#Yeah the coming out scene was nice. The bachelor party was nice. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sil-te-plait-tue-moi · 2 years ago

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Wedding-seasonal depression.

Quick summary: What if Pierce actually did get married to Wu Mei way back when in the second season? You and Jeff are both struggling to come to terms with the fact that this is Pierce’s eighth time getting married, while you’re both still sad and single and alone. You decide to take your frustrations out on each other.

Word count: 7.8K

Warnings: SMUT (you have been warned, this is essentially porn with a lil’ plot), but it's not like super kinky; lots of swearing; first time writing second-person, so buckle up, I guess; kind of angsty (??); many suppressed feels.

A/N: Hey, guys, what’s up 😃🌈🦶! Uhhhh, I know this fic is a little random, but I’ve literally had this story in my drafts for six months. Since then, I have finished the entire Community show and have brought you this gem of a smut fic for Jeff Winger (particularly Jeff Winger with a fuckin’ beard 😩😩😩 he’s such an asshole). Please excuse my horrible attempts at dirty talk. Also, this is the first fic I’ve written in second person, soooooo I’m sorry if it’s, like, bad. Okay, enjoy!! :)))

***

You know, the wedding is perfectly nice. You have nothing against weddings. Apart from the strangely sexist ceremonies (as Britta will agree), the giving away of the daughter to her new owner kind of thing, the virginal unveiling thing, they’re perfectly fine. There’s free alcohol, free food, dancing, friends – sounds pretty nice at first, doesn’t it? Yeah, you’d think that, wouldn’t you? Except, now, the only kind of enjoyment you can feel is the pleasure of yet another scotch burning its way down your throat. You’ve had three, now, and it’s only a matter of time before they start to kick in. And you don’t come to weddings just to get drunk, okay? Your friend is getting married today, and no matter how blatantly racist and sexist and homophobic he is on a daily basis, you want to support his happiness (Annie forced you to come).

The fact that it’s Pierce getting married (again) hasn’t really hit you yet. Pierce. Pierce who talks about women like they’re objects, who treats them like they have a fucking expiry date, who has had his shot at marriage several times before, is now at the altar again, having another wedding while some of you are left to wallow in your own self-pity and loneliness until the night’s end.

You ask the bartender for another scotch.

You swivel in your stool to survey the venue – tables are dotted all throughout the hotel’s expansive ballroom, swathed with elegant white tablecloths, with elaborate centrepieces of white lilies and tulips and curling ferns to adorn. The ceiling reaches up, up, up, and intricate moulding compliments and fills its area, leading to the elevated centre where a glimmering, twisting chandelier dangles, its large gems scattering rainbow light here and there around the room. It’s pretty – the bride knew what she was doing. Pierce had refused to get involved in any of the wedding preparation because, and you quote, “it’s a woman’s job”. When you asked him what a man’s job was, he had looked at you condescendingly, as if it were as plain as day, and said, “To attend the bachelor party, of course.” You didn’t blink or breathe for a whole ten, fifteen seconds, you believe – you thought he was joking at first. But you shouldn’t’ve underestimated Pierce and his miraculous ability to infuriate you. Lord knows why anyone would want to marry him.

Your table – the study group’s table – is right in the corner of the room. The location is a little questionable (you’re all pretty sure the bride detests you for being more important than she is to Pierce, and you don’t blame her at all—but, you know, she could’ve sat you a little closer to the snack bar is all you’re saying), and it’s not close to the altar, it’s not close to the buffet, or the bar, or the toilets, or the band. But, of course, the group has found its own way to keep everyone entertained. Abed and Troy have napkin hats placed on their heads, acting out some movie scene, you’re sure, and Britta’s well on her way to becoming black-out drunk by the time the vows start, and Shirley’s trying to figure out the recipe of the cheesecake Annie ordered, reaching over the table for another forkful and another and another, face scrunched up in deathly concentration as she tries to identify the ingredients by taste. Poor Annie, you think to yourself, but you’re smiling.

Your eyes immediately start searching for Jeff. It’s an unconscious thing that you do every time you enter a room. You just want to make sure he hasn’t done anything stupid yet. And if you know anything at all about him, he’s going to be glowering the whole night away, rolling around in his bitterness, torn between his jealousy that Pierce gets to be married (again) and between his fiery disdain of weddings. He’s just a little bit too much like you – that’s how you can foresee his scowl when he approaches the bar, how you just know his hands will be shoved childishly in his pockets, and that he’ll roll his eyes when some bridesmaid will stop him and ask how he knows the groom. It happens just like clockwork. Jeff thinks he’s some wildcard, but, in reality, he’s so predictable.

“I’m actually the head of what used to be his favourite escort business. He was one of my best customers, but, uh—” he hisses cynically, “—you can’t win ‘em all, can you?”

You smile. He’s predictable until he opens his mouth.

The bridesmaid looks absolutely horrified. She leaves promptly with wide eyes and an open mouth, trying to stifle a laugh for the sake of her friendship with the bride.

A self-satisfied look overcomes Jeff’s face – he’s probably laughing internally at one of his own jokes again – and then his attention shifts up over to you, and his gleaming eyes grace themselves upon yours. He’s such an ass.

“I hope you’re proud of yourself,” you snort, turning back to the bar and digging your nail back into this narrow groove in its mahogany surface – maybe, if you’re patient enough, you’’ll soon be able to carve your initials into it forever. Jeff steps up onto the platform that perimeters the bar, sighing from deep within his chest as he slumps himself forward in the viridian, velvet-cushioned stool beside you. “You could have at least pretended to be nice for a few seconds.” While your manner is joking, there’s an underlying seriousness to your words. He needs to stop introducing himself as a prick to everyone – it’s off-putting.

But he just grins over at you – it’s hard not to smile back. “That was me being nice, I’ll have you know,” he says meaningfully, “and it just kills me—” he slaps a hand right across his heart, “—to know you don’t think I’m genuine.”

“She looked abhorred, Jeff. Abhorred.”

He scoffs violently. “Don’t say she looked abhorred, okay? She did not look abhorred.” Then, a pause. Then, “What does ‘abhorred’ mean?”

Oh, Jeff. You’d think that, what with his lawyer days (or rather, his days faking a law degree), he’d have a better vocabulary than he actually does. You’re pretty sure he looks up fancy words in his free time, just to impress people, most of which he doesn’t even know. You can just picture it: Him, sitting in the armchair of his ridiculously clean apartment, a dictionary in his lap, a thesaurus to the side, trying to comprehend what “sporadically” means so that he can use it in class the day after. You haven’t proven this theory yet, and Jeff always avoids the question, but you’re 100% convinced that this act is entirely true.

“It means horrified, Jeff,” you deadpan. You watch him make a mental note to use that in conversation later.

He hums lowly, and you let out a long sigh. Wordlessly, the both of you turn your heads to look back at your table. There are a few, special moments in life where someone will resonate so much with another’s feelings that they feel as if the two of them have become melded together. The borders of their mind will collapse, and that shared emotion will just mingle between the two of them like a strange, little ghost. It’s like that now, with you. It’s a melancholy type of feeling. You both can’t quite place the sadness, even as you’re looking on at the happy study group, and you can say that, with confidence, Jeff feels lonely. Just like you. You can feel the ache in his heart.

But, as quick as the intimacy came, it disappears again. Jeff swallows hard and frowns down at the counter, clearing his throat before commenting drily, “So, this sucks, huh? The wedding and everything.”

You nod.

“I just don’t get why Pierce is the one who gets to get married. Like, why not one of us or something? It’s just kind of unfair.” And then he stops abruptly, inhaling sharply like he’s just broken some kind of code. You nudge him and ask if he’s alright, to which he responds with, “You’re not gonna tell any of the others about this, are you? I don’t want Pierce finding out and having one of his little tantrums again.”

“He wouldn’t throw a tantrum,” you smile, completely missing the trust he’s putting in you right now. “If anything, he’d gloat about how you, the Jeff Winger, are jealous of him.”

He scoffs exaggeratedly. “I am not jealous of Pierce.” Jeff doesn’t admit to being jealous of anyone, but it’s always obvious when he is – his sarcasm will somehow double, his face will squint up into a semi-permanent, sour expression, and his voice will up an octave or two if he’s feeling extra shitty. It’s always funny to see him try to keep it together. That man’s got an ego like no other. Under his breath, he finishes, “No more jealous than you are.”

Damn.

Truth is, even though you’re fucking bitter as can be about Pierce getting married, you know that you have no actual desire to ever enter matrimony. It’s not a Britta “fuck marriage as a whole” type of thing; it’s a “wow, someone is achieving something, and you are achieving nothing” kind of situation. What can you say?—it’s your toxic trait. Anyone “beating” you at anything is enough to discourage you from that sector as a whole. If you’re not naturally gifted, what’s the point? Not to say that Pierce is gifted at relationships. No, he’s just rich. It takes everything in you not to strangle him whenever he opens his goddamn mouth. But you just suck at navigating true, meaningful romantic connections with people, and having to watch Pierce enjoy a pretty party and tick off that milestone (again) is just a kick straight to the fucking vagina.

But you’re not going to say all that to Jeff Winger of all people. So, you suck it up, deepen your scowl, and say, “Ah, yes, ever since I was a foetus, my one goal in life has been to wed a person half my age so that they can drain me of my non-existent fortune and give me pity sex for the rest of my shrivelled-up, little life.”

“Can’t tell if that’s sarcasm or not, ‘cause that actually has been my goal since I was a foetus,” Jeff whips back, and you snort. His grin widens.

Stupid Jeff Winger and his stupid Jeff-Winger smile. You hate it when he does that with his fuckin’ face. It’s infuriating. He’s infuriating. You always feel it tugging at your stomach adamantly whenever you’re in his proximity and he does that, and it’s unsettling. Could be annoyance, could be something else. You’re not ready to explore that.

“Anyway, you wanna go find a back room and fuck?”

The words are so swift and casual that you have to take a moment to realise that that is not something normal people say when attending their friend’s wedding and having a conversation at the bar with their completely platonic other friend who has never before made any hints towards attraction.

You turn and blink hard at Jeff, your lungs buffering in your chest.

“What?” you stress to him.

He darts his eyes away from the great hall and shuffles them back to you like he has all the time in the world, like he hasn’t just said what he just said. He raises his eyebrows innocently and politely continues, “Oh, sorry, I just thought that was where this conversation was going.”

The commotion of the party, to your surprise, carries on as usual.

Your wrists are numb with shock, and they’re sparking with what you think might actually be excitement. Did Jeff really just say those words out loud? Are you angry about it? You can’t fucking tell.

Instead of addressing the problem, you swallow thickly, hoping he won’t notice, and ask through an incredulous scoff, “Is this how you get people to have sex with you?” Would you be mad about that? About the fact that he’s just asked, essentially, to sleep with you, right to your face, right in public, at Pierce’s wedding, where there are people that you know and that can see you clearly from where they’re sitting? God, do you look as thrown-off as you feel right now? You would hope to die before looking thrown-off in front of Jeff Winger. The very Jeff Winger that’s finishing your drink off for you and watching you amusedly from over the rim of the glass, smiling his fucking smile to himself as he watches you glitch and hesitate like a browser with too many tabs open.

“Don’t say the s-word,” he hisses patronisingly, narrowing his gaze, leaning closer to you, glancing warily around the room. “There are children.”

“You just said fuck.”

“Yes. Yes, I did. And also, would you like to?”

He’s analysing your expression with fond eyes, you see from your peripheral vision, setting your glass back on the counter gently as he waits, all patient, for your answer, for your reaction. This is probably the most patient he’s ever been in his life. It’s certainly the most patient you’ve ever seen him, and you’ve seen him through a lot.

You tell him (a little breathlessly), “You’re fuckin’ crazy.”

He lowers his voice. “Did I read the situation wrong?”

There’s a silence that’s far too long to be salvageable. Then, a flustered, “No.”

Jeff raises his eyebrows, like he’s impressed with himself, and he looks smugly up at the ceiling. Damn him, you think to yourself. And, sweet Jesus, he has pretty nice hands. You also think to yourself that he has—he has pretty nice hands. Nice hands fixing the cuffs of his shirt and jacket. Nice hands scratching at that awful thing he calls a beard. Nice hands shoved in his pockets all nice-like. Nice hands that you’re sure can do a lot of—nice—things. Jeff clears his throat, and your attention snaps back to where it belongs.

“So,” he drawls. “Back room?”

And just like that, his pick-up somehow works for you. Somehow, you end up stumbling into the janitor’s closest, and you’re shushing each other and telling each other to be quiet as he helps you on top of the wobbly desk. It’s clumsy and fast and you’re both more than a little drunk. “Ow!” he exclaims when you accidentally elbow him in the ribs. Maybe it’s that you’re both just extremely lonely at this wedding – you’ve both kind of realised that you may just have to spend forever alone, that Pierce has a better chance of getting married than you do, that happiness might not be for you after all. And that’s always a nice thing to hear. You just want solace, and both of you are fighting for that by getting it on in a barely sanitary janitor’s room. Think of it—as a favour for a friend. Yeah. You think, with Jeff, the Jeff who blunders over a bucket when he tries to kiss you, it’s just pheromones and genetics doing their thing. Skin-deep. That’s your excuse as you grab him by the tie and press your lips to his as he positions his arms either side of you to keep himself from falling. “Your hair smells kinda nice,” he tells you before he helps zip down your dress, and you slide down your underwear.

He goes down on you first, after you both mock each other about who you bet is gonna finish first. “Oh, I’ve spoken with Britta about you,” you’d said lowly, smiling, and his eyes filled with sweet, sweet defeat. “Yeah, she told me everything—One-Minute Wonder.”

And this had gotten little, insecure Jeff all riled up. “Alright,” he huffed, voice scraping against his throat like he hadn’t had anything to drink for a week. “Alright, we’ll see who cums first, then, huh, doll?” And instead giving you one of those classic Winger smiles, he whispered a request for permission to use his mouth on you. You didn’t even have a response to that. He kneeled down in front of you, hands eagerly spread on your thighs, and his breathing was slightly uneven as he awaited your answer. It made you feel some type of way. You gave a quick nod and shuffled forward to meet his hot mouth. When his tongue delved deep inside your cunt, all coherent thoughts went straight out the door, and now you’re weeping into the back of your hand and clenching down your teeth down on your fingers, trying your best not to cry out.

Now, there are a few things you do to try and stop yourself from finishing immediately: you try clenching your legs together, but this only makes Jeff moan right into your pussy, and that doesn’t do you any good at all; you pull lightly at his hair and scratch at his back and his neck and his arms, holding on for dear life, but he only grows more enthusiastic; and you try insulting him under your breath (“twat”, “asshole”), but he just chuckles into you, and you have to bite down on your knuckles all over again, wrestling with that increasingly violent fluttering feeling in your legs.

Near the end of it, you just give up that bet with Jeff; you’ll cum, you’ll finish first, you’ll lose the bet, and you’ll do whatever you can to get to it. You grind shyly, and then shamelessly, against Jeff’s face, finding a delicious friction with his beard, a lovely contrast to the soft, velvet slickness of his tongue – that is, until he uses his hands to press your hips firmly back down onto the table, rendering you powerless to his actions.

You’re just about to finish when he pulls away. You think it’s a mistake at first, trying to lower him back down onto you with your hand cradling his head, but then you catch sight of a shit-eating grin wanting to take over his face, and you whine out, “Jesus Christ, Jeff, don’t be mean!”

“C’mon, honey, I thought the point of the bet was to not cum. You don’t wanna lose, do you?” His chin is still slick with you and he’s talking to you like you’re not hot and flustered and half-naked for him in a fucking supply room, on the brink of an orgasm, legs shaking like there’s no tomorrow. What a fucking prick, you think to yourself. You’re still gonna fuck him, of course, but he’s still a prick to you, and nothing will ever change that. “What? Can’t talk anymore?”

“I’m about this close—” you narrow my index finger and thumb down to a microscopic space between, “—to leaving you alone in here with blue balls, Winger. You hear me?”

He stands up and massages your legs gently, almost tenderly, and makes you forget, just for a second, that you’re probably another one of his escapades, another one-night stand, just another girl for him to forget in the morning. “Aw, just look at you,” Jeff taunts, twisting his face up in mock-sympathy as you scramble to regain control. “You’re cute when you’re angry, you know that?” His nose brushes up against yours. He comes in real close and whispers against the shell of your ear, “You know, I think you just might get us caught, sweets. I think you’re gonna be crying out my name by the time we’re done, and all those wedding guests are gonna be shocked at the dirty things I’ve done to you and you’ve done to me. You think you’re gonna be able to walk right when they ask us to come out this room? Or do you think everyone’s gonna know how hard I fucked you in here, how I fucked you senseless, how I fucked you so good that you can barely sit down without thinkin’ ‘bout how my cock felt up inside of you?” Your clit throbs painfully. How can it not? You try to snake your own hand between your legs, but Jeff softly moves it away and kisses your shoulder. “Hmm? So, which is it?”

“I think I want you inside of me,” you say breathlessly, needily. Yes, you knew that Jeff likes to sleep around a lot, you knew that he was experienced, you knew that he knows how to get someone hot—but you didn’t really prepare for this. How many other girls has he had in the janitor’s room? How many other girls has he had at a wedding?

“I think I want to play with you for a little while longer,” he replies huskily, and you very nearly finish right on the table. You take his hand and guide it between your glistening thighs, taking him through the way you like to be touched, and he soon takes control, finding out what makes you squirm and what makes you bite into his shoulder and scratch at his back. Jeff has always been a person who loves knowing that he’s good at something, that he’s in charge, that he’s in control – it’s not hard to figure out he loves praise. So, when you tell him, “You’re doing so well,” and he kisses you roughly, hand in your hair, and pinches your clit, you take satisfaction again in his predictability. You yelp right into his mouth, brimming with smugness. Then, he dips a finger into your cunt, and maybe the attitude is punched out of you, but you lose a little respect for yourself with how eagerly you sigh out. After a while, he asks if he can add another, and you agree, grinding against the heel of his palm.

What you’re really scared of is that he won’t let you cum again, that he’s into edging, and that you’re going to be denied the sweet release you’ve been craving for what seems like years, now. “Let me cum, please,” you say, kissing his neck. “I’ll go down on you later, but just please don’t edge me again.” Ew. You hate how desperate you sound. You’re usually a little more dignified than this. Jeff’s there, quick-witted and sharp-tongued as always, and you’re sitting here, tongue-tied and helpless. This is sort of the most bottom you’ve ever been, give or take. With sex with other people, there was a mutual bond rather than a power dynamic, but, here, there’s a very clear distinction. It makes you a little uncomfortable. You’d feel, oh, so much better if it were you saying all those dirty things to Jeff, making him sweat with his cock on your tongue, being the one he asks for permission to cum. But you’re saving that fantasy for another time – you don’t have the willpower to do anything like that today, not when Jeff wants to be in charge right now.

And maybe it’s your imagination, but he grows just that little bit harder at the desperation in your voice. Maybe he should let you cum, since you asked so nicely. “You don’t have to go down on me,” he says, even though he’d definitely love to see your pretty, little mouth wrapped around his cock. Instead, he reaches down and starts to kiss and lick and suck and bite at your breasts, making sure to linger at the swell of them – he has an odd thing for that area between your side and your breast, that little swell, you both learn, and he strokes that area tenderly with one hand as he continues to fuck you with his fingers.

When you finish around his fingers, he licks them clean and wipes the rest on the little square handkerchief in his pocket. He’s going to save that for later, he decides. Say he gets hard at night thinking about you and needs the smell of you to get off—or maybe he’ll just tease you at the post-vows dinner and make eye contact when he presses the damp fabric against his nose, just to see you clench your thighs together. Who knows? You, on the other hand, are only just realising that he’s still fully clothed. You are as naked as the day you were born, and he’s still prim and smart and handsome in that navy-blue suit and tie.

Pulling him closer to you by his belt, you fumble with the buckle as you tell him, “I’ll go down on you.” You just want a grasp of control after him having seen you so bare, so vulnerable. You don’t know if you’ll be able to face him after this if you just don’t get his dick in your mouth right now – it’s a strange logic, yes, but there’s no stopping you.

Jeff watches you passively as you frantically undo his belt, somewhat enjoying seeing you so flustered and out of control. It doesn’t only feed into his desire and lust, but it also adds to that weird, warm feeling in his gut, one that he hasn’t really experienced before. He can’t quite figure out what it is – heartburn, maybe; indigestion? – but he’s not stupid, and he’s a little suspicious, so before his tipsy subconscious can come to that terrifying conclusion, he tells you, “Can you spread your legs for me?” At your surprise, he adds, “Please?” Just to be nice.

“So fucking demanding, aren’t you?” you huff, but you do as you’re told, gut wriggling with apprehension.

He kisses you nice and slow, storing this memory in his mind carefully for later, trying to be the most genuine he can because, at the end of the day, you’re his friend, his good friend, and he would never do anything to harm or lose you. If he’s going to fuck you, he’s going to do it nicely, the way you’d fuck a friend (I don’t know). You remove his jacket as he loosens his tie, and he unbuttons his shirt as you tug down his trousers and his underwear. He rifles through his wallet for a condom, and you make fun of him for carrying a condom in his wallet (“You’re such a skeez, Jeff.”; “Hey, you’re fucking this skeez!”).

You both have a brief moment, a brief pause, of should-they-shouldn’t-they – after all, you’re going to have to see each other practically every day after this, at school, at the study group, at lunch, at hangouts. But then, you tell him, “Well, get on with it, then,” and he e-e-eases into you, taking his goddamn sweet time with it, letting you grasp at his arms and his back and his waist and his neck and hair and face and chest. He loves how handsy you are. You try not to be so vocal – you don’t want his ego growing any bigger than it currently is – but your touchiness always gives you away. And it makes him feel special as well – you’re not the most affectionate person usually, and you rarely give out hugs and touches and pats like some of the other members of the study group, so the fact that you’re touching him so much and so freely makes him feel blessed.

When he thrusts up into you, you bite into his shoulder again, and he nearly loses it. There’s a sinful, explicit, wet noise that’s made when he moves in and out of you, and it’s almost enough to make him cum on the spot. He’s suppressing his moans, now, trying to do well for you, trying to be good, be strong, be satisfying enough for you.

“Good girl,” he chokes out when you whine high in your throat for him – he says it more to himself than to you, feeling the need to give praise after receiving it, wanting to make you feel as good as he is (say what you will about Jeff, but he’s respectful when he wants to be). But little does he know that you love being called that. Some weird insecurity issue is probably to blame, but you whimper for him and clench around his length, making his hips stutter and his pace falter. He decides to play around a bit, just to see how far he can push you while you’re sedated like this – usually, you’d be up to speed, quick and sharp-tongued and tough and sickly sweet, but, now, he has you a mess in his hands. “Oh, you liked that, didn’t you?” he chuckles darkly. “You’re such a good girl for me. Such a good—” he thrusts harder, “—little—” harder, “—girl.”

All you can do is gasp and try to take it well. You can barely form words – it’s like you’re drunk. Well, you are drunk. Of course, you know you’ll have a hard time getting rid of this picture – this picture of him panting and sweating, of his mischievously glinting eyes, of his large hands digging right into your hips and thighs and waist – and you’re probably going to get yourself hot later just thinking about it. You blame him. You blame him for all of it. He’ll probably forget about it in a heartbeat, you think to yourself. He’s Jeff Winger, after all – ladies’ man, professional man-whore, completely indifferent to everything all of the time. You try to plan ahead, try to plan for later when you’re sad and alone and hating your body and hating your life choices, but then Jeff moans breathily into your ear, and you’re right back in the moment. You curl your legs tightly around his waist, letting your head fall back as he takes further control.

“You know, I think this is the first time you haven’t had some comeback ready to go, isn’t it, hon?” he says, then softly biting your earlobe. You can only choke out a moan. “Thank you for that addition.”

You groan and roll your eyes. “I fuckin’ hate you,” you say in a feeble attempt to put up your guard again.

“No, you’re just fucking me, actually.”

You sob dryly into his shoulder, and Jeff starts to encourage you a little, probably the kindest he’s ever been during sex: “Come on, darlin’, why don’t you cum for me? You’re doing so well, you know that?” And that just sets you over the edge. You finish, body quivering, exhausted, and slump right forward onto Jeff’s chest. He somehow manages to hold on – he’s not done yet, and he’s going to want to drag this out for as long as he can, that much he knows. He plants his hands on the table, either side of you, and rests his head forwards on your shoulder, panting.

“Nice one, Jeff,” you say to him awkwardly. What does one say to the friend they’ve just fucked? There’s no right thing, of course, but you know straight away that that was definitely a wrong thing.

But he laughs. “We just fucked the shit out of each other, and that’s what you’ve got to say to me?”

“Well, what am I supposed to say?”

“I dunno,” he tells you, and he genuinely doesn’t.

You stay like that for a while, him laying light kisses on your shoulder and neck, you running your hand gently through his hair, both confused as to what to do now. That is, until you point out, “You’re still hard, huh?” You can feel him throbbing painfully inside of you. This must be torture for him – you’ve finished twice, now, and him none.

“Yeah,” he replies. “I was gonna wait for a better time, but.”

“I don’t think there is a better time in this situation.”

Jeff swallows thickly, throat suddenly dry as he pulls back and rests his forehead against yours. His dick twitches inside you when you grin up at him, and you pretend not to notice (but, oh, you’ll definitely remember it the next time you smile at him). He’s quite nervous, and he can’t pinpoint why. His brain’s just still a little too fuzzy to really process any coherent thoughts, even despite that sobering experience just then, but, again, he isn’t stupid – he knows what that knotted feeling in his chest probably is – so, before he has the chance to figure out what he already knows, he asks you, “Can you turn around? Bet you feel real good when I have you bent over this desk.”

“What a charmer,” you mumble under your breath. You know that’s about as sweet as he gets. You’re about to turn around for him when he surprises you:

“Of course, you don’t have to if you don’t want to.” He strokes your arms nicely. “We can go back to the party if that’s what you’d prefer, have a few more drinks, make fun of Pierce a little. Or we could try something you decide on. Got a favourite position? I’m sure we could make do with the space we have in here – maybe move a few buckets and boxes around, and we’re good. What do you like?”

Your mind goes completely blank, except for one very clear thought: “You’re what I like.” Not out loud, of course. You’d probably do anything he wanted right about now. You half-expect him to pull a 180 and say something snarky or sarcastic, but he doesn’t. He just kisses your cheek sweetly and waits for your answer. What do you like? You don’t even know anymore, and yet you’re getting wetter than ever before. Your breath is picking up, now. “You know,” you mumble, trying to contain your nerves, “the usual: a little light asphyxiation, a bit of hair pulling. I dunno. What else is there? I guess overstimulation can be nice sometimes. And, you know, I liked it—” a blush starts to form on your cheeks, “—I liked it when you...”

“Liked it when I what?”

“You know,” you huff frustratedly. “Said all those nice things to me.”

Jeff raises his eyebrows. “Praise?” Internally, he smiles to himself – he likes that he shares that in common with you. “Don’t worry, I like it, too.”

“Nice to know.” You maintain a neutral expression, but your clit is fucking beating right now, and your cunt is dripping wet. Your efforts not to clench around Jeff are herculean.

“Well, how do you want it?” he asks you brazenly, the usual Winger way. Okay, now, you squeeze tight around him, and Jeff presses his hands around your thighs in response—but, outwardly, the two of you are perfectly normal about this. “I can dial it back a little if you wanna take charge.” His eyes darken just slightly. “I don’t mind.” And that’s genuine enough – he certainly doesn’t mind the mental image of you with your fingers wrapped around his cock, teasing him as he whimpered and begged for a release, completely submissive to you in the moment. He wouldn’t mind that at all.

You grip the edge of the table and run a tongue over your teeth briefly. “I can turn around.”

“Really?” he asks. “You want to?”

“I want to.”

“Alright then,” he says, smiling. “Better get to it. We don’t want the others realising we’re gone, now, do we?” And you shake your head in response. Now that Jeff’s a little nicer, you’re more comfortable around him. He realises it, too, and so he allows himself to do the things he normally wouldn’t, brushing your hair out of your face for you and really looking into your eyes. Sex sort of became meaningless for him sometime along his life, full of emptiness and loneliness even in that intimate act – that’s the trouble he gets for sleeping his way out of his problems. And so, looking in his partner’s eyes has always brought him some type of shame – he’d always close his eyes and power through it. But you’re nice. You’re familiar. You’re safe and warm and soft. It might be a little to do with the friend thing, but, even when he was with Britta, he never felt this type of comfort, this okay-ness, this general acceptance. It was nice to have, for once: a friend.

He carefully pulls out of you, and then you turn around and bend over the table. Jeff almost stops breathing at the sight in front of him. And it’s not bad, don’t worry – he’s just a bit dramatic. “Jesus Christ,” he curses, and he moves his hands to massage gently at your hips. “You’re so fuckin’ wet.” And it’s true. Slick spills down your thighs, some of it slathered across the table and a fair amount dripping down onto the ground below them. That’s the type of stuff you see in pornos, he thinks amusedly to himself, and he continues to stare in awe at your cunt. Now, what Jeff really wants to do is to kneel down and lay his tongue flat against you. But he controls himself, and, instead, just sucks it up and praises you for it; “Keep that sort of energy up, yeah?”

“You sound like you’re a key-note speaker addressing an assembly of seven year-olds,” you say to him as he places his hands on your ass, spreading the sides apart slightly, his dick straining when he catches a better view of your aching cunt, and then he runs two fingers along your slit – he grows silent for a few heartbeats, amazed at how easily you drip down the length of his fingers and onto his wrist. You then turn back to see him place those fingers in his mouth, and you turn back around, blushing, before he can notice.

“Ah, so you’re into role-play?” he teases, lining himself up with your entrance.

“Sh—” but Jeff is already pushing into you, heavy and strong and thick; you try to continue your sentence without your voice shaking, “—shut u-up.”

He continues all the way to the hilt, and both of you use your hands to hold onto something for stability, his on your hips, and yours flat on the table. “You know,” he says as he bends over you, chest against your back, one hand coming to rest on the wall by your head, coaxing a pant or two out of you as he does so, “it’s nothing to be ashamed of. Role-play’s good once in a while.”

“Uh-huh,” you manage breathily. “You sound like you’re covering up a deeply concerning fantasy, there.”

“Don’t shame me.”

“We all know what it stands for, Jeff. ‘Role-play’s good once in a while.’ Really? Show me where you hid the goddamn body.”

He exhales amusedly through his nose. “I feel like you’re just trying to ease in with your officer-perp kink.” And he’s just casually gri-i-i-in-ding up against you, carefully pushing you back down so that your stomach is flat against the table, his lips pressing kisses into your hair and upon your shoulder blades as he starts to find a pace.

“It’s h-hot, okay?” you stutter out, trying to continue the conversation. It’s true enough – police officers can be hot when they want to be, and Jeff would certainly make for an interesting experience in that sector. Not that you were planning to sleep with him again. Fantasies are what’s discussed between a couple – it’s not really something you tell a one-night stand, especially if that one-night stand happens to be one of your closest friends who would never let you forget anything embarrassing you did—ever.

“Really?” Jeff says through a smile, though, now, even he’s having trouble composing himself. He should’ve cum when he could’ve – he feels like he’s about to give way any second, but he, oh, so wants to finish inside of you while you crumble apart around him. “Hands—” his breath catches, “—above your head.”

“I’m literally bent over a table in front of you.”

“Could still apply to some other positions, though.” And, with that, he begins to slowly pull out and push into you, nice and gentle at first, very controlled, but, as I said, Jeff was very quickly losing control, so one can imagine the animalistic desperation that soon kicked in for not just him, but for both parties. You buck up against him feverishly, letting out whines and suppressed, breathy moans and little, desperate whispers of his name (he absolutely loves those), and he just goes at it with all his energy. Who cares if he looks like absolute shit at the party later on? That’s a lot coming from him, he’ll have you know. As long as this memory is playing in his head, he doesn’t care about his hair or his suit anymore (the suit might be a stretch). He tells you breathlessly, “You know, you look good like this. Such a pretty girl.”

There’s the praise that you love. You squeeze around him and pant, “Take a picture—” and Jeff slides a hand between your legs, rubbing at that golden spot, and you have to choose between pressing into his cock or into his hand; the indecision makes your head reel, and the continuation of your sentence is twisted high and quiet, “—it’ll la-ast long-e-er.”

“Is that an invitation, doll? ‘Cause I’m not exactly against it.”

He pounds and pounds into you, nice and firm and precise, until you’re mewling and whining for him. “Be quiet, now,” he whispers against your ear – there are people chattering outside the room, passing through the exit after the party. But you can’t exactly keep it in. You try to hold your breath, you really do, but you end up grunting out when Jeff kneads at one of your breasts. “What?—d’you want those people to hear you or something? You wanna get caught?” You whine suppressedly again. “I bet you’d love that, wouldn’t you? Dirty girl.”

You clench once again, so fucking close to cumming, and he asks, “Can I try something?” And you nod frantically, alongside giving him a rushed, weak verbal affirmation. “I want you to prop yourself up a little more, hands on the wall – can you do that for me?”

“Uh-huh,” you mutter, adjusting yourself, and, with your movement, Jeff groans and grips your hips tightly.

“Good girl,” he praises, kissing the place behind your ear. And he continues thrusting, and then swiftly lifts one of your legs right up into the bend of his arm, leaving you to press the side of your face into the wall, your entire body swaying with the sheer force of the rutting of his hips. You feel so full like this, and he’s reaching that heavenly spot inside of you. Your knee gently brushes against his corresponding shoulder whenever he moves into you, out of you.

“Shit,” you curses sharply when he roughens his pace. “Jeff.” His name comes out as an awfully high-pitched sigh.

He huffs, “Yup, that’s me, doll.”

“You’re such a prick.”

“You could at least wait until I’m not inside of you to insult me.”

“Tell me something nice.”

“Something nice? I dunno if I can muster it up – all the things I’m thinking aren’t exactly nice. Definitely not things I’d say to anyone’s grandma.”

“Well, then, be mean,” you chuckle, and he jerks inside of you. “I don’t care.”

“You like getting off on my voice, do you?” His voice is nice and low and gravelly, and it practically grates against your pussy in some magical way, and your whole body shudders beneath him. He keeps at that perfect pace, pressure, and you commend him for his technique, you have to say. “You ever think about me when you touch yourself?” You nod. “Such a perfect, little girl. Fucking perfect.”

And he’s got a good-ish look at your face from this angle. Your eyes are closed in ecstasy, mouth open in silent pleasure, and you’re chasing, chasing that feeling. He can’t help it. He cums. And you follow immediately after – your fists screw up uselessly against the wall, and your legs quake and quake, and you squeeze so impossibly tight around him that he lets out a choked moan at how good it feels. He continues sloppily thrusting up into you, helping you ride out your orgasm while also riding out his own. “God, you’re hot,” he mutters, smiling.

You grin back at him, and his cock twitches again – it’s instinctive, he swears. “You’re not so bad either,” you reply, eyes shimmering in the dim light. Those eyes flutter shut again when he carefully pulls out of you with a sinful, wet noise.

Shit, he thinks to himself as you slip your soaked underwear and your pretty, green dress back on.

Shit, he loves you, doesn’t he?

After he’s put his suit back on, you help to adjust his tie, and he has to try his very, very hardest not to blush. He’s pretty sure you notices anyway, but it’s the effort that counts, right? He really, really wants to kiss you, but he doesn’t know if he should. The one-night stand is over, right?

“Call me tonight?” you ask after a brief pause. Was that the correct thing to do? You and Jeff call sometimes, obviously, when he’s at the store and wants to ask if you want anything, or when you want to order a pizza for yourself but get too nervous and ask for his help—but this’ll clearly be different. Are you still friends? Of course, you know you’re still friends, sure, but is it still the same?

And his heart rate has picked up significantly. You want him to call you. You want to talk to him later. “So you can get off to my voice?” You laugh. He made you laugh. He just made you laugh. The sound is like music to his ears. “I’m not a phone sex line, you know. Not a free one, anyway. If you want my services, you’re gonna have to pay.”

You’re smiling. “What’s your price?”

“$100, give or take.” He neatly folds his pocket square back up and places it into his breast pocket. Like he said, he wants to save it for later. He’s not sure for what, but it seems important to him now. And then, what he bumbles out next is said on a whim – the words are quiet and shy. Yes, shy. Jeff Winger is shy. He’s blushing. His stomach is full of butterflies. “Can I come visit your room instead?”

“Yeah, but it’ll cost you $100, give or take.”

Jeff approaches the door, and you line up behind him. “Ready?” he asks you. And you grab a fistful of his suit jacket from behind, going up on your toes, and kiss him lightly on the corner of his mouth in response.

He doesn’t even notice that you wrinkled his suit. He just closes his eyes and turns around for another kiss.

(Spoiler alert: You don’t end up seeing each other in your hotel room because Britta gets black-out drunk and nearly starts a vodka fire on the bride’s dress, so Jeff has to take her to get her fucking stomach pumped. But he gives you a call, and you come, and you sit together by Britta’s bedside as she sleeps. You talk about weird hospital experiences you’ve had, and then you fall asleep. He lets you rest your head on his shoulder.)

#jeff winger x reader smut #jeff winger x reader #jeff winger #community #pierce hawthorne #abed nadir #troy barnes #britta perry #shirley bennett #annie edison #have fun with this #i have no idea why i wrote this #but i do love it #also i’m very proud of the title

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young-dumb-and-vaccinated · 3 years ago

Note

Omg can I please get a hannibal x a shy girl reader ? Like he’s really possessive of her and she doesn’t know how to handle it but she likes him so they date??

Sorry this took so long, anon. I’ve been bouncing ideas around and this one in particular, I believe, fits your request. Y/n feels out of place among Hannibal’s fancy friends and it becomes even more obvious when he abandons her at a party.

Trigger warnings: social anxiety, sexual harassment, overstimulation

You and Hannibal had an agreement about large gatherings. He could only bring you to a party if you had a week's notice and at least three uninterrupted hours of gaming time prior to the event.

For this event, you needed a solid six.

One of the major Maryland universities was awarding a lucrative research grant to a student of clinical psychology, and every influential name in the industry was expected to be there. As a recent college grad with a bachelor's in business you didn't know what to do with, you couldn't imagine a less welcoming environment if you tried. You couldn't fit into their world and more importantly, you didn't want to. But the thought of being noticeably different in any situation was twice as terrifying. So you spent the whole week repeating your mantra; blend in, be quiet and make it through the night.

But Hannibal had different plans for you.

Halfway through the week, just when you'd pushed the party out of your mind, Hannibal presented you with a gift.

"What's the occasion?" You asked. You hoped that if you pretended not to know, it would just magically go away.

"I brought you something to wear on Friday." Hannibal answered, hanging the garment bag up on the bureau. "You know I'll take any excuse to dress you up."

He unzipped the bag and placed a black silk dress into your arms. "Try it on so I have time to get it altered if it needs it."

The material was cool to the touch and outlined your figure so perfectly, you felt even a little naked. Hannibal, of course, loved this. You were his own personal Venus de Milo. His goddess and his muse.

“Yes, that will do nicely.” He observed, looking at you hungrily.

“Seems a little short for a such a sophisticated event, doesn’t it?” You raised an eyebrow. The answer was yes and he knew it. He was very deliberate in everything he did. “I don’t want to come off the wrong way.”

“And what way would that be, darling?” He asked, not taking his eyes off your figure.

“I mean--” You searched for the right words. “It’s a gathering of the Mid-Atlantic’s most esteemed academics, I feel like, in a dress like this, I might be seen as, well, a...”

“A prostitute?” Hannibal finished, choosing a much nicer word than you would have.

You looked down. “Yeah. It just doesn’t seem all that appropriate.”

Hannibal approached you and lifted your chin slightly to look into his eyes. “Many Christian denominations believe that Mary Magdalene was a prostitute, yet she was Christ’s right-hand woman. She was first to see him crucified and first to witness his resurrection.”

“Dr. Lecter,” You smirked. “I never would have taken you for a religious man.”

“Goodness, no.” He shook his head. “But any reputable academic is expected to be familiar with biblical literature and its many contradictions and impossibilities.”

“What does that have to do with me?”

“You are my divine feminine, Miss [L/N].” Hannibal said in a low whisper. “And I want everyone to see it. If they see a common whore, it would only be a reflection of their own jealousy.”

Hannibal's rationalization almost made you forget about your fear of being noticed. Almost. It all came rushing back when you arrived at the event. Not one person your age was in attendance. The women wore long, flowing evening gowns that reached the floor. The length of your skirt alone guaranteed that all eyes were on you. In a simple black silk dress, you looked the very model of high society. Silk was a sign of luxury, and Hannibal wanted everyone to know that you were a woman of means. His woman, to be precise. That was why he brought you to these functions in the first place. To put you in a dress short enough for any wandering eyes so see the smattering of love bites running up your inner thighs. He wanted everyone in his field to know that you were completely and entirely his.

You realized too late that this was all his little exercise in showing you off.

Everyone seemed to know him. He only knew a handful of people by name, and you didn't know anyone.

"And who is this delightful young woman?" A woman with a light southern twang in her voice asked, looking at you as if you were a caged animal on display.

"I wasn't aware you had a daughter, Dr. Lecter." The young man beside her laughed. "Or is she your side piece?"

Your eyes scanned the room for the nearest exit. It would be unbecoming to make a scene, so you plotted a way to slip out quietly.

“Darling, meet Dr. Charlotte Ramset and her TA, David.” Hannibal introduced, notably ignoring the young man. “Dr. Ramset, this is my intended, [F/N] [L/N].”

"I didn't realize she was also a ventriloquist!" The lady, presumably Dr. Ramset, joked. You'd heard that one a million times. She looked at you. "Tell me about yourself, sweetie. What are you studying?"

The lady was old enough to be your grandmother and reeked of too much perfume.

"I graduated last year." You said, quietly. "With a BA in business."

"See, there's a good woman." David added. "Only speaks when spoken to. They don't make ’em like you anymore, baby."

Hannibal tightened his grip on your hand. "On the contrary, David. See, Miss [L/N] is quite a bit like myself. She only dignifies those she deems worthy with a response. There's nothing wrong with being selective."

The lady laughed at David's expense and smiled at you. "Good for you."

You smiled back just a little, not ready to bring your guard down yet. "I've had to deal with more than enough. It's best not to engage."

"Oh, I know, I know." The lady said, shaking her head. "That's how it is for us educated gals. Always having to put up with pigs. See, I went to college in the sixties, so I can tell you some real stories."

This was a new experience. Talking to Hannibal's friends and having them listen to you was something you never considered possible. Now, you were one of the educated gals. You were just about to strike up a conversation with this woman, when the man next to her decided someone desperately needed to play devil’s advocate.

“I find that sexist, actually.” He cut in. “Not all men are pigs.”

The silence following his comment was deafening and you wanted to crawl into a hole and die. Whatever progress Hannibal and Dr. Ramset made breaking down your defenses was completely reversed and you were ready to retreat.

Dr. Ramset took a long sip of wine and adjusted her shawl. “David, none of us said anything about men, you drew that conclusion yourself.”

“I mean, look at you.” David gestured to your dress. You knew exactly where this was going and you wished you could just disappear. “You’re basically asking for it.”

Dr. Ramset glared at him. “David, that’s enough.”

“I’m just stating facts.” David crossed his arms. “If you dress like a slut, what do you expect?”

Dr. Ramset and Hannibal seemed to have an entire conversation through prolonged eye contact before one of them broke the silence.

"Charlotte, I hate to have to excuse myself so soon, but the president of the university is expecting me." Hannibal said, dropping your hand. Your heart hit the floor when you realized that he would be throwing you to the wolves.

"Of course, Dr. Lecter." She nodded. "Duty calls."

"I trust you'll keep an eye on my beloved [F/N] in my absence?" His voice hardened. The severity in his tone frightened you.

Dr. Ramset didn't seem disturbed or even surprised in the slightest by his gently threatening demand. "Of course."

"Thank you. And [F/N]?" He said, pressing his lips to the back of your hand. "I won't be going far. Please, try to have fun."

You tried not to look affronted, but you were going to have a long talk with Hannibal when you got home.

"I'm just saying what everyone is thinking." David continued, his inability to take a hint positively astounding. "Why don't you respect yourself enough to cover up, [F/N]? You have a boyfriend!"

Your eyes scrolled across the room looking for any sign of Hannibal, but he was gone. Dr. Ramset finished her wine and stared at her TA with the resigned disgust of a death row jailer.

"Any other thoughts?" She said, snatching a fresh glass of wine. You looked at her with a clear expression of discomfort.

"Come on, do you see any other woman in the room dressed so provocatively?" David's voice broke mid-sentence. "No. Because they're educated enough to know that real men don't care about their bodies."

The hotel clerk approached the group. "Mr. Hosmer, there's a call for you."

David narrowed his eyes. "Uh, what?"

"Someone is on the phone asking for you." The clerk repeated. "Says it's an emergency."

David shrugged. "Fine."

Just when you thought you would be rid of him, at least for a moment, he planted his hands on your hips in attempt to "get by" you. His touch was like that of an insect crawling across your skin; unexpected, filthy and leaving you squeamish.

"I'm so sorry about that." Dr. Ramset's words echoed in your ears, but you didn't really hear them. You were too focused on grounding yourself to process what she was saying.

“Dr. Ramset?” You said, quietly. “Which one is the president of the university?”

She glanced at a tall woman in a dark blue suit, surrounded by equally important looking businesspeople. You followed her eyes. “That’s Dr. Mary Hosmer.”

Your ounce of righteous fury was squelched in two seconds when the reality of having to talk to someone, especially someone of stature, set in. You looked sheepishly back at Dr. Ramset.

“Could you please ask her where Hannibal went?” You whispered. “I’d really like him to take me home now.”

Her face turned sympathetic. “Of course, [F/N]. Stay right there.”

You nodded. “Thank you.”

Dr. Ramset crossed the floor and politely greeted the president. You took a few slow, calculated steps closer, just to get in earshot.

“Pardon me, but, have you seen Dr. Hannibal Lecter?” Dr. Ramset said, casually.

“I wasn’t aware Hannibal had even arrived yet.” The president answered. “I haven’t seen him.”

Your eyes widened. You fought the urge to freeze, but you had to move back before Dr. Ramset knew you’d been eavesdropping. You heard everything you needed and rushed back to where she’d left you.

“Dr. Hosmer said he stepped out.” She told you upon her return. “He should be back soon.”

You tried not to show that you knew she was lying. “...oh.”

“Would you like me to stay with you until he comes back?”

You knew you were completely on your own. You didn’t know what was going on, but you had an inkling that it had to do with the president and David sharing a last name. All you knew for certain was that you couldn’t trust anybody.

“Don’t bother.” You shook your head. You took off for the door, but Dr. Ramset grabbed your wrist.

“I’m sorry, [F/N].” Her voice dropped to a low whisper. She didn’t look mad, but afraid. “But Dr. Lecter told me to stay with you. Please. Don’t make this harder for me.”

You recalled how seriously threatening Hannibal’s request was. She wasn’t answering to the president of the university. She was answering to Hannibal. You didn’t know whether to be scared or relieved.

“Right.” You conceded, stepping back in. “I’m sorry.”

The actual award ceremony was much longer than it needed to be, and it dragged on even longer knowing there was no reason for you to be there. Other than that, you awkwardly followed Dr. Ramset around the party like a lost puppy the whole time. You were back to your original plan: blend in, be quiet and make it through the night.

Just when you thought the party would never end, someone tapped you on the arm. You turned around, hoping with every fiber of your being that it was Hannibal, but it wasn’t. A tall woman in a dark blue suit stared back at you.

“I’m sorry to bother you, miss.” She said, apologetically. “But have you seen my son? I saw him talking to you and Dr. Charlotte earlier, perhaps he told you where he was going?”

You’d pushed that man completely out of your mind. You shook your head. “He left to take a phone call and I haven’t seen him since.”

A hand found your shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Dr. Hosmer, but I believe I saw the boy on his phone out in the lobby.”

“Dr. Lecter!” The president’s eyes widened. “How nice of you to finally join us.”

“...Yes, I believe he left right after making unwarranted comments towards my intended here.” Hannibal ran his hand down your arm lovingly.

“Well, boys will be boys.” The president chuckled. “Maybe you should teach your girlfriend not to wear such revealing clothes.”

Hannibal smiled and pulled you in protectively. “Whatever the case, I hope you find him very soon.”

Her phone chimed in her back pocket. “Oh, that’s him right now.”

“Wonderful.” Hannibal said. “[F/N] and I will be taking our leave.”

He hurried you towards the door, his hand tight around yours. A blood-curdling scream came from behind you. You looked back for just a moment and found the president hollering in pain and falling to her knees.

“Let’s go, darling.” Hannibal tugged at your arm. “They don’t deserve your presence.”

“Hannibal, I swear.” You said, once you were in the safety of the car. “If you killed every man who looked at me like a piece of meat, sooner or later, there won’t be any men left.”

Hannibal smirked and reached for his seatbelt. “Wonderful.”

#hannibal lecter #hannibal nbc #hannibal x reader #hannibal x you #anon ask #anon request

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allegra-writes · 4 years ago

Text

"On the balcony"

Tom Hiddleston x Reader

NSFW

Warnings: Smut, semi-public sex.

"You're perfect, and everything in between

Keep moaning, 'cause we're making a scene

Keep going, until they tell us to leave"

Notice me - Role Model

"Oh, god…"

"Shhh" His hot breath on the back of your thighs sent shivers down your spine, "You have to be very quiet, princess. Can you do that for daddy?"

You nodded your head, not realizing he wouldn't be able to see it. You were too far gone to use words anyway, too drunk on the heady cocktail of adrenaline and desire, too drunk on him.

On his big, calloused hands trailing caresses up and down your naked legs, slipping under your dress, pushing it up and up, over your ass, bunching it at your waist. On his lips, his teeth, kissing, sucking, and nibbling at the pliant flesh of your cheeks.

On his wicked tongue, wet and hot even through the lace of your gossamer-thin underwear, that you had picked out just for him, and now he was taking great pleasure in ruining.

"Tom…"

Your soft sigh was almost imperceptible, you couldn't even hear it over the pounding of your own heart inside your chest. But of course he heard it. His tongue left you, but you didn't have time to complain before one of his long, dexterous fingers tugged your underwear to the side, toying briefly with your clit only to ghost over your entrance a second later, teasing you but never penetrating you.

He felt your sharp inhale, no doubt about to whine or complain, but you caught yourself in time. It was worth it, if only to feel his lips trail kisses up your naked back as he stood up to tower over you.

"Very good, baby" He breathed, husky, against your ear as you managed to keep perfectly still while he buried two fingers as far as they would go into your soft, velvety heat. "Just like that… nice and quiet. Prove to me that you can be a good girl taking my fingers in silent, and maybe… maybe I'll let you have my cock"

It was an empty threat, you knew that by now. If you were to break and moan, whine, or even cry out, he would just slap his hand over your lips, muffling the sounds as he bent you over the railing, fucking you hard and fast in punishment. Good girl or not, there was no way you were leaving that balcony without christening it the same way you had done every other room, piece of furniture or surface, horizontal or otherwise, in that, your new house. Your safe haven. Your sanctuary. The little piece of paradise he had built just for the two of you.

No, you knew he would never follow through, but that wasn't the point. The point was that you liked the praise. You liked being his princess, his angel, his good girl, as he did bad bad things to you. And Tom was quite aware of that. He loved seeing you bending over backwards to please him, to cater to his every whim, to obey his every arbitrary rule as he made it increasingly impossible for you.

It was absolutely perfect, you were absolutely perfect.

"Yeah… Just like that… such an obedient little thing…" Tom savored the effect his words had on you, your walls delicate squeezing his big fingers, the new wave of wetness falling on his palm like sweet ambrosia, like candy; you tasted just as sweet. A part of him wanted to keep playing with you, to drive you crazy, torture you until you begged for him to take you, debase you in the filthiest, lowest of ways you could think of.

But another, more powerful part, hungered for you, needed you even more than you wanted him. It had for the whole night, ever since you stepped into the garden in that shimmery, backless blue dress, designed with the sole purpose of testing his sanity.

So far, it was a losing battle.

The cacophony of music and party sounds downstairs drowned the sound of his zipper and belt buckle being undone, so you didn't realize what was happening until he was sliding his thick cock inside you in one long, slow and controlled stroke.

"Fuck," your boyfriend broke his own rule, cursing out loud as he bottomed out, "you feel so good… being inside you is pure heaven"

Understatement of the decade. There was a hunger, an ache in him whenever he was as much as six feet away from him. A heartbreaking longing that could only be fixed by having you like that, in his arms and all around him.

"You feel-ah… You feel amazing too"

You could practically hear the smile in his voice as he started moving, unhurriedly but harsh. Deep and measured.

"Really now?"

A sigh was the only reply you could munster, eyelids falling shut by their own accord, head falling back in pleasure.

"No no." He tsked, "Don't close your eyes… look at them"

You did as he said, trying your best to focus on the housewarming party still going strong in the garden. On your family and friends, blissfully ignorant of what was going on above their heads.

"All it would take is for just one of them to look up…"

There was no disguising the shiver that shook your body from head to toe at his words. You felt his dark chuckle against your back,

"Oh, but you would like that, wouldn't you? Them seeing us… I would like too," he confessed, "you look positively stunning when I fuck you"

He licked your ear, from lobe to top, and you swore you tasted blood, from how hard you were biting your lip.

"And no one… absolutely not anyone, can fuck you like I do, can they?"

You shook your head. But he wanted more.

"Use your words, angel"

It was a trap. Of course it was, cause as soon as you opened your mouth, you felt his fingers dig into your hips for leverage, as he started thrusting brutally, his cock splitting you open in the best of ways. Your lips parted in a silent scream.

"I asked you… a question… princess" Tom demanded, punctuating every word with a hard, almost cruel stroke.

"Ah… yes…" you gasped, "yes, daddy. No one… never…"

"Look at you, so obedient" He praised, "I think you deserve a reward… you deserve daddy's come"

"Oh god, yes" You almost came right there and then, your walls fluttering uncontrollably around his thick shaft, almost driving him to a climax of his own.

"Ask me nicely, then" he commanded, his movements becoming erratic, "ask daddy nicely to fill you with his come…"

"Please, daddy, fill me with your come" You half murmured, half whined, not even concerned about the volume of your voice anymore. You needed it, you were so close, you could almost taste your release. And you wanted him to come undone with you.

"Take my come, princess… and come with me"

You did, burying your screams against his palm, just as he buried his against your shoulder, no doubt leaving a mark.

Tom pulled out of you, fixing your dress before taking into his arms, stepping inside the room, so you both could collapse on the king size bed.

"That was…"

"Absolutely amazing" he finished, once he could catch enough breath to talk again, "just like you, my angel" he brought your hand to his lips, placing sweet, reverent kisses on each of your knuckles.

"No. Just like you… Tom, you're a dream come true"

His replying simile was nothing short of breathtaking. It never failed to marvel him, the fact that you loved him back. The fact that you were his, such a wild and free creature surely ought to be elusive. But you had willingly let yourself be caught by him, and far from feeling trapped, you had actually liberated him. It wasn't the first time you had done something like that: You had let him fuck you on the back of a limousine, finger you under the table at the Met gala, sneaked your hand down his pants on the dancefloor… The list went on and on.

He felt even more free with you than when he was a bachelor.

For so long he had run away from commitment, from love. Now all he wanted was everybody to know he was yours and yours alone.

Just like you were his.

"We should probably get back to the party before they start wondering where we disappeared to…"

This time, he was the one letting out a bratty whine,

"I know… I don't want to, but I know"

"Do you think anyone saw us?"

Your boyfriend shook his head,

"The balcony is too dark, and the music is too loud, so I honestly doubt it"

You breathed out in relief.

"Ok. Let me just grab a jacket and we'll go downstairs"

Tom frowned,

"Why? It's a very hot night… are you feeling alright?"

"I am, don't worry" his concern made you smile, "It's just someone left a hickey on my shoulder…"

Far from looking guilty, a mischievous glint illuminated Tom's icy blues.

"Don't cover it" It wasn't a request. You were ashamed at the weakness of your knees in response to his dominant tone: he had just fucked you, you couldn't possibly be horny again. He was turning you into a nymphomaniac.

"No?"

"No" He confirmed. They might not have seen him taking you, right there under (or above) their very noses…

But they sure as hell would know what you just did.

#tom hiddleston #loki #smut #tom hiddleston x reader #loki x reader #tom hiddleston imagine #loki imagine #fanfiction #james conrad #johnatan pine #robert laing

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kingandfireheart · 3 years ago

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Okay I need to rant I need to get this off my chest

WHAT EVEN WAS THE LEGACY COME ONNNN

I was so fucking excited and now I'm just 🥴

Where tf do I even start ugh

1) Logan and Grace were supposed to get married right? We were supposed to get a wedding right? But did we? Uh NO. If there's was supposed to a wedding, we should have gotten a wedding man!! I was so excited for a wedding scene because we rarely get wedding scenes in books, and we were supposed to get Logan and Grace's and we were robbed!! AT THE END!? What even was that 🥴

2) Okay so Hannah and Garrett. THEY DIDN'T EVEN FEEL LIKE HANNAH AND GARRETT IN THIS ONE🥺 I was so excited for them because come on they're so beautiful together and The Deal was so beautiful and this one🥺 why the miscommunication🥺 and most of the time Garrett was dealing with his father, which is ok he has trauma, but this was H&G's story and it didn't feel like it. And Hannah not telling G about her pregnancy and waiting for that long uh huh😬 but that last scene when G gets a jersey for the baby and they find out that they're having twins, TWINS😍, his only reaction was that he only got one jersey😂❤️

3) Dean and Allie were actually good in this. I liked the proposal and Dean asking of her father's blessing and the entire thing was so cute and beautiful and they felt like the couple that I had read.

4) I'm yet to read Tucker and Sabrina's story but I'm like so disappointed after the first two that I couldn't go ahead and read it. 🥺

I few things I actually loved,

The boys dynamic ❤️

- the bachelor party was awesome

- Dean practicing his proposal at G and Logan just 😂❤️

- G and Logan's scene in H&G's story where they're at the function and G's mad about Logan getting married without him and saying that he's gonna give Dean the best man position but Logan says that he won't and G sighs and says that he's not and Hannah teases them to get a room CHEF'S KISS 😍❤️❤️

- Tucker's psycho speech when they're in the limo and talking about Dean proposing at the wedding I LOVED IT SO MUCH LIKE 😍❤️😂 that entire speech was so awesome man I love these boys so much

- Logan running to G's room after a fan crashes his room and after he forces G to get adjoining rooms THE BEST😍

- The entire thing with Aleksander was kinda funny but eh

I love Jamie so much ❤️🥰

What was I looking forward to- some Hannah and Allie moments, I mean they're bffs right but we got nothing

I was kinda looking forward to some group time with all of them together but it didn't happen. This was supposed to be a closing thing but it didn't feel like it you know? Maybe I was expecting something else, and I get it that not everyone can be satisfied, but still, it didn't feel like a ending 😬

Anyhoo I got to see my baby boys and I loved all four of them so much in this just best thing out of this book was the boys' moments together ❤️❤️

Okay The legacy rant anon,

I finally read it! I split up my comments by the sections, but yeah, I don’t regret my decision to wait for the book, but it was nice!

Logan and Grace:

I was obviously hoping to see the wedding, but I thought this chapter was really sweet. Logan and Grace felt like such a sweet couple once they got through their issue in the Mistake and I’m honestly sad we didn’t see more of them in Briar U series. I know this chapter was recycled but I had never read it before. It so nice to see how they’ve both grown up and still have so much of their charm.

I love the doll jokes. I love that Logan still brings up Winston. I love that they are with each other through thick and thin. I love that the girlfriends have a group chat. I love that Dean and Tucker are still a part of their lives even though they don’t play hockey. I have always loved John Logan the most of these four and the fact that he calls Grace “Gorgeous” (100 times better than baby doll imho).

Dean and Allie:

I saw a spoiler for this one and avoided reading it for a long time because I knew it would break my little heart to see these two fight. But honestly? I’m with you. Dean and Allie are all about meeting each other where they’re at and it warmed my heart.

I also loved mentions of my absolute faves: Conor Edwards and Jake Connelly (and the Chad and Doctor Mom cameo!!!) Allie finding out about Grace and Hannah was gold. Grace sending Alexander was gold. Garrett Graham and John Tucker own my heart, only to be bested by Jamie Tucker!! Fitzy is such a simp. Hollis is amazing and I’m sad about the lack of Rupi content. What really stole the show for me though, was the guys showing up for the Hockey game. I love a good team spirit moment, but I love a “we love you man” moment even more!!

Tucker and Sabrina:

Honestly? This one was a bit predictable to me. I was hoping Sabrina and Tucker would have worked out their communication problems after the Goal, but it makes sense that it all bubbled up at the worst possible time.

Once again, love the group chats and Alexander. Love the meddling gay couple. Everything else was kind of meh though. Maybe I’m just at a weird stage in life, but the career fulfillment plotline was just not compelling to me.

Garrett and Hannah:

JAKE CONNELLY MY LOVE 😍 I mean Jake wasn’t THE highlight of the book, but still a major highlight honestly, I’d throw away all of these novellas for a Briar U Follow Up Novel. Seriously my love for Jake and Conor knows no end

I thought this one was good! I’m glad Garrett finally came to terms with his dad and his abuse. I’m glad Hannah may finally have a way to save her parents. I’m glad they’re both doing well career wise and Hannah and Allie get to be engaged at the same time. But Wellsy and G were always endgame and this whole “WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME” plot was kind of repetitive. Like their problems in the Deal came from Hannah not telling Garrett about his fathers threats. Why do that plot line twice?

Overall

I’m not sure why Elle wrote the book outside of fan-service. It was heavily implied the couples are endgame. They still had issues to overcome, and the epilogues with the time jumps and the Briar U appearances (especially in Hunter’s novel) showed the characters made it. I would have loved to see more interactions with the Briar U couples, but I get that that wasn’t really the point of the book.

If I’m honest, I think I loved the friendship bonding moments the most (you’ve mentioned most of them). I have this headcanon of all 9 couples (off campus + briar u + Rupi and Hollis) all getting together and chatting and having a fun time. I loved the Alexander stuff and the group chats, I loved the ongoing jokes. I didn’t really like seeing 4 couples that got their HEA get into fights and rehash issues from their books.

If Elle does write more in this series, I want (1) more Hollis and Rupi (2) Hunter, Demi, Taylor, and Conor’s senior year (But like just the happy fluffy parts- maybe a fun scene with all 4 of them hanging out, but no more couple fighting and problems) (3) more Summer and Brenna friendship

#the legacy #kris reads #off campus elle kennedy #off campus series #briar u series #elle kennedy #john logan #grace meyers #or I guess: grace logan #garrett graham #hannah wells #sabrina james #Sabrina Tucker #john tucker #dean di laurentis #Allie hayes #wellsy

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fandom-imagines-stories · 4 years ago

Text

A Bourbon Street Wedding

Enzo St. John x Mikaelson! Reader

Part 4 of 4: ( Part One, Part Two, Part Three)

Words: 3859

Summary: The big day has finally arrived. You couldn’t have asked for anything more perfect.

Notes: I can’t believe it’s been around 3ish years since I started this series. To anyone out there who is still reading, thank you! This is the final part in my Enzo and the Originals Series and I really hope you guys enjoyed. Thank you so much for reading! Warning: So much fluff ahead. Lovey dovey fluff, family fluff, just all kinds of fluff.

The New Orleans’ sound did not wake you up. It was the feeling of someone looming over you as you slept that crept deep into your slumbering mind and forced you awake. Your eyes fluttered open and you screamed. Caroline stood over you, hands on her hips and rage in her eyes.

“How are you still sleeping?” She shrieked yanking the covers off of you. You groaned and turned your head to look at the alarm clock. “The wedding is only seven hours away! We need to get ready!” Enzo rolled over, covering his ears with his pillow. Caroline grabbed your hand and Enzo’s arm and dragged you out of the bed.

“Caroline, I appreciate how much you’ve done to help, but-” Enzo started groggily. Caroline shoved a bag of hair product at him and pushed him out into the hall.

“Damon got here earlier, he’s waiting downstairs for you.”

“But-”

“No, buts, we are already way behind schedule.” Caroline huffed. Her planner-face calmed and she smiled at both of you, stepping to the side so you could look at each other. “Alright, you two. This is it.” The last time you would see each other before the ceremony. You just stared at Enzo, speechless. Neither of you could even begin to know what to say, so you just laughed nervously. Caroline slammed the door. “Okay, let’s do this.”

Bonnie, Rebekah, and Hayley all burst into the room. Hayley pushed play on the stereo and music blasted, mostly cheesy romance songs that Caroline had insisted upon. Bonnie popped a bottle of champagne and Rebekah toyed with your hair while Hayley and Caroline talked about their daughters.

“Hope is staying with her grandmother this morning. Mary is bringing her later.” Hayley explained.

“Ric’s staying with the girls. He sends his best.” Caroline announced. You nodded and smiled. Alaric was your friend, despite his complicated relationship with the rest of your family. Then again, most of your friends had a complicated relationship with your family. Caroline scowled. “Stefan has elected himself as the selfless martyr who will not be attending so he doesn’t ‘cause a scene’.” She rolled her eyes. You took her hand swinging it back and forth playfully.

“You deserve better.” You noted. Bonnie raised a glass.

“Amen to that.” She handed out the drinks and the morning passed by with many giggles and indecisive arguments over what color lipstick you should wear. When all was settled, you were cast into a frenzy of makeup and hair curlers until Caroline declared your look to be ‘just right’.

Meanwhile, downstairs, a reluctant vampire stood outside the gate, tempted to turn around and run as fast as he could in the opposite direction. Of course, the first person to greet him didn’t exactly put his mind at ease.

“Damon Salvatore…” Klaus chuckled darkly. “What a pleasure to see you again.”

“Niklaus.” Elijah called from inside. “Do stop frightening the best man.” The oldest living Mikaelson came out and stood by his brother. “Hello Damon.” Damon gave the pair a reluctant wave. The magic witchy Mikaelson- one that Damon didn’t even know existed until now- invited him in and the three lead him to the room where Enzo was getting ready. Damon death-glared him as Freya went upstairs and the brothers stood on either side of him, like minions of death.

“Please tell me you’ve got bourbon.” He grumbled, side-glancing the two originals, waiting for one to pounce. Enzo watched in irritation as Damon threw his stupid, trademarked leather jacket onto the chair. Kol glared from his spot on the sofa.

“I thought we’d already gone over the guest list.” He sneered. “I would’ve made sure that this-”

“Behave yourself Kol.” Elijah warned.

“It’s nice to know none of you have changed.” Damon snarked, snatching up the bottle of bourbon on the side-table. He poured himself a drink and downed it quickly. “And neither has your taste in liquor.” Enzo growled.

“You’re here for a reason, Damon.” He groaned. “You already missed the bachelor party, now please, do something helpful.”

“You missed one hell of a night, Damon.” Kol smirked, licking his lips.

“Yeah, I heard about those call girls going missing.” Damon noted. “I’m surprised at you, Elijah. I never took you for one of us miscreants.” Elijah kept up his stoic expression, his tone betraying his slight annoyance.

“I refrained from last night's activities.”

“He was absolutely no fun.” Klaus whined. “Lovesick fool. Hayley’s practically got him on a leash.” Kol and Klaus both snickered. Elijah shook his head, but couldn’t stop himself from smiling. He really was a lovesick fool, not that he was ashamed to admit it. And with Davina and Cami both gone, he didn’t reprimand his brothers for their partying.

“I believe that I was not the only so-called ‘buzzkill’ at the party.” He pointed out, his eyes on the groom. Damon’s jaw dropped.

“Enzo?” He fake-gasped. “Has our blood-thirsty party man finally turned into a hopeless romantic?” Enzo rolled his eyes and shrugged.

“Just because I’m not a brute, doesn’t mean I’m a hopeless romantic.” He smirked. “Undeniably in love, yes. But not hopeless.”

“I think I’m going to be sick.” Kol pretended to gag. “You remember you’re speaking of my twin? I know a couple secrets about her you would not find so romantic.”

“Kol.” Elijah scolded. “We wouldn’t want Lorenzo getting cold feet now would we?”

“Yes because then I would have to remove them.” Klaus threatened, casting a dark look to the groom. Enzo gulped and began to tie his tie over his pristine white shirt. Elijah had picked it out, which meant that it was the best money could buy.

You both looked perfect. After all, this was the biggest moment in all your centuries of living. The girls gathered around you and let out a collective sigh of awe. This was it.

The guests were beginning to arrive and you felt your heart pounding, wishing that you could be with him to calm your nerves. But of course, it’s bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the ceremony and with your shared history of weddings, you needed all the luck you could get. And so you waited, tapping your foot at an alarming speed and trying to take deep breaths.

“Everything alright dear sister?” Kol wondered with a smirk, leaning against your doorway. Caroline, Rebekah, Bonnie and Hayley were all getting ready to be the perfect bridesmaids and Freya was preparing to officiate the wedding. She had been so excited when you asked her and you couldn’t think of anyone else you wanted to say the words ‘I now pronounce you husband and wife’.

“What could go wrong?” You looked at your twin and smiled nervously. Kol’s face suddenly darkened.

“Well I can think of something.” He growled. You turned to see who he was looking at and gasped. Kol stepped towards Marcel. “I don’t recall sending your invitation.”

“I just came to tell Y/N congratulations.” He held up his hands a sign of peace. “I don’t want to cause any problems. Not today.” Kol continued to loom ferociously over Marcel until you stepped in between them.

“Kol, why don’t you go make sure that Klaus hasn’t killed any of the guests? I don’t want a single speck of blood on him when he and Elijah walk me down the aisle.” You were able to shoo him away before he could object, turning back to Marcel with fiery eyes. “Of all the days you decide to make amends…”

“I’m not asking for your forgiveness for not telling you I was alive all those years.” He started. “I’m asking you not to hate me. All I want is for things to go back to the way they were before everything happened. We were pretty close friends, you and me.”

Thick as thieves, more like it. While Marcel was like a son to your older brother and a lover to Rebekah, he was always one of your dearest friends. You were devastated when you believed your father had killed him. When you discovered he was really alive, you were both relieved and furious. All those years and never once had he reached out to find you. Seeing him stand before you now erased all of your anger.

“You say it like I’ve forgotten.” You cried, pulling him into a hug. “Thank you for coming, Marcel. You don’t know how much it means to me.” You pushed away with a small smile on your face and tears in your eyes.

“Hey,” He comforted, placing a hand on your cheek. “We can’t have you crying before the wedding.”

“Would you stay?” You pleaded. “Please, Marcel. It would make this day even more perfect.” He gave you a look.

“Can you promise none of your siblings are going to try to kill me?”

“You know I can’t.” You both laughed and he agreed to stay, sneaking down into the courtyard where the ceremony was taking place. With him gone, you were alone again and the unstoppable nerves returned. “Come on, Y/N. You have faced centuries of trials and vicious enemies. You’re just-”

“Pledging to spend the rest of eternity with someone with probably as much emotional baggage as yourself?” Klaus finished, stepping into the room. Elijah had managed to get him into a suit and he completed it with his famous mischievous grin.

“Shouldn’t you be downstairs with Elijah?” You put your hands on your hips.

“Oh come now, don’t be so cross. It is, after all, the happiest day of your life.” He replied smugly. “I simply wanted a word with you before the festivities begin.” He led you to sit on one of the sofas, taking your hand in his own.

“What’s this about, Nik?”

“I know that I have been… difficult these past centuries.” He smirked and you couldn’t help but laugh in agreement. “The truth is, Y/N, that I am completely afraid of losing your love to someone else. But I have seen the way you are with Enzo and I simply cannot bring myself to take it away from you. I may be a selfish bastard, but even I do not wish to see you unhappy. I wish you the most joyous life, Y/N.”

“Klaus,” You placed a kiss on your brother’s shoulder. “My love for you will never falter or diminish, no matter how much of a thorn in my side you are.” He gave you the loving smile that you often wished to see more of. Klaus was troubled and all you hoped for was that one day he would find the kind of happiness you had found with Enzo.

“You look stunning.” Elijah noted from the doorway. He held out his arm. “Shall we?” Klaus and you stood and the three of you walked down to where you would be entering. Caroline and Bonnie would be first, then Rebekah with Damon, and Kol insisted on announcing you like some kind of queen. You were pretty sure he just wanted to get a laugh out of the crowd before you walked down the aisle. Of course, it was just nice to have your twin want to take part.

You could feel yourself trembling as Caroline and Bonnie started walking. Rebekah and Damon were bickering even as they began down the aisle. You took shaky breaths and felt Elijah chuckle.

“Everything is going to be fine.” He assured you.

“You know, it’s never too late for me to kill him.” Klaus whispered and you elbowed his side. Kol gave you one final smirk before heading out to the front of the space.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” He greeted. “You are all here to celebrate the union between Enzo St. John and my beautiful sister, Y/N Mikaelson. Us being twins, I could share a great deal of stories about Y/N…” He looked back towards you and you glared at him. “But that will have to wait until the reception. Now, without further adieu,” He had an exceptionally smug smile on his face now and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at his final words. “Here comes the bride.”

Enzo finally was allowed to turn around as the music began to play. His heart leapt and his breath hitched. You were the most gorgeous thing he had ever seen. In fact, gorgeous wasn’t even the right word for it. Nothing could describe how you looked as you walked towards him. As if his eyes alone had calmed you, you felt your nerves wash away and the brightest smile spread across your face as you took the first step down the aisle. The faces of your closest friends turned towards you and with each step, you felt emotions bubbling up inside. As you reached the end, Klaus gave you a wink before taking his place beside Damon, removing a stake for his pocket.

“Klaus!” You hissed. He gave you a mischievous grin.

“Couldn’t resist.” He said, Damon taking the stake from him. Elijah lifted your veil and you felt a tear roll down your cheek. He smiled and wiped it away, placing a kiss on your forehead.

Freya beamed at you as she greeted the crowd and thanked them for coming to witness your union. Enzo couldn’t take his eyes off of you. The ceremony itself was simple and you and Enzo stared into each other’s eyes the entire time.

“May I have the rings?” Your oldest sister asked. Damon handed Enzo your ring and Rebekah handed you his. “The couple has prepared their own vows.” Freya nodded for you to begin and you took a deep breath, taking both of his hands in yours.

“The first day we met, you were trying to kill my best friend. However, just a few years previous so had I.” You laughed through the tears now freely falling down your face. “I thought that the only promise I would make was to my family. Our code of always being there for each other, and although it has been tested- multiple times-” You shot Klaus a look. “I want to extend that to you. I promise to love you and to protect you and cherish you. Always and forever.” You slid the ring onto his finger and laughed to yourself, wiping away the tears. You looked into his eyes to see that he was crying too.

“I didn’t know what it was like to be loved.” He began and for a moment you thought he’d blubber more than you had. He always was a romantic. But he composed himself as best he could. “Until I met you. You saw past all of the bloodshed in my past. All of my pain and anger. You had had your fair share of hurt over the years and you decided to take a broken soul and mend it. You saved me.” He took a deep breath, feeling a tear roll down his cheek. “And I plan to spend the rest of our lives trying to repay you for the love that you’ve shown me. Always and forever.” He put the ring on your finger and you both laughed at how emotional you both were. Freya smiled.

“What are you waiting for? Kiss her.” The crowd erupted in applause as Enzo dramatically pulled you into his arms and lowered you into a dip before kissing you for the first time as your husband.

The reception was held at Rousseau’s, which was heavily decorated with roses and lights to the point that it no longer looked like a bar, but something from a fairy tale. Again, the handy work of Caroline. Klaus watched Caroline from his seat at the head table as everyone waited for you and Enzo to arrive.

“Now that Lorenzo is officially family, I recommend you don’t give him the same treatment that you gave us for the past few centuries.” Elijah straightened his cufflinks with a smile, giving Klaus a side glance.

“Of course not, Elijah. The daggers don't work on him.” Klaus grinned mischievously. “Although, there’s always the crypt in the basement.”

“Don’t even think about it.” Rebecca chimed in. Elijah looked across the table to Hayley, feeling a deep desire to one day have this with her. To have the happiness that his sister was now experiencing. Hayley saw him and smiled, her eyes lighting up his soul, or whatever was left of it. Perhaps one day...

The doors opened and the newlyweds entered. You still couldn’t quite believe it. In all your years of living, you couldn’t think of a moment when you were half as happy as you were now. Enzo’s fingers were laced with yours as you walked towards the main table, seeing the smiles on your friends and family’s faces. The guests cheered as you took your seats. Dinner was quickly served and it wasn’t long before Rebecca stood, tapping her glass with her spoon to get the room’s attention.

“Ah yes, it is time for the dreaded speeches.” She announced with a smile. “Being the maid of honor, I am obligated to speak for my dear older sister. And since I have over a thousand years of stories, it was difficult to pick just one. I succeeded however, in finding a memory that I believe best describes my sister.

“She and Elijah were the only two to escape Klaus without being daggered and shoved into a box.” She gave Klaus a brief glare before continuing. “In the late 1800’s, when I awoke, many things had changed. People I loved turned their back on me.” Her eyes came across Marcel, but didn’t linger for long. “Elijah reintroduced me back into society, but it was Y/N who helped me nurse a broken heart. She made me believe in my own strength again. Y/N showed me the love that only an older sister could. I am beyond delighted that her heart has finally found its equal.” She looked at Enzo happily and feigned a scowl. “But know that should anything happen to her, you will not only have my brothers to worry about.”

“Duly noted.” Enzo nodded, his hand having never left yours. All eyes were now on the best man. Damon took a long drink from his glass and stood reluctantly.

“There isn’t a lot I can say about Enzo before him and Y/N met. When Enzo and I first knew each other we were prisoners. We were trapped together, tortured together, and experimented on.” You felt Enzo’s grip on your hand tighten at the memory. “When I got my chance to escape, I took it. I betrayed him. Decades later, he swore revenge on me and tried to kill my girlfriend.” Reading the confusion in the crowd, he smirked. “Don’t worry, this bromance has a happy ending.”

“Of sorts.” Enzo whispered to you and you both laughed quietly.

“My point is that Enzo hated my guts until Y/N got him to forgive me. I believe her words were ‘There are better ways to spend an eternity than seeking revenge. Especially against an old friend.’ Anyway, here I am and here they are, so I guess we all know the end of that story.” Damon glanced at you and despite his usual smirk, you could see the sincerity in his eyes. “Elena was always rooting for the two of you to end up together, so that meant I have to too.” The crowd chuckled at his last comment, but you stood up from your chair and pulled the snarky vampire into a hug.

“Thank you, Damon.” You whispered. “I miss her too.” You felt him return the embrace and smile sadly against your cheek.

“She would have loved this, you know. All the gushy romance and twinkling lights.” He said, fixing a hair that had fallen out of place and tucking it behind your ear. You nodded.

“You’ll have this with her someday, Damon. And when you do, I will be the one giving the speech.”

“Over my dead body, Mikaelson.” He snarked. “But I guess is Mikaelson St. John now. Jeez, that’s a mouthful.”

“Sit down, Salvatore.” You shook your head in amusement. As you went back to your seat beside your husband, you noticed a member of the wedding party’s chair was empty. A rush of panic shot through you. “Elijah, where’s Klaus?”

All of your siblings turned to the vacant seat and their eyes widened. Everyone started to split up to go find him before he could cause any trouble.

“I’ll go get Caroline, she went to the bathroom.” Bonnie said, taking off in the direction of the restrooms. You and Enzo decided to check the kitchen but were not at all prepared for what you would find. Sure enough, there was Klaus. And Caroline. On the counter. You quickly shut the door, trying to contain your laughter. You took Enzo’s hand and headed back to the table, grinning like an idiot.

“Well it’s about time.”

As the night slowly died down, Enzo clinked his glass to acquire the crowd’s attention. Everyone focused on him as he stood, shooting you a bright smile.

“May I have everyone’s attention? First and foremost I would like to thank each of you for coming out to celebrate this wondrous occasion. Some of you are from this beautiful city, and some came all the way from a small town called Mystic Falls.” He turned to Damon and smirked before returning his loving gaze to you. “But to end the night, I wanted to say a few words to my new wife, Y/N.” You felt the blush rise to your cheeks and the warmth rush over you.

“A few months ago, I discovered who my family was. As it turns out, after a century of searching and hoping, they turned out to be a bunch of thieves and betrayers. No resemblance to me, I’m sure.” The room laughed. “I’ll admit that I was crushed. But now, the Mikaelsons have accepted me into their family, some more willing than others.” Klaus shrugged with a smirk, still flushed from his little rondevu earlier.

“I almost had you.” He teased. Enzo continued, holding his hand out for you, lifting you to stand beside him.

“None of this would have happened if it wasn’t for the brilliant, caring, incredibly sexy-” he winked and you giggled, “most wonderful girl that came into my life when I thought I had no reason left to live.” You laid a hand on his shoulder, feeling tears start to well up in your eyes as they started to in his. “She made me see that maybe there was a slight shred of hope in this eternity we were both stuck with. Y/N became my world. A world I would do anything to protect.” His hand slipped into yours. “Now we may have our disagreements, and I’m sure we have a long road of bickering and evading certain doom.” He held up his glass in one last toast for the night. “So here’s to one hell of a forever.”

General Tag: @rae-gar-targaryen; @takemepedropascal; @childhood-imagination; @mylovegoesto; @yellowbadgergirl; @itmejado; @suckmyapplejacks

#enzo st. john #the mikaelsons #klaus mikaelson #enzo x reader #elijah mikaelson #kol mikaelson #kol mikaelson twin #enzo st. john x reader #the originals #damon salvatore #caroline forbes #rebekah mikaelson #the vampire diaries

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yoonpobs · 4 years ago

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things change | jhs

pairing: jung hoseok x oc

genre: FLUFFFFFF, established relationship

words: 3, 377

summary: when you're an unlikely pair but it works

“Do you ever wonder what it would be like if you weren’t with her?” Yoongi slurs, his alcohol breath apparent enough for Hoseok to scrunch in his direction.

Hoseok knew, though. What he meant. Drunk Yoongi got sentimental and curious, two perceptions that were dangerous independently and possibly collateral together.

“I don’t.” Hoseok shrugs.

Because being with you was the best thing that’s happened to him and he would be a crazy man to ever put himself through the angst of imagining a world that he was Jung Hoseok without you by his side. It was cheesy and he was sure if he said it to your face you’d groan and shove him by the shoulder. But he’s always been observant and he’d be the first to see the way your eyes soften in a way that no one else can notice but him.

“I do.” Yoongi snorts.

Hoseok raises an eyebrow. “Is there something you’d like to tell me?” He’s careful with his words because Yoongi was no snitch, even if he was absolutely wasted. But Hoseok can’t say his interest isn’t piqued. Especially when he surrendered himself to the DD (designated driver) of the group.

“It’s just”—Yoongi sighs, sitting up and his drink sloshes in his cup when he places it onto the table—“I’ve said this before and you’ve probably heard this a thousand times but the two of you are so different.”

Hoseok remains silent but doesn’t do anything to give away the thoughts floating through his mind. He was half-expecting the same words to leave his friend's mouth, but having it be confirmed only makes Hoseok internalise his sighs.

“Yeah. You and every person who’s seen the two of us together.” Hoseok grunts.

“Look. I know you hate it when people point it out.” Yoongi says. “And I’m not here to tell you what you already know and on a fundamental level, we both know that the birds of a feather flock together bullshit is redundant and unrealistic. It’s just that every time I see the two of you together—it works. And it’s bewildering maybe because I can’t ever imagine _____ letting you win an argument.”

Hoseok blinks. “She doesn’t.”

Yoongi snickers, throwing the last bit of his drink down his throat before leaning back into the plush booth of the club they were at.

When Jin suggested throwing a bachelor party at one of the hottest nightclubs in Seoul, Yoongi and Hoseok almost ditched purely because the two of them had girlfriends and they didn’t really want to hear the end of the story if a stripper suddenly thought they were free game for the night.

Frankly, Yoongi’s girl was far more possessive but she was sweet. She just didn’t like it when people were actively trying to sleep with her boyfriend.

You, on the other hand, were simply unbothered. It wasn’t because you didn’t care—because you did. Hoseok knew that even if you’d roll your eyes at him when he’d joke about going to a strip club with the boys. But you weren’t insecure, and that wasn’t to say that women who were outwardly concerned were. You were just assured, and you made an effort to let Hoseok know that he needed you as much as you needed him—so anything he did wouldn’t just hurt you, but him too.

“It’s just that you’re basically the most cheerful dude I know and I don’t think I’ve seen you ever frown at anyone. Even the barista who fucked up our order four times.” Yoongi recalls. “Then there’s ____ who’s resting face literally is a big fuck you to anyone who breathes in her direction.”

Hoseok snorts, sipping his virgin cocktail. Even if he wasn’t the DD, he couldn’t do alcohol so the minty flavour of his drink was a night refresher for a tiring night (though he spent it just moping in his seat while the rest of his single friends partied away).

“I get mad too.” Hoseok shrugs.

“Yeah. Barely. Even then—you’re the most diplomatic person I know and you have a way of talking to people to get your point across without making them fear for their lives the next morning.” Yoongi deadpans.

“And sometimes diplomacy isn’t necessary.” Hoseok retorts.

Yoongi rolls his eyes. “I’m not shitting on your girlfriend. You don’t need to play social justice warrior here.”

Hoseok sighs before leaning back, mirroring the man spread Yoongi was in while he ponders his next set of words carefully.

Yoongi was probably one of the most chill people Hoseok knows, and maybe that was why they got along so well. Yoongi was a take-no-shit kind of man who was truly sensitive under all the intimidating layers he showed the world. Hoseok was just nice, but he was no pushover. It was a good balance that came out when necessary.

So Hoseok didn’t want to rub Yoongi the wrong way and tell him to stop talking about petty differences between him and you but also wanted to satiate the curiousity that lingers in his eyes.

“I know,” Hoseok says. A girl nearly topples into their booth but Hoseok spots his younger friend Taehyung grabbing her by the waist and shooting the two men a sleazy wink before he stalks off with her in his arms. Yoongi rolls his eyes but Hoseok can’t even be bothered.

“I mean,” Yoongi drawls. “Based on what you told me I know that the two of you don’t even want the same things in the future. And again—not saying there’s anything wrong with that—but didn’t you want kids for the longest time?”

Hoseok nods his head, deciding against his words.

Yoongi clicks his tongue to the roof of his mouth, nodding slowly as if he was processing Hoseok’s words.

“How did that … do you still want kids?”

“I want what _____ wants.”

Yoongi groans. “You sound like a total pushover.”

Hoseok levels a strict stare onto his friend, and even if Yoongi was older—there was something about a man who never got angry shooting him an intense stare that could make Yoongi zip his mouth.

“And kids aren’t endgame to a relationship. I love her, and yeah—I want kids. But she’s important to me and she’s here now. There isn’t a reason for me to condemn her or push her for a future that doesn’t exist yet. She’s the one carrying the baby for nine months and it’s her decision whether or not we have kids. Whether or not a kid comes along doesn’t matter to me because I’m with her because I love her and not because of a kid that isn’t real.”

Yoongi blinks. Then he huffs a breath out before letting out a low chuckle.

“Wow.”

“I know you don’t mean any harm but I don’t need to explain to anyone why _____ and I work so well together. But because you’re my best friend and you get oddly sentimental when you’re drunk I’ll spell it out for you and you better hope you’re sober enough to remember this tomorrow because I won’t repeat it again.” Hoseok says firmly.

Yoongi’s eyes widen at the serious tone Hoseok shifted to and observes the way Hoseok looks stern yet … soft, all at the same time.

“_____ is tough. In more ways than her exterior. She knows what she wants and what she’s ready for. And it was a goddamn miracle that she decided that what she wants and what she’s ready for was me. Yeah, she’s terrifying but she’s human—her heart is still pure and she’s a kind woman—person. Sure she’s systematic and needs an answer for everything but I’m her boyfriend and I’ll make sure that I can give her all the answer she needs to feel safe in this relationship. And yeah—we may not want the same things. She doesn’t want to get married but I do. But marriage isn’t endgame to me. She is. She wanted to move in together but I was iffy about it. So we live apart. That doesn’t change the nature of our love and she still loves me even if all I do is annoy her. So yeah. I’m willing to compromise and so is she. We’re different but we’re together.”

Hoseok is still calm as ever and there’s even a hint of a small smile on his face. The fact he’s smiling only testifies to the fact that you and Hoseok were so different from each other.

Yoongi is stunned to silence and sure he’s a quiet man but he usually had things to say, opinions to add. But Hoseok’s proclamation of your love only makes him sit in silence, letting the words dissipate in the atmosphere but remain in his conscience.

“Wow,” Yoongi repeats his words from earlier, but it’s all he can muster up.

Hoseok offers his friend a kind smile, sipping the rest of his drink while his friend can only stare at his nonchalant demeanour.

“And if you still don’t see it.” Hoseok grins. “There’s a reason why you don’t. I’m the only one that gets to fall in love with her like this.”

Yoongi whistles lowly before rolling his eyes. “No need to get possessive.”

“I’m a man in love. Sue me.” Hoseok shrugs with a slight smirk.

Yoongi gags at the cheesiness even if he finds himself internally grinning at his best friends blatant love for his girlfriend. He was sure it was the alcohol that was making him mushy—or perhaps Hoseok has always looked the way he did when he spoke about you. Eyes bright under dark lights and the heart-shaped smile of his becoming wider.

“If it counts for anything …” Yoongi trails off, offering a lazy smile to Hoseok. “I really hope she does marry you.”

Hoseok scoffs at Yoongi’s blatant optimism. Sure, he wanted that. He wanted nothing more than to see you in white, smiling only at him—or even with your usual stoic face—he doesn’t care. But he knew that the event itself would never change the fact that he wanted to be with you, now and forever. If fate wills, he’d marry you in a heartbeat. But Hoseok was content—and more importantly, he was in love.

“It doesn’t. But thanks.”

extra scene

“Hi, my love and my absolute sunshine.” Hoseok coos the next morning, and that’s the first thing he says when you open the door to your apartment; eyes already rolling to the back of your head.

“Did you do anything to piss me off?” You ask dryly.

Hoseok snickers, but pulls you in by your shoulders to give you a wet smooch to your lips that has you whining. You don’t push him away because you knew it was just the two of you and possibly one of your snooping neighbours.

“As you love to remind me during arguments—my existence is enough to do that, no?”

You nod your head, patting him gently on the cheek as you offer a half-hearted smile. “I’m glad you’re on the road to self-actualisation.”

Your boyfriend snorts, stepping into your apartment as he makes sure to leave his shoes on the shoe rack instead of idly laying on the floor because you were anal about things like that. And he missed you so he didn’t want you shooting him death stares just yet.

“You keep me on my feet.” Hoseok flirts, tone a little sleazy and you can’t help but sigh at your boyfriend's antics even though a hint of a smile marks your face.

When Hoseok settles into your couch, he immediately spots a wrapper that looked like it went into gift boxes—a pretty shade of green, which was his favourite colour. He immediately leans forward and eyes it with furrowed brows before looking up at you.

“My pretty baby got me a gift?” He wiggles said brows as you scoff at him, plopping into the seat next to him as you lean into his embrace.

“See for yourself.” You shrug, face still remaining blank.

Hoseok chuckles, already expecting your reaction even though everything about the placement of the wrapper to the strategic colour scheme of it screamed a gift for Hoseok. He knew you still got flustered when you did nice things for him, even if he’d argue that was on a daily basis because you were just a loud lover in a way that let your actions speak for your affection.

He wants to coddle you further, snuggle you so hard that you’d whine and attempt to shove him away until you decide that you secretly love it and hold him tight. He was so in love. But he placates the shift of your knee in a way he knew was due to your patience wearing thin.

So, he picks up the wrapper and realised that it was much lighter than he’d expected; and lacked the density of a usual present. It almost seemed like you were pulling a prank on him for no apparent reason. But Hoseok trusted you and knew that you weren’t the type to pull shit like that because you just had better things to do.

He unravels each crevice, eyes still searching for the gift that somehow never comes—all until he finally settles on a stick that he vaguely recognises from pharmacies that he never thought would be in his hands, staring up at him with two straight lines.

The silence is loud, but Hoseok is stunned. His mouth falls agape as he cradles the pregnancy test in his palm, eyes not bothering to look at your nervous expression. One that rarely comes from you just because you were an assured person in general and seldom needed validation from others.

But you loved Hoseok and you knew deep down that he’d always have an effect on you, words or actions—presence or not.

“Hobi?” You call softly, voice nervous as you fiddle with the hem of his shirt as he blankly stares at the test.

You’re terrified you made a mistake—or if he’s changed his mind because of your pessimism on the idea of having children. Sometimes you wonder how Hoseok could love you, all edges and harsh lines when you spoke. A woman who was either black and white or purely a grey area. Hoseok was the rainbow on dark days and brightened any environment.

You can’t read Hoseok’s face, and it scares you. Because you usually can since he was an open book. So when he finally turns to you, and you finally get a proper glimpse of his expression—

First, you see tears.

“I-Is this …?” He chokes.

Your eyes widen, immediately reaching out to cradle his cheeks as an involuntary reaction.

“Why are you crying?” You feel yourself tearing up and you try to suppress it. There was something about you being so connected to Hoseok and his feelings that made everything he felt translate to your own conscience.

“Y-You—I-I—you’re pregnant?” He whispers, eyes returning to the stick.

You nod your head slowly. “I am.”

Hoseok nibbles on his lips and you wait patiently for his next response. You can more or less guess that he’s happy yet confused, the conversation of potentially having kids never really showing any progress. But he’s been patient and so loving—and you thought you’d never shake but here you were.

The next thing you know, Hoseok is wrapping his arms around you so tightly that it hurts as you try to gasp for air. He nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck in a way that makes all your edges turn round, and your heart melt from the stone wall it was into a flurry of emotions that only he can bring out of you.

“We’re going to have a baby?” He asks softly, pulling away to clasp his palms around your cheeks, forcing you to look at him.

“We are.” You reply, equally as soft; eyes and tone. “You’re going to be a father, Hobi.”

And somehow, that breaks him. He can’t stop the tears nor can you. So you allow him to cry, and you allow yourself to feel too; holding each other close as you feel his hand reach out for your stomach. And you can’t deny the butterflies that erupt.

When he manages to regain his composure, wiping at his eyes; he looks at you so earnestly and gives you a wide smile that drew you in from the moment you met, and grown to love.

“You really want this?” He asks, eyes concerned but tone irrevocably gentle. You knew he wasn’t doubting your choices, but respecting them.

You nod your head.

“For the longest time … I thought kids weren’t for me. That I wouldn’t be a good mother because of how I am.” You tell him, and you see Hoseok’s eyebrows furrow and you know he’s thinking about denying that. But Hoseok has never been the type to interrupt you while talking. “And maybe I won’t be, maybe I will. But having you here with me just reassures me to know that our baby will have the greatest, most loving and most patient father out there.”

Hoseok’s eyes soften, knowing how big of a decision this must’ve been for you.

“I love you.” He whispers when he leans in to give you a slow kiss on your lips, one that wasn’t leading anywhere but was nice enough to feel the emotions pouring through.

You don’t say it back, but you look at him with gentle eyes that only he can recognise—and he knows. He knows your heart like you know his.

“You’ve compromised a lot of things for me, and I know I’m particular about many things. I have a plan ten years down the road of where I’d like to be in my life—and I never thought I’d be planning with a kid in mind.” You chuckle softly, and Hoseok pulls you closer so that you’re resting your head against his chest. “But you make me want to do things I’ve never done. And I really—I really want this baby. I want him or her to grow up thinking about how badass their parents were even though their mom is a total bitch and their dad is the mediator of the family.”

Hoseok snorts, brushing his hands through your hair.

“How long?” He asks.

You grin against his t-shirt, not looking up when you fiddle with the fabric of it.

“I’ve been feeling symptoms for a month now, and the test was from a week ago. I went to the doctor to be sure because I knew from the moment I suspected it that I wanted it to be true, for you, for me—for us.”

Hoseok tilts your chin up, offering you the smile you love so much and you feel so … happy.

“Next thing you know I’ll have you walking down the aisle.” Hoseok sighs, happy and content.

You roll your eyes, narrowing it at him as you push on his chest to sit up.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Jung.”

Hoseok wraps his hand around the back of your neck before pulling you close to meet your lips again.

“Let a man dream.” He grins against the kiss.

He can feel your giggle and the way you do the thing that you do when you’re secretly ruffled but adore him way too much to pull away.

“You know this means we have to move in together, right?” You murmur against his lips.

Hoseok snorts. “Duh. But you know you already have a home in my heart, right?”

You expected it, but it doesn’t make it any less cheesy when you groan and shove at his chest. Hoseok cackles, fully loving the way you scrunch your eyebrows in distaste at him.

“I hate you.” You scowl.

“No, you don’t.” Hoseok sings, resting his head against your shoulder while he looks up at you with innocent eyes.

You’re happy, and so is he.

And a few months down the road, Hoseok drops a ring into your palm, no words or expectations. You roll your eyes, as usual; but you slip it onto your ring-ringer anyways.

#bts imagines #bts fics #bts jhope #jhope x reader #hoseok x reader #jung hoseok x reader #hoseok fluff #jung hoseok #hoseok imagine #hoseok fic

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chrisbitchtree · 3 years ago

Text

Florida Man: Billy Hargrove Says I Do

For @harringrovetrashh, who wanted a little Harringrove wedding action! @bisexual-cupcake and @0bugzzz, I hope you enjoy as well!

Part one here

Part two here

***

Wedding planning with Billy was, to say the very least, interesting. Billy had never once tried to hide who he was from Steve and was always unapologetically himself. Wearing jorts and bright red cowboy boots to Robin’s daughters dance recital? Check. Sunbathing in a pink thong while sipping a margarita, in plain view of the neighbour’s children? Check. Requesting chicken fingers and a cold beer at a five-star restaurant? Steve had seen it happen more than once.

He’s not sure why anyone thought even for a second that their wedding would be any less Billy. It had all started with the suits. He’d thought classic black suits would be nice, but Billy had other ideas, insisting on an all-white tuxedo with tails and a top hat. At least Steve was able to talk him out of the cane and convince Billy that it would look better if he was in white, and Steve was in black. Steve had vowed to himself that he would never try to change his blond beauty, so he didn’t say a word apart from the cane.

Next was the music. It turns out that Billy was from a long line of line dancers and had to have music that they could dance to. He’d even gotten matching white cowboy boots for he and his mother for the occasion. The DJ ended up being handed a playlist that had everything from Ariana Grande and The Weeknd to Billy Ray Cyrus and Brooks and Dunn.

The one thing that he didn’t have an opinion on was the cake. He’d batted his eyes at Steve and licked his lips, stating “You’re sweet enough for me all on your own, Stevie. Better than any cake could ever be.” Steve kissed the grin right off his face.

With his massive sweet tooth, Steve was having the time of his life dragging Robin and Billy along for cake testing. Billy had no clue that Steve was ordering him a groom’s cake in the shape of an alligator. Steve could feel his mom’s blood boiling at a higher and higher temperature every time he gave her an update. It was glorious.

There was also the case of the bachelor party. It was going to be a joint affair with Robin and Billy’s friend Tommy planning it. Tommy was just about as crazy as Billy, if not crazier sometimes, so Steve was very interested in seeing what he and the level-headed Robin had managed to come up with together.

---

The bachelor party was a night to remember. Between polishing his cowboy boots to a cherry ride shine and picking out his shortest jorts to go with them and styling his mullet just right, Billy had managed to almost get arrested for taking a nap on a slide in a park while on his way to get milk and eggs at the store, and refusing to leave when he was woken up, stating that this was public property, and the kids could play somewhere else. Thankfully, Robin had answered the call and let him off.

Once Billy had gotten home and suited up, they’d headed to their first destination, a honkytonk bar. In a scene that echoed their first meeting, Steve had soon had a very drunk Billy grinding up against him. This time though, Steve hadn’t had to hide his attraction. The bathroom was blissfully empty when they slipped away from the group. Steve couldn’t contain his laughter when he noticed that the door of the stall was adorned with “For a good time, call Billy Hargrove – 555-1248.”

If there was one thing he could say, it was that Billy was definitely a good time. He was proving that, with Steve pressing him up against the wall, Billy’s legs wrapped around Steve’s waist as he thrust into his golden beauty.

Billy was moaning so loudly, Steve was shocked that no one had come in if only to see what the hell was going on. “Oh yeah, pretty boy, right there. Yeah, right there.” He captured Steve’s lips in a kiss, shoving his tongue into Steve’s mouth, while he tweaked Steve’s nipple. It made Steve go weak in the knees.

After they’d danced their hearts out at the honkytonk, there was the obligatory trip to the strip club. For the sake of the grooms having a good time, poor Robin and her wife, Heather, had endured a whole parade of men in rhinestone thongs and cowboy hats. Billy had the time of his life.

Things went sideways when Billy decided that he could out dance the strippers and tried to crawl onto the stage. Steve and Tommy tried to hold him back, but he was bound and determined, pulling himself up and ending up with a black eye courtesy of a stripper, but not before he got in a few good kicks, punches, and bites of his own. Steve was in awe of how Billy saw what he wanted and went for it every time, regardless of the consequences.

Having narrowly escaped having the cops called on him, Billy had managed to avoid arrest up until he drunkenly tried to shoot the moon out of the sky, shouting that he wanted to eat the ball of cheese. That arrest would be one for the history books.

---

Steve had thought their bachelor party had been a night to remember, but it had nothing on their wedding. He’d teared up watching Billy walk down the aisle towards him, on his mothers arm, in his white suit, mullet teased up within an inch of its life, Sugarland’s “Stuck Like Glue” playing over the speakers. He was really going to marry this lunatic. He couldn’t believe his luck.

The wedding dinner had been a feast of fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and biscuits, much to Steve’s mothers’ horror, although thankfully he’d put his foot down and nixed ordering from KFC, no matter how much Billy tried to insist.

“How can you say that the Colonel isn’t good enough for us, Steve? It really is finger lickin’ good!” Steve had smiled fondly, but still shut him down in the end.

They’d had their first dance to Anne Murray’s “Can I Have This Dance for The Rest of My Life?” before getting down to “Cotton Eyed Joe”. Steve had even tried his hand at line dancing to “The Boot Scootin’ Boogie”, although he’d been no match for Billy’s grandmother.

Billy had loved the groom’s cake, the head of the alligator speared on a fork in one hand, and a bottle of champagne in the other, not bothering with a glass or a plate. Steve’s heart grew with love and affection for the other man with every moment that he got to call him his husband.

They’d ended the night with karaoke, Billy and Robin duetting on “Man, I Feel Like a Woman”, before, in true Billy fashion, the cops were called because Billy decided that the guests of the hotel that they were getting married at, whether they were invited to the wedding or not, should come down and party with them at 1am. The cops caught him on the fifth floor, loudly inviting a family of five to head downstairs for karaoke. Steve would be lying if he said that he didn’t have Billy’s mugshot from that night, featuring his white suit and hair in disarray, tucked away in the back of their wedding album.

The day, from start to finish, was pure Billy, and Steve wouldn’t have it any other way.

#harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #stranger things #billy x steve #florida man billy #aita #harringrove fic #stranger things fan fiction #stranger things fanfiction #chrisbitchtree writes #my fic

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captain-jensen · 4 years ago

Text

The Most Powerful Thing

Chris Evans x Reader

Request: Are you taking requests? If so, can you do a Chris (or Sebastian) x reader one where they're at an event and his ex (also an actress) comes up to Chris multiple times. Even when the reader isn't there but she sees from afar. And his ex is constantly flirting and bringing up the good times they had. And the reader feels insecure cuz how can she compete?

Warnings: Some angst, fluff, swearing.

Authors Note: It’s been a while since I’ve written so I’m rusty. No specified race or gender for the reader! I hope you all enjoy it. It hasn’t been proofread though so just a fair warning.

Stepping out of the car and into the flashing of the cameras for the first time ever was an extremely overwhelming experience to say the least. Tonight was yours and Chris’ first time going public with your relationship. It’s only been 6 months and you had no idea how people were going to react to one of Hollywoods’ most eligible bachelors dating a normal person, someone who isn’t a model, or an actress, or a singer. To be honest you were really scared. Scared of the judgement from his fans, and scared of the judgement from the public in general. Everyone was going to be looking for any possible imperfection that could exist. Chris on the other hand, couldn’t be more thrilled. Even though he understood your anxieties about tonight, he could not be more exstatic to show the world that you were his and that he was yours. Chris had become so used to the attention that was paid to him that he knew nothing anyone said could change how he feels, but he still made sure to pay extra close attention to how you were feeling and was very reassuring. Even though you were scared shitless you knew all you had to do was try really hard to not pay any mind to the negativity. One thing you absolutely could not get your mind off of however, was the fact that one of Chris’ gorgeous exs’ would be there.

Walking the carpet was easy enough. All the press seemed thrilled that they now had a juicy new piece to write about Chris Evans’ “mysterious new woman”. Getting inside the venue was something out of a dream. A great big ballroom lit up with beautiful coloured lights and decorations. You couldn’t stop yourself from gushing to Chris and taking pictures of everything, wanting to commit the evening to memory as best as you could. Chris watched in amusement as he realized for what seems like the first time ever how wonderful all of this stuff could be. Watching you experience it all made him develop a whole new type of appreciation for his life. Then, out of nowhere a voice came up from behind you and Chris. “Awe how sweet! Taking pictures to show to your mommy and daddy when you get home?” You heard a high pitched voice feign adoration. Just as you turn around you see a pair of small arms wrap themselves around your boyfriends slender waist. Chris very reluctantly gives a half-assed hug to the woman. “Chris it’s so good to see you again, it’s been a few months now hasn’t it?”

“Well it’s actually been more like a year or so” Chris corrects her. “This is Y/N, Y/N this is an old friend” Chris moves to wrap an arm around your waist to introduce you.

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you” You sheepishly greet. She gives you nothing more than a daunting once-over before turning her attention back to Chris. You decide to shake it off though.

“Chris you look absolutely delicious tonight! Is that the tie I bought for you for that one birthday? As I recall, we had some good times with that tie” She coos with a smirk and reminiscent eyes as she reaches a perfectly manicured hand out to his chest.

“No actually, this is just the tie that came with the rental suit” Chris replies emotionless.

“Oh, well it looks really familiar” She says, clearly trying to get the last word.

“Well you’re mistaken i guess. Anyways, we should find our seat” Before she can get another word in, Chris turns you and ushers you infront him with his hands on your waist. “Don’t pay any attention to her. She just really likes stirring the pot and getting attention”

Trying to seem chill and secure you simply respond with a sarcastic “Oh really? I thought she seemed really nice” which earns a chuckle from Chris. After finding your seats and settling in Chris offers to grab drinks for you both from the bar. Noticing that he’s been gone for a bit you turn to scan the crowd for him. When your eyes finally find him your heart stops beating. From a distance you see his ex girlfriend basically draping herself over him, giggling and obviously trying to fuck him with her eyes. Unable to bear the sight and the embarrasment you make your way to the bathroom. Just as Chris sees you practically running to the bathroom he pries himself out of the grip of the clout vulture to make his way to you. He makes it just as you’re about to open the door. Grabbing your wrist Chris gets your attention with a small “Hey!” When you turn around he can see the tears brimming your eyes and the poorly hidden pout on your lips. “Can we go talk outside?” he asks, earnestly concerned about you. Following him through the crowd you spot her eyes trailing you a glint of smugness that you just wanted to slap right off of her face.

When you finally maneuver your way across the building you find yourselves in a peaceful garden scene. “Do you want to talk about this” Chris asks, attempting to make eye contact with you.

“What is there to talk about? Last time I checked you’re allowed to talk to your exes”

“Not when they talk to you like that though. Not when they purposefully try to make you feel like shit” he says.

“What’s done is done Chris. Can we just go inside and try to have a good night?” You pry, wanting so badly to not dwell on this and have a good time.

“Not until you know that she’s just trying to be a bitch. It was barely even a 2 month fling. I don’t want you thinking badly about yourself just because of some attention seeker”

“Chris, I said what’s done is done. There’s nothing I can do to make it go away now anyway”

“You’re right. There’s nothing YOU can do. But I can make sure that you know what you mean to me. And that just so happens to be everything” Chris puts a finger under your chin, glancing in your eyes to make sure you see the full meaning of his words. “I love you so much Y/N. You know that”

“Yeah I do. But it makes no difference knowing that I’ll never look like she does, or do what she does. I’m just some random person you met at a party” You admit.

“First of all, what’s wrong with how we met? I love our story! Secondly, do you really think you can’t compare to some talentless wannabe actress? Y/N you’re a fucking genius! I can’t believe you’re being so dumb right now!” Chris exclaims. You get slightly annoyed at that last comment but decide to let him finish before making your rebuttal. “You are genuinely, the most beautiful person I”ve ever met. I mean your hilarious, you’re driven, you’re smart as fuck, and you’re the most genuine person in existence. You’ve honestly got the longest list of amazing qualities I’ve ever seen. Her? All she’s got is her legs and plastic surgery. I love you so fucking much I can’t handle it sometimes”

You stand there shocked at Chris heartfelt admissions. Unable to speak, Chris senses your hesitancy and moves his hands to the sides of your head, placing a tender and loving kiss on your lips. Still unable to comprehend what he said you just reply with a simple “I love you too Chris, with everything I am”. He gives you the most glowing smile ever and you walk inside with a new found sense of confidence and security. You’ve never experienced this kind of love before, but you were sure it was the most powerful thing in existence. For the rest of the night the 2 of you were attached at the hip. Hearing praises from Chris’ friends about how happy you were and how much of a beautiful couple you made. Now when you scanned the room and found her eyes, there was nothing but an annoyed look in her eyes and a triumphant look in yours.

#Chris Evans #chris evans x reader #chris evans imagine #chris evans oneshot

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insert-inconspicuous-name-here · 3 years ago

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Before I start my first re-watch of TUA 3 I want to organize myself: [spoilers]

Starting from what I recall my first feelings were: loved the fighting scene with the Sparrows. While watching it I kept remembering how a lot of people, me included, thought it was funny how the Brellies were kicking ass at the trailer while the Sparrows were being bullies on Twitter. LOL. Well, one of the funniest sentences was "they must be exhausted after kicking our asses" or something like that, i haven't memorized it yet. Beautiful.

Luther fell at first sight, and so did Sloane and I loved the Stockholm thing (not the actual Stockholm thing obv). Viktor threatening Marcus got me all hot and bothered. Fei had eyes everywhere, which is such a badass move to go with her entire wardrobe. Jayme is a snake and I fucking love snakes. Alphonso was such a hoot, "punch me in the face" - hilarious.

Then we entered the second episode and there's where things started to get a little darker. Majorly because of Allison. Trauma, PTSD, panic attacks? We're going deeper into the darkness here and I getting worried for my girl. Viktor coming out had me in tears. Five thinking he could finally relax and retire? Yeah, no. I feel so bad for him. Klaus figuring out his momma died. Five singing along the radio and having to stop because the cows turned to dust, godammit.

I wanna talk about Ben. "Why do they keep looking at me like that?" Like what, sweetie? Like they love you? Yeah. I'm looking at you like that too. It was like he kept getting pissed about their attitude because they just showed love for him, but it wasn't even for him "him", it was the other Ben, but they could totally still learn how to love this Ben too. Klaus was working himself up to it, and we see that from Ben's expression when Reggie says Klaus "didn't make it". This Ben was a major asshole, but when they didn't invite him to the bachelor party? I felt that. And personally, i didn't think he was that unlikable to be excluded from the party. Oh, and i totally taught he was going to die on the last episode.

Reginald fucking Hargreeves. This (bad connotation) snake. I didn't believe the "pilled" Daddy until Pogo showed up. That's also when I confirmed my paradoxal concerns, that Klaus fucked up big time teaching him how to cheat on his meds and trusting this "nice old innocent shit face" facade. It was obvious he was playing each and every one of them by emotion with deep manipulation and acting. He went very far for this and I'm not even sure what it is. But I wavered at the wedding, when he was all alone and shit. But then Five saw him making a deal and I came back from that emotional place.

I've spent too long on this (I had to stop and come back a few times). Completely lost my points. I need a complete solo post for Allison.

#the umbrella academy #the umbrella academy spoilers #tua s3 #tua s3 spoilers

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httpjeon · 5 years ago

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MINE FOR TODAY — KSJ (M.)

synopsis. as part of a special valentines day sale, you make a bid in hopes to get a special discounted date with one of the dreamy bachelors of club ardor. you decide to choose The Romantic.

pairing. seokjin/reader genre. angst, fluff, smut au. fake dating!au, date-for-hire!au wordcount. 6,171 contents. sad!seokjin, lonely!seokjin, light pining, teasing, protected sex, breast play, fingering, size kink (?), scratching, overstimulation, doggy style, pet names, light aftercare note. seokjins was by far the hardest to write. i have such a difficult time writing him ): i apologize, i did my best for him!

— club ardor masterlist.

Your phone let out a startling ding, making you jump as you hadn't realized you'd forgotten to silence it. Taking a look around your cubicle, you made sure no one had noticed before you pulled it out and went to put in do not disturb mode. Before you did, however, the preview notification caught your attention.

"CLUB ARDOR VALENTINES DAY SPECIAL: See Inside for Details."

As you were about to unlock your phone to take a look, you heard the light clicks of your boss's heels coming towards you. You quickly slid your phone back into your drawer and turned your attention to your screen, feigning reading something.

Her footsteps paused outside of your cubicle before she called your name. You spun around in your chair to meet her gaze curiously.

"I really need those expense reports within the next hour, can you do that?" she asked.

"Oh yeah," you nodded, turning around once again to face your desk, "I'm actually almost done, I can probably have them on your desk in 30 minutes."

"That's perfect," she smiled, "Thank you."

You returned her smile and let out a sigh once you heard her footsteps disappear. Shaking your head, you let yourself become absorbed in your work once again -- forgetting about that email you'd received.

You caught a taxi to head home, not feeling like walking even though your apartment was only 5 minutes away. Your feet were aching and you just desperately wanted to take a shower and eat dinner as you'd accidentally missed your lunch break by working through it.

It wasn't the first time you'd considered yourself a bit too much of a workaholic.

It was nearing 11PM by the time you finally were able to settle down on the couch. Your hair was freshly washed and you were wrapped in a soft bathrobe with a nice face mask.

Reclining as the TV played in the background, you unlocked your phone to check after spending most of the day without. You responded to texts and checked your social media before suddenly remembered the email you had received earlier.

"CLUB ARDOR VALENTINES DAY SPECIAL: See Inside for Details."

It sat at the top of your emails and when you opened it, you were greeted with an image similar to a party invite. In pretty, cursive font it was written; "Once in a lifetime chance to meet the man of your dreams!"

There was a link beneath it that you clicked, causing it to open a new Safari page. The search bar indicated it had taken you to clubardor.com. It wasn't the first time you'd been on the website.

You heard of it's grand opening half a year ago and went to check it out. Unfortunately, you discovered that even the most basic package was 2 grand for 12 hours. The deluxe had a price that nearly sent you into cardiac arrest.

In the end, you just signed up for newsletters and things to be sent by email.

It seemed it paid off, as you found yourself on a page detailing a Valentine's special.

For the entire month of February, they were hosting a giveaway. According to each Date's schedule, a lucky woman would be chosen from a lottery to get a date with them for just $500 instead of $2,000. The insane discount had your jaw dropping.

You weren't embarrassed to admit that you were curious about the date-for-hire service. Biting your lip, you decided to throw your hat into the ring and place a bid on the special.

"Full money-back guarantee if you're not chosen!" was written in bold letters above the credit card input.

You had no worry about being scammed, Club Ardor had risen to the top in terms of dating services in the country -- after just 6 months of activity and just 7 bachelors available. They had an excellent reputation and were known for having an extremely high-class clientele.

With your lip caught between your teeth, an excited smile on your face, you put your payment information in and hit 'Enter'.

"Thank you for your bid! Please keep an eye on your email within the next week to determine if you've been chosen! Your lottery number is 1-241-994."

You opened up your note app and typed down the number on a blank note for safe keeping.

Returning to the website, you began to do some digging into each of the men available to hire. While their pictures weren't viewable -- for safety reasons, you supposed, there was plenty of information about them.

"Each Date has full control over creating his own scene. Location, dynamic, and length of time will vary. Please speak to your Date for more information on his plans to be sure you have allotted the correct time-frame. Abide by rules and limits he sets."

You flicked through the profiles of each man, eying their listed physical and emotional qualities.

That night, you went to sleep with excitement stirring in your heart.

Somehow, you managed to work through a couple days and ended up forgetting about even signing up for it. You were working so hard to get a promotion so you could escape the shitty cubicle that somehow spending $500 completely slipped your mind.

At least, that was until you were eating a bowl of cereal at nearly 3 in the morning on a Friday night -- 6 days after you had signed up, and your phone pinged with the alert of an email. Holding the spoon in your mouth, you picked up the device and unlocked it without even looking at the notification.

You went to your email and paused when you saw the email was from Club Ardor.

With shaking fingers, you opened it.

"Below are the applicants who filed for the lottery that won. If you do not see your number, expect a monetary refund within the next 24 hours."

You clicked out and went to your note app to check the number you had gotten. Refreshing your memory, you returned to the email and scanned down the list. There were a lot of numbers listed, you quickly realized. But by some miracle, you spotted your own number listed there in the middle.

"If your number is listed, please check your email for further instructions."

You backed out of the email and refreshed, sitting up straight when you realized you had a new one from Club Ardor.

"Congratulations on winning a special night, please follow this link to register for a date with the man of your choice!"

Clicking the bright red hyperlink, you watched the screen load for several seconds and go from white to black.

You flicked through all seven of the men passing the boyfriend, the romantic, the quiet one, the playboy, the softy, the bad boy, and the alpha male. It was easy to rule out the playboy, bad boy, and alpha male -- deeming them a little too hard of scenes than what you would be able to handle.

After a bit of deliberating, you decided on the romantic. He seemed to be the oldest at 26 years old and from the silhouette of his picture, you could see he had a very nice build with hide shoulders and pretty, thin waist. You assumed he would be closer to your type and you did enjoy romance so with a couple of clicks, you were registered for a date with him.

You were brought to another page which held instructions for downloading an application called Club Ardor along with a code it told you to input.

You did as you were instructed, highly impressed with the company's extensive work on the hiring process. It was very obvious to you that Club Ardor was, in fact, suited for those of high class. The service held an obviously high regard for discretion and safety for both its bachelors and clients.

Once the app was downloaded, you opened it and found a box to enter the code you'd been given.

You were then brought to a page to input information such as your name, age, height, likes, dislikes, and preferences. After entering it all, you were brought to an empty text message thread.

Before you could attempt to look around, your phone let out a jingle and a new text message popped up.

From: Seokjin Hi cutie! Our date is set for tomorrow night. Meet me at the Club Ardor building at 7PM sharp. Wear something nice and pretty, but comfortable. Can't wait to see you!

You read the text several times, surprised by the quick work he made before typing out a response letting him know you understood. The final thing he texted was a an address to the building you would meet him at.

Thankfully, your job has required you to dress nicely for business dinners in the past so you had a decent amount of things to wear. You decided on just a flowing dress that was breathable but complimented your figure. Placing it in the front of your closet for easy access, you went through your nightly routine and got into bed.

You worked through the day, it was a Friday so you compiled the information of the entire week and input it into the data system. It kept you busy and the hours passed by quickly.

You got off at 5, having made sure you finished everything as quickly as possible so you wouldn't have to work over time.

"You're in a rush today, _____," your boss smiled as she met you in the elevator, carrying a couple files.

"I um...I have a date tonight," you confessed sheepishly, face flushing when she gasped.

"Congratulations, I hope you have a wonderful time," she said, patting you on the back, "Stay safe, I'll see you on Monday."

The elevator opened to the 3rd floor and she got off, shooting you a little wave before the doors closed again. You were dropped off at the lobby and you adjusted your bag on your shoulder, bidding a goodbye to the receptionist as you exited your building.

Grabbing a taxi, you made your way home.

As soon as you stepped out of the shower, you heard your phone go off from your bedroom. The notification bell for the Club Ardor app was extremely hard to miss.

Wrapping a towel around yourself, you wandered into your bedroom and picked the device up.

From: Seokjin [5:45PM] Super excited, cutie! Can't wait to see you!

You smiled, typing out your response immediately, "Me either! See you soon!".

You were ready earlier than you would have liked. There were still 20 minutes until you could leave and be at Club Ardor on time. You didn't want to be too early or too late.

Timing it just right, you grabbed your purse and slipped your phone into the side pocket before slipping your heels on. The Uber you called pulled up right on time as you exited the lobby of your apartment complex.

Exchanging pleasantries, you crawled into the back seat and let out a nervous breath. Of course it wasn't until you were literally on your way that the nerves would kick in.

Club Ardor came into view at precisely 6:58PM.

The building was a huge high rise building with several floors. Club Ardor was a brightly lit neon sign atop the building. The Uber pulled up to the front curb and you stepped out, checking the time to see it was 6:59PM.

As the Uber sped away, you stepped up to the door, unsure of what to do. Deciding that you should probably let him know you were there, but as you unlocked your phone, the lobby door opened and a man stepped out.

He was dressed in a tux with a bowtie and he looked around for a second before his eyes landed on you.

"_____?" he smiled, walking up to you with his hand out, "It's nice to meet you, I'm Seokjin."

"Hi, Seokjin," you greeted, noting how big his hand was in yours before he pulled away.

"My cars in the garage," he jerked his head in the direction around the building, "Do you want to come or I can pull up."

"I'll...wait here," you said, making him laugh before nodding his head.

"I get it," he waved it off and began to jog around the building.

You could hear the rev of a car engine echo from the garage before a sleek white car came into view. Seokjin got out and jogged around the car to open the door for you.

You thanked him with a soft smile before getting in, pulling the seat belt on as he slammed the door shut.

Once in an enclosed space with him, you were immediately aware of how good he smelled. An almost sweet, fruity perfume wafted off of him and if you looked closely you could see he had a lip tint on.

"So, what's the plan?" you asked, breaking the silence that had settled.

"A romantic date on the water for two," he sighed, almost dreamily.

It couldn't help but laugh, which in turn brought a bright smile onto his face. The atmosphere became increasingly less tense as Seokjin drove to somewhere unknown.

"I'm so hungry," he complained from the driver's seat, making a turn onto a less populated road, "The food is honestly to die for."

"Whoa, what is this place?" you asked, not fully hearing his comment as you watched him pull up at a parking lot near a huge lake.

"This is where our date is, silly!" he grinned, getting out of the car and rounding to open your door for you.

He took your hand, escorting you towards a pier where there was a large boat bobbing with the waters natural movement.

"Hop aboard, lovely," he kept h is hold on your hand as you got onto the boat. He followed you and tugged your hand to get you to follow him.

Your body wavered as the boat suddenly took off but Seokjin was there to steady you with a broad grin.

"Have a seat," he motioned to a small table with two chairs across from one another.

"So," you huffed a laugh as you took a seat, "When you said...dinner on the water."

"I meant it literally," he shrugged, reaching over to click a button and several strings of white fairy lights illuminated everything around you.

"Whoa," you gasped, looking around.

You could see the lights from the buildings on shore and there was a beautiful cast of the moon shining over the water. It was beautiful and as you turned your gaze back to Seokjin, you were surprised to find him leaning his chin on his hand as he watched you.

"Your eyes are sparkling," he said, an almost serene smile on his lips.

In more proper light, you could make out his features more. He had wide shoulders, pretty, plump lips and flawless skin. His eyes were sparkling as well, the dark irises looking like stars were shining within them.

"Would you like to start eating?" he asked, reaching across the table to place his hand over yours. His skin was soft and warm and it made you smile as you nodded.

Dinner was a blur, he had a few dishes available to choose from since he didn't know exactly what you would like. You chose the steak, which seemed to make Seokjin quite happy as he ordered the same thing.

You could see where his romantic title came from as he reached across the table to feed you a couple bites every once in a while. Once the main course was over, the two of you shared a strawberry cheesecake slice after he lit the candle at the end of the table.

You had a good laugh when he failed to light it a few times because the breeze kept blowing it out.

"Now, the next portion of our date I'll admit...it's a little lame," he confessed sheepishly as he walked you back to the car.

"Oh?" you climbed into the seat after he opened the door for you.

"We're going to head back to Club Ardor, drink, and watch movies," he said, turning the key in the ignition.

"It's not lame," you giggled, resting your head back on the seat, "I think it's a great way to unwind."

"I'm glad you feel that way," he said, sounding relieved.

When you finally pulled back up to Club Ardor, Seokjin was blasting music and singing obnoxiously to it. You had your hand over your mouth to keep from laughing too much. Every once in a while, he'd take a look at you and end up laughing midway through his singing.

He pulled into the garage and pulled into a parking spot that had his name on a sign in front of it.

There was a door that he had to scan a card to unlock which led into what appeared to be a lounge room. He didn't waste any time in clicking the button to call the elevator.

Seokjin was comfortable. He had such a calm, relaxing demeanor that it put you at ease.

The two of you sat on the couch and clinked your glasses together before you both downed the shot he had poured. You cringed as it burned going down your throat, leaving a horrible taste in your mouth.

A bit of a lightweight, it didn't take much to get you tipsy and soon you were both losing it over some horrible movie he had accidentally picked.

"I swear it looked good in the previews!" he argued through laughter when you teased him about his choice.

"I'm picking the next one, you've lost movie-picking privileges!" you laughed, stealing the remote from his hands, making him gasp in shock.

He immediately began to try and get it back from you, his body pressed against yours. His perfume once again and it made your eyes flutter.

Pressed against the arm of the couch with Seokjin's body dangerously close to yours, you both paused. He met your eyes, seemingly searching for something in your gaze. As you searched his, you couldn't deny how...sad they looked.

Your breath began to quicken when his face slowly got closer to yours. You could feel his breath against your lips but before they could meet, he was pulling away. He took the remote with him and took his seat beside you once again, leaving you pressing your hand to your chest as your heart raced almost painfully.

There was a terrifyingly loud alarm that rang throughout the room, making you jolt awake.

Looking at the clock, you were disgruntled to see that it was 7 in the morning. Sitting up, you realized you were in bed when you were positive you fell asleep with Seokjin on the couch.

"Hey," he said, making you jump as he suddenly appeared in the doorway, "It's 7am."

"I see that," you mumbled, sliding out of bed, still sleepy.

"Our 12 hours are up."

And just like that it was over.

However, Seokjin didn't leave your mind after that though. Even when you stepped into your apartment, you couldn't stop thinking about him.

Especially how you almost kissed.

You were, of course, aware that Club Ardor dates would occasionally participate in physical intimacy. You hadn't expected it to happen to though. You could still remember the way his scent wafted around you and how close his lips were to yours or that sad look in his eyes.

A week passed by quickly and painlessly. You fell back into a rhythm with work, giving vague replies to your boss when she asked about how it went.

Somehow, Seokjin kept slipping into your mind. You couldn't shake him.

A measly 12 hours with a man you had only just met, and he seemed to have invaded your very subconscious.

That day, after work, you decided to take a detour to a local bar. It wasn't a very big, popular bar but the people in your neighborhood frequented it quite often. The atmosphere was buzzing inside and you made to take a seat at the bar but paused when you spotted a figure you recognized. You blinked several times, making sure you weren't hallucinating him.

"Seokjin?" you asked, making him jump.

His head snapped over to look at you, his eyes wide. He took you in for a second before his face morphed into confusion.

"What're you doing here? How'd you know I was here?" he sounded defensive and it made you frown, shaking your head.

"I live in the apartment complex down the street, I stopped here after work for a nice Friday drink," you motioned to your work attire and he seemed to relax. Part of you was offended that he thought you were some kind of stalker but you supposed in his line of work, it wasn't out of the realm of possibility.

He was drinking a beer slowly, seemingly lost in his own little world as he turned away from you. You got the hint, and went to walk away from him but you stopped when he called your name.

"Um...why don't you sit with me?" he asked, motioning to the empty stool beside him.

You were relieved he asked you to join him because that's all you wanted. You took the seat and he ordered you a drink, for which you thanked him. Being in his presence again felt nice and you already began to relax.

It seemed Seokjin had been drinking there for a while. His face was a little red and he was openly giggly and friendly -- a complete difference than what he was when you first sat him sitting there.

Time flew by with him but eventually you realized it had gotten dark outside and you'd stayed far longer than you had intended.

"I really need to be going," you sighed, the words painful as they slipped out of your mouth. You didn't want to leave him, you'd thought about him so long.

"Wait!" he cried, grabbing a hold of your blouse sleeve, effectively halting you.

"What is it?" you asked, alarmed by the saddened look on his face.

"I...Can't you stay?" he asked, voice soft.

"I...I really need to get home...I've got some reports to go over for work..." you explained, wincing when you watched him visibly deflate, "You...you can come over, if you want?"

"Really?" he looked hopeful again as he hopped off the stool.

He wobbled a bit and you laughed, reaching out to steady him even though you were a little tipsy yourself.

The two of you walked outside, the cool night air hitting your heated skin and making you shiver.

"I really...I'm not supposed to go home with clients..." he mumbled, as if talking to himself, "But I guess you're not technically a client anymore, right?"

You chuckled, cheeks burning when he pulled you close against him, "I guess I'm not."

"Yeah, so it's fine!" he chuckled.

Once the two of you stepped into your apartment, things seemed to shift. He took a seat on the couch and relaxed.

It gave you a moment to take him in; he wore jeans and a t-shirt, looking even better in casual clothes than he did in formal wear.

"Do you want some hot chocolate?" you asked suddenly, unable to hold back your smile when he visibly perked up, "I'll make you some."

You disappeared into the kitchen, letting out a deep breath as you realized your heart was racing. Seokjin seemed to have the effect. He didn't even do anything and he had you flustered.

You heated up some milk in the microwave, not wanting to bother with stove top. Pouring the powder into the cup you stood and waited for the milk to be done.

Before it could finish, you felt a presence behind you that had you jumping out of your skin. Turning around, you were face to face with Seokjin's incredible visage. His brown eyes were wide, almost curious and a smile lingered on his pretty lips.

You subconsciously licked your own lips and you swear your saw his own eyes drop to your lips. The energy was tense between the two of you and his perfume was permeating off of him once again. Seokjin opened his mouth to say something but before he could the microwave beeped.

The spell was broken and he backed off, wandering back into the kitchen as you began to mix the powder and milk in the cup.

You took a seat beside him, handing him the cup before turning the TV on. The two of you relaxed, you pulled your throw blanket over you shoulders as Seokjin sipped on his hot chocolate.

As you watched him, you couldn't help but find him cute.

"Hey Seokjin?" you asked, earning a hum from him, "How come you work at Club Ardor?"

"Why do you ask that?" he questioned, frowning as he sat up straighter.

You followed suit, shrugging your shoulders, "I mean surely being a date-for-hire wasn't the job you dreamed of," your words brought a smile to his face and he let out a soft chuckle, "Plus, you're crazy good looking, funny, and charming...I'd expect someone like you to be a model or something."

"Well...thanks..." he smiled, cheeks a little red, "To tell you the truth...I've dated quite a bit but..." he seemed to deflate as he spoke, "It never worked out, they all just wanted me for my money and looks."

"How shallow..." you sighed, shaking your head in dismay.

"Eventually, I just decided to stop trying but...if I'm honest I get so lonely," his confession made you frown, "But I just...don't want to be open to anyone so...this job makes me feel loved, even if it's fake."

"You won't even try to find a girlfriend again or something?" you asked, pained at the idea of him just giving up.

He shook his head, "No one ever wants me for me. Do you think I haven't tried my hardest? It never works, I'm sick of feeling left like I'm worth less than I am."

"Seokjin..." you muttered, reaching over to place your hand over his that was curled up in a fist on his knee, "You...deserve to have someone genuinely love you. It seems impossible but...it can't be like this forever. Someone will come along that will see you for you but you can't just...shut down. You should keep trying," you squeezed his hand, feeling it relax from the fist, "Maybe you've been dating the wrong women!"

"You're right," he mumbled, surprising you, "I think someone more like you is my type."

It took a second for those words to sink in,"Wha--" you shook your head, letting out a soft laugh, "Don't tease me like that!"

"No, I really mean it, _____," he whispered, meeting your gaze. It held such conviction and sincerity that you felt your heart speed up, "I think you're beautiful and you're so sincere. When we had our date," he paused after saying the word before sighing, "I had never wanted to kiss or touch someone more than I wanted to with you. You are absolutely captivating and you don't even know it."

He shifted on the couch, turning to face his body towards you. Your proximity was closer than you expected once he faced you, if you leaned in just a bit more your noses would touch.

The tension between you rose, something hot building that neither of you could deny.

Then, his lips were on yours -- soft and warm with the taste of hot chocolate lingering on them. It wasn't even a thought to hesitate, you were immediately returning the kiss.

It became more heated as the seconds ticked by. You found yourself pinned to the couch with him above you, never breaking the kiss. You wrapped your arms around his neck, tangling your fingers in his hair. Whimpering, you felt a shiver go down your spine when he softly nipped at your bottom lip.

When you pulled away, there was a minuscule thread of saliva connecting your lips. Once you met his heated gaze, you both knew what the other wanted.

The walk to the bedroom was a blur of shared kisses and wandering hands pushing clothes off. By the time you were pinned to the bed, you were both naked.

Seokjin's pretty, plump lips found purchase on your neck, making you shiver as his breath fanned over the sensitive skin. Kisses trailed down to your chest, over your collarbones and sternum before reaching the gentle swell of your breasts.

Your chest rose as you inhaled sharply at the feeling of his warm lips enveloping a perked nipple. His fingers caressed your skin so delicately you could almost miss it completely

His digits dipped between your thighs to find your folds already wet. He groaned, lightly grazing his teeth against your nipple before looking up at you through his lashes.

“All this because of some kissing?” he teased, making your cheeks burn.

He huffed a laugh and moved to take your other nipple into his mouth. At that same moment, his fingers parted your folds and found your clit. You gasped, spreading your legs further for his access.

His digits were skilled and graceful, circling your clit to make you whimper before dipping into your entrance. His fingers were long and found your sweet spot quickly, chuckling when your hips twitched upwards at the stimulation.

He sat up, pulling away from you as he sat back on his heels. His fingers were still inside you and he eagerly watched the way your entrance stretched to accommodate his two — three fingers.

Your eyes fluttered, rolling back in your head as he fucked you with his fingers. As a result, you missed him wrapping his left hand around his own cock, biting his lip as he finally got the stimulant he needed.

Precum dripped down his shaft and he eagerly used it to lubricate his movements. He scissored his fingers inside you, making sure you were stretched enough to take him.

When he pulled out, you whined at how empty you felt.

“Have you got a condom?” he breathed, tightening his fist around his cock when you reached into your bedside drawer and pulled one out.

You settled back, spreading your legs once again. He groaned, shuffling forward to cover your body with his. Your eyes met as the tip of this cock kissed your entrance.

Both your mouths fell open as he sunk into you. Your tight walls squeezed him so wonderfully that he groaned. He stretched you open even more than his fingers had, giving you that wonderful burn you needed.

He met your lips in a sweet kiss as he angled his hips toward your sweet spot. You whimpered, wrapping your arms around his shoulders to ground you as the pleasure ran rampant. He hissed, cock twitching at the sting of your nails on his back.

His pelvic bone ground against your clit every time he sunk in, edging you closer and closer to release. Seokjin could feel the way you fluttered around him and he groaned.

Sliding a hand between your bodies, he circled the bud until you arched with a cry of pleasure.

He eased you through the high, grinning when you trembled through the overstimulation. Finally, he slowed to a stop and pulled out. You whimpered, feeling your hole clench around nothing.

“Roll over,” he breathed, cupping your hip to urge you onto your front.

With your face buried in the pillow and your ass in the air, you looked like a delectable treat for him. Standing on his knees, he sunk his cock back into your cunt.

You both groaned. The angle had him hitting your spot with painful accuracy. You cried out, muffled in the fabric of the pillow, as he fucked you into even more overstimulation. Your recent orgasm had you much more sensitive and this position allowed him to abuse that.

An almost sadistic grin crossed over his face as he enjoyed the little cries and whimpers you released the harder he fucked his cock into you.

Reaching down, he tangled his hand in your hair. You gasped as he tugged until you were up on your knees as well. Your back was against his chest and you could feel him panting against your neck.

His lips found the junction of your neck and shoulder, nipping at the skin there. Your walls fluttered around him and he released your hair to reach around and cup your breast.

“Fuck,” you gasped as he pinched your nipple, making your eyes roll back in your head.

“What is it, baby?” he groaned, the pet name making you flutter around him again.

“M-Make me cum, please,” you begging, making him groan once more.

He didn't say anything further, simply slid his hand down your body until he found your swollen clit. The second his fingers touched the bud, you clenched tight around him in sensitivity.

He circled the bud until you were trembling and gushing around him. You cried out his name as pleasure coursed through your body from your high. Seokjin didn't stop circling your clit and fucking his cock into your spasming walls until you were near tears.

He finally let you fall back down to the bed and began to chase his own high. He spread your ass cheeks apart, getting a good view of the way your cunt tried to suck him back in on every out stroke. The sight made him groan.

It took you deliberately squeezing tightly around him tightly for him to cum. It was sudden and knocked the air out of him. He gripped your hips tightly as he spilled into the condom, his cock twitching the entire time.

Everything was still for several seconds before he pulled out.

You rolled over to lay on your side as Seokjin got up and went into the bathroom. He came out a moment later with a wet cloth that he used to clean your thighs and folds with, laughing when you playfully smacked his shoulder from the oversensitivity.

He finally crawled into the bed, the two of you wiggling until you were comfortable.

You laid with Seokjin's chest beneath your head, the gentle rhythm of his heartbeat the only thing you heard. His hand softly combed through your hair and you smiled.

"This...This is what I've been needing for so long," he whispered, "No one trying to get something out of being with me. Just a sincere...caring touch."

"This is what you deserve, Seokjin," you sitting up to look at him. His hair was messed up in an adorable way that made you smile, "You can have so much more if you just...open yourself to it again."

Seokjin's gaze turns glassy as he opened his mouth to speak, "I'm just...scared."

Your heart ached when you saw a tear trickle from his eye. Reaching up, you swiped it away, "I know but...you deserve to be loved, Seokjin."

He didn't reply, simply reaching up to pull you back down into his arms. You held him in return, running your fingertips over his skin until you felt him relax as sleep finally overcame him. Adjusting yourself more comfortably, you let yourself fall asleep in his arms.

You opened your eyes to the morning sun shining into your bedroom. You licked your lips as your mouth felt dry and moved to sit up. As you did, you remembered what happened last night.

Looking beside you, you realized he wasn't in bed and the sheets were cold. Standing up, you wrapped your fuzzy robe around you and crept out of the bedroom.

"Seokjin?" you called, frowning when you received no reply.

Your heart was pounding as you made a round around the apartment to see if he left a note of anything. When you couldn't find anything, you returned to your bedroom to pick up your phone.

You froze, realizing you never actually got his phone number. You'd only communicated through the Club Ardor app.

Clicking on the icon, you waited for it to load.

Instead of being brought to your profile, you reached a page with a simple notice on it.

"Your date has filed a report, you are now blocked from using the Club Ardor service. If further contact is attempted, Club Ardor will be forced to take legal matters."

You stared at your phone for several seconds.

Everything that happened flashed through your mind -- the way he kissed you and confessed his feelings of loneliness and hurt to you. You wondered if any of it was true. Were you a game to him?

Your view of the notice on your screen became blurry as you realized you would never know.

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