no more words said. The quiet finally disappears when Jisung chooses to speak up, “Uh, Y/N, are you cold?”

“What? No, of course not.” Yes. Yes, you were. You don’t even know why you’re trying to hide it when he can clearly see you trying to warm up your arms with your hands.

He doesn’t give you time to say another lie when he’s already removing his flannel from his body which he hands to you to take before he takes off his black hoodie. He doesn’t say anything as he switches the clothing out of your hand to give you the black hoodie. You’re not allowed to say anything about it again because he slips his flannel back on. 

You watch him, staying quiet, and Jisung lets out a nervous laugh, “What? I wasn’t gonna let you freeze to death. The hoodie’s warmer than the flannel.”

You finally protest, “But—This is yours, I simply can’t take it—I mean—” 

Why are you stuttering? Stop that!

Jisung notices and calms you down before your ramble continues, “Y/N, I seriously don’t mind. Just wear it, it’s nothing to feel bad about, okay?”

Another objection lies on the tip of your tongue, but you hold it and mutter a pouty “Okay.” and slip on his hoodie. 

He smiles when you finally allow it. “Good.”

Hanging out with him wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be. As soon as you paid for your dinner at the local food street stands, you found out he’s surprisingly a talker when the question about his favorite food places around town came up, or why and how he wears such big clothing during the hottest season of the year, or simple questions like what his favorite video game is. He didn’t like the thought of him being the only one talking the whole night so once he was done answering your questions, he’d immediately turn back to you and ask for your input. You appreciated it.

Since it was obvious that both of you didn’t want this night to end after you finished your dinner, Jisung’s earlier suggestion of stargazing at a nearby park sparked your interest again. And that’s how you ended up walking on the dark green grass, following Jisung as he tried to look for a good empty spot. 

Once he found a free spot, he removed his flannel and carefully placed it on the ground for you to avoid getting grass on your skirt. He waits for you expectedly, wearing a cute smile on his face, but you only raise your brows at him. “What? The girl needs a proper seat.”

“You’re so cheesy, Park Jisung, you know that?” He doesn’t take your comment to heart when he sees you giggling. 

He joins you on the grass and your conversation continues right where you left it. At some moments, Jisung points out the different stars in the sky and gives you short information on them. You didn’t find yourself hating it though. Sometime after, you both sat quietly, simply enjoying each other’s company as you watched the night sky. 

Jisung liked that you didn’t despise the quiet. Even though you both can talk for so long, you can appreciate the calm atmosphere as well. And knowing how he is, he doesn’t mind the silence, instead, he loves it and the fact that you like it too makes him happy.

He looks over at you and quietly examines your features as you watch the sky in awe. Your upper body is covered by his hoodie and your legs are locked against your chest, and he thinks you’re the prettiest girl he’s ever laid his eyes on. Fuck, he really is cheesy. His mind begins to have a mental battle with itself on how to make this better with you, leading him to focus on something else other than your face before you notice him staring. But then, the idea hit him.

“Do you wanna listen to music?” He asks, motioning you to look at him and then at his left earphone wire that he was offering you.

“Sure.” You accept it before putting it into your ear.

He unlocks his phone and hands it to you, “Play a song, let’s see how different our music tastes are.”

“Okay. Let’s see.” You open the Spotify app and start typing the song title, Jisung acknowledges how you stick your tongue out to the side of your mouth when focusing. She’s cute, he thinks.

The song pops up and you let out an “Ah, there you go!”. Once you press on the song, Like the Movies by Laufey, it begins to play, leading you to turn off Jisung’s phone and bring your focus back to the sky.

You turn your body towards him in shock when you hear him humming the melody, “I never expected you to be a Laufey fan.”

In the corner of his eye, he notices you looking at him and he can immediately feel his body radiate heat. He plays it cool, his lips making a pfft sound before making eye contact with you, “I’m not. She’s an amazing artist, and I like some songs but I only know her ‘cause Chenle’s a big fan.” 

You challenge him with a raise of your eyebrow, “Oh yeah? Then what artists are you into?” 

Suddenly Jisung’s mouth feels dry and his brain turns to mush. Jesus, Jisung. It’s just a simple question. Why are you getting shy now? He mentally scolds himself.

He opens his mouth, thinking words would come out of it, but closes it right after. You giggle at him. Instead of giving a verbal answer, he opens his phone to the Spotify app and scrolls through his playlist until he finds the song. He doesn’t say anything after that, letting you focus on the opening of the song playing in your right ear. But the first verse’s familiarity to you has you figuring out what song it is. 

It makes you laugh, “Really? 1D? Now that’s unexpected.”

He joins in on your laughter then answers in defense, “Oh come on, Story of My Life is nostalgic. I don’t know what it is about it, the song just makes me feel nice.”

“Aww, was little Jisung a 1D fan?”

“Okay, ha ha,” Something about teasing him so naturally made you feel safe, but before the scary thought could overcome you, Jisung continued, “We’re actually called Directioners, thank you very much.”

You gently push him with your body as you snicker, “Like that’s any better.” 

The both of you go back and forth showing each other songs, Jisung even introduces you to Oasis, one of his favorite rock bands, and the reason behind his agreement to join Rockway. One of your top love languages was music bonding, and it seemed that it was his too. Tonight felt too good to be true. You felt like a princess knowing that time was ticking and this moment between the two of you wasn’t going to last long. 

Because of course, every perfect night has to end eventually. 

After Jisung’s queued song, Bruno Mars’ Natalie, ends, the realization of the time hits him. “Oh shit, it’s already 11 pm. I am so sorry I kept you out this late—”

You cut him off, “Ji, you’re good. I didn’t realize the time either.”

He’s about to continue his apology ramble but his ears perk up at the new nickname. “Wait. Wh-what did you call me?” He didn’t mean to talk over his words, it just happened cause what the hell? Is he already at the “Ji” stage? 

You stay oblivious to his reaction, “Ji? It’s okay that I call you that, right? I always hear your friends call you that so I thought—”

“Yes! I mean–yes, you can totally call me that.” He hopes he covered how bad he’s blushing right now, but he’s 90% positive that it worked because you’re laughing. 

Your giddy mood doesn’t go away when he offers you his hand to help you up and it continues not to because now, he’s walking you to your apartment after his multiple pleas to walk you home and his scenarios of what could happen to you and how he couldn’t live with himself if one of those situations did happen to you. You hate that it’s hard to say no to him.

You expect him to say goodnight once you reach your apartment complex, but he continues to insist on staying by your side. And when you try to object, he replies with, “What if you get kidnapped on the way to your apartment?”

Not gonna lie, that shouldn’t have convinced you that easily. But that was because you didn’t want him to leave you in the first place, you only put up a fight because your fear of occupying him with this when he could be busy doing other things worried you more. 

The both of you stop at your apartment door where awkward silence hangs in the air until you remember that you were still wearing his hoodie. You’re about to take it off but he stops you. 

“Keep it. I saw how bad you were shivering earlier, I fear you need it more than I do.”

Your heart flutters at his offer despite the guilt you feel for taking his hoodie. You still ended up taking it though. It was warm, comfy, and smelled like him, it was a mixture of flowery laundry detergent and his cologne. You appreciated that he didn’t wear any overbearing or overpowering scents but it was one of those where you can easily detect where it’s coming from. 

The awkward silence bothers you both again, that is until you break it once more.

“This was fun… I, uh, enjoyed it a lot.” 

The way you’re obviously using your fingers as an excuse to not make eye contact with him has him shyly smiling down at you. “Yeah, me too. You make a very good yapping partner.”

You burst into a fit of laughs at his use of yapping and gently slapped his arm, “Oh my God, I cannot believe you just said that.”

“Hey, it made you laugh. I think that’s what matters.”

Somehow, the once awkward silence wasn’t so awkward anymore. This felt comfortable and natural, but a little bit too natural. You can’t handle it. Your fear urges you to shut him out and escape back to your shell, but because you don’t want to ruin this night for the both of you, you dismiss it. 

“Well, um, I should head inside.”

Jisung nods, his expected disappointment lingering as he knew the night had to end, even though he didn’t want it to. He gives you a small smile, “Alright. Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Jisung.” 

He watches you walk inside and close the door, making the coast clear for him to put his hand into a fist and pull his arm towards his chest as he excitedly cheers “Yes!” under his breath. When he turns around to check if your door is closed, he’s already five feet down the hall but stops when he hears the door open and your voice once again.

“Hey, Jisung?”

He turns around, “Yeah?”

“Thank you for tonight.” 

Your smile is enough for his heart to do literal somersaults in his chest.

He can’t help but smile back, “Anytime.”

Luckily, you both say goodnight before you can notice the blush on his face.

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note: this chapter is HEAVILY inspired by the songs: laufey's like the movies, one direction's 18 and story of my life, & heeseung's cover of this is what falling in love feels like (they were on repeat when i was writing this) but RAHHH, fav chapter idc idc. i hope you guys like it<3 esp because things slowly get sad from here... </3

🎫: @idkwhatursayinh @sunghoonsgfreal @multifandomania @nanaxwi @odxrilove @sourrpatched @hancafe @chaellaa @dojaejunging @jising-jisang-jisung @heheheeral @haechansbbg @renjunsversion @seunghancore @woshixinqgiu @jiiieun @pinknjm @mrshwang-park @neozon3nha @joyzluvr @aerivrs @nosungluv

[somewherebetweendisorder]

Gloomy

Jason Todd x fem!reader

Warnings: smut, language

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: smut is so hard to write guys. I tried, but maybe too hard. As always like, reblogs, and comments are greatly appreciated!

~~

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO COPY, REPOST, OR USE MY WORK IN ANY WAY.

~~

The air conditioner in your car has been out for two summers. Normally it's not a big deal. Normally you'd roll the windows down. Normally you'd dress for the season. Normally Jason's hulking frame wouldn't be taking up more than his fair share of the cramped cabin. 

But today the Gotham skies have released torrential rains, and the air is thick with uncharacteristic humidity. Jason grumbles from beside you, shifting around in the passenger seat. His fingers twitch against his denim clad knees, tapping out a restless beat. Suddenly he reaches for the AC button, turning it on and off and on and off. 

"God, you're sure the damn thing doesn't work?"

Despite the tacky, wet sweat blazing a trail down your back, and your general frustration with the situation a small smile tugs at your lips. "Yes Jason, I'm sure. The whole thing is bad."

He sighs, loud and long. "Why haven't you said anything? I could have gotten it fixed."

And that's just the thing. At any point over the past two years, if you'd so much as mentioned it in passing to Jason, or Dick, or Bruce -hell, even Tim- it would be a non-issue. You know this, know their generosity knows no bounds for family, and neither do their bank accounts, but this is yours. Be it pride, or independence, this was just something you want for yourself. Even if you're not making progress with the situation, but Jason for all his finer qualities, wouldn't agree. 

"I love you, Jason."

He sighs again, and fiddles with the volume. The rain comes down impossibly harder, and you slow accordingly, the white lines on the road indistinguishable. 

"Just pull over here," he offers, pointing to the parking lot out his window. 

The store is closed given the hour, and the parking lot is empty. Flicking on your turn signal you make the turn, pulling into a spot and cutting the engine. Now the only sound is the tinny patter of the storm on the roof of your car, and the distant roll of thunder. Jason sighs again, attempting to stretch out his knee, which cracks in response. An awkward giggle spills past your lips, earning a crooked grin from Jason.

"Some weather, huh?"

His face is pretty and haunted in the dim yellow light of the nearby streetlamp, skin warm and inviting. The little scars scattered across his face almost glow in the dark, splitting his lip, and running jagged through his eyebrow where the little hairs won't regrow.

"Yeah, some weather," you echo softly, gaze mapping his features. 

He closes the distance, planting a soft kiss on the corner of your mouth before retreating, but not completely. He lingers large in the narrow space between your seats, body twisted towards you. "What's on your mind, ma?"

"You."

It's an honest answer, neither unusual or surprising. He blinks slowly, quiet, waiting for you to elaborate if you wish. You bypass the talking option, twisting around in your own seat, bringing your hands up to cup his face, your thumb skidding gently across the prominent pink-white scar on his upper lip. He kisses the pad of your thumb, teal eyes raking across your face.

And it doesn't take a lot, hardly anything at all to lean forward and close the gap again, pressing your lips so softly against his. It's teasing, gentle, and not nearly enough. Jason lets you do it once, twice, three times before he's had enough and nips at your bottom lip, teeth sinking into the pillowy flesh. You shouldn't give in so easily, you know that, but the action has you breathing out a soft moan, chasing his kiss with fervor. 

You're caught in his web now, planting a knee up on the middle console to follow him as he cranks the seat back as far as he can. He's yanking at the sleeves of your jacket as you tumble on top of him, eager to get it off. Eager to feel more skin, more of you. You slot your knees on either side of his waist, your right knee digging into seat-belt buckle but you hardly notice. Sitting back you pull your arms our of the sleeves of your jacket, chucking it across the backseat as your shirt follows. Large hands settling on your hips he grinds you down against him, eyes darkening as you unhook your bra. His undoes the button on your jeans, tapping your ass so you sit up to help get them off.

"Fuck, you're so beautiful."

He can't seem to decide what to do with his hands. They flex restlessly against the doughy flesh of your hips before flattening against the expanse of your back and tugging you down to him. His lips are on yours again, nearly bruising as you try to form a coherent thought. 

"Want this off," you mutter, tugging at the soft cotton of his shirt, fingers wandering beneath them hem to run softly across the slip of skin. His abs tense in response, a groan getting stuck in the back of his throat. He leans up just enough to tear it off before he's leaning back and taking you with his, lips burning a wet path across your jaw, down your neck and between the valley of your breasts. He's impossibly hard beneath you, and you can't resist the urge to tease him a bit more, grinding down on his arousal just as his tongue licks experimentally across the hardened peak of your nipple. 

It's the same game every time, where Jason knows just what it takes to turn you into a whimpering, sticky mess, but feigns ignorance. Your fingers anchor into the soft hair at the base of his skull, tugging gently. He groans again, finding his way to your other breast to lavish it in the same sloppy love. You try to be still, you really do, his hands firm against your waist, but the calm facade is impossible to manage when he guides you back and forth over his bulge, the friction fanning the flames building low in your gut. 

"Jason please. Please," you gasp out just as his teeth sink into your nipple, just hard enough. "I need you." 

His belt jangles in the stifling air of the cabin, and you huff impatiently when his zipper sticks. Finally you're shoving the denim our of the way, and he slipping his boxers down to pull out his throbbing dick. You hover, too eager, too hot, too hungry to wait, and he's guiding you down, the sound of pleasure ripping from your lungs a little too loud, but he hardly minds. He builds a steady pace, the skin on skin filling the car, the smell of sex thick. One of his hands stays anchored in your hair, tipping your head back so he has easy access to the slick column of your throat and breasts, his other hand on your hip. 

And you're so close, his swollen tip hitting that spongy spot with every thrust up into you. You reach down to play with your slit, chasing that high, determined to hit it together. Your scrape your nails against his navel earning a throaty whimper from the main beneath you, and fuck, if that isn't the most delicious sound. You clench around your boyfriend as your climax crashes over you, dragging him along, and he lets out a harsh groan as his thrusts grow sloppy. 

"Fuck, baby, cum for me."

And that does it. The string that's been stretched tighter and tighter snaps as you gush around his throbbing cock. You collapse against his chest, thoroughly spent. 

"Good girl," he chuckles, knuckles brushing against your back as he pushes your hair over your shoulder. The heat that was so unbearable doesn't seem quite as awful now. 

As you come back into your body thunder booms overhead, startling you as you jerk in Jason's arms. He huffs a soft laugh, tipping your chin up to kiss you on the bridge of your nose. You reach an arm up and draw a heart into the condensation on the window as it begins to bleed little tracks of moisture down the glass. He draws a dick next to it, just for good measure, and pulls you into a kiss. And it's moments like there when you're really glad to be alive; really glad to be with him.

[misslovasstuff]

Prompt: “You know, no one would believe me if I told them how much of a tease you are.”

paired with: Sanji, Zoro, Ace.

warning: contains nsfw

author’s note: goodness, Sanji got me kicking my feet. Anyways, enjoy!

Sanji

“Can I enter, chef?” - you knock on the kitchen door before opening it slightly, getting the attention of the cook who looks immediately towards the door, smiling softly.

“You don’t have to ask, love. Although I appreciate your politeness as alwa-

Sanji interrupts himself as he looks at you up and down, raising his eyebrows as he seemed not to believe his eyes.

It was quite late at night indeed and you walk so innocently in the kitchen wearing only your sweet pink lingerie. Of course, Sanji’s reaction does not go unnoticed by you, however, to tease him a little you just walk towards him, placing your hands behind his back.

“Keep working, I won’t disturb. - you rise on your toes, whispering breathily in his ear. - I promise.”

Sanji widens his eyes and gulps, sweat dripping off his forehead. He feels your chest pressed against his back.

Just how was he supposed to focus when he could feel your hot breath against his neck, your hands running up and down his back like that?

However, he tries to keep cooking, cutting the last vegetables before putting them in the dish that should boil for a while. He feels his hands tremble as he hears a slight moan coming from you.

“I love your wide shoulders. - you say, massaging him while smirking under your breath. - you’d look so big hovering over me, Sanji.”

The cook lets out a shivering sigh, breath getting caught in the throat as he unleashes his tie a bit. His cheek are already flushed as he struggles to finish cutting the vegetables. He clenched his teeth, trying not to give in at first although his whole body was melting with just a simple touch of your hand.

“Feeling hot? - you ask, pressing your chest against his back even more as your hands reach for his chest, grabbing his shirt before unbuttoning two or three buttons slowly. - I can cool you down a bit.”

Sanji pushes his head back slightly, biting his lip as your cold hands caress his bare chest.

“I thought you cooks were used to fire.” - you say, determined to undress him completely.

“Yes but,- he manages to let out a whisper, which came out more as a moan. - not this kind of fire.”

Your hands run down his abs to his abdomen where you take off his belt, grabbing him by his pants and turning him around to face him. Sanji leans back to the kitchen counter as you scan him up and down.

His torso now completely revealed to you, your faces only centimetres apart as he smiles and puts strands of hair behind your ear.

“You’re not keeping your promise, love. - he says, gently holding your waist with one hand, pulling you in slightly. - you’re incredibly distracting.”

Your lips press against each other. Hands all over each other’s body, moans conquering and echoing throughout the kitchen, clothes hitting the floor and steam coming out of your mouth, feeling the heat invading your beings.

“I was burning for you, Sanji. - you say, hands resting on his chest while he holds you close. - I couldn’t keep myself away.”

You press your lips agasint his, sliding them down to his jaw and then to his neck, earning some hot moans from him. His hands caress your back, travelling down your back hips then your butt which he squeezes tightly, making you return those lewd moans to him.

Love marks are left in his collarbone, making him tilt his head backwards while brushing his fingers through your hair.

“Good thing that you can’t stay away from me. - he states. - I want you to think of me always. - Sanji grabs your chin slightly, making your eyes meet. - Even your body has developed muscle memory from my touch. - his hand touches your breast, rubbing it softly. You bite your lip, returning a moan. - As if you’re programmed to love me.”

“That or, - you smirk, brushing his lower lip with your thumb before leaning in. - you’re programmed to touch me in all the right places.”

Sanji smirks, now both his hands on your breasts, teasing your nipples. Your eyes were seductive yet determined, an aura you develop when you’re alone like this with Sanji and no one else. It always turns him on how he’s the only one that gets to see this side of you, makes him crazy.

His lips barely touch yours as he whispers to you:

“You know, no one would believe me if I told them how much of a tease you are.” - he says and you both chuckle, lips becoming wet, bodies unifying and the kitchen becoming even more of a mess… a hot mess, that is.

“Because they wouldn’t believe how irresistible you are to me. - you state between kisses that are seemingly leading to more than just a simple make out session as your tongues dance together, not aiming for dominance but for a sensation that sends shivers down your bodies. - They don’t know how you’ve gotten me spinning around your fingers, chef.”

“Alright then, - Sanji picks you up, sits you on the kitchen counter and looks deeply into your eyes. - my fingers were supposed to do nothing but cooking today, however, I can always make an exception for my lady. - your words always had a tremendous affect on him, making Sanji burn with passion, eager to satisfy your whole being.

“Tell me something, - he says, parting your legs slowly. - How many times you wanna cum today, darling?”

Zoro

“Oi oi, what do you think you’re doing?” - The swordsman calls you out when he finds you in a strip club, hanging onto a pole, waiting for music to play.

“Zoro, - you greet him excitedly. - I though we could use some extra money, and that guy there offered me a quick gag.” - you explain, pointing to a short man in the corner that gestures you to stand in your waiting position on stage. Zoro gets annoyed by his attitude, grabbing one of his swords before getting interrupted by a loud music which starts to play and echoes across the bar.

“You?! Stripping?? - Frankly, you were the last person Zoro would think when it comes to such things. In his head, he was trying to convince himself that this wasn’t a dream. - Are you serious?”

You react quickly to the sound, grabbing onto the pole and letting out a sigh as you practice your concentration.

“Just sit down and enjoy.” - you wink at him, glancing at all the people approaching from a distance.

“What the… - Zoro remains confused as he sees guys gathering around close to the stage, all having their eyes on you, anticipating your movements. - … this can’t be.”

It all flows naturally once you spin the first time. Because of the flexibility your earned through training, pole dancing was a piece of cake for your body. However, most men did not know that, so they just watched in awe as your body moved with the music.

Until now you weren’t doing anything provocative. The thought of having your crew mate in the audience was a bit odd, not to mention that he too was staring, seemingly interested in what you were doing. Thus, they were two ways out of this; either you shy away and keep it simple but risk not getting paid, or go all the way out and why not tease Zoro a bit?

It doesn’t take take you long to decide. Second option it is.

The men in the audience are all sat in their respective seats, enjoying a shot of alcohol as their cheeks turn red and they drool uncontrollably. There was only one man standing, not taking a seat yet as if he was contemplating whether he should stay or leave the bar.

You notice that about Zoro, thus you begin to really put your effort in the performance.

Bright red bra strips made visible by your bare shoulders being exposed, get stripped down by your fingers, pushing them just a bit further down before grabbing the end of your shirt and pulling it up, hair falling gracefully over your chest which your gently push back.

You dance around the pole, twirling the shirt in the air as your bras remain on you, making a nice contract with your dark hair and lipstick, even more visible under the stage light.

After you threw the shirt away, you caress your arms with your fingers, bending over to your audience, giving them a good view of your chest.

“Stay.”

You mouth at Zoro who widens his eyes. He follows your movements as you expose your back whilst handling onto the pole, slowly squating down, your eyes fixated on your crew mate who visibly gulps, covering his face as he tries to look away.

You smirk when you notice him sitting down, ordering something to the waiter. He glances away for a bit but once you manage to make eye contact, you smirk.

“Good boy.”

You mouth at him again, this time making Zoro blush tremendously as he tries his best not to leave his guard down at this bar.

An idea pops in your head, thinking that it’s not harmful to try.

Truly, right now you were a sight to behold. Sexy bra with a cute skirt on and long boots that gave your legs a nice look, you go down the stage and find yourself right in front of Roronoa.

He eyes you up and down, and so do you. He was sitting on his chair manspreading, hand resting on his thigh and one holding the glass of alcohol just served to him.

“You thirsty?” - you ask, touching his chest and pressing his shoulders, whispering on his ear.

Zoro smirks, letting his glass down the table as he takes your hand, telling you to spin around for him.

Immediately after you do so, he grabs your hips and pulls you to his embrace, making you sit on his lap.

“You know, no one would believe me if I told them how much of a tease you are.”- he caresses your cheek with the back of his hand. - I’m pretty sure this wasn’t part of the performance.”

You close your eyes as you feel his touch in your skin. It burns hot, the contact of your bodies is setting your souls on fire.

Although you eye him in anticipation, waiting for him to touch you more, Zoro gives you a smug look.

“You’re the one performing, aren’t you? Do you expect the costumers to entertain you? - his hands slide down your back moving from your butt to your thighs, giving them a squeeze - Such a dirty girl you are.”

The music continues to play loud, but nothing could compare with the sound of your rapid heartbeat beating so loudly in your chest.

“Come now, Zoro, - you start grinding slightly against him as you sit in his lap, earning a groan from the proud swordsman. - you obviously like me getting dirty with you, even though we’re in public. - You say, leaning in and kissing his neck, jaw, the skin under his ear as you breathily whisper in his ear. - You’re more of a slut than I’ll ever be.”

“Fuck, - he cusses, grabbing your hips tightly as you increase the pace of your grinding, completely ignoring your surroundings. - you think I like this? I’m just going along with it so you don’t get embarrassed her-

A groan of his interrupts the speech, his head pushed backwards as his hands start moving your hips faster. The friction was driving him nuts and he was too stubborn to admit it.

“Oh, really? You’re not enjoying this? Then I might just interrupt this and leave…”

Once these words leave your mouth, you try to get up from his lap before getting pulled in by a grip on your wrist. Zoro doesn’t say anything, but his eyes express the need to have you sitting on him right now. He holds your wrist and brushes his lips off it as he whispers, your eyes fixated on his lips:

“Don’t … - he gulps hard, finally imitating a king and intense eye contact. - … don’t leave like that. Don’t leave me like this.”

His excitement was quite visible, gut wrenching how big it looked under the fabric of his pants. You bite your lip as many lewd thoughts cross your head.

“If you have any complaints, please contact my manager. I’m not allowed to give guests special treatment. ” - you say, poking his nose before turning your back to Zoro and leaving him hanging… literally.

“Such a tease… “- he whispers, taking the last shot of alcohol, smirking as he watches your figure walk away.

Ace

It was one of those days where hormones took a toll on you and the neediness for affection and intimacy was skyrocketing. Is the fact that your boyfriend’s nearby a good or a bad thing?

“Love, - you call him, hoping he’d get down to your room once he hears your voice. - what are you doing?”

A few steps are heard, your mouth forming into a smirk as you sense your boyfriend making his way to you; always so attentive and caring.

“Hun’ did you call?” - there he was, standing now at your door, his hand touching the too as he leans in. You can’t help but stare at his biceps, the way he was looking at you with concern but your eyes were already telling a story that he was familiar with.

“Yes. - you eye him up and down, leaning against your bed frame as you bite your nail. - Was wondering what you were up to…”

His waist in perfect harmonious proportion with his shoulders made you drool. The hands that in some days caress you, brush off the fingertips on your skin, some other days slap and grab tightly, hold onto everything that is yours. Ace’s eyes that were always so sincere were looking at you now with so much love as he approaches and sits nearby you in your bed.

He scans you; the expressions on your face, the way you were observing him with every detail while biting your lip, your hands were clenching the sheets as you tilt your head back, embarrassed.

“I wasn’t doing anything important. - Ace says with a smirk, leaning closer. - What we’re you doing?”

His voice goes lower than before, making your body go crazy.

“I was… - you look him in the eyes, cupping his cheek. - … I was thinking of you, Ace.”

“Oh, really? - his eyes go to your hand. He touches is, caressing it with his thumb. - What exactly though?”

His cheeky grin is teasingly warm, your hand moves from his cheek down to his neck where you take a slight grip. Ace lets out a small groan, gulping hard.

“I was thinking how pretty you’d look if I get to ride you tonight… all night.” - you say, eyes travelling down his lips as his are completely mesmerised, cheeks blushed and completely speechless he remains. Most of the times, Ace would be the one who’d initiate physical intimacy and you’re both alright with that. So this composure of yours was satisfying, to say the least.

“My pretty girl wants a ride? - he says, attempting to tease and spoil you. - You sure you can take me in all night, huh princess?”

You pull him closer, whispering in his ear:

“I’m going to ride you till’ you break, love. - as he feels your hot breath against him, Ace blushes tremendously. - … so good that you’ll be begging me to never stop.”

Goodness, you’ve got him spinning around your fingers. He now faces you, and eyes widen while smirking slightly:

“You know, no one would believe me if I told them how much of a tease you are.” - his breath gets heavy, heart beating so fast as if it’s the first time he’d have you.

“They’ll believe if you scream my name while we’re at it. - you say, pushing him down the bed and sitting on him as Ace places his hands on your hips. - Be a good boy now and keep those hands to yourself.”

Boy, is he completely surprised about your behaviour tonight, but also very… very impressed.

“Woah, - he says, running his fingers through his hair. - I wonder what good deed I’ve done in my past life to deserve this?”

You both lightly chuckle, before an expression of lust overtakes you as your body leans in, your chest touching his.

Ace looks directly at it, approaching his hands to grab it but you slap it away.

“I said keep hands to yourself. - you demand, placing your lips gently on his neck while whispering. - I’ll bet to torture you a bit the way you torture me.”

“Fuck… fuck… - he cusses out, feeling the need to touch your body, caress your hair as you kiss him so softly all over. He wants to hold your waist and bite your ear while whispering all the dirty things that come up on his head. - Babe, you’ve decided to drive me crazy tonight, uh?”

You were all over your man. The delicate way your hands are placed on his chest and you leave hickeys on his collarbone is driving him insane. Your lips go up to his neck and jaw before crushing onto his lips.

With the corner of your eye you notice Ace’s hand about to rise and touch you, but before you could turn it down, his hand lowers itself, making you smirk as you’re kissing him.

“So obedient, you’re listening to me so well.” - you say and he groans, feeling your body getting lower, face down at his crotch as you unbuckle his pants.

“Love, - his voice shakes, - … please…”

“I know, I know… - you caress his inner thigh before pulling his pants off. - Just sit back and enjoy, Ace. I’ll reward such a good boy as yourself if you keep listening to me.”

Ace tilts his head back, biting his lip as he looks at you, anticipating your next move. Surely, he was in your hands now, and he loved it.

He wasn’t prepared for the amount of pleasure he received that night.

[night-raven-tattler]

Love beyond spoken words - part 1

Summary: Everyone has a way of saying "I love you" without using those three words.

Characters: Ace, Jack, Azul × GN!Reader (separate, romantic)

Other parts of the series: Jamil, Rook, Idia, Sebek

Warnings: food mention (Jack's part)

By opening the document, you agree to Mx Tattly's terms of source confidentiality.

-ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

You had no idea how Ace was able to maintain an average of 80 for his grades, because it never seemed like he was paying attention in class

Even when he was hunched down over his notebook as if he was writing down notes, he still gave you the impression he was not listening to the lecture

...because he wasn't, really

A folded piece of paper fell on your textbook from the direction of the seat next to you, and if the red heart doodled on it was any hint towards who the sender was, you knew he wouldn't allow you to pay any more attention to the rest of the lecture

You unfolded the piece of paper, and the words written on it brought a small smile to your face

"Hey hot stuff, wanna ditch Deuce and Grim for a lunch date? □yes or □yes"

You decided to tease him a little, so you drew a third square with a "no" written next to it and crossed it, then you folded the piece of paper and tossed it in his direction

And watched how his confident smirk turned into an offended frown in less than a second

He scribbled down something and threw the piece of paper towards you once again, huffing just so he caught your attention enough to look at him and see how hard he was trying to act hurt

"Come on! I even called you 'hot stuff' and everything!"

You couldn't deny that the whole situation made your heart skip a few beats

Your banter was no secret to anyone: all of your friends knew you and Ace loved to push each other's buttons in an endless silly game of cat and mouse

Yet the written notes kind of made the whole situation have an intimate note to it

It was a game just for the two of you, only for your eyes to see, antitipation and excitement building up as both of you slowly added to your secret conversations

"So you call me 'hot stuff' only when you want me to do something?"

You scribbled back and threw the paper at him and watched how his eyes widened as they followed the words on the paper, and a bit of pink dusted his cheeks as well

He hesistated before he wrote down a reply, and he slid the unfolded piece of paper towards you

"I won't admit anything on paper so you have no physical proof you can show off to the others."

You turned towards him and rolled your eyes, showing him exactly what you thought of his reply

But then, he signed to you to turn the piece of paper around

And, as you did, you discovered another message from him

"I wouldn't mind telling you exactly what I think about your looks if you say yes to that lunch date."

You waited a few minutes before writing down on the piece of paper, letting Ace grow a bit anxious and impatient from your lack of response

He watched as you folded the piece of paper and placed it gently on his slightly open palm

And he had to hold himself back from fist bumping the air when he unfolded the piece of paper, revealing how you crossed out your previous "no" answer and marked the other two "yes"s instead

『••✎••』

Jack had a hard time expressing his more sentimental feelings outwardly, and you assured him that you still knew he cared about you

While he was not a poet or a novelist, he still wanted to learn how to express his care for you better

And one day, an idea finally came to him as he watched a few students exchange notes during class...

It all started when he ran to you during P.E. and silently handed you a water bottle before going back to where he came from

On the water bottle, you noticed a small sticky note, slightly wet from the condensation on the cold bottle, and the note had a message written on it

"Remember to drink water. I don't want to see you dehydrated."

You quickly looked for Jack in the small crowd of students, and when you finally spotted him, you noticed how he was trying to look everywhere but at you, while rocking a cute blush on his face and neck

One day, you forgot your notebook in the library, but luckily your knight in fluffy armor retrieved it for you

As you took it from his hands, you noticed the sticky note on it, but before you could ask anything about it, he walked away

"We have a test next Wednesday. If you need help with studying, you can ask me for help."

Jack was sweet enough for you to buy you lunch while you saved two seats for the two of you somewhere in a more secluded corner of the cafeteria

He returned to you with his lunch and your own - a whole grain bread sandwitch and a bag of assorted nuts

And the usual note you've started to get used to

"You look tired. Hope you regain some of your energy with this."

You looked up to him, who was trying to pick between looking at you and looking away from you

You smiled sweetly at him, unwrapping your lunch and starting to eat and chat, and Jack appreciated not bringing up his new habit right away

As much as he denied it, Jack liked to be admired and felt a sense of pride whenever you watched him outrun his track and field clubmates whenever you dropped by

His speed and stamina was something he obtained from his own efforts, but he couldn't help but wonder how much of the motivation he carried with himself daily was multiplied by your influence

Jack discovered he became more and more determined every day: to become stronger, to become a better student, to show you that you always have him to rely on in times of need

You waited until the club took a break to approach Jack; you handed him a towel and he mumbled a thanks before dabbing it on his sweaty face and neck

You also handed him a sports drink as you praised him for his hard work

The bottle was unexpected, but what surprised him more was the sticky note he noticed as he took the bottle from your hands

Even though the note was slightly wet from his sweaty palms and condensation, the message it sent was clear

"I'm very proud of you. Keep going! I believe in you!"

He shily reached his hand towards you and took a hold of your hand as his tail wagged happily, occasionally brushing your legs

『••✎••』

The contract on the desk in the Lounge's VIP room was unlike any Azul has previously seen

The paper was slightly wrinkled, the whole thing was handwritten, and the hearts at the corner of the paper were not part of any contract etiquette he was familiar with

Amongst the sea (pun not intended) of probably misused legalese he didn't quite know himself and a bunch of sentences written in overly pompous formulations vaguely resembling formal speech, a certain phrase caught his attention

"The contractee will be able to exchange 10 minute break times with any desired act of affection from the contractor, as long as the contractee provides proof of fulfilling the required terms."

The contractee being him, and the contractor being you, of course

Azul's face turned pink, and a small smirk appeared on his face

Even when you were away from him, you still dedicated time to make sure he was taking care of himself in the silliest of ways

Your little unprompted attempt at playing his own game was amusing, and his mind raced with all the ways he could take advantage of the terms you presented him with...

That's why you were summoned to him VIP room a day later

"I'm quite interested in your offer. However, I think we should discuss the terms of the contract further before we sign it."

You were both amused and surprised by how professionally Azul was playing along your silly little game, but you remembered he was in Octavinelle for a reason: he liked being entertained

And you had fun while drafting the contract, so you supposed your idea was entertaining enough

Still, you were happy he was so eager to indulge you

Game or no game, you were still determined to sign a contract with favorable enough terms

"What did you have in mind?"

"Well, I'd like to propose a better way of defining the affection I'd be receiving, and I would also like to suggest offering different rewards for different timestamps."

Azul anticipated your stubbornness to influence you heavily in the negotiation, yet he didn't quite imagine the extent of your determination to have him rest

You did not even allow Azul to reduce the break time anywhere under 10 minutes

The terms you settled on were simple: 10 minutes for physical affection outside of kisses, 20 minutes for kisses anywhere outside the face, and 30 minutes for a kiss anywhere on his face

And when the piece of paper finally had both of your signatures on it, you stamped the paper with a kiss before handing it to Azul, whose face turned red at the gesture

You never expected Azul to take the contract as seriously as he did; you received at least one message a day of him telling you he was taking a break to drink some water and relax his hands

You didn't plan of breaching the contract either: you always did everything your greedy little octopus asked for

You got to spoil your boyfriend while he finally had a convincing enough reason to take a break: it was a win-win in your book

『••✎••』

[macfrog]

ace sex on fire chapter six

this entire chapter is me making up for 1. the golfing line in chapter two, and 2. joel's entire experience of tlou2. naughty dog i'm waiting for ur response. 24 hours to reply

pairing: ceo!joel x fem!reader

summary: joel takes you on a day trip to go golfing. it turns out to be more fun than you expected

warnings: 18+ (minors dni!!!) golf. idk what else to say. age gap (reader is late 20s, joel late 40s), workplace relationship, imbalanced power dynamic, more sugardaddy!joel, discussions of pregnancy + reader perhaps not wanting children, sort of possessive!joel?, praise kink, unprotected piv car sex, daddy kink, exhibitionist fantasy, creampie, more teasing + flirting, angst + pining, alcohol consumption, cursing

word count: 9.7k

series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist

“Good girl. He there?” The image of Daniel flits across your vision, bright blue eyes trained on you. He looks…intrigued, and stunned. He’s not breaking his stare. “Mhm,” you say again, and start to lift off of Joel. “He watching?” “Y-eah,” you choke out, bouncing steadily. “Put on a show for ‘im, pretty girl. Show him what you do for me.”

The cab squeaks to a halt right outside the office, dropping you at the bottom of the concrete steps leading up to the revolving door. There are already bodies filtering in and out of the building, despite how early it is.

You thank the driver – Mick, you’ve come to learn. He seems to run this route on weekday mornings; it’s always him who shows up at your apartment when you can’t be bothered to walk to work, or miss the damn bus. Mick tosses a thumbs up over his shoulder and you swing out into the brilliant sun.

It’s Thursday. You’ve been home sixty-five hours, by your count. Joel gave you a couple days after landing stateside to catch up on sleep, readjust. He’d gone back to work Tuesday morning, though, 8AM sharp. Martha had text to ask where you were, and had sent six laughing emojis back when you replied with, How the fuck is he back already?

You make the climb up the steps, back to work, back to normality. It drags like a weight at your heels, the thought of returning to that gray office after three days wandering around picture-perfect, painted-pink Paris. After three days of Joel.

That split-open feeling, the cavity between your ribs – it’s sewn itself up since you got back to your own apartment, your own space. Since you showered a couple times, washed your clothes, started smelling like yourself again instead of Joel. Its sutures are made from the sound of the subway squealing to a halt, the smell of Chinese takeout from the place across the street.

But there’s a tiny piece of you, small enough to stay hidden from even yourself sometimes, that you know misses it. Misses…him. It only hurts when you touch it – the sewn-up scar, messy in your frantic attempts to close it up – it aches when you remember his hands on your waist whenever you wanted them there, his lips below your ear whenever you needed him.

As you approach the glass doors, you hear a whistle from behind, and turn to watch Joel slip out of his Rolls and jog up the steps. There’s a sports bag hanging from his left hand.

“Am I a dog?” you ask when he reaches you.

“It was an endearin’ whistle.”

“Very endearing. Don’t do it again.”

He nods once. “Yes, ma’am. Feelin’ awake yet?”

“Almost.” You follow him into the building, clicking along the polished marble floor at his side. “You didn’t waste any time getting back into the swing of things, I hear.”

You both nod good morning to the receptionists, and Joel hits the button to call the elevator.

“I’m an important man, baby,” he says, shrugging. “My job ain’t just answerin’ the phone ‘n making coffee.”

You scoff, slapping his back as he leads you through the sliding doors, which closer over and shut you both into your first moment of privacy in almost seventy hours. Joel immediately turns to face you, words behind his eyes that he can’t seem to sort into a coherent sentence.

In what you hear as an attempt to summarize, he says: “Back to reality.”

You brush the shoulders of his blazer, tug on his tie to straighten it. It’s the most you can bring yourself to do that doesn’t involve throwing yourself at him. There’s a throbbing right below your chest, like a magnet tugging you towards the man stood in front of you. Touching the padded shoulder of his suit will have to do. For now.

You lift your eyebrows, staring at the knot of his tie. “Yep.”

It’s pretty reductive, Back to reality. But then, what else is there to say? What else that wasn’t said between your bodies in Paris? A line was crossed there – you both went somewhere you can’t come back from so easily. And moving forward the way you had been before, seems equally as impossible.

There are eyes on you here. There are people who care to know what might be going on – whether they like it or not doesn’t matter. No more strutting out onto the terrace, running your hands all over one another, connecting skin and tongue in ways you wouldn’t have dreamt up two weeks ago.

No. This stays secret. A secret between you, Joel, and the French skies.

Joel places a hand on the small of your back as the elevator doors whip open. He ushers you out, and then, once in view of Martha’s desk, sidesteps to an appropriate distance.

“Welcome back,” your colleague greets you as you approach her desk. “Missed you, kid.”

You smile coyly. “Thanks,” you mumble. Guilt isn’t the easiest of emotions to hide.

Joel taps your arm gently and then nods towards his office. “Catch-up,” he says, and Martha rounds her desk to follow after him.

You drop your jacket and purse over the back of your chair and slip in behind them, leaning back on one of Joel’s leather couches with your arms crossed.

“Alright,” Martha sighs, “few things needing done this morning. First…”

You take a deep breath and slump down until your ass sits comfortably on the couch cushion, your knees draped over the arm, cradled inside your elbows.

Joel notices, and smirks to himself. He dials into his voicemail, hits a button, and a familiar voice echoes from his desk.

“Hey, Joel,” Drew’s voice says, “hope you enjoyed Paris ‘n aren’t still too hungover. I know what Jean-Marc’s like…”

Martha moves to the next bullet point, tilting her pad and tapping the tip of her pen to some messy scrawling you can’t read. You nod, eyes flitting up to watch Joel.

“Just wanted to check in and make sure you’re still good for later. S’posed to be a good day for it. Let me know if you need any help with directions. Alright. Looking forward to seeing you two soon. Cool.”

The machine cuts. Joel sits back in his chair, rests his heels on the wood in front of him. Black, shiny, ridiculously expensive shoes crossed over on top of a black, shiny, ridiculously expensive desk.

“…now, Ken needs to receive this as soon as possible, alright? I said I’d have it done by end of day yesterday – I did not, so I need you to –”

“Who’s you two?” you ask Joel, peering over Martha’s notepad.

He looks up, tossing a rubber band ball in his hands. “You ‘n me, darlin’.”

“I’m sorry,” Martha declares, “am I talking to myself–?”

You push her notepad out of your view, still staring at Joel. “What do you mean, you ‘n me?”

Martha drops her hands with a sigh. You repeat your question.

“Us,” Joel says, hint of irritation in his voice like you’re supposed to be in on something. “We’re goin’ golfing with him.”

“We’re going golfing?”

Martha, now exasperated, swings the pad under her bicep and crosses her arms over her chest, makes something of a growling noise. “You two are unbeliev…Are you listening to me?” she demands, clicking her fingers in front of you.

“No,” you reply simply, eyes locked on Joel’s.

His lips curve with a soft laugh. “You ain’t read your emails?” he asks.

Your head darts between him and Martha. Bewildered. “I was catching up on sleep, thank you very much,” you assert, nodding with finality at the blonde updo hovering over you.

You know she cares about you – at least enough to water your monstera deliciosa while you were gone – but Martha can be sharp; her outspokenness is something to admire and to fear, in one small five-foot-three frame.

She snorts, glancing over to Joel with a disbelieving shake of her head, but he doesn’t take her up on it. Just looks at her blankly and then turns back to you.

“We’re meeting Drew up at Aspen Heights. Few of his buddies are in town, he wanted to introduce ‘em to me.”

“And I’m coming – why?”

“Because he met you last week, musta liked you, ‘n he invited you.”

Your mouth opens to reply, some retort to bring into question the need for your presence at a fucking round of golf, when Joel and his words cut yours short in your throat.

“And I want you there with me.”

Martha raises her eyebrows when you look up at her. The thing is: this all seems very normal, from her perspective. You did such a good job at keeping Joel right in Paris, didn’t you? He made his flight there on time, he met with Jean-Marc without a hitch, and he was actually an hour early for his flight home.

That last part was because you’d woken up with the sun and couldn’t get back to sleep, so you woke him, too and…well. Kept each other busy until you physically couldn’t anymore. There wasn’t much point hanging around in the hotel suite when your cases were packed and your bodies were…fragile, so you left for the airport.

To her ignorant eyes – and bless her – this is all just networking. It’s you building work relationships, Joel at the helm overseeing everything and setting it all up for you. This is clear – that that’s all she thinks – when she says:

“He’s doin’ you a favor, sweetheart. You should go.”

“I don’t even have any golfing gear. I’m in suit trousers.” Your eyes trail down your black pinstripe pants, legs dangling from the arm of the couch.

“And you look fantastic,” Joel quips, though you know he’s half-serious, “but you do gotta find somethin’ more…” he waves a hand, “…golf.”

“Something more golf. That’s helpful.”

“Here,” he says, stretching into his back pocket. His hips lift from the seat of his chair, and your eyes land on the space just south of his belt buckle. He pulls his credit card from his wallet – the same one you could probably recite the numbers of by heart at this point – and holds it out. “Go grab somethin’ nice. My treat.”

My treat. Like he didn’t treat you all damn weekend.

You pull yourself up and take the card from his fingers.

“’n what about my list?” Martha asks.

Joel shrugs. “Ken can wait one more day. You got two hours,” he tells you, and then sits up straight, rubber band ball placed safely next to his Newton’s cradle. “I’ll have Rand take you.”

You follow Martha out of Joel’s office when his phone starts ringing and his head falls into his hands, letting you both know it’s not a call you want to be around to hear. As he lifts the handset, he lightly calls your name, and you exchange a sly smirk as you slip out the door.

Martha wanders off behind her own desk as you pull your purse over your shoulder. She loads her computer back up, chin lifting as she squints through her glasses at the screen.

“There’s a golf shop downtown,” she tells you, two index fingers tapping away on the keys. “Alan uses ‘em. Don’t think they’re too expensive, either. Wouldn’t know for sure, though, he spends so damn much anytime he’s in there.”

You watch her for a moment, nodding along. “Thanks, Martha.”

She holds up a finger as you walk past her desk toward the elevator. “Remember you still got my to-do list to tackle, so don’t be long!”

----------

Rand drops you on a quiet side street. He gives you his number, tells you to text him once you’re done, and the sleek black car rolls off.

On the corner sits Ace’s Pro Golf, a small, charming store, peeling wooden front painted fern green with golf-themed decals decorating the windows. You set off inside, passing under two transparent putters crossed over one another on the window above the door. An old brass bell rings out from overhead when you enter.

Its exterior is misleading. This store is huge. Overwhelmingly huge. Walls stacked with bags, clubs dangling from pegs. Baskets of balls and tees and other accessories dotted all over the creaky wooden floors, which are lined with racks upon racks of golfing clothes – shirts, trousers, dresses, skirts.

“Oh, fuck,” you breathe, edging towards the rails.

You slip between them, hand running along the multicolored choices, when your phone starts to ring, vibrating somewhere deep in your purse.

“Hey, Mom,” you mutter, slipping your cell between your cheek and your shoulder as you begin to search through the shirts in front of you.

“Hey, baby,” her voice sings to you. “Wasn’t expecting to catch you, thought you’d already be at work. Where you at?”

You sigh. “I’m shopping. Joel’s taking me golfing later.”

She almost chokes down the line. “Golfing?”

“Yeah. It’s this friend he went to school with, I met him at lunch last week. There’s a few of ‘em going, so he asked me along, too.”

“Nice guy. So, you’re shopping for an outfit?”

“Mhm.”

“Any…dress code?”

“Dress code?” You straighten up, switching the phone to your other ear. “Like, golfing gear? I dunno.”

She laughs. “Alright.”

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing! Nothing, baby.”

“Meant something, Mom. Tell me.”

“No, I just…” She sighs. “You’re sure this isn’t, like…It sounds an awful lot like a date. Like, you’re going on Joel’s arm.”

You’re silent. You suck in a deep breath, fixing an order of words in reply, when your mom cuts in again.

“I bet I’m way off. Forget I said anything.”

“Yeah, gross,” you refute, metal hangers squealing against the rail when you unfreeze. “No. Not a date. It’s, like, networking, or whatever.”

Mom snorts. “Right. Exactly.”

“Not – a date,” you repeat.

You’re relieved when she changes the subject. “Show me what you’re looking at.”

You huff, pulling the phone down and switching to FaceTime. In a second, your mom’s bright, swollen cheeks and ringlet curled hair are on the screen, and she flashes you a pearly smile.

“Was thinking maybe this…?” You angle the phone to show her a navy-blue polo shirt. “And then a white skirt?”

“Nah,” she cuts, and you flip your camera back to your face.

“What’s wrong with it?”

“Too blue. You look better in neutrals. Try beige or brown. Boring colors, y’know? Blend into the walls.”

You hiss something she doesn’t need to hear under your breath and then follow it up with a slightly more polite, “Screw you.”

Her image on your screen shakes violently with how hard she laughs at herself. “I’m messing with you. You know you’ll look beautiful no matter what you choose. Wait a second, though – can you even golf?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever touched a golf club in my life.”

“Thought as much. Does Joel know you’re about to embarrass him like this?”

“He’s aware.”

“Please get him to take some videos. I gotta see this.”

“You know what,” you grumble, holding back your own laughter now, “I’m hanging up. You just solidified your place in the nursing home, you know that?”

She’s still laughing, words pushing through her cackles in desperate punches. “Wait, wait! I gotta tell you why I called you.”

“Alright, go. Thirty seconds.”

“Riley’s pregnant.”

Your face screws up. Lips curl upside down into a grimace. “Oof. Good…good for her…?”

Your mom throws her head back with a roar of laughter. “Be more enthusiastic about it. A little niece or nephew for you!”

“’s more like a…second cousin, or whatever. I bet Aunt Rose is over the moon.”

“She called me screaming this morning. I just thought you’d like to hear, being that you’re in a permanent state of baby fever.”

“Ha,” you state, blank expression never changing. It causes her to erupt into another fit of giggles. “That’s nice, I guess. For Riley. Tell her I said congrats.”

“I will. And I’ll leave out the part where you almost threw up. Alright, I’ll let you go. Good luck golfing. Come back with a hot millionaire boyfriend, maybe! Love you!”

“Yep. ‘kay. Love you. Love you, too – ‘kay – bye – bye, Mom.”

You hang up mid-laugh and her caramel cheeks disappear from the screen. You drop your phone back into your purse and slot the navy-blue polo under your arm, spinning to the rail behind you to find a skirt to go with it.

Riley, pregnant. That’s fucking insane. You two used to spend entire summers riding your bikes around your hometown, spending all of your allowance down at the mall. You swear you’re not old enough to have babies yet. Swear you’re not even old enough to be out of Mom’s house, living on your own in the city.

But then here you are, five years in, making a mental note to buy a baby gift for your cousin, on top of the pre-existing ones reminding you to message that girl who lived across the street when you were kids to say, Congrats on your engagement, and pick up a new home card for your two friends who are on their third mortgage.

Your mom finds it funny – always has. The instant repulsion you feel, the way you recoil whenever you’re asked about kids, about a partner, about a three-bed-two-bath in the suburbs with a big yard and good school nearby.

You don't think any of it's for you. And that’s fine, and every time you skate over the topic, your mom tells you it’s fine. It’s fine. It’s –

“Can I help you, ma’am?”

“Oh,” you snap out of your daydream, clutching a white skirt in your hands, “sorry. I’m sorry. No, I’m good, thanks. Sorry.”

The assistant smiles kindly and nods. Then he spins on his heel and waltzes off, disappearing behind a cardboard cutout of a golfer mid-swing.

It’s not lost on you, by the way – what your mom said. Sounds an awful lot like a date. You’d be lying if you said it hadn’t also crossed your mind. Joel, wanting you there with him. Giving you his card to buy somethin’ nice, which, after the last week, you translate roughly as: something I’ll like. Something he’ll see, and his second thought will be ripping it off your body.

His first thought will be what you’d look like taking it off for him.

And for that reason, you slip the short skirt under your arm beside the polo, and head across the store to find some more stuff to waste Joel’s money on.

----------

Rand pulls up by the curb a few yards down from Ace’s, where you’re sat on a bench enjoying an ice cream. He rolls the window down and lowers his black sunglasses.

“You bein’ paid for this?” he asks, grinning.

You nod, gleeful. “By the hour. Want an ice cream?”

He snorts when you hold Joel’s black card up between two fingers, tilting it in the sunlight. And then he puts the car in park, climbs out, and jaunts over to the ice cream cart by your bench.

He orders a three-scoop cone, and you nod in approval when he sits down alongside you, unbuttoning his suit jacket.

“Respect it,” you say, cheersing your own half-finished cone against his.

----------

When you get back to work, Joel’s already changed into a crisp, clean golfing outfit. It weakens your knees a little when you saunter into his office.

A long-sleeved, dark polo shirt that shows off every curve and flex of his toned arms, paired with gray, just-tight-enough trousers. And pristine white shoes so sharp and clean you’d swear he’d had them polished just for the occasion.

You ignore the way your head lightens at the sight of him and throw yourself into the chair to his right, white back from Ace’s falling between your ankles.

“Alright, Tom, thanks for lettin’ me know,” he says, arms folded, sat back against his desk. He leans back, places the phone back in its cradle, and looks you up and down. “Have fun?”

You shrug, leaning forward to pick a piece of lint from his thigh. “Didn’t know what to get for the most part, so there’s probably stuff I don’t need in there.”

He squints down at his cell phone. “Like, uh…Duke’s Scoops?”

You stare back at him, mirroring his cheeky smirk. Your leg swings, arms cross over your chest, covering the way your breath falters. He’s seen the transactions.

“You gonna grudge me three dollars on an ice cream, Miller?”

“Six fifty,” he mutters, glancing down at his phone again to double check. His tongue runs across his top lip. You want to replace it with yours. “So…that’s at least two ice creams, pretty girl.”

“It’s a hot day. Rand deserved something to cool down. We sat on a bench in the shade ‘n had a nice chat. He taught me how to swing. Verbally,” you add, when Joel’s eyebrows lift.

“Taught you how to swing,” he echoes, and you nod.

“Did you know he used to compete? Junior league?”

He pouts his bottom lip. “Mighta come up in the, what, fifteen years since I met him?”

You beam in reply, standing up and hooking your fingers through the string handles of your shopping bag. “I’m gonna go get changed now.”

“Could just get changed in the car on the way, ‘s a thirty-minute drive.”

You lean in close, eyes flitting over to Martha’s desk to make sure she’s not watching. Your lips brush softly against his ear. “I don’t wanna take any time away from other stuff we could get up to,” you murmur, and Joel’s hand locks around yours, attempting to pull you back as you skip off.

“Be right back,” you call, letting the door fall shut on his suggestive smirk, his tight trousers, and the hard bulge beneath them.

You return five minutes later in your getup. Joel has much the same reaction as you did with him, though he’s not half as good at hiding it. He sits upright in his chair, fingers tight around the armrests.

“Uhuh,” he says, eyes diving to your legs and then resurfacing somewhere around your chest. “Let me just –” he leans over to his phone, “– call Drew, let ‘im know we ain’t comin’…”

“Shut up,” you scoff. “Looks good, though, right?”

Joel’s eyes are still trained on your bare thighs, one crossed over the other. “Looks…better than good.”

You bat your eyelashes. “Still mad about the ice cream?”

“No, ma’am. Not mad at all.”

He stands, slinging both his bag and yours over his shoulder, and walks around his desk to meet you. You give him one final warning.

“You know I’ve never played golf before, right?”

“I know,” he affirms.

“So…bringing me is kinda pointless. I am not gonna bring anything worthwhile.”

“You in that outfit,” Joel mutters – and as he passes by, he makes sure to brush his swollen crotch up against your ass – “makes it worthwhile already.”

----------

Aspen Heights is a hundred and fifty-acre course, vibrant green fairways rolling over hilly land laid out like crinkles in a sheet of green felt. Rand drives slowly up to the clubhouse, gravel crackling under the tires of the Rolls as you and Joel lean over to stare at the landscape – the unkempt, sprawling wild plants guarding the pristine course, the bunkers like giant splotches of white paint on the grass.

You turn back and look to Joel, brows knitting in an expression which could be translated as amazement, could be intrigue, or could simply be: What the fuck are we doing here?

He mirrors it, shaking his head. And it makes you laugh.

“What?” he asks, smiling.

“You could buy this place, easy. Don’t act like you don’t fit in.”

“If you think I fit in here,” he grunts, getting out of the now parked car, “you think very highly of me, angel.”

He doesn’t deny that he could afford to buy it.

The clubhouse is…much the same. Huge, grand, surrounded by a wide-open porch and fronted by a dome-shaped room, paneled by windows that reflect the scene before them.

You follow Joel’s lead, climbing the steps to the double doors by his side, staying close enough that he can guide you with a bump of his arm against yours, but far enough apart that it doesn’t look like you’re showing up together.

Inside, you follow two smartly-dressed attendants through to a room finished in dark oak, shining wooden floors under bare-bulb light figures, a solid marble bar in the center and six perfectly symmetrical high tables surrounding it.

You glance nervously around the room. Drew’s stood over by the windows with three other men – a tan guy with a white baseball cap on, fluorescent orange polo buttoned up to his neck, a shorter guy with tight black curls, fiddling with the cap of a bottle of water, and finally, a guy with dark hair combed within an inch of its life into perfect place, shoulders almost ripping through his blue polo. He looks like he’s been copy-pasted straight from a magazine called Golf Weekly, or something.

Joel takes one step across a patterned rug and Drew notices you both. He breaks off from the group.

“Hey, man.” He grins at Joel and leans over to shake his hand – well, it’s more of that slap-hand thing. They slap each other’s palms, fingers lock, one quick shake of the wrists together, and then a nod of the head. You know?

Then he leans over to you, kisses your cheek. “Sorry it’s just us guys,” he says, hand on your arm. He looks over to the three men by the window, now looking out over the course and pointing. “My girlfriend was supposed to be joining us, but she got called in to work. You two woulda gotten along, you ‘n Rach.”

You smile warmly. “That’s okay. Thanks for asking me.”

“You play much?” Drew asks, leading you both over to the windows.

You shake your head and Joel breathes a laugh.

“Total beginner,” you admit.

Drew bats a hand. “We’ll show you the ropes. This is, uh, this is Steve,” he points to Fluorescent Orange, “Caleb,” Water Bottle holds his hand out to shake yours, “and that’s Daniel.”

Up close, Daniel’s handsome. Sharp jawline, shadowed by the beginnings of stubble, a dimple in the center of his chin. He steps forward, holding a hand out, and you take it. His palm engulfs yours and squeezes – soft but sure. And then you pull away.

The men all nod to Joel, who probably nods back from behind you, and then catches you gently in his arm, cradling it around your back out of view of the others.

“We’ll be getting started soon,” Drew says, “they’re just fixing up a few buggies for us.”

Joel nods, lets go of you, and crosses his arms. You knot your hands awkwardly at your waist. He stays right by your side, though, which you’re grateful for. The last thing you need is another Jean-Marc, some cloaked assistant swooping you off away from the comfort of Joel.

“How’s business, Joel? Drew was tellin’ us about some deal you’re tryna nail.”

Daniel’s eyes are sharp, cerulean blue drilling deep into the warm brown of Joel’s, which calmly stare back. He looks a little younger than Joel, maybe on the cusp of forty, only a few light strands of grey through his deep brown fringe. There’s no wedding ring on his finger. You don’t know why you’re even looking at that.

Joel doesn’t reveal much in the way of answers. Typical of him – or typical of the Joel he is to the rest of the world. “Yeah, ‘s good. Just takin’ my time, we’re workin’ on it.”

Daniel nods, maybe a little too enthusiastically. He crosses his arms, biceps bulging, and then rounds on you.

“You gotta be run off your feet, chasing after him all day, huh?”

You tilt your head toward Joel. “He keeps me busy, yeah.”

Daniel leans into you, laughter crooning from his lips. It wobbles you a little, forces you one step nearer Joel’s side. You smile back, as pleasant as you can muster the courage, and he eventually leans away.

Before he can ask another question, Drew’s calling you all over to the sliding patio doors. Daniel hops back a step, nods to you, and says, “After you.”

“Thanks, Dan,” Joel cuts, stepping into the space the blue-eyed man had left specifically for you, sweeping you off as he goes.

----------

There isn’t anything about golf that intrigues you. Not even remotely. You’ve never watched it, never wanted to play it – the most you’ve dabbled in it is minigolf, and even that became a fucking bore after two anniversary dates in a row there with Blake.

Still, you watch patiently and politely as the men take their shots one by one, starting with Drew, all the way through to Daniel, who gives his driver a quick shine with a gloved hand before stepping up. On your left, Joel scoffs quietly to himself.

Daniel swings back, and his biceps swell under the tight sleeves of his shirt. You watch as his arms follow through, sending the ball hurtling through the air and well past its three predecessors.

Joel nudges your elbow.

“Ow,” you mumble, running a hand over the skin.

He gives you a perplexed look. “I said, you can use my clubs. You in there?”

“Yeah,” you reply, a little too defensively. “Just…paying attention.”

“Hm.”

The men on your right groan as Daniel strides back over to join them, a satisfied grin across his face. Your eyes trace him as he leans on his driver, one white pant leg crossing over the other.

When you turn back to the tee box, Joel’s lifting his own club from his bag. His broad, muscled shoulders flex under the dark material of his shirt; his tall figure walks over to the tee, delicate fingers dancing along the handle of the club, and he clears his throat.

And suddenly, the memory of Daniel and his stupid biceps is dust in the wind.

Joel takes, like, half a practice swing. Doesn’t even have to aim, not really. Just pulls his arms back, sucks his waist in, and goes for it.

His ball lands a couple meters ahead of Daniel’s. And you wonder when the fuck golf became this sexy.

He turns back and runs his tongue over his top lip, breathing a little heavy. The sight drives you fucking insane for the second time today. And then he’s smiling at you, jerking his head in a gesture for you to join him.

You step forward, a little shy, a little hot, and wander mutely over to him.

“I got you,” he says, and reaches for your wrist.

You move to take the driver from his hand and Joel clicks his teeth, shaking his head.

“Said I got you,” he utters, and pulls your body into his, shelling around you. His beard scratches lightly against your ear.

“Joel,” you whisper, laughing nervously and tossing a quick glance back over to the men standing just feet away. Drew just said something apparently hilarious. Caleb gives him a solid whack on the shoulder and doubles over laughing. Steve’s watching a butterfly float by.

“They ain’t watchin’,” Joel says, curving his arms around yours and fixing your hands on the handle of the club. “s just you ‘n me.”

You wriggle under his grasp and feel the hum of laughter from his chest between your shoulders, the weight of his belt riding on your ass. Your cheeks heat when his chin rests on your collarbone.

“Alright,” he says, hands tightening around your own. “You’re gonna line it up, stand with your legs a little apart, little more…”

The toe of his shoe taps your heel and you widen your stance.

“Good girl,” he whispers. A pulse shakes through your body. “Now, on your backswing, you’re gonna want your left shoulder under your chin, ‘n your hands above your right shoulder. Yeah?”

“Got it,” you mumble, so unconvincing that it makes you laugh after you’ve said it.

He gives your waist a tiny squeeze and steps back, watching as you carefully lift the club and curve it around your shoulders. You hear him from behind.

“’attagirl. Keep your knees bent, you got it.”

You take one good swing, and hit the ball on your first try, but it’s…it’s bad, for sure. It’s pretty terrible. The ball lands on this side of the fairway, muddled in amongst the longer grass of the rough. But it’s your first ever shot – least not with colored balls and spinning windmills in the way – and so when you turn back to Joel with a huge beam across your lips, your expression is reflected in his.

“Good job!” he chuckles, stalking back over to you.

“Good job,” you echo with a laugh, handing him the club. You twist and hold your hand up to shield your eyes, staring down the course. “Look where it is, ‘n look where yours are.”

He glances back over to where your sad little ball sits. “We’ll get a few drinks down those guys,” he whispers, hand on your back. “See how good they are in a few holes’ time.”

----------

You’re back in the clubhouse after finishing the eighteenth hole on something of a high. Joel managed to worsen the accuracy of your competitors only so much – your end of the deal was to improve as the round went on, which you try to argue you technically did, given that you began to land your shots on the fairway around hole seven, but your argument is let down by Joel’s reminder that, on hole thirteen, he had to dig your ball out of the bunker for you.

“And I am eternally grateful to you for agreeing to never fucking talk about it again,” you say through gritted teeth, and he laughs.

“Last time, promise.”

Drew joins the pair of you at your table and slaps an arm down on Joel’s shoulder.

“Your round, asshole.”

Joel grumbles, gives your elbow a cursory tap, and slides off to the bar. Drew takes his seat, nudges your arm.

“I am impressed,” he tells you, slurring his words a little.

“Yeah?” you ask, and he nods. “I didn’t think I was so good.”

“Oh,” he shakes his head, “you weren’t. I meant I’m impressed you stuck it out.”

“Oh, fuck you,” you hiss.

He snorts, head bobbing with the alcohol bubbling in his blood. “I’m kidding. You were great, for your first time. I’m really glad you came.”

“Me, too,” you admit.

Drew opens his mouth to say something else when a clatter from across the clubhouse interrupts him. You turn at the same time to see a waiter on his ass at the other side of the room. His metal tray rattles against the wooden floor, flutes smashed in a pool of champagne by his side.

“Oh, shoot,” Drew mumbles, setting his glass down on the table.

You push off your stool, sliding your drink alongside his, but he motions for you to stay.

“I got it,” he says, palm lightly tapping your wrist. “I got it.”

He shuffles off to the waiter, now being helped to his feet by Caleb. The last you see is Drew bending to grab the silver tray, before he’s swept out of your view by –

“Poor guy,” Daniel muses, fist locked tight around a lager. He pulls Joel’s stool out and slips onto the cushion, elbow brushing against yours.

You readjust awkwardly in your own chair and pull on the hem of your skirt.

“So,” Daniel clears his throat, the bottom of his glass scraping along the wooden tabletop, “how’d you find your first round of golf?”

You smile politely. “Uh, good. Yeah. I wasn’t expecting to be much, but it wasn’t too scary.”

He chuckles. “Yeah? Think you’ll be back?”

Your shoulders jerk with a shrug. “Maybe.”

He nods and dives headfirst into some long ramble about golf – something about the time he brought his sister and her kids here and how much worse they were than you, so you should really be proud of yourself, and he’d love to see you around here again sometime – but you’re only half listening. You’re stealing glances over at the bar, hunting for a chiseled jawline and monochrome beard.

You spot him locked between Steve and some other guy in all black, waiting for the bartender to draw up his order of drinks. He’s nodding, saying words back to the pair, but keeping his eyes locked on you.

You give him half a smile, half a, There you are, what the hell’s taking you so long? Can you come the fuck back? and hope he reads the words across your face.

“…so, as long as you stick with what you know, it’s actually a really enjoyable game.”

Daniel stares at you blankly, waiting for a response.

“Sure, sure,” you answer, after too long a pause to convince him that you were listening. “Sorry,” you close your eyes and give your head a shake, “was just checking on that waiter.”

Daniel nods. Follows the trail of your eyeline across the room, and looks back to you. “So, uh,” he clears his throat nervously, “I know this place downtown – Italian, has this big open rooftop seating area. If you’re interested, I’d, uh…I’d love to take you, sometime.”

You stare at him for a few seconds, frozen. Like, actually convinced the air in your lungs has turned to ice, frozen. Your eyes probably look like they’re about to burst out of your head, your mouth stuck in a dumb O-shape as you search frantically for the words to form a reply.

He smiles awkwardly. Watches as you blink straight back at him.

“I…” you manage, after what feels like fucking hours. “…That’s – so nice, Daniel, I – really – I’m flattered. Um…”

He interrupts, and it’s like a cold flannel on an acid burn. “Oh, Jesus. I – I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to – I’m sorry.”

“No,” you shake your head, suddenly animated, “no, listen. It’s – you’re –”

Daniel’s still apologizing. “Are you – sorry, I don’t mean to assume – are you and – you and Joel…?”

His head jerks. One eyebrow cocked. His fingers press into the table, making counter-rotating circles across the gleaming surface.

You stare from his hands to his face, open-mouthed. “N-no,” you tell him, with a single shake of your head. And then you realize he’s being serious. “No, no, we’re not – no, absolutely not. We’re just – friends.”

“Right,” he says, brows knitting. “It’s just – the guy hasn’t taken his eyes off you the entire time I’ve been sat here, so I just figured…maybe…”

You follow Daniel’s gaze across to the bar again, where Joel’s still standing, this time with Drew at his side. He’s mouthing Yeah, in reply to whatever Steve’s gabbing about, but not fucking listening to a word of it.

“No,” you say again, looking Joel dead in the eye. “We’re just friends.”

You turn to look back at the slick-haired man by your side, and he nods.

“But, uh,” you look into your glass, the ice suddenly more interesting than Daniel’s hopeful expression, “you’re a really nice guy, and I appreciate you asking, but I’m…not…exactly looking for anything right now. I’m – yeah.”

“Right – no, absolutely,” he says again, flustered. His fingers wrap tight around his glass and he shifts as if to stand. “That’s absolutely fine. I just thought I’d ask, y’know?”

He laughs nervously. You feel kinda guilty. He’s being so decent about it, and he means well, but you really just wish he would…fuck off.

He isn’t given the option.

Drew comes bounding over like a golden retriever and leans in to Daniel, another freshly poured pint swinging in his fist. “You’ve improved your game, Gilbert,” he sings in your suitor’s ear. “Must be years since the last time you scored an eagle!”

Daniel copies Drew’s guffawing, nodding along. He opens his mouth to say something, but Drew jumps ahead, offering to buy him a drink to celebrate.

“C’mon, my treat,” the blond tells him, and swaggers off towards the bar, a vice grip on the blue polo shirt.

The shadow of Joel slips around your back as soon as the two figures are out of view. He brushes against your shoulders and nudges his stool nearer to yours with his foot, before sitting back into it with a sigh.

You stare at him, smirking behind your hand, elbow resting on the arm of your chair. He catches your eye and watches you for a few seconds.

Sorry, he mouths eventually, and sneaks a hand onto your thigh.

You lean into him, feeling the weight of Daniel and his proposal and his fucking Italian restaurant fall like insignificant grains off sand off your shoulders. You trace a finger along the shape of Joel’s knuckles. “I feel bad,” you whisper.

“The hell for?” his voice asks, a deep rumble by your temple.

You shrug, looking up at him. “He’s a nice guy. He asked me on a date.”

“And did you want to go?”

Your face pulls into a wince, lips flinching. “Not really.”

“Then what’d I tell you about doin’ stuff you don’t want to?”

You don’t reply. Your mind sails back to that boat ride in Paris, when he basically told you off for feeling guilty about rejecting a fucking marriage proposal, never mind a downtown dinner. It doesn’t bear thinking about what fantastic rant he’s currently bottling up where Daniel’s feelings are concerned.

Joel’s a no-nonsense guy, you know this. Known it for as long as you’ve known him. He’s rational, he’s pragmatic. He says what he thinks, and you deal with however you feel about it. He doesn’t waste time making anyone feel better with lies or cushion-soft landings. His yes is yes and his no is no. And sure, maybe there’s something in there that you’d do well to adopt, too.

But there are inconsistencies to him that you can’t work out – yet. Something that makes him break his rules. He still hasn’t shared whatever the hell Jean-Marc said to him that made him sweep you off of that terrace minutes later. He won’t admit why he keeps dragging you along to these so-called ‘work’ events.

Part of you wants to break him open, chip away at him like the sculptures in the Louvre until his beating heart is in your hands, the rhythmic pulses sharing secrets like it’s speaking in Morse code.

And part of you – bigger, stronger, wiser – hopes you never get close.

When you come back to the room, sound of glasses clinking and men’s roaring laughter washing away any thoughts of jilted boyfriends or lonely golfers, Joel lowers his head to look you in the eye.

“You wanna go?”

You nod, scrunching your nose. “That okay?”

He leans in close, as close as he reckons he can get without drawing attention, and smiles softly. “You coulda asked to go home the minute we pulled up ‘n it woulda been okay. Let’s go.” And he takes your hand.

Drew’s slung over the shoulders of some argyle-patterned men who you’re sure have spent more time drinking than they have actually on the course. He’s lifting his glass, about to toast to life, or love, or fucking golf, when Joel sneaks by behind him, never letting go of your hand.

The Rolls Royce is sat in park at the bottom of the stone steps, hazard lights blinking. Joel holds the door open as you hop in under the twinkling ceiling.

“Well?” Rand asks, looking in the mirror. You respond with a toss of your head, squinting. “Did you keep your feet straight like I taught you?” he demands.

“Honestly, I was more focused on making sure I hit the ball, Rand.”

He snorts. “Office, Joel?”

“Office, Rand.”

As the partition closes, Joel’s hand comes up to cup the back of your head. You lean into it, tilting to look at him properly through eyes glazed with tiredness, alcohol, relief to be back in only his company.

And he’s staring back, eyes flitting from yours down to your mouth when you speak.

“Did you…did you send Drew over to get Daniel away from me?”

Joel’s eyes stay fixed on your lips. “You didn’t want me to do that?”

You ignore him. You want him to answer your question. “Did you?”

And then he looks up. Searches your eyes for a second, and then says, “Yeah.”

Your stare falls down into his lap. To his closed fist, resting on his thigh. His fingers are stroking the back of your head in lulling movements. You focus on the shine of his watch. And horror sets in.

“You wanted him to stay?” Joel asks, bringing you up for air for half a second.

You’re quiet when you reply. “…No. I didn’t want him anywhere near me.”

And that’s somehow scarier. That you didn’t want this decent, attractive-enough man around you. That the entire time he sat nipping your ear, your eyes, your hands, your heart was searching all over the room for Joel. Listening for the twang of his voice, looking for him out of your peripheral. Counting every second until he sauntered back to your side.

It’s rolling. The feeling. Like a snowball gaining speed down a mountain. Starts off a twinge, a plucking somewhere buried deep in your heart, and turns and turns and turns until it’s a weight behind your ribcage. Unable to burst free.

You take Joel’s wrist and move his hand to the curve of your thigh, then lock your fingers between his. He lets you. You lift your free hand to the cut of his jawline, training your fingers down his bristled beard, and he lets you do that, too. And when you pull his face down to meet yours, lips warm and wet and starving, he opens his mouth and slips his tongue past your teeth.

Your hands are knotting in his hair. You’re leaning back, trying to pull him down on top of you, but he’s stronger. His hands take a strong grip of your waist and hoist you over the center console and into his lap, your knees pressing into the soft leather either side of his hips.

“You gonna tell me what you’re up to, pretty girl?” he asks, tipping his head back. His shirt smells like his cologne. Fresh, sharp, clean. It sends your head spinning.

Your lips find his jawline and nip kisses and bites along the sharp ridge. He tastes like whiskey, tastes like the sun, tastes like he did four days ago. Sweet and smoky and laced with something intoxicating.

Joel sighs. His hands knead into your hips, and he pushes you down, grinding you into his body.

He’s hard. Already.

“Feels like you already know,” you mutter, still peppering his neck with kisses.

He laughs the cocky way he always does when you’re on this road, heading this way. His hands find your hair again and he pulls your head back, drawing a whine from your lips.

“You gonna take it like a good girl? Take daddy’s cock?”

“Mhm,” you mewl, rubbing your damp panties over the bulge in his pants.

Joel unzips his trousers and shifts the waistband loose. You move his hands and peel back the top of his boxers yourself, and he watches from under heavy lids as you take him in both hands.

“That’s – my girl,” he chokes, eyes following your pumping fists. His head tips back with a quiet groan.

You push yourself up, shuffle nearer to him until your cunt hovers over his cock, and pull your panties to the side. You’re fucking soaked, already wet enough that Joel’s thick head catches on the cusp of your entrance as you line him up, stealing a gasp from your lips.

You sink, slowly, letting him push through into your sex inch by inch, feeling yourself pull open around him. Your brows furrow, jaw falls wide at the white-hot feeling between your legs, and you look up to see your expression reflected in Joel’s.

His hands clutch at your hips. “So – fucking – tight,” he hums, eyes rolling.

You lock your knees and begin bouncing, resting your hands on top of Joel’s. You’re steadily picking up pace, each nudge of his tip against the edge of your pussy sending another spasm of stars across your quickly-blinding vision.

“Off,” Joel mumbles against your lips, fingers pinching the fabric of your shirt.

“Huh?” you ask back, looking down to where he’s already peeling it up your torso.

“Just the skirt,” he pants, desperate, “nothin’ else.”

You lift your arms and let him pull the polo from your body, tossing it onto the carpeted floor. Joel unhooks your bra and pulls the lace down, before he’s angling his hips up again, hitting you somewhere deep enough inside to steal the breath from your lungs.

And then his lips are on your naked chest, sinking into the valley between your breasts, kissing over to your nipple. His tongue flicks over and over until the bud is pointed, enough to take it between his lips and graze over it with his teeth.

Your thighs are burning. Your skirt sits bunched up on your hips, only just covering your ass as Joel’s hands press into the supple skin, lifting you effortlessly up and down. You melt into his touch, let him do the work for a few seconds as he sits back in his seat to watch your body on his.

“My good – girl,” he groans, voice thick with arousal. “You know how pretty you look right now?”

You hook your hand around his neck, draw him in a little nearer. Shake your head with a filthy smile on your lips. “Tell me.”

Joel laughs shakily. “Wanna – fuckin’ – show you off to everyone, babygirl.”

He’s kissing you slowly, his tongue pressed to yours, when you pull back and separate your lips. He’s planted a seed in your mind.

Joel’s hips stop moving immediately. “Y’okay?” he asks, light hand on the side of your head, keeping your eyes on him.

You nod, breathing heavy. “Mhm.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you shake your head, “just…”

You look down to your skirt, your bare thighs spread over Joel’s lap. The thought flips over and over in your head, unsure if it’s brave enough to trot down to your lips and show itself to Joel.

“Baby?”

It’s Joel, though. Same guy who bent you over his desk, same guy who fucked you senseless feet away from his flight attendants. Same guy who, a few days ago, you were in this exact position with: writhing in next to nothing on his lap.

Fuck it. Right?

“…want him to watch,” you say, in a small voice.

Joel’s expression doesn’t change, save for the way his eyes narrow. “Want who to watch?”

You look at him a beat longer, and it sinks in. He gets it.

“Yeah, babygirl? That what you want?”

“Mhm,” you reply, shifting with him when he starts moving his hips again. The car moves forward, pushing you closer into him. “Want him to – watch you fuck me.”

“Dirty girl. You want him to watch you cum for daddy, pretty girl?”

“Ye-ah,” you moan, Joel’s hands now pushing your waist down, the stretch of his cock deep inside you almost burning with pleasure.

“Yeah, you do,” he whispers, watching as your face pulls and your brows knit together.

“Only cum for you, daddy,” you whimper.

“I know, darlin’, I know. Close your eyes.”

By this point, Joel’s assured tone, his strong hands on your hips, his fucking length buried inside you, are enough to convince you. You just do as you’re fucking told – as soon as you’re fucking told.

Your eyes flutter closed, and you lean forward, hooking your chin over his shoulder and feeling him turn, his lips pressed close to your ear.

“Good girl. He there?”

The image of Daniel flits across your vision, bright blue eyes trained on you. He looks…intrigued, and stunned. He’s not breaking his stare.

“Mhm,” you say again, and start to lift off of Joel.

“He watching?”

“Y-eah,” you choke out, bouncing steadily.

“Put on a show for ‘im, pretty girl. Show him what you do for me.”

You focus on the feeling of Joel, cock fucking deep into you, nuzzling against your walls and splitting you open; the sound of his voice in your ear, gently encouraging, sweetly reassuring; the smell of him, the taste of him, the heat from his skin, and…the sight of the steel-blue stare behind your eyes. The tight polo shirt. The round biceps. Watching you.

Watching you be fucked by someone else. Watching you come undone for someone else. For the same guy whose stare he couldn’t shake while he so much as talked to you. Watching your face as it twists in filthy pleasure; listening to you make sounds, whisper words, whisper daddy in the ear of your fucking boss; have him whisper words back that make your cunt tighten around him and push the image of Daniel two steps back with shock.

“Tell me again, angel.” Joel’s voice starts to swipe Daniel away.

Your eyes peel open, the backseat of the Rolls a blur as you roll your head back. “What, daddy?” you whimper.

His hand takes your jaw, holds you in line with his own. “Tell me who this pussy belongs to.”

You breathe a laugh. It pulls across your mouth two seconds later. “M-me.”

Joel mirrors your grin. His hips buck once. You cry out. “Yeah?”

“Uhuh,” you yelp, getting louder as he snaps up into you deeper, faster, harder.

You’re drawing around him, warm and wet, feeling him deep in your stomach as your movements become sloppy and staggered. Pleasure swirls like a whirlpool between your legs, tightening, tightening, tightening.

Joel’s face sharpens into your vision. His eyes are fixed on yours. You watch his lips shape the words good girl, before he pulls your foreheads together, noses flush against one another.

“’n who fucks it like this?” he asks into your mouth.

You take a deep breath, inhaling his question, and let a satisfied exhale carry your answer back out.

“Just y-you, daddy.”

And you both fall.

You rock back and forth as the feeling drowns you both; open-mouthed, silently screaming, eyes trained on one another as you ride out your high together.

You throw your head back, eyes losing focus just inches under the stars until they blur into little white halos. Your arms lift up to lean against the tiny dotted lights, steadying yourself.

Joel’s hands clamp around your waist, holding you down on his cock as he shoots hot ropes of cum deep inside you, mixing with your own and filling you up. Your name escapes his lips hand in hand with a deep, throaty moan.

You body aches. Your cunt throbs around him, still humming with pleasure as your body curls again, falling forward until your face is hidden in the crook of his neck. His hands run up and down your spine, lips press featherlight kisses to your ear, shhing, whispering praise, bringing you slowly back into the car with him.

“Daddy…” you whisper into the soft cotton of his shirt, and you feel the weight of his cheek on your head.

His hands cup your cheeks and he lifts your face until you’re staring at one another. Your eyes are tired, you can hardly keep them open, but Joel holds you upright.

“We gotta stop this,” he whispers, and your foreheads fall together again as you laugh. “I’m gettin’ too old for it, baby.”

He’s still buried deep inside, slowly softening, but you don’t want him to go. Not yet. He reaches for your bra, helps you slip it back on, and you bend back to take your shirt in two fingers.

When you’re dressed, you sink back into him.

Joel laughs, brushing the wisps of your hair disturbed by pulling your shirt over your head. “That what you were thinkin’ about? While he was talkin’ to you?”

You smile lazily. Shake your head no. “Was thinking…about you taking me to the Italian he was talking about.”

Joel’s smile grows bigger. Biggest you think you’ve ever seen him smile before. It breaks into a laugh, a toothy chuckle, and then he kisses you.

You melt into him, tongue and teeth crashing against one another. Joel’s open palms surf along your thighs, molding around your skin. He squeezes the dimpled skin on your hips between his fingers.

“Tonight work for you?” he asks, and you giggle.

“No,” you tell him, “I got Martha’s to-do list to work through.”

He nods knowingly, eyes closing. “You want a hand with it?”

You smirk. “Can we fool around in your office between items?”

His head tips back against the headrest with an obvious expression. “What do you think?”

The car slows to a stop and Rand’s knuckles rap against the glass of the partition. You slip off of Joel’s lap, fix yourselves quickly, and then amble off back to the top floor, still a little weak in the knees.

“Home time, Martha,” Joel calls almost as soon as the elevator doors pull open.

“Excuse me?” she yells back.

He laughs. “I’m lettin’ you go early. It ain’t fair that we get to go have our fun ‘n you’re stuck here ‘til five. Let us know what needs done, ‘n then you can get goin’.”

“Ain’t that chivalrous?” Martha beams, blinking at you.

You saunter by her with a smile and toss your bag under your desk. You spin around, brace yourself against the arms of your chair, and throw yourself back against the comfortable leather.

“So,” she announces, almost fucking skipping over to you with her trusty notepad back in her clutches. “I whittled it down to just six things, so it shouldn’t keep you much longer than five o’clock…”

You lift your brows and nod along.

“…as long as you don’t find anything to distract yourselves with, that is.”

----------

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Favorite Pretty Boys (Ace X F!Reader X Yamato)

Poly!Ace & Poly!Yamato In Modern!AU <3

Warnings: People stunking, incel behaviour, slight homophobia and transphobia, don't worry wholesome ending

Just a simple, cute, wholesome day out with your two sweet loving boyfriends.

"Damn it!". Soft noise of music plays in the room with scurrying, a young woman running around her room looking for something cute to wear. She's already done her hair and makeup, just needing an outfit. A loud honk makes her jump, running over the window to see Aces truck. The back window opens, Yamato climbing out with his fists in the air. "(Y/N)! WE'RE HERE!". He calls. "Ah shit". She mutters. She runs to her closet, grabbing a random dress with matching shoes and quickly slipping them on. Grabbing her purse with her phone, keys and wallet in it, rushing out her house.

She locks the door behind herself, walking to the car. "(YYY/NNN)!". Yamato cheers happily. Ace turns to look out the window with his arm hanging out. He wolf whistles when he sees (Y/n), smirking. "Hey there hot stuff! You single?". He asks in a joking manner. "Sorry handsome, I have a boyfriend! Two actually". She jokes back, walking over to the other side and climbing into the car. "Hey (Y/n)! Look how pretty you look today!". Yamato compliments, leaning from the back seat into the front and hugging her. "Aw, thank you Yamato! You two don't look too bad yourselves". She tells the two, pecking the very tall males cheek.

(Y/n) then looks to Ace. "So, where're we going today?". She asks him. "Yeah! You haven't told me either!". Yamato adds. "Well I thought we'd go to the mall, go to the arcade, and for lunch we go to this new restaurant that opened up and I just so happen to know someone who works there". Ace explains with a cocky smirk on his face. "Really!?". Yamato asks him. "Yep". He simply answers. "That's so sweet!". "Thank you Ace!". He gets jumped by his boyfriend and girlfriend, getting smothered with kisses. "Okay okay! I love you two too, but we should head off". He tells the two. "Okay!". (Y/n) and Yamato agree, sitting properly in their respective seats.

~

All the three can hear is the bustling noise of the mall, filled with the sounds of people talking, stores playing music, and shoes hitting the ground. The three walk hand in hand, Ace being sandwiched in the middle of his short girlfriend and his tall boyfriend. As the three walk, Yamato couldn't help but notice the whispers coming from people looking at them. His glare causes a few people to shut up, only a few. He looked over to look at Ace and (Y/n), seeing the two talking happily to each other as (Y/n) has her arms wrapped around and body pressed against his body. He decided to just ignore the on lookers and to just enjoy his time with the two shorties he loves.

~

"Come on come on!". Ace grumbles, moving the leaver and pressing the button. The claw goes down, grabbing a plush of a capybara and raises it up. Before the three can cheer, the claw drops the toy. "Aw man! Fuck off!". Ace snaps, kicking the machine. "Hey its fine, really". (Y/n) reassures him, stroking his arm. "Here! Let me try". Yamato slots in a coin, giving the machine a go. The two boyfriends felt the undying need to get the toy for their girlfriend, especially since she gushed over it as soon as she laid eyes on them. "Pfft, like you'll get it. Those stupid things are rigged as he-". "Yeah baby!". Yamato cheers, causing Ace to shut up.

He looks to see (Y/n) bend over and pull the capybara plush out the machine, holding it up like a monkey holding up a baby lion with the biggest grin and stars in her eyes. "Thank you Yamato! It's so cute! You're the best boyfriend!". She says happily, standing on her tippy toes and pecking him on the cheek. Yamato puffs his chest out and flexes his arms up. "Best boyfriend!". Yamato cheers happily. Ace chuckles as he looks at the two, loving how cute they look right now. His smile drops when he sees two guys pointing and laughing at the two, not even trying to hide their bullying.

He's a guy, he knows the types of guys who'd be way too open about their thoughts and opinions in public. Especially with Yamato identifying as male but from afar it looks like a lesbian relationship. He expected as much when getting into a relationship with the two. He just stares at the guys, the two limp noodles shutting up and walking away. He also expected that, if they where the type of guys he thought with being an incel or homophobic/transphobic than they'd just skedaddle away when getting eye scolded by a tall hot buff dude. He just turns to look back at his girlfriend and boyfriend, mustering up a smile.

~

As the day starts to end, the three walk into a new restaurant. Ace smiles as he walks faster into the room, a blonde walking up to him with a smile and the two happily shake hands. "Sanji! How you doing my man!?". He greets the blonde happily. "I'm good I'm good! And uh, who are those two beauties with you?". Sanji asks with a smirk, looking at the "two women" who are holding hands and chatting. "Them? The cute shortie is my girlfriend (Y/n), tall and hot is my boyfriend Yamato". Ace answers. Sanji makes an 'o' face, nodding. "Lucky man lucky man". He chuckles. "Your table is table 7, take a seat and you'll be served shortly". Sanji then tells him, remembering that he's at work and he can't just stand around and chat with his friend. Well friends friend but what ever.

"Babe! Sweetheart! Come on, I got us a table". Ace tells the two, turning to look at them. They two smile happily at each other, them walking over to join the other boyfriend. The three walk over to the table that the waiter assigned them, taking a seat at the circled table. (Y/n) notices a slight uneased feeling from the other two, she speaks up. "Are you two okay? Did something happen before you two picked me up?". She asked. Yamato and Ace turn to each other, seeing each others matching concerned face. "You noticed too?". Ace asks him. "Hmh, yeah". Yamato confirms. "Notice what? Oh God am I pregnant!? Is Yamato pregnant!? IS ACE PREGNANT!?". She asks in shock. "I'm not pregnant you idiot! No one is pregnant!". Ace snaps at her. "It's just...we both seem to noticed whispers and looks from people because of...well...". "Us". Yamato finishes.

(Y/n) frowns a brow at their words. "Whispers and looks?". She asks. "People pointing and saying stuff about us". Yamato answers. "Dickheads saying stuff about you two". Ace adds his own answer. (Y/n) lets out a chuckle, raising her eyebrow. "And?". She asks. "Who cares?". She asks. "Y-You don't care?". Yamato asks. "You're the most emotional person out of the three of us and you don't care?". Ace asks. "So what if I am? Yes I'm an emotional person but my emotions care more about you two, and being happy with you two". (Y/n) explains. "You two are my pretty boys, as long as we're all happy than who cares? Who cares if we get judged, we're adults and can make our own choices about our love life and sex life. I love you both, and that's all I care about". She adds. The two boyfriends look at each other, than laugh happily to each other. "What did we expect?". Ace asks him. "Yeah, we should have expected something like that from her". Yamato adds.

(Y/n) pouts, crossing her arms. "Well sorry for being honest with my feelings and thinking that it would help you two feel less upset about getting judged". She groans, rolling her eyes. "Hey hey hey, we love you two (Y/n) and we appreciate you doing that". Ace explains. "Just thought ya might cry". Yamato adds. "What? Oh shut up no I wouldn't". (Y/n) snaps. "Munchkins, you cried the other day because of a video of pufferfish". Yamato reminds her. "They looked so stupid and goofy I love them!". (Y/n) snaps back, a little whimper in her voice from remembering the video. "Whatever, we're out right now. Let's just enjoy our date and have a good time". She tells them. "Yeah you're right, especially since Sanjis cooking is by far fantastic". Ace tells them two. "I sure hope so! I'm staaaaaarving!". Yamato whines. "I'm actually quite thirsty, I think we should order now". (Y/n) suggests, the two nodding.

What a fun day with the boyfriends.

[missfrustration]

thirty-six pushups (serirei mp100 nsfw fic)

rating: explicit 18+, minors do not interact!

pairing: serizawa katsuya x reigen arataka

tags: pwp, smut, anal sex, fingering, top serizawa, bottom reigen, sweet/hot, hand jobs, boss/employee, office sex, desk sex, first time, loss of virginity, spit as lube, whimpering, old men yaoi, and yes pushups.

A/n: as soon as the pushup challenge on tiktok started popping off, I knew I had to make this. guys IFKYK. on ao3 here!

word count: 4.9k

-------------

“I’m telling you, Serizawa! If Mob can do it, I can too!” 

Reigen stands before Serizawa in the Spirits and Such Consultation Office, looking childishly proud.

This conversation sparked after Serizawa and Reigen finished up with their last job of the day. A gym owner claimed their dumbbells would randomly fall on the toes of guests. After briefly searching the facility, they exorcised the spirit of a washed-out bodybuilder who was spiteful of anyone more buff than him. The owner promptly thanked them with a lifetime membership, even inviting them to compete in a push-up challenge. 

Although caring, Reigen decided to turn them down. Serizawa asked why Reigen didn’t participate. 

“Ah, you see, Serizawa. I have been creating my secret training regime where I have reaped better benefits than going to some sweaty gym.”

On the way back to the office, Reigen revealed the details of his secret training regime: the Remote Psychic Muscle Activation Technique. Reigen uses his psychic powers to target each muscle in his body, producing his "current muscular physique." Thus, he was confident he would win that competition and didn’t want to hurt those gym bros' egos. However, the more Serizawa asked questions, the more Reigen shifted around to find answers. 

Once arriving at the office, Reigen had beads of sweat dripping down him, which he immediately wiped off with a towel when he reached his desk. Serizawa enjoyed hearing about his boss’s stories; it was another side of Reigen he didn’t experience in the office. It was refreshing to Serizawa to hear Reigen talk about whatever he wanted just for him to listen. 

After Reigen wiped himself off, he continued with the discussion on push-ups. They mentioned Mob’s recent accomplishment of doing 35 push-ups in a row, which both men were amazed by. 

Thus comes the current conversation. Serizawa stands in awe of Reigen, smiling back at his boss, “I think you can too, Reigen. You could do anything if you put your mind to it.”

Reigen face warms up, swatting his hand as to dismiss him. He bashfully shakes his head, saying, “Come, Serizawa, that is too nice of you. Alright, I have made up my mind. Watch me as I perform the most pushups humanity has known!” 

Serizawa is pleasantly surprised that his boss would want to demonstrate something like this in front of him, “Oh, I believe in you. You can do it!” He quietly claps as he sits down. 

In a flash, Reigen swiftly slips off his suit jacket and undoes the buttons on his dress shirt before tossing it, revealing the white T-shirt hiding underneath. Reigen hits the floor and gets in position.

In reality, Reigen doesn’t have a plan. Hell, the last time he worked out was the last time he jogged with Mob for his marathon, and even then, he tapped out after 10 minutes! 

He looks back at Serizawa, debating if he should smooth talk his way out of this or not. Serizawa looks back with awe and determination in his eyes, ready to see his boss ace this challenge. The twinkle of excitement in the hues of his pupils strikes a chord in Reigen. How could he possibly turn down a face like Serizawa’s?! 

He sighs in self-defeat, now knowing he has to do it. He can’t flake right now, not after all that talking up! He probably could pull it off if he did those modified pushups… no, but girls usually do that.

“Okay, here goes,” Reigen is unprepared for what the next few minutes will bring him. Nevertheless, he inhales deeply and starts.

“One! Two! Three! Hey, this is easier than I thought!” Reigen says pleasantly. “Piece of cake already.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less from you, sir.” Serizawa says, “Keep going!”

Reigen feels warmth on his cheeks from the compliment Serizawa gives him. A boost of motivation hits him immediately, and he keeps his arms pushing like a hot knife on butter.

“Six. Seven. Eight. Nine-”

Reigen immediately recognizes that his mouth feels dryer. His arms are starting to shake. There's a slight tremble in his voice after counting each rep. 

This is not a good sign for Reigen. 

“Ten.” He stammers. Reigen feels weak already. “Hahaha, man. Eleven.” Maintaining his previous swagger in front of Serizawa is getting more challenging now. Screw it. He will just have to keep going until he can’t anymore. 

“Twelve. Hahh.” A now-winded Reigen pauses to catch his breath before continuing to push out more in hurried intervals rather than the past cadence he started. He manages to push out 3 or 4 reps each time before needing a few moments to recuperate. Slowly, though, Reigen finds it more challenging to keep a strong voice. 

“Twenty-two. T-twenty-three.” Reigen accidentally whimpers but doesn’t give up hope. Sure, he sounds like a total weakling, but as long as he shows he can do enough, maybe Reigen can squeeze away with all the panting by his ad-libbing. He can’t bear to see Serizawa’s face in the middle of this; he is way too embarrassed.

Serizawa quickly notices this but doesn’t think much about it.

“Twenty-four.”

Of course, that is the best way for Serizawa to help his boss create a positive work environment! Supporting others is always necessary.

“Twenty-f-five.”

There is nothing more than professional work going on, after all.

“Hahh. Hah, twenty-six.”

A disciple should support their boss just as much as Reigen helps him.

“Twenty-seven.”

So why does Serizawa feel weird? Why is his face so hot and his chest tight?

“Twenty-eight.” Reigen whimpers again as his arms begin to shake.

Serizawa can’t believe what he’s feeling. It’s an overwhelming feeling he hasn’t ever had to this degree. Not with anyone but… 

“Twenty-nine.”

Serizawa knows. He’s felt this way about Reigen dozens of times since they met. Whether it was the first act of kindness when Reigen offered to hire him, the times they would eat lunch on break together, or how much it meant to him when he smiled. He’s felt this way about Reigen before, but not to this degree.

Thirty.

Serizawa knows what this is now. Reigen’s noises are starting to make him feel very unforgiving thoughts.

Thirty-one.

Serizawa can’t help but imagine Reigen moans like that for different reasons. He can’t help but think of Reigen moaning because of him . He’s been holding it back since he first realized what he was thinking, but the need got increasingly hungry.

Thirty-two.

Serizawa can’t keep his erection down. He has never needed to handle himself this hard in public, much less in the office--only in his private time. He feels the pulse in his groin, straining increasingly against his tight suit pants. He has an animalistic desire to touch it, palm it, do anything to take care of it. But Serizawa is in the worst position for this. 

Thirty-three.

Serizawa looks at Reigen, panic in his eyes. He can tell Reigen might stop any moment. Oh god, Serizawa can’t stop thinking about the most degenerate things. The thought of Reigen’s face of pleasure, his body, the feel of his skin, the panic of how fast he needs to get together, the sound of Reigen’s whimpers right now. 

Thirty-four.

This is too much pressure. Reigen’s pushups are starting to slow down between each repetition. Serizawa is panicking about what to do next. He rips his eyes off Reigen, trying to curl his body in on himself. If he could do anything else– think of anything else–then there has to be a way he can come back from this.

Thirty-five.

Anything will help right now. Anything!

“Thirty, thirty-six. Uf!” Reigen stops, panting and falling back onto the ground to collect his breath. “Hah. Hahahahhh, see?! I’m not just a smooth talker, after all. Heh, alright!”

Reigen catches his breath, feeling very confident in himself. He overlooks Serizawa’s minor life crisis as he kneels on the floor.

“Well then, Serizawa, I showed you how it’s done, didn’t I?” Reigen fixated his eyes on the carpet, focusing on evening his breath. “Hey, hah, hand me a towel from the cabinet over there, will ya?”

Silence fills the room, save for Reigen’s pants. “Serizawa?” Reigen raises his head to see if Serizawa heard him. 

He pauses to see Serizawa’s body practically curled into the chair, purposefully avoiding eye contact with Reigen. 

Immediately, insecurity washed over Reigen at why Serizawa was acting like this. Oh crap, is he disgusted by my struggle to do pushups? Did I need to do more to impress him? Is he trying not to laugh? 

Reigen swallows his insecurities and adjusts his tie.

“Hey, Serizawa? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong, sir,” Serizawa whispers. Though, it’s obvious to both men that this is a lie. Around the two, things start to float up and down in the office. Reigen is the first to see it, however. 

“Hey, now. I can tell when you are not like yourself. More than anyone. Especially with this,” Reigen gestures around, which Serizawa notices and immediately places down all the objects, “Please, Serizawa. What can I do to help you?” Reigen asks.

“I'm sorry, but,” Serizawa uncurls himself, now turning away from Reigen by swiveling around the chair. “You can’t help with this.”

“Of course, I can. What kind of boss would I be if I didn’t come to the aid of my employees?” 

Reigen steps in front of Serizawa before he can curl himself up again. Serizawa is too late to cover up the large tent in his pants that Reigen just saw.

“Ah, Reigen! It’s not, ah, well, it is, but- wait, no!” Serizawa stammers, scrambling for anything to save this. Under all this pressure, he cannot lie anymore. “I’m so sorry! I have been thinking… horrible thoughts about you. When you were pushing up, you were making noises. I turned to dirty thoughts, and I–” Serizawa eyes wide, realizing how quickly the words slipped from his mouth. In times like these, lying is impossible for him. This is it for him. He’s going to get fired for sure!

“Serizawa…” Reigen is stunned, but things are now starting to click for him. His hand goes to his tie to try to fidget with it, immediately adjusting it until it rests flush with his collar. He clears his throat from any frog before opening his mouth.

“I can… take care of that too, you know.” The statement and his voice cracking at the end sounded like it didn’t even come out of the always-confident conman’s mouth. What escaped him was more meek, as quiet as a church mouse that Serizawa almost didn’t hear.

Serizawa sits straight up and meets Reigen’s eyes with his bewildered expression. Reigen looks back at him with a pink blush blooming across his face. The eye contact between the two men is electric when they realize what is slowly unraveling.

The air goes silent before Serizawa breaks it. “Reigen, what do you mean? Did… did I hear you right?” Serizawa’s Adam's Apple bobbed up and down in disbelief. It feels unreal. He needs to snap out of it, but Serizawa wants this to be real. It's so bad he needs proof that he is dreaming or living in this moment.

“Ahem. Well, as your boss, I- no… it’s more than that now. I want to help you with this because I,” Reigen leans forward, gently placing his hand on his shoulder before looking down at Serizawa, “We’ve been working together so well, and I’ve started to feel things. Unprofessional things.”

Reigens hand softly sweeps off the tall man's shoulder, now moving to the middle of his thigh. He softly laughs, “And this? Seems right up my alley.” 

Serizawa can’t believe what he’s hearing. Something in him snaps. All the days of suppression, all the days he’s cared for Reigen, all the days after work that he couldn’t stop thinking about him. It was enough to spring him up and unintentionally jump Reigen, causing his back to push against the wall in surprise.

“Woah, big guy! Hah~,” Before Reigen can speak, Serizawa’s arms slam on either side of Reigen, caging him between the wall and the tall man. 

“Reigen, I can’t hold these feelings back anymore.” Serizawa leans forward and rests his head against the wall right above Reigen. His eyes knit together, trying desperately not to go any farther or even say anymore. But it’s too late. 

Reigen raises his head high enough to see the agony on Serizawa’s face, fully understanding what is happening. His hand reaches up to caress Serizawa’s cheek. “I get what you mean. Please, just for me, you don’t have to hold back anymore.” 

God, I hope I can do this right. Serizawa thinks.

Immediately, he raises his head from the wall and smashes his lips onto Reigen’s in a hungry lust. Serizawa can’t control himself, pressing himself intensely into Reigen, practically smushing the shorter man into the wall. 

The passion is unleashed on Reigen, making him groan on the lips of Serizawa. They part lips and dance their tongues together in a rather clunky manner. It feels right before them, though, even with the minor teeth clashes. 

Reigen meets the man’s face with his hands, deepening the kiss. Serizawa awkwardly grabs Reigen’s shoulders with an immense grip, making him grunt. The noise Reigen makes goes straight to Serizawa’s pants, making him want the kiss even harder. He can’t control his wants any longer. 

Breaking the kiss, Reigen and Serizawa’s saliva connects to each other’s lips in a thick line. Both men gasp for air as they look at each other.

“How do we… what do we do with this then?” Serizawa's mind is dizzying, having no clue how to handle the peak in his suit pants.

“Well, the best way we can.” Reigen handed Serizawa’s pants, earning a long sigh and twitch from his member. 

“Reigen, I-I can’t stop holding back if you do that.”

“You don’t have to anymore. Plus, it feels good, right?” Reigen addresses Serizawa’s uneasiness, “Tell me how you feel. Should I keep going?”

“You don’t understand. I want you to sound like earlier when you were doing those pushups. I want that to be because of me . I don’t know what I’ll do if you keep going.”

“I think we can find something to help that.” Reigen sighs, trying to figure out exactly how he wants to take this. He looks at Serizawa, who seems seconds away from bursting, then at the desk just inches away from the two, and an idea creeps into the forefront of his mind. If he wants to do it, though, Reigen must prepare both.

“Let me show you.”

Per Reigen’s instructions, Serizawa flushes as he helps Reigen against the desk. Reigen sighs when his backside reaches the chill wood of the desk. They quickly use their nimble fingers to remove his suit pants and boxers gingerly. Serizawa thinks he’s going to pass out on cloud nine. His hand grips the small of Reigen’s back, making him instinctively arch himself, giving Serizawa a generous view of Reigen’s erect penis twitching against his stomach.

 “Hah… Do you like what you see?” Reigen neck leans forward to meet gaze with the man over him, entirely in awe of the sight.

“Absolutely.” 

“Go ahead then. I’ll be patient.” Reigen gasps when Serizawa places his shaking hand on the exposed skin, palming his ass with rough desperation.

The only time Serizawa has touched someone in any sexual way is himself. He seldom has watched porn, much less gay porn. His head spirals in confusion, but Reigen sees this quickly; he knows what to do next. 

“I know what to do. I can help lead you.”

“Okay. W-what should I do now?”

“You can use your finger to start. Put it in your mouth–make sure you coat it, and,” Reigen paused, looking away to hide his face from Serizawa’s gaze. “It will warm me up for the next steps.”

Serizawa does what he’s told. He looks at Reigen inquisitively with his digit still in his mouth, “What do fingers have to do with this?”

Reigen grunts, “...You know,” Serizawa’s face tells him he doesn’t know. Reigen continues, “You need to warm me up with fingers before that . I think…” He nods to Serizawa’s hard tent, “I need you to put your fingers in my ass. It has to be wet first for it to work.”

“R-right. I can do that.” He turns around and watches Serizawa coat his forefinger and middle with his saliva. His finger comes out with a string connecting him to his mouth. He awkwardly holds his fingers out, looking almost innocent as he waits for Reigen’s following instructions.

“Just know, I’ve never done this before. So just go easy on me.” Reigen says, looking away. Serizawa nods before not so subtly pulling into Reigen’s desperate lips with his tie. Reigen's face tells of nothing but timidness, yet still with needy lust. His body shivers with want as he reaches to find the hands of his employee, still covered with spit. He moves Serizawa’s fingers down, and down, and down. Serizawa can feel Reigen’s hands tremble when he touches something warm. 

Reigen guides Serizawa’s fingers to his hole. At first, it takes Serizawa a moment to process what he’s being guided to while he gently kisses Reigen’s face, still held close to him by his tie. Reigen’s other hand fumbles Serizawa’s hand around, trying to find the spot he needs Serizawa to fill while also hiding his face during their kisses. 

When Serizawa feels his fingertips protrude Reigen’s entrance, he knows what to do. 

As soon as he feels pressure on his asshole, Reigen’s death grip on Serizawa's tie pulls him closer into the kiss. He can’t bear to look at Serizawa’s face, who he’s adored so long. He can’t bear to see those eyes like it will wake him up from his remarkable dream. 

Serizawa’s hand presses gently inside, and soon, the pads of his two fingers are warmed by the inside of his boss. He can feel Reigen shift into the kiss.

Reigen grabs his arm, slowly pulling him into one knuckle deep, then two, to the fullest extent. Reigen completely freezes his mouth on Serizawa’s tongue, breathing quickly through his nose.

Reigen pushes Serizawa’s arm, awkwardly stopping at his fingertips before Reigen guides him back. Serizawa feels extreme pressure around his fingers when they are thrust inside. Reigen makes a slight squeak against his lips before hastily making Serizawa thrust into him again.

Reigen fully guides each thrust of Serizawa’s fingers as they continue, slowly loosening himself up in the process. Soon, however, the gentle pace changes. 

Reigen’s hands are gripping Serizawa’s arm and tie, giving him erratic and fast pushes into himself. Reigen’s voice fails on him, slowly humming into each sharp exhale he provides. He tries desperately to keep himself from sounding like a dog, but when he feels Serizawa’s fingers take the lead without his guidance, he can’t help but pant. 

Serizawa knows what to do for now. As Reigen showed him, he pulled his fingers out before sloppily pushing back in. He feels the walls of Reigen slowly lower themselves.

“Okay, Serizawa. You can curl y-your fingers now.” Reigen meekly whispers against his lips. 

Serizawa isn’t confident about what he means but tries to enact what Reigen asks in a wordless agreement. He slowly bends his fingers. 

Reigen let go of his tie, leaning against the table with his palms as the sensation felt too much. 

“You can’t do this to me, Serizawa. The way you’re looking at me, I– Ah!” Reigen arches into the desk when Serizawa’s fingers reach a delicious spot in him. 

Serizawa twitching cock is reaching its limit. There’s only so much the man can take before he crumbles under pressure. 

Suddenly, Reigen feels two firm hands placed at both sides of his face that causes him to snap out of his twitches. 

“Reigen, please let me push this further.” Serizawa’s face is stone; besides the sweat on his face, you would think he is back in his first job interview with Reigen.

“Idiot, I was gonna say yes to that.” Reigen scoffs, grabbing Serizawa’s tie. He solidifies his want by kissing Serizawa deeply. Their tongues touch again, causing Serizawa to huff and press his hard tent against the conman. 

“Please, for the love of god, take it out, Serizawa.” Reigen whimpers against his mouth. 

Serizawa didn’t need to think twice. It's a surprise to him when he knew exactly what Reigen was referring to in the first place. In a flash, his cock was free from his clothes, pinkened and twitching. Nobody had ever seen this part of him before, but Reigen looked at it like it was the sexiest thing he’d laid eyes on. The way his eyes lingered, the way he bit his lip, and the way he seemed to sweat a little more made Serizawa groan. 

Maybe Reigen let his eyes stay on Serizawa a little too long out of anxiety because, damn , his employee was fucking packing. This entire time Serizawa was carrying a fucking package on him? Reigen swallowed. Even if he’s never seen another man's dick in real life, he wouldn't have known they could have that many veins on them, even in porn. 

“I need you to go slow, okay?” Reigen says, now shifting his legs apart, gingerly holding them against the desk as he leans back. 

Reigen doesn’t know if his words reach Serizawa at this point. Serizawa practically jumps at him like he’s never seen a tastier meal. Serizawa’s thick cock presses down Reigen’s crack, making him tremble on standby. 

He can feel his breath quicken when he helps Serizawa line him up to the hole. 

“P-please, go-ah!” Reigen gags out as Serizawa begins to push in unceremoniously and can already feel pain searing into his asshole. 

“Sorry, I will go slow, but it just, you feel so,” Serizawa’s cockhead slips into Reigen’s body, now pausing to adjust Reigen before inching in more. “So good.” 

Reigen practically whimpers in Serizawa’s hold, but tries to play it off as a clearing of his throat. He grips onto the hands that hold his small hips, letting himself relax for the man who keeps sinking deeper. 

It takes a hot minute until Serizawa’s girth is fully inside, many times Reigen needed to stop and pause to take a breather, whimpering like a dog in heat. Once it was in, Reigen felt his cock twitch up in excitement. The pain subsided as the pleasure started to rear its head.

“Please, Serizawa, start moving your hips,” Reigen pleads, tapping his foot against Serizawa for some friction. 

Serizawa breaks loose, immediately thrusting out before putting his whole cock back inside. Reigen can’t keep the noise he makes down as his voice chokes from the pressure. He sputters on Serizawa’s cock as it keeps moving, slowly making his rational spiral into something unintelligible. 

“Reigen,” Serizawa groans out. “God, I’ve never felt anything like this. You’re so warm.”

He continues his tirade, practically thrusting his hips into Reigen as fast as his heartbeat. 

Reigen tries to collect himself to complain to Serizawa, to say that he can’t possibly keep up that pace if he has anything to say about it. The neighboring offices can only ignore so much noise before they file complaints, even worse, Reigen’s moaning louder than a train station. But he can’t get himself to spit the words out. His tight ass starts to loosen in Serizawa’s rugged strokes, now replacing the searing pain with white, hot pleasure. It’s a feeling he cannot help but ride. He pants out, only mumbling small obscenities and panting like a dog. 

Serizawa sees Reigen huff into the air, practically growing hearts in his pupils from the sight. 

This is the exact picture he wants to frame. Reigen’s legs hang in the air, constantly thumping to and fro from each jerk of Serizawa’s hips. His hands do little in gripping onto his legs, and his face is so blissed it’s driving Serizawa crazy. His eyes are dilated, Reigen rolls his eyes into the back of his skull every few seconds before trying to focus on the man in front of him, only to be hit into a particularly delicious spot, hypnotizing his sight and causing his vision to blur. Again. His pretty tongue that once led the kiss now peaked out of his mouth, lips plumped from kissing and agape, huffing and moaning every single octave his voice could possibly ring out. This same kind of face was what Serizawa wanted to give Reigen. It’s what he wanted to recreate. 

He wanted to ruin that pretty little face of his boss, and he was going to do more of just that. 

“Reigen, please look at me.”

Reigen's pretty legs dangled in the air as he tried to come to his senses, now trying to fully focus on Serizawa but blurring out every now and then. It wasn’t until Serizawa grabbed his chin and leaned in close that Reigen sharply looked at him. 

Serizawa was closer, angling his thrusts into Reigen just right that he practically yelps into the taller mans mouth when he was pulled in a sloppy kiss. God, it felt so satisfying, Serizawa almost drools at the way Reigens face deliciously contorts. And it’s all because of him . 

“Please, don’t stop,” Reigen whimpers.

“Never, darling.” Despite his sweet words, Serizawa continues his impossibly fast pace inside Reigen’s tight ass. 

Reigen’s pretty cock was rock fucking solid, and it gave Serizawa the perfect idea. He wraps his big hand around Reigen’s shaft and begins to stroke it languidly.

Reigen’s eyes practically bulged; the sensation was so delirious that he couldn’t speak. He tries to hold the same contact with Serizawa, but the stimulation causes his eyelids to flutter each time.

He unintentionally jerks his hips anywhere near Serizawa, and his teeth are gritting together. His weak hands grab into the hands that grip his ass, pulsing his hold the way his asshole puckered. 

“That feels so good, and please don't stop. Please don’t stop.” The constant whimpering from Reigen now turns into moans, until moans become begging that Serizawa keep going, over and over and over again, until Reigen is an uncontrollable, overstimulated mess. Serizawa keeps a relentless pace of pumps on his cock, as well as in his ass. It’s all so much that Reigen’s overbearing core is starting to bubble over. 

In between Reigen’s range of noises, he squeezes out, “Seri, I’m gonna, I’m gonna cum for you.” He rasps. 

“Please, Reigen. Let everyone know how I make you feel.” Serizawa grunts. He relinquished his grip on Reigen’s hips before latching onto his trim waist. Reigen’s delicate waist could perfectly fit inside Serizawa's large hands, practically made to fit like puzzle pieces. Serizawa hunches over and starts to thrust into Reigen like never before. The thick girth that Reigen was once nervous about now makes his frame convulse in pleasure.

Reigen screamed out, tightening his asshole so much that Serizawa’s cock completely halted inside of him. The tightness clamps down on Serizawa, and he can only watch Reigen orgasm, spouting white, warm cum all over Serizawa’s suit and his skin. His dick just bobbed up and down, his pretty pink cockhead looking so inviting to Serizawa. 

What Serizawa needed to do now was so clear to him. Before Reigen could finish his ecstasy, Serizawa hungrily took his twitching cock in his lips, sucking out the rest of the cum from his head. The warm, salty, thick cum massages down his throat while Reigen’s finger clamored to Serizawa's soft brown hair, practically drumming his hands all over his head and shoulders, seizing any sort of bodily function. 

Serizawa’s desperate mouth milks out any more seed he possibly could out of Reigen until his writhing ceases. He only needed to thrust in Reigen’s sodden hole a little bit more before he released himself in Reigen’s ass, pulling out to reveal a mouthwatering cream pie. 

Reigen’s face relaxed from his orgasm, relaxing his spread legs, giving a generous view of his chest, nipples still hard and face still red. 

“Jesus, Serizawa, I didn’t know you were packing a fucking snake in your pants,” Reigen said, throwing his head back. “If I had known this would happen, I would’ve stretched myself better. You… liked that, right?”

“Reigen, that was wonderful. I didn’t know that something would feel that good,” Serizawa’s blush was the cutest thing, but what Seri said was more concerning. 

“Hold on, was that…?” Reigen couldn’t believe it when Serizawa confirmed his suspicions, internally freaking out, but calmly sighed. “Well, I'm glad you feel that way.”

Serizawa couldn’t keep his love in any longer; he grabbed the face he always thought was beautiful, one that he saw every day as his boss, and now one that he could call…

“Reigen, would you do me the honor of calling me yours?”

“You think you need to ask that at this point? Jeez…” Reigen could barely contain his excitement, grabbing his hand and kissing it gently. “Of course I will.”

The two men embraced in a way they never thought would be possible. If this wasn’t the best outcome of a set of pushups, they didn’t know what would be.

[lumosinlove]

@oknutzy-week-2024 day four!!!

Write Me In

Part Two

Leo tried very hard not to be early. He really did. Then he ended up walking around Finn and Logan’s block about six times and sweating in the heat. He was stupid. He should have just worn a t-shirt. From what it sounded like, they were only just waking up. He didn’t need to be in this dark blue button down.

When it finally hit two o’clock, Leo let himself walk into the lobby. The doorman looked up and called him by his name, taking Leo by such surprise that he had to stutter through a yes, sir as if he was back home in New Orleans.

“Mr. O’Hara’s expecting you,” the man said. “You can go right up.”

The elevator was all mirrors and gold and Leo tried to make himself look slightly less sweaty and nervous than he felt as it rose—and rose. Penthouse. He should have known. He swept his blond hair back. At least in the AC he felt cooler—if not a little flushed looking. His shirt hid any sweat and he had his laptop and recorder this time. This would be a proper interview. He’d make sure of it. After all, this was his dream.

The doors dinged open. Leo had thought he’d have a few more moments. He’d get to walk down a hallway, knock on the door.

But no. One moment he was in the small elevator, and the next he was stepping directly into a massive, open living room. It was beautiful, too. The couch was a huge low-backed leather U. A coffee table that looked like it had once been a cross section of a massive tree was covered in notebooks and a laptop. A dining room table that could hold ten rested just on the other side of the room beneath a papery light that looked more like a sculpture. To its left sat an actual bar, complete with six stools, shelves of backlit bottles, and beer taps. The wall beyond was pure window and the afternoon light slanted in. Leo didn’t see a TV, but apartments like these usually had them concealed somehow. Maybe a projector screen waiting to drop down. Maybe there was a theater room. He knew a lot of artists had recording studios right at home. Who knew how big this place was.

It was also perfectly quiet. Leo didn’t hear a sound. He felt like he was an intruder as he hesitantly stepped out of the elevator and listened to it slide shut behind him. Maybe he should’ve taken his shoes off? The rug beneath the couch was pure white and plush, and the hardwood floors beyond that were honey-colored and gleaming. Four guitars sat along one wall. Beyond the huge dining table, there was a grand piano.

How many of Leo’s favorite songs had been written in this room?

“Kind of freaks me out sometimes.”

Leo jumped and turned at the voice, only to find Finn standing there in running shorts and a t-shirt that said The Strand Bookstore. He held a sleek gray ceramic mug.

“The windows, I mean,” Finn said with a smile. “I always worry about them cracking. Sometimes they rattle during storms.”

“That’s…unsettling,” Leo said.

“Yeah, Lo hates it.”

Finn looked, yes, a little sleep-rumpled. His red hair looked like it had been styled for a photoshoot to be messy though, not like it was actually slept on. Unfair, Leo thought. His hair was a wreck in the morning. He’d been right about not needing his button-down, though. He badly wished he was in a t-shirt and that he’d worn sneakers instead of these pinching dress shoes.

“What a beautiful place, though,” Leo said. “That’s quite a view.”

Finn’s eyes wandered behind him out the window. “Yeah, I like to see the city.” He held up his mug. “Well, Lo’s fucking grumpy when he wakes up, but coffee helps. Can I get you some? I was going to order some breakfast, too.”

“Oh. Sure.”

Finn smiled and jerked his head in a way that Leo guessed meant follow me.

The kitchen was no less impressive. There were huge marble counters, slightly iridescent. A complicated looking espresso machine. Massive silver appliances—fridge, wine fridge, dishwasher, three ovens. God, what Leo could do in this kitchen.

“Wow.” Leo turned in a slow circle. “Do you like to cook?”

Finn laughed. He’d gone over to the coffee pot—probably the simplest thing in here. “If I was ever home long enough to try, I might.”

All this, and no one was even home to use it.

“And Logan’s hopeless,” Finn said. “He can make tea.”

Leo laughed. “Right.”

“Do you take milk or sugar?”

“A little milk,” Leo said, and accepted the mug. “Thank you.”

Leo sipped the coffee. It was good. Strong and nutty. It calmed him a little to hold something warm. Finn had poured the perfect amount of milk in.

“He’ll be up in a second. Or I’ll go get him.” Finn looked a little bashful. “It takes us a while to—wind down after a show, we usually don’t get to sleep until around three or four.”

After a show. Leo could see them still, pressed up against the wall in Finn’s dressing room. What the hell did wind down mean in this sentence?

“No worries,” Leo said. “Where um. Where do you guys go next?”

Are you dating your drummer? Is your drummer dating you? Do you think of him as your drummer? Or Lo? Are you best friends like you make the world believe? Are you just fucking? Are you in love?

He took a sip of coffee.

“Boston,” Finn said. “We just came back from the West Coast. Then we have about a month off before we go to Paris. Then London, then Ireland—you get the idea.”

“It must be fantastic to see all those places.”

I had your poster on my wall. You got me through some of my toughest times in high school. I can’t believe I’m seeing your smile this close up.

“It is when we have days off,” Finn said. “But mostly it’s just a grind.”

“But if you had to choose a favorite city?”

“Rome,” Finn said instantly.

“You wrote your most recent album there,” Leo said.

“Yeah.” Finn smiled down at his mug. “Yeah.”

“Leo,” Finn he said suddenly before Leo could ask another question.

Leo straightened up. Finn O’Hara just said his name. “Yeah?”

“I know…” Finn smiled a little. “We both know what you saw in my dressing room last night.”

Leo had been wondering if this would come up. Or, how, really. Finn pushed his hair back and Leo watched the strands feather forward again. He had a flush to his cheeks.

“We do,” Leo said softly. “I’m so sorry about that. Your team—one second I was following someone and the next I was at your door—”

Finn nodded sharply and Leo stopped talking. He messed with his hair again. “It’s not your fault. I’m just—what I’m trying to ask—” Finn’s eyes went somewhere behind Leo and he smiled. “Finally. He lives.”

Leo turned towards a doorway he hadn’t noticed before—it must lead to the bedrooms—to find Logan shuffling into the room wearing nothing but a pair of white socks and tight, grey boxer shorts.

Leo choked on his next sip and hurried to put the mug down. God, how could Finn not be dating that? There on Logan’s hip was that tattoo. The fleur-de-lis. Right there, real, not a photograph. It was slightly lower than Leo had thought.

“Salut,” Logan said. His voice was hoarse. “Sorry. I’m not…” he looked at Finn and put on what Leo guessed was a try at Finn’s American accent. “a morning person.”

“That you aren’t,” Finn agreed. “Even if it’s nearly three in the afternoon.”

“Hi,” Leo cleared his throat. “I mean, good morning.” He looked at Finn and pointed to his mug. “Do I need a coaster?”

Finn looked back at him quietly for a moment. He had a tilt to his head and a slight smile on his face. “No.”

“Okay. It’s just that sometimes marble stains so I wanted to check. I read this article about different ways of protecting—I mean, not that I have marble counters. But I definitely would like some. They’re beautiful. This is a beautiful kitchen.”

What the hell was he talking about?

“I’m glad someone appreciates it. We certainly don’t,” Finn said. He took down another mug from a cupboard and Leo watched as he poured the coffee, lots of milk, and even more sugar into a mug before passing it to Logan, whose fingers had been drumming idly on the counter while he waited.

The lyrics to Lucky Me popped into Leo’s head.

Let me fill you up with sugar, let me drown in sweet and sweat.

He looked at Logan and found him already watching Leo over the rim of his cup.

“Well, I don’t want to take up too much of your time. So, maybe, um. Maybe once you’re ready we can—”

Logan cut him off. “Aren’t you supposed to follow us around twenty-four-seven for a week?”

Leo swallowed. Oh. “Oh. Yes. Yeah, no, I am. I just…I want this to be as comfortable for you as possible. I don’t want to feel like an intrusion. I’m here for whatever your normal life entails.”

“Right now…” Finn was scrolling on his phone. “That’s breakfast burritos.”

Leo quickly figured out that Logan made him nervous—more than Finn. His green eyes were intense, to say the least, where Finn’s were almost unbearably gentle. Leo had thought that was all for the cameras, a look designed to be photographed. But Finn seemed to look at everyone like that. Logan, definitely. The doorman who brought up their breakfast when it arrived. Even Leo.

Finn also responded to Logan’s movements like he was just an extension of his own body. It would be impressive if Leo didn’t think it was so sweet. He arranged the sauces Logan liked in front of him, took out the bacon from his burrito and put it on his own plate, all before Logan even had time to sit down. The smile Finn received from Logan in return felt private. Intimate, even. Logan’s entire face changed when he looked at Finn. It opened up. He looked younger.

It went right back to guarded when he looked at Leo.

“All right,” Finn said after he set down water bottles for the three of them. They were sitting at a little table in a nook off the kitchen that Leo hadn’t seen before. Finn and Logan were side by side, across from him. Leo had his burrito and coffee to one side of him, and his laptop and recorder set up on the other. Finn snapped a mocking finger gun towards him. “Shoot.”

Leo hesitated. It didn’t seem like Finn was going to finish what he had been about to say to Leo. Possibly ask Leo not to write about what he’d seen? He’d stopped hard when Logan had walked in. Leo was slowly getting the sense that what he’d seen was much more than a kiss.

Maybe that was what was behind all of the looks Logan was giving him. Fear.

“Well,” Leo said, brushing crumbs off his hands. He cleared his throat. “Okay—” They were both looking at him expectantly. Well, Finn looked expectant. Logan looked a little wary. Leo’s resolve dropped. “I just want you to know that I won’t write or publish anything that you don’t approve first.”

There. That seemed like the easiest way.

The two of them exchanged a glance.

“Isn’t that a given?” Logan said flatly.

“It is,” Leo said. “But I still want it to be said first.”

He made himself hold Logan’s gaze. His eyes looked vividly green in the kitchen light.

No, you don’t—say much—but I read—your touch. You fall—I sigh—Oh my—green eyes.

“Oh,” Leo said out loud.

“What?”

Just slowly realizing that it’s possible you two only write songs about each other?

“Nothing,” Leo said. “Why don’t we begin with how you two found yourselves in a band together?”

“People already know this,” Logan said.

Leo smiled. “Yes, people do know this, but I’m not going to use someone else’s quotes in my story.”

Finn stretched his arm out across the back of the breakfast nook’s bench, behind Logan’s back. Would that have been around his shoulders if Leo hadn’t been here?

“We met in high school, started the band there. Then we had a falling out but we both got into Harvard,” Finn said. “We were matched randomly as roommates.”

It was a smooth, well-practiced answer to the absolutely wild story that Leo had heard before. It left no room for further questions.

“Must have been a shock.” Leo wanted to ask what the fight in high school had been about, but he didn’t think the room was nearly warm enough for that yet. “Or fate?”

“I like fate,” Finn said. Logan kept his eyes down. “I mean, look at us now.”

Leo kept the easier career and life questions going for the next couple hours, then they took a break. It was getting closer to five o’clock and Logan went to take a shower. Leo was preparing to go back out into the summer heat, just to give them some breathing room, when Finn picked up his guitar and began asking him questions.

“So, do you even like our music?”

Leo gasped. “Oh my God.”

Only at the surprised, maybe delighted, look on Finn’s face did he realized he’d completely dropped any professionalism right there. It was all Leo could do not to slap a hand over his mouth. Besides, Finn O’Hara was sitting in front of him, plucking some gorgeous little melody out on a guitar Leo happened to know he’d had since he was sixteen, and smiling—he could probably afford to let his guard down a little.

“I’ve loved your music since your first album,” Leo said. “And Rooftop is my favorite song in the world.”

“Rooftop,” Finn repeated softly. His fingers were still moving on the strings and Leo was trying not to stare. They were strong and quick. Subtly, the unfamiliar melody shifted into Rooftop.

“Oh,” Leo said, not bothering to pretend not to watch anymore. “I’ve never heard it on the guitar.”

“Why is that song your favorite?” Finn asked. He didn’t sound hurt exactly, but something like it. Brittle, maybe. “Just… Most people like the upbeat stuff more. At least that’s what I’m always being told.”

“Well…” Leo cleared his throat. “The way you talk about how sometimes it feels like you’re just barely holding on by your fingertips to something you want. That’s true for a lot of people I think. Waiting for someone who isn’t waiting for you back.” He thought of Logan’s eyes on him in Finn’s dressing room last night, Finn’s mouth on his neck. “Or maybe they are and just didn’t know it yet, I don’t know. But I listen to it all the time.”

Finn was leaning forward a little in his seat, listening.

Leo smiled and looked down. “I mean, I like the upbeat stuff, too. But yeah.”

“We’re around the same age, aren’t we?”

“I’m a few years younger than both of you.”

“Back then, I always thought it was just, like, twelve year old girls listening. Not that anything is wrong with twelve year old girls, but when you’re seventeen you don’t exactly want…” Finn winced. “Please don’t quote me on any of this.”

Leo laughed. “No, I understand. But also, no, it wasn’t just twelve year old girls. And it certainly isn’t now. At yesterday’s show—it’s incredible the range of people you captivate.”

Finn shrugged a little and switched back to the melody he was playing earlier.

“Can I ask what that is?” Leo nodded to the guitar.

“You can.” Finn huffed out a laugh. “But I’m not sure yet.”

“Ah. So, I’m watching the secret process right now.”

“You are. Gotta warn you, though, sometimes it’s like watching paint dry.”

“What’s the fastest time you’ve ever written a song in?”

Finn’s fingers fumbled, just for a moment. He looked out towards the windows, the city and sun. It was beginning to lower in the sky now.

“Oh,” he said softly. “About twenty minutes, I guess.”

Leo opened his mouth to ask what song it was, but stopped. Now Finn looked hurt. Sad. The guitar seemed to drink the feeling in. Leo heard him slip new minor chords into the notes, a tumbling, beautiful sound. Then he was suddenly playing Rooftop again.

“Would you like a cocktail?” Finn asked suddenly.

Leo looked over at the beautiful bar. “I think anyone would want a cocktail at that counter.”

Finn smiled. He settled the guitar on the couch and stood. “It’s gorgeous, isn’t it? I had it custom made for the space. Usually I wouldn’t give a shit, I’m never home, but I’ve always wanted to do it.” He went behind the bar. “Also. You can help with something. Lo and I are always at a bit of a impasse.” Finn put a hand to his own chest. “I like to taste the alcohol. Logan won’t touch anything that doesn’t taste like someone dumped a load of frosting into it.”

“So, he’s a sweet tooth.”

“Oh-ho yeah. Understatement. You know that edible cookie dough? Take a look in our fridge.”

I watch you fill your cup with sugar.

Finn read that thought clear as day. He bit his lip, elbows on the bar. “You’re putting us together a little bit, huh?”

“I won’t put anything together you don’t want me to.”

Finn glanced in the direction Logan had disappeared to.

“You’re under no obligation to explain it to me. I should have knocked loud and clear.”

“No, we…We’ve talked.” Finn fixed him with intent brown eyes. “We’ve talked. We love each other and…”

So they are in love, Leo thought triumphantly.

“It’s just that we don’t know what comes next.”

“I understand,” Leo said. “Really. Just…” Leo set his hands in front of him, trying to pour truth into his words. “I’m not here to, like, drag anything out of you. I’m here about your music, that’s my job, that’s what I love to write about. If what you two feel for each other is something that is not only important to that but that you’d like to tell me about, that’s wonderful. If not, that’s wonderful. And we also don’t have to decide now. Okay? Please don’t feel like you have to tip toe around me or my pen.”

Finn was looking at him with a slight smile on his face. He gave a small nod.

“And please tell Logan that, as well,” Leo said. Leo wasn’t sure he’d get those sentences out as smoothly under Logan’s gaze.

“Okay.” Finn swept his hand out towards the shelves behind him. “Gin? Whiskey? Tequila? Rum?”

“Rum,” Logan’s voice said from behind Leo. He appeared a moment later. His wet hair was combed back and out of his face, his skin flushed from the shower’s heat. He wore a dark green t-shirt, stretched across his strong chest and gray sweatpants. In his hand was a pair of drumsticks.

“Well, I wasn’t asking you,” Finn said. “Leo, please. I can make anything.”

Logan slid onto the stool beside him. “It’s true, he’s very good.”

“I’ll have whatever you’re having,” Leo said.

Finn gave his head a hard shake and hit his hands down on the bar. “Nope. I want to know what you want.”

Finn ended up fixing the two of them gin martinis. He gave Logan his rum and coke with, to Leo’s surprise, a kiss to Logan’s hand. Logan blushed, glanced at Leo, but didn’t pull away. He took his drink and his drumsticks over to a stool where a muted, practice kit was set up and began tapping out rhythms. This was not what Leo had been expecting when he took this job. He expected it to be wilder, like some of the pure and chaotic party scenes he’d been apart of when following musicians around before.

Night Swimming was soft. Domestic, even. Finn and Logan’s wildness on stage melted away into something tender. Finn brought out cheese and crackers and sliced apple and, as Leo sank into the massive comfy couch, he found that as the sun set, he wasn’t asking questions anymore. They were, the three of them, simply talking.

~

“So, so, so,” Cassie’s voice said in Leo’s AirPods. “How’s it going, you’re four shows in now you lucky duck.”

“That I am,” Leo said, looking around his Boston hotel room. Tonight was Finn and Logan’s third and final Boston show and Leo was basically in seventh heaven. Maybe they were all in hotel rooms now and he missed their cozy apartment a bit, but he couldn’t complain. He got to write about his favorite band and watch them perform every night?

And hear about their love. More and more. During their time after the show, at dinners, in dressing rooms, in Finn or Logan’s suites—and there was a suite for each of them even if it seemed like they only used one. During those times, they told Leo things. Little details about them, not as singer and drummer or best friends, but as a couple. Leo could feel the difference. He didn’t know why exactly he was being allowed to know these things when no one else did, but he let them give what they wanted to give.

“It’s good,” he told Cassie, but his mind filtered through what good was. Good was knowing how far Finn’s voice stretched as he warmed up in his dressing room. It was alone and strong. They were just scales and the occasional lyrics, but Leo could have listened all day. He also dropped to the ground and did rounds of push-ups which, while unexpected, wasn’t horrible to watch.

“I have to say though, I’m not entirely sure what happens next.”

“What do you mean?” Cassie asked.

Leo popped another salt and vinegar chip into his mouth. “Well, they’re going on vacation. Somewhere. They’ve got a month off before they’re back on tour, so I’m not sure why the magazine scheduled me for now. It’s not a full week before they leave.”

“Well, your week will be basically up. I’m sure you’re not expected to go on vacation with them.”

“No, no, I know that,” Leo said. Damn, he thought. “I’ll just—I have closing things I need. Want. Hope to ask.”

Cassie was quiet for a long minute. “Well. Better hop to it, I guess.”

~

“Will you hold this? Finn’s busy.”

Leo looked up from his notebook to see Logan holding out one end of what looked like an exercise band. He was dressed for the stage already. Black jeans, black tank top tonight. His hat had a Bruins logo on it—sometimes he did that. Matched his hat to the city. In New York, he’d been wearing Finn’s Rangers hat a lot and Finn had expressed his disgust at the switch many times. Leo had put it in the story.

“Sure.” Leo set his pen down. “What do you want me to do?”

“Just hold this steady.” Logan put one end of the band into Leo’s hand. “I like to warm up.”

Leo still didn’t quite know what that meant, but he did what he was told.

Turned out it meant getting a front row seat to the flex of Logan’s arms and wrists as he pulled the band in different directions and angles.

Suddenly, two hands appeared on his shoulders. “Hi. Would you like some tea?”

Leo held the band tighter while craning his head back to look behind him. Finn appeared to him, half upside down at this angle. “I—Yes. Sure, thank you.”

Finn smiled, squeezed once, then let go. “How’s the writing going?”

“Good.” That was half true. Sometimes, he was on. There were whole chunks that were solid and good. Then there were parts of Leo’s notebooks that were a mess of phrases which sounded far too mushy to be a proper article.  “Really good.”

The music…God, Leo could have written about their songs for hours and hours—he just had to be careful not to cross any lines into what he was quickly suspecting was the true territory of the songs. Love songs. In Leo’s opinion, the best kind of love song—when the two people they were about were right there, in the same room as each other.

Logan had switched to the other arm, opening himself up to being taken by the hips by Finn and sweetly kissed.

After, Logan smiled a little at Leo when he took the stretching band back. Still guarded, but it was improvement. “Merci.”

“Yeah,” Leo said. “Or, you’re welcome.”

He winced at himself as Logan went over to drum a bit on one of his practice pads. Leo tried to pick up the song, but it was hard without the melody until Finn, waiting for water to boil, started singing.

Oh, I wish that I was someone else so I could watch us being.

Go and love a stranger so I can see how you hard you love me.

In his notebook, Leo wrote, In the middle of warming up—which involves more push-ups and stretching than I would have thought—O’Hara stops to make me a cup of tea.

Fuck. It sounded like a diary entry.

Warming up is taken as seriously as it would be by any sports team. Tremblay prepares his body as thoroughly as his instruments.

Was that too…? Leo set his pen down and stared at the page.

Tremblay stretches in front of me and I swear to God I can see every muscle in his back.

O’Hara just squeezed my shoulders. I heard Rooftop on the guitar for the first time and it wasn’t at a show, it was in his living room and he looked so sad. He looked so sad.

When they kiss, I want to watch the gentleness between them on loop until the end of time.

And an even quieter, even more secret thought: I want to be kissed like that.

“Here we go.”

Leo looked up. Finn carefully set down a steaming paper cup. “I put a little honey in it like mine. That’s what I have before we go on.”

“That’s perfect.” Leo smiled and held the cup up to his nose. It smelled sweet and a little like licorice. “I’ll consider it research.”

Finn smiled back for a moment and Leo was reminded of the first time he’d met Alex. They both had that soft stare. It was aimed right at Leo.

“Your hair’s the color of honey,” Finn said. Then he picked up Leo’s pen and wrote down, honey!!! then winked at Leo and walked away.

The show was wild and fantastic, as usual—and it rained. Rained. Hard. The screens showed Finn, red hair dark and dripping against his forehead, his face raised to the sky. Water flew up in droplets from Logan’s drums, backlit and mesmerizing. Leo was soaked despite the VIP tent by the time it was over and shivering a little in his t-shirt as the night cooled down.

He made his way backstage, trying not to drip on everything as he knocked on Finn’s dressing room door.

A grinning Finn with Logan under his arm swung it open for him. He was soaked through, they both were, but he didn’t seem to feel the cold. Adrenaline, probably. Finn held so much of it after shows he practically shook.

“We’re going out to celebrate and you’re coming with us.”

“Great,” Leo said. He wrapped his arms around himself, trying to fight the chattering of his teeth. “Where?” He was taking in Logan now. He looked—well, soaked and kissed. Maybe Finn was just extra affectionate after shows.

“Just a bar. My brother, some friends. And you because you’re coming.”

“And my sister will be there,” Logan said.

“Which one?” Leo asked—which maybe was weird that he knew there was more than one? But they had to be used to being Googled. Right?

“Noelle,” Logan said. “And her boyfriend, Thomas.”

“I won’t kill your vibe?” Leo asked.

“Everyone knows we’re doing your interview,” Finn said. “I think we should give you more than just, like, us fucking around backstage and, you know, working.”

“You guys are pretty serious,” Leo said. Which wasn’t very true. Finn was always putting Logan in headlocks, Logan constantly hid Finn’s things from him. “But thanks. I’d love to come.”

“Good,” Finn said.

When they began peeling off their sweaty and wet stage clothes, Leo kept his eyes respectfully down, mostly, and wished he had something to change into, too. He could try to run back to his hotel, but he didn’t feel like having to chase their party down. He resigned himself to being damp and hoped a drink or two would warm him up.

“Here,” Logan said, and something soft and warm was being pushed into Leo’s chest.

It was a sweatshirt—Finn’s sweatshirt, probably, by The Strand Bookstore logo on it. Though maybe it was Logan’s, bought in New York or maybe stolen from Finn.

“Oh…” Leo looked at Logan. Those green eyes really did deserve songs to be written about them. “Thank you.” Leo said.

He pulled the sweatshirt over his head and was sure it was Logan’s. It smelled like the cologne he wore—nothing too strong and intense. It really was just like he’d bottled something piney and sweet.

When he was sure no one was looking, Leo ducked his nose a little into the collar.

~

Somehow, suddenly, it was four-thirty in the morning. Leo was pleasantly buzzed, a little exhausted, and squeezed up against strangers in a booth. He wasn’t so pleased about the squeezed part, but it was a good vantage point. As it turned out, Finn was a dancer—even when not many others were dancing. He was just as good as he was on stage. All hips and smiles.

Logan was not a dancer—but he watched. Leo watched him watch Finn. There was a quiet sort of intensity to it. He chewed on the straw of his rum and coke, crunched on ice cubes. An hour later he was all but shredding a beer label, and had his eyes on Finn and he’d lost his hat somewhere—oh, Finn’s head. It was getting warm in the bar. The place kept the doors open and Leo was sweating in Logan’s sweatshirt, but he didn’t take it off. He could see Logan’s sweat, dark on his temples. Finn had to be sweating, too, but he didn’t look it. He just looked happy.

Finn wandered over to Logan and hooked his thumbs in his belt loops. He didn’t kiss him, but he got nice and close like he might, singing words to a song Leo didn’t know and grinning.

How had the world not figured it out yet? They might not be so obvious as kissing, but Finn and Logan certainly weren’t subtle. Was a narrative of that’s how they are, that’s their friendship really so strong?

With a smile, Logan shoved Finn back out onto the floor where someone joined him—two someones. Alex and a dark-haired girl Leo had seen around. For a brief moment, across the room, Logan’s eyes met Leo’s. Then he ducked out onto the balcony. Leo wasn’t positive it was an invitation, but he wouldn’t miss it if it was.

“Excuse me, sorry,” Leo mumbled to the guy next to him. It was a bit of a mess, making these people get up. He wasn’t sure why they were all sitting there. It wasn’t like it was easy to hear each other over the music anyway. Leo was happy to rise.

Remarkably, the night air felt cool. The balcony was higher up than Leo had expected, looking down at the city below. Logan had his back to Leo, elbows on the railing. He glanced behind him when he heard Leo approaching, and the red and blue city lined his profile. He looked just like he did on stage, only calmer. Quiet. Truer to how he actually was. Leo couldn’t image putting on a show like that every single night.

“I need a break from people sometimes,” Logan said, as if answering a question Leo had asked.

“Oh. I can go—”

“No,” Logan said. “I just mean crowds.”

“I bet,” Leo said. He went to the railing and mirrored Logan’s position. That was actually an old trick he’d been taught. Apparently it made interview subjects feel at ease. Really, he’d just wanted to see the city and feel the cold metal of the railing on his skin.

“It’s hot in there.”

“Ouais.”

“Finn really loves dancing.”

Logan cracked a smile and took a drink from his beer bottle. “You’d think he’d run out of energy.”

Leo laughed. “I’m out of it just looking at him.”

“That’s Finn for you…Realest thing in the world.”

Realest thing in the world. What a quote. Leo knew he wouldn’t have to write that down to remember it.

“Who is he dancing with?”

Logan swallowed. “Hannah. She was at Harvard with us.”

“Hm.”

“They dated. In college.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah,” Logan said, then glanced Leo’s way. “Before I took what was mine.”

Okay, hot. Leo had to smother a pretty pathetic sounding breath.

“Hm,” Leo said again. “Can I…Can I ask something?”

“That’s your job.”

“It’s pretty personal. And you don’t have to answer.”

“I know that.” Logan said, and then just waited, looking back out at the streets.

“What happened after high school and before Harvard?”

More waiting. More of that intense, Logan-silence. Part of Leo was pleased that he had such a thing to associate with Logan, that he’d spent enough time with him for that. Leo didn’t push him. He stirred the ice cubes in his drink and took in the rest of the balcony. A few chairs. Ash trays.

“We used this bookshop’s basement to practice at night,” Logan said suddenly. “All the other stores were closed, it was below ground, we weren’t going to annoy anyone.”

Leo could picture that. Guitar and drums, maybe one of their ever rotating bass players—it must get hard, trying to bud in on two as tight as Finn and Logan were. Writing and playing late into the night.

“But one night when it was just us there was this…” Logan shook his head. “Merde, I’d say snowstorm but it was more like… Just it was like the world blinked out.” Logan scratched wet-paper trails in his beer bottle’s label. “It felt like it was just the two of us left in the world.”

“You got snowed in?”

Logan nodded. His eyes were far, far away. Green, deep forest.

“We slept together,” Logan said quietly.

Alarm bells that every good reporter should have went off. Logan had been drinking. Leo had asked the question but it was still his duty to make sure it was truly okay to get the answer. “Does Finn know you’re telling me this?”

“Ouais. We talked about you.”

Okayokayokay. Leo felt like his entire body was trying to keep his heart from pounding at that sentence. Oh, to be a fly on that wall…

“Okay,” Leo said carefully. “Still, if you want to have this conversation another time—”

“I’m not drunk,” Logan said. He looked down at his beer. “I had one drink two hours ago and this tastes like shit, I’ve been holding it for a fucking hour.”

Leo couldn’t help but laugh a little. “Not sweet?”

“Non, not at all.”

Well, Leo was glad he knew. Sometimes with the stars, it was a problem. They spilled out gorgeous sentences and feelings no matter how Leo tried to stop them when they were loose-tongued and then wouldn’t let Leo use a word of it the next morning.

“And like I said,” Logan said. “We…I wouldn’t just be telling you this if Finn didn’t…You know.”

Leo thought of all the details he’d been picking up, and then even more unspoken ones. He could see that they wanted him to know. He just wasn’t sure why.

“It was the best night of my life.” Logan leaned on the railing, his hand coming up to touch his mouth. “It was… We wrote Only Two that night.” Logan smiled at the memory and closed his eyes. “Like, in twenty minutes, it was insane. Right after we…well.”

Leo loved that song. Back in high school, he hadn’t thought of it as being about making love, but being older now, he could tell.

There are only two

Things I want

For only the two

Of us

Two more turns on this dark road

Two more inches of skin exposed

Two more minutes of this bliss

Two more hours not to miss

Two more decades of your light

Two more centuries of this night

Only two (two) two (two)

Want me, too (too) too (too)

After this conversation, he’d never listen to it the same. He’d picture some grimy basement, and snow—and he’d picture Logan and Finn…

Two more inches of skin exposed.

No. No, Leo thought to himself. You’re professional. So very professional.

“And then I pretended like nothing happened.” Logan straightened. He turned his face away a little.

He could be professional and still let his heart ache at that. A memory surged at him without warning. A voice that he tried his best not to remember. Get the lights, will you?

“Why?” Leo tried to keep the word gentle. Logan seemed like he wanted to get this out, and Leo wanted to keep it at his pace.

“I don’t know. I got scared. I thought we’d never—I don’t know. We wanted this massive thing, to play our music, that almost no one gets and I didn’t want anything to mess it up. We fought. Finn wanted to be together. And then I said…I said things I didn’t really mean, but I said them. And he was crying.” Far away eyes again. “He was crying.”

Finn, crying. Leo couldn’t put it together with the grinning boy inside. When Logan turned to look, so did Leo. Finn was facing them, half obscured by a wall of people he was chatting to. It was hard to tell through the glass and with all the reflections from outside, but Finn might have looked at them.

  “And…and we stopped talking.” Logan turned away. “We didn’t talk all of Senior year, or the summer before college.”

“But you got into the same school and showed up to the same dorm room.”

Logan snorted out a laugh, rubbing a palm over his face. “Merde. Oh my God, Leo, you have no idea. Our faces, seeing each other? Our parents’ faces? I thought I was going to die that first night, I walked in on Finn playing the guitar, and I thought I was going to die.”

“Wow,” Leo said faintly.

Logan let out a delighted laugh. Leo blinked, surprised, but couldn’t help but smile. That was a contagious sound. A rare one?

“Sorry, I mean—at least we can laugh about it now,” Logan laughed through the words. “I was going to lose my mind. I can’t tell you how much I missed him. I remember missing him now and I miss him when he’s, like, asleep next to me. That’s how bad I…” He broke off suddenly. Leo watched his throat move around a swallow. “That’s how bad I fucked up.”

Leo knew he wasn’t supposed to give his opinion to the subject of his pieces. As the writer, he was supposed to listen and organize. But his mind was telling him to comfort Logan. He wanted to do what he’d seen Finn do earlier, he wanted to know how warm Logan’s waist was through his t-shirt.

“On the topic of the songs you write together…” Leo took a breath. “Can I ask about Rooftop? You always leave the stage when Finn plays it. Is that—I mean, it’s a solo for him, I know that, but…”

Logan frowned and didn’t answer for a long time. Leo let him sit. It was a fine line, seeing that a subject had opened up, but then pushing too hard. Leo was beginning to worry he’d crossed that line when Logan spoke.

“I can’t listen to it. That’s why I leave.” Logan rubbed at his jaw and went to mess with his hat before remembering Finn had it. “Really, I can’t watch him sing it. I can’t watch what was my fault.”

Leo had had his suspicions since he’d walked into the dressing room, but this confirmed it. “It’s about you.”

Logan’s mouth was tight when he gave a small nod.

“I refused us for a long time.” Half a smile crossed his face and he sang the brief melody. “Long, long time.”

Leo smiled, too. It felt like it was okay to do. They were together now, weren’t they?

“It’s my favorite song,” Leo admitted.

Logan looked surprised. “It’s so sad. You don’t seem like a sad song person.”

“I don’t?” Leo laughed. “What kind of person do I seem like?”

Logan looked at him for a moment, then back at the city, shrugging with an almost bashful look on his face.

“And…” Leo felt a little giddy, like a sleuth figuring out a mystery. “Green Eyes.”

Logan laughed. “Ouais.” He took a sip of his beer and grimaced at the taste. “Fuck this shit about some French girl. Quote me on that.”

“Seriously?”

Logan sent him a look. “Maybe. Ask me later.”

Leo nodded. “Promise.”

Logan’s smile was gentler this time.

“When did you get together for good?” Leo asked, then realized what he said. “I mean—I mean, you look pretty solid, I didn’t mean to assume.”

Logan smiled. “Oh, he’s never getting rid of me now. I’ll never forget it. It was…maybe a year ago, I guess? No, a little more. While we were writing our most recent album. In Rome, actually, we rented this place and after those months, I didn’t think I’d be able to be far away from him again. And I mean, like, other side of the room. That felt far away.” Logan looked up, remembering. “We were pretty off-and-on until then, making out, fucking, not talking about it.”

Leo blushed. “Mhm.” Making out fucking not talking about it.

Logan sent him a sideways glance. “What?”

“Nothing, I’m listening.”

Logan narrowed his eyes playfully and turned his body towards Leo. God, his shoulders.

“Non, you’re a baby tomato. Tell me.”

“Oh God,” Leo laughed, putting a hand to his cheek. “Shit, I am, aren’t I? Well—No. Okay. All right, confession.”

Logan smiled and leaned forward. “Ouais?”

Leo pressed a palm to his own chest. “I am a fan. Quite a big fan of you both. I’m also. Well, I’m gay. I’m having a bit of a moment realizing two of the people around my age that I’ve always admired,”—You’re also unbearably hot, both of you—“shared more with me than I ever thought they did. Especially because—your music really helped me through some bad times.” It was Leo’s turn to look down. “Some bad guys.”

Now all that intense Logan-silence was trained directly on him.

“Bad guys,” Logan repeated softly. “Bad to you?”

He said it like it was madness, like he couldn’t believe it.

“It was a long time ago,” Leo said.

“What’s that mean?” Logan shrugged. “They were bad to you?”

“He,” Leo said. “Really just…he was.”

“Bad…Bad how?” Logan asked in a hushed whisper. He took a step forward, nearly right into Leo’s space.

“Nothing like—just…” Leo sighed as he stumbled over his words. “He wasn’t happy with how he wanted me. He probably wished he didn’t want me at all.”

More of those uncomprehending narrowed eyes, as if Jack, whose name Logan didn’t even know, had offended Logan by offending Leo.

“What a shit,” Logan said—and there was a snarl to it. Logan Tremblay, who had known Leo for all of a week, had just snarled about Leo’s shitty ex-boyfriend.

Leo laughed. “Yes. Understatement. Very.”

They were close now. Close enough that Logan could reach out and untuck where the collar of Leo’s sweatshirt had folded wrong.

“Oh,” Leo said. Logan’s fingers had brushed his neck and Leo fought that shiver hard. “Yeah, thank you for this. That rain got cold.”

Logan stayed quiet. He withdrew his hand, but he didn’t step back. When he looked up at Leo, he had that open look that Leo had only seen him give Finn.

“You know we chose you,” Logan said. “Right?”

Leo only had time to half let that sink in and half wonder what the hell it meant before a knocking came from behind them. “Hey-hey.”

They both turned to see a dark haired girl—this was Logan’s sister, Noelle. She smiled at Leo and held out her arms to Logan.

“Wanted to say bye, I’m taking off, Lo-bear.”

Lo-bear. Leo hid his smile in his glass but Logan caught it anyway as he hugged his sister tightly.

“Have a good vacation,” Noelle said and squeezed him tighter for a moment. She planted a kiss on his cheek and whispered. “You deserve it.”

“Merci.”

“Don’t wreck mom and dad’s house.”

Logan rolled his eyes. “When have I ever done that?”

Noelle pulled back and patted his cheeks. “Love you.”

Leo looked between them. Logan was different like this. He wasn’t a pop star. He wasn’t considered on of the best drummers in the current music scene—maybe the world. He was a baby brother.

“Je t’aime,” he said softly.

A version of the voice he saved for Finn, maybe. Leo wondered what it was like to hear them say it to each other. I love you.

People began spilling out on the balcony after that. Maybe noting that Logan Tremblay was out there. Leo and Logan got tumbled apart, but Logan caught his eye across the crowd. Between them lingered unfinished words. Leo shrugged one shoulder and gave him a smile. You chose me? What does that mean? What in the world does that mean?

Logan frowned. He set his beer bottle down, still full, and began to try and push through the crowd to Leo. It was hard. People kept wanting to speak to him. Logan looked like he was trying hard not to snap at them.

“Hey.”

Leo turned and found Finn there. Sweaty, tall, love-eyed Finn. He was definitely tipsy. No Logan-conversations for them tonight.

“Hi,” Leo said. He glanced back for Logan, but he’d lost him.

“We’re going to Logan’s family’s house in Nice tomorrow morning.”

“Oh.” Leo tried, he tried to keep his heart afloat. That felt—he didn’t feel ready. He didn’t want the week to end. Maybe it was hero-worship. Maybe he was starstruck. Maybe his heart didn’t know what to do with the proximity. Was Finn telling him that they were finished, that they were going on vacation—

Finn reached for Leo’s hand and tucked something into his palm, closing Leo’s fingers around it and covering it with his own. “I’ll send the car for you.”

The crowd whisked him away, too, leaving Leo standing in the summer night to uncurl his fingers.

It was a guitar pic, and scrawled across both sides in tiny writing, were two phone numbers.

[merakiui]

"You don't have to leave you know" with jade please? Love your writing

:D this is connected to tmdg. I couldn't resist writing another snippet with my favorite pair of fools: one who is lovesick and the other who is lovestruck. <3 (implied fem reader + pregnancy)

(fwb dialogues)

When Jade sets a bowl of porridge topped with bananas and blueberries in front of you, you eye him suspiciously.

"What's this?"

"Breakfast. Specifically the overnight oats we prepared yesterday."

You deadpan, peering at the smiling face he managed to arrange with the fruit. "I know that. But why?"

He turns away to continue cutting an apple into rabbit-shaped slices. "Isn't breakfast the most important meal out of the three? You can't start your day on an empty stomach."

It's the weekend; you don't particularly care. Strangely, when he places the plate in front of you, there isn't a portion for himself. Everything's fixed for one person. You've known Jade and his monstrous appetite long enough to suspect something's amiss. More importantly, this is the third time this week he's insisted on spending the night to prepare, what he calls, "safe make-ahead meals." Why he felt the need to call them safe is beyond you... Even more strange is the fact that all of these meals have looked flowery and cute. Almost like something you'd find in a themed café. Either he's having way too much fun, or there's some deeper, underlying meaning behind the adorable image.

"I'm not really a breakfast person."

He pouts at you. It isn't very effective. "You're missing the joys of a good meal in the morning."

"I'm missing good sleep. I'm not even that hungry." But even as you say that, your stomach produces a betraying rumble.

Jade's lips split in an easy grin. He almost looks like Floyd. "You were saying?"

"Shut up." With a weak scowl, you swipe the spoon from the table and scoop a bite for yourself.

He chuckles and rolls his sleeves down, buttons his jacket up, and heads for the hall. You blink, even more confused.

"Where're you going?"

"Octavinelle."

"What? But you... Jade, you haven't even eaten either. Kinda makes your point meaningless if you're gonna skip breakfast after you just told me not to."

He peeks around the corner. "What are you implying?"

You open your mouth to say, Just get back in here and eat, you asshole. But that's only part of the truth. He knows this, which is precisely why he's now refusing to move from his spot in the doorway until you've admitted it.

"Nothing. I'm just saying..."

"Yes?" he offers, smiling placidly.

Your patience has grown especially thin as of late. The smallest of things set you off. Just yesterday you started openly bawling when Jade arrived at your doorstep with a tin of cookies—cookies you'd begged him to get over text after the recommendation from Ace. You think you may be falling apart. Jade thinks you've never looked prettier.

Huffing your defeat, you avert your gaze. "Y-You don't have to leave, you know... Stay a little longer."

You expect him to tease you for it, to really lay it on so thick that you'll have no choice but to get up and drag him over to the table by the ear. But instead he's lowering into the chair beside you. You'd chased him out the past few times he attempted to overstay his welcome, which he'd accepted without complaint. Now he just looks happy to be here. You'll never understand him.

You scoop a spoonful of porridge and, grabbing his chin, force it at him. "And eat! You're not getting any taller."

His hand wraps around yours, smoothly guiding it to his mouth. An appreciative hum proves he's proud of the result after he's sampled it. You have to agree. It's delicious.

"And you're not getting any more beautiful."

You stare at him, embarrassment clawing up your spine. While these pleasantries aren't unusual, they still manage to catch you by surprise. Not because of the sweetness, but because he genuinely means every one.

"Actually, I take it back. I hope you starve."

Jade leans in to nudge you. "I'll learn to photosynthesize just for you and then that problem will never come to pass."

"How it only nine and you're already being an ass?"

"It's my specialty."

[two-white-butterflies]

let the light in - am. targaryen

Description: Aemond is your father's business partner. Despite the age-gap, you find yourself falling for him. (modern au) Rating: 18+ age-gap, light comedy at the end and vanilla smut Series: part two of my mafia one-shots.

A thick smoke always follow his body, the smell of strong male-perfume radiating through the atmosphere, and his fucking smile. Those were the three things that reminded you of Mr. Aemond. He was your father's closest friend - his right hand man, who would one day inherit the entire thing.

"There's only one kind of business, the bottom line." your father chuckles, filling his cup with whiskey.

He was staring at you - with that hungry grin. His legs were spread open, almost welcoming you to sit. "Our competitors are weak, sir. They don't stand a chance against us." Aemond confirms, blowing a puff of thick smoke in the atmosphere.

He was the man of your dreams. He always smelled like black coffee, cigarettes and perfume. He's got you weak on your knees. "Still, I want them finished." he commanded, eyes suddenly turning cold.

Your father was an insecure man - paranoid of the people that wanted his power. He only trusted you and Aemond.

"That can be arranged," Aemond mumbles, puffing another cloud of smoke in your father's gallery.

You follow after him that night, stopping in front of his Mercedes before he could get inside. "You aren't gonna kill them, right?" you inquire, resting your hand on the hood of his car. He gives you a small glance - not enough to scare you, but enough to prove that he didn't care. "There's a lot of things that you'd do for my dad, but one of them shouldn't be killing, sir." you grit your teeth, uncomfortable of the idea that he'd be murdering someone.

That would ruin the image, wouldn't it?

"Listen, princess - your dad's business isn't your business." he replied curtly, gently moving you out of the way so that he could open his car. He was a cold and uncaring man - but you saw something inside of him that was worth fighting for.

"Come on," you groan, watching as he went inside his car. You immediately bolt to the other side, circling his hood and settling beside the front passenger seat. You open the door before he could lock it, a piece of your mind wanted to believe that he wanted you beside him.

"What are you doing?" he questions, putting on his seatbelt with a small smirk.

"I'm going with you." you demanded.

"Whatever you say, princess." he hums, starting his car.

Best believe that he never made it out of the gated community. He was parked right outside of your house, lips on your own. "If only daddy could see you now," he teases, rubbing his hands through your unclothed body. He was almost sure that no one could see the both of you - because of the thick hedges that hid his car from view.

He breaks the kiss - to stare at your face. His eye flickered a familiar color. It was the look of a boy who was cunt-struck. The boys at your old school used to look at you in the same way.

"You're making me do something that can only be kept as a secret." he whispers, cupping your cheeks and staring at those beautiful eyes. "I wanna be your secret," you coo and his face softens. A fucking menace for a wife, that is what you'd be.

The sound of your voice has him hard on his cock.

"You wanna be my little girl?" he questions, pulling your face closer but avoiding the steering-wheel in front of him. "I wanna be that," you whisper, and his hands reach past you and down to the buttons of your chair - reclining it, until you were lying down.

You stare at him again - waiting and anticipating his next move. He places the car on park, blasting the ac until it was a perfect temperature from him. He gets rid of his top, hovering over you.

"Turn the car off, I want it hot." you demand, and he rolls down the windows to the car. "We'll suffocate, princess." he hums - staring at you with a predatory stare. He reminded you of one of the lions that you'd see in the zoo - scary but pretty.

He leans back down, bridging your lips together - but now, you were grinding unto him. Chasing your pleasure with the small bulge in his pants, your hands walk down to unzip his pants, shocked at the length of him. "That's big," you say out loud and a chuckle emerges from his mouth.

"You want this inside of you? Inside your little cunny?" he teases, pumping his cock a few times - seeing a bit of precum dribble down into his leather seats. "Yeah, do it." you demanded, earning another chuckle from the man. You were used to getting what you wanted - it comes with the title of being the daughter of a mob.

"You have to earn it, baby." he announces, running his hands through your beautiful breasts. He kneels on top of the chair, legs slightly parted to make way for your hips. "You ever sucked a man before?" he questions and you shake your head.

"I'll teach you," he says, signaling for your face to move closer to his cock. "Give me a kiss," he commands - and you obey him, pressing butterfly kisses on his growing erection. You were a lewd sight - increasing his lust by twenty.

Her hands danced on his thighs and his breathing became more erratic. He gasped slowly as he realizes that she was sucking him - with no need of instruction. "Yes, right there." he moans, arching his hips slightly to have a better angle. You lapped his dick - sucking on it eagerly so he could reward you.

A chill ran down his spine at the feel of your tongue swirling around his engorged lust. "Good," he kept moaning, looking down at you and burying his hand on your hair. You were a fucking delight.

"So good." he exhaled, feeling his peak come closer.

"Stop." he commanded, and you released his penis - creating a thick strand of saliva that connected the both of you. "You want me to cum inside of you?" he teased and you nod. The anticipation was overbearing. He reaches for the condom on his back-pocket - earning a raise of an eyebrow from you.

"Come," he motions while wrapping his dick with the rubber. "Open your legs," he ordered - you open it for a bit, but he grows impatient - opening it wider. He wastes no time in inserting his penis inside your gaping hole. "I'll be gentle," he promises - you stare at him again.

"I like rough sex," you confess - a small chuckle exits his mouth.

"Dirty lying girl, this isn't your first time?" he stated and you nodded with a giggle. "I'm sorry - I didn't wanna get into trouble." you reasoned - he began thrusting inside of you, reaching places that you didn't think existed.

"You're in trouble now, princess." he hums.

He groans at your tightness, feeling your walls push against his length. "So big," you huff, feeling him pump into your body. "I'm flattered," he smirks, burying his face on your shoulder.

He was about to say something dirty but a knock on the car window broke him away from his bliss. Luckily, the windows were slightly tinted, not fully opened- and the person outside wasn't able to make out your face. "Who is it?" you complain, trying to peek through his body - but he pushes you down. "It's your dad," he panicked, feeling embarrassment course through his body.

"Fuck," you curse, hearing your father laugh on the other side.

"Aemond, I told you to kill someone - not fuck one of my daughter's maids." the man takes a deep breath of his tobacco, staring at the other direction. "I'm sorry, princess." Aemond mumbles, zipping his trousers - he presses a soft kiss on your lips. "Pick me up tomorrow, quarter to five." you remind, and he leans deeper into the kiss - before finding his way on the driver's seat and hurrying to chase after your dad.

You sigh.

One day.

@beaconofthehightower @casualheartadorable