#cold drink filling machine

[newbusinessideas]

How to Start a Soft Drink Business on Small Scale

🎥 Ready to turn your soft drink dreams into reality? 🥤✨ Discover the step-by-step process of How to Start a Soft Drink Manufacturing Business on Small Scale! 💼💡 Let's make your beverage business go viral! #EntrepreneurLife #SmallScaleBusiness

Soft Drink Business – Soft drinks are popular beverages that contain sugar, flavourings, and carbonated water. They are loved by people of all ages and are available locally and abroad. Soft drinks from many foreign companies are also available in our country. Soft drinks have become an integral part of people’s lives in India, providing refreshments after a hot and tiring day. The soft drink…

[skbeaumont]

Scars – A Joel Miller/Reader Oneshot

“You have them too.” You say, tracing your fingertips along the pale scar that sits at the side of his head, disappearing into thick dark hair. “Yes,” He replies, his voice thick, accent dragging out the vowel. “Show me.”

Summary: When Joel stumbles into the kitchen at 2am, restless and tense, he doesn't expect to find you at the table, nursing a cold mug of tea. He certainly doesn't expect to end up tracing the scars on your skin, explaining how he got his, your hands mapping the contors of each other's old wounds until something new emerges.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, mutual pining, kind of angsty but also fluffy?, descriptions of old injuries, explicit sex, PIV, fingering, dirty talk, body worship, flirting, yearning, mentions of alcohol.

Word Count: 3.3k

It’s late, and the rest of Jackson is asleep.

A single street lamp lights the dark kitchen, casting a soft orange glow over the table and your half empty mug. The tea is long-since cold, but you keep your hands wrapped around it anyway, trying to soak up the last of its heat. There’s a microwave behind you, and a coffee machine, and enough hot water to fill several baths, but after twenty years of surviving by fire light and camping stoves, these modern conveniences still seem like the technology of your childhood, distant and unrealistic. And so the tea remains cold.

You’re not sure you’ll ever get used to the normality of Jackson: the routine and order and kindness that seeps into every interaction, every town meeting and evening out. It’s been four months since you arrived – limping and half-dead, frozen almost solid by the bitter Wyoming winter – at the town’s gates.

And now you’re inside on a mild spring night, sharing a house with a man and his not-daughter, healthy and almost whole again. The town council were apologetic about housing you with Joel and Ellie: it was the only house with a spare bedroom at the time, but in truth it had been a relief. There was something overwhelmingly comforting about being around other people again, sleeping only a thin wall away from another human being, sharing meals and chores.

Joel’s quiet and serious most of the time, but you see cracks appearing in his hard exterior when he’s with Ellie, or his brother Tommy. Something of the man that existed before the world ended. And more recently he’s started opening up to you, too; rolling his eyes at you behind Ellie’s back when she swears or insults houseguests, chuckling at your bad jokes, letting his guard down when he gets home from a hard day’s construction work, allowing you to make him hot drinks and massage his sore shoulders.

You’re careful not to push anything too far, but the slow roll into familiarity with Joel has bred something less familial, too. Something wanting and churning that settles deep in your belly when you’re around him. It makes you want to press yourself against him, settle yourself in the crook of his shoulder, lick the thick tendons of his neck. Whether he feels the same is a mystery. He’s older than you by a couple of decades, not that that matters to you – you’re both adults – but he maintains a distance. Lets you massage his shoulders but never makes a sound while you do it. Holds the door open for you but keeps a respectful distance when you walk side-by-side through town. Allows you to rest your feet in his lap in the evenings on the sofa, but doesn’t touch them, or acknowledge them. You’ve heard him moving around in the night, restless and fidgety, but he never comes to your room on those long dark nights seeking comfort or companionship.

He's been quiet since he went to bed several hours earlier on this particular night, which is why it’s a shock when the kitchen light flickers on, illuminating Joel’s broad silhouette in the doorway. You scramble out of the chair onto your feet, heart thumping. He holds a hand up, calmingly, doesn’t move as your eyes adjust to the light.

“Fucking hell, Joel. You scared the shit out of me.”

“Sorry,” He takes a step into the kitchen, feet bare on the terracotta tiles.

He’s still in his clothes from today, dark jeans under a thin grey tee, both slightly crumpled as though he’s slept in them. He always does. Undoubtedly it’s the same ritual that makes him keep a pistol on his bedside table, leave a packed go-bag by the front door; the same anxiety that casts dark shadows under his eyes, fuels his insomnia and maintains his habitual whiskey drinking. He’s ready for anything, always, because he’s been through shit and he thinks at any moment it’ll happen again. You understand. It’s why you’re in the kitchen at 2am, cold tea clutched between shaking hands.

“Couldn’t sleep?” You ask, as he opens a high cupboard and pulls out a tumbler.

You move around him, tip the dregs of your tea down the sink.

“Something like that,” He replies, voice croaky.

He pours the whiskey out into the glass, swirls it in thick fingers and then rests back against the kitchen counter opposite you, eyes finally finding yours. They hover for a moment on your face, dark and penetrating, then flick to one shoulder, the other, down your arm.

You keep them covered, normally. Wear long sleeves even in the heat of summer, never undress around anyone. You’ve avoided the swimming pond that opened three weeks ago, even though the water looked heavenly in the warm April weather, unwillingly to bear the scars that litter your body to the town, afraid they’ll show the community who you really are, reveal the terrible things you’ve done to survive. But unlike Joel you don’t have a habit of sleeping in your clothes, and the thin vest and shorts you’re wearing now reveals those long-hidden scars to him in the bright kitchen light.

The bullet wound is the worst one; a puckered, deep purple starburst across one shoulder, skin wrought into something alien and terrible. It’s this one that his gaze linger on, dark eyes making heat roll up your spine. His fist is gripping the whiskey glass so tightly that the tips of his fingers and knuckles are white with the strain of it.

“They’re awful, I know.” You say into the silence.

“What? No- God, no. They’re not.” A pause, his eyes flicking away from yours, over to the far wall, back across. “I’ve got ‘em, too. We all have.”

You scoff at this. Move your hand up, place it on your shoulder. His hand twitches where it rests on the countertop, but he doesn’t move.

“You cover them.” He says. It’s not a question, but you feel like you have to answer anyway.

“Yes.” A breath, shaky on the exhale. “They’re ugly.” “No.” His voice is firm, commanding in the quiet kitchen. Despite yourself, you feel heat pooling between your thighs and you fidget, pressing them together, crossing your feet. The movement makes his eye dart down to your bare legs. You watch the apple of his throat as he swallows thickly, eyes trailing up to the hem of your shorts. There’s a scar there, too, bisecting your upper thigh. Thin and white, a reminder of a long ago incident with barbed wire.

“They’re not…” His voice trails off, eyes searching your face. “Nothing on you is ugly. Not even the scars. Especially not the scars.”

“No?”

“No.” He shifts, puts the whiskey glass down on the counter behind him and lifts his hand to your shoulder. Fingertips trace the edge of the bullet scar, and you feel goosepimples rise in their wake despite the warmth of the kitchen. He runs his hand up past its end, to your throat, along your collar bone and to the other arm. The scars there are paler, older. Shrapnel and grazes from a fall. Each one his fingertips trace reverently, as though they’re a holy text written across your skin. When he reaches the last, the one that loops around your wrist, the indent of a handcuff, you’re sure your heart is thumping so loudly he must be able to hear it, too. Slick is pooling between your thighs, hot and wet against the thin shorts you’re wearing.

“There are more,” You say, so quietly that it’s almost a whisper.

“Show me.”

It’s like a dance. You pull off your vest and Joel’s hand follows the curve of your waist, thumb dipping to press the small coin-shaped scar just below your rib cage. You sigh and he lets his hand run over your ribs, fingertips finding the spaces between like piano keys. When he reaches the curve of your bare breast he pauses, the weight of your flesh resting in the valley between his index finger and thumb. You don’t say anything, just lean into him, holding his eye contact, the pleasure and warmth of his hand making you bold. He moves slowly, carefully, rolling the bud of your nipple between his finger and thumb, pinching just so, pleasure blossoming in your chest, down your spine and to your cunt.

“This okay?” He asks, eyes flicking up from his hand to your face, tracking the pull of your eyebrows as they pitch together, the move of your mouth as you answer him with a shaky exhale.

“What about this one?” He asks, hand leaving your breast to trace across the scar that laces up your thigh under the hem of your shorts. “Can I?”

You’re not sure what he’s asking but you know that you want him to, want him to do whatever it is he’s asking so you nod. His hand grip your waist to lift you, setting you down on the kitchen counter. You grasp at his shoulders, the solid breadth of him hard under your hands. The counter is cold against the back of your legs, but before you can complain his hot hand is wrapped back around your thigh, thumb tracing the scar there again, fingertips inching up to the apex of your legs. He moves to stand between your open legs, still keeping a few inches of distance between you, the extra height of the counter making your eyes level. His burn into your face as he slips his hand higher still, fingers seeking out the wet heat of you, dipping inside, gathering slick and gliding it up to your clit.

“Joel,” You say into the aching gap between your lips and his.

“You’re fucking perfect,” He says, the words hot on your mouth, his breath mingling with your needy sighs. “All of you, you understand?”

You can only nod into his shoulder, head dropping to rest against the broad heft of it, his fingers thrumming a steady rhythm against your clit that has pleasure ratcheting up inside you. You’re still in your tiny sleep shorts, Joel’s hand forcing the crotch aside to palm at your drenched cunt. He slips two thick fingers into you, presses his thumb to your clit, and that tips you over the edge, pleasure coursing through you like fire.

He talks you through it, keeps up the firm press of his fingers, praises falling from his lips like prayers.

Good girl, that’s it, such a good fucking girl for me, taking what you need, so fucking perfect.

It’s only then, as you come down from the high, that he finally kisses you, tilting your head up with a gentle hand and fitting his lips to yours. They’re soft and dry, plush against your own. He slides his tongue against the seam of your lips, into the wet heat of your mouth, pulls back, before driving forward again, breathless and frantic. You thread your hands into the hair at the base of his neck, tugging him against you, teeth clashing in your mutual desperation. His pulls his fingers from your wet heat, smears your slick up your sides as his palms your breasts, his earlier gentleness gone. But when you slip a hand between your bodies, seeking out the hard length of him in his jeans, he pulls back. His eyes are dark despite the bright kitchen light, pupils eating up the thin sliver of brown at the edges, but there’s a reticence there.

“You have them too.” You say, tracing your fingertips along the pale scar that sits at the side of his head, disappearing into thick dark hair.

“Yes,” He replies, his voice thick, accent dragging out the vowel.

“Show me.”

He steps back, out of the circle of your legs, pulls at the neck of his t-shirt and drags it up, over his head and off. His eyes are fixed on you, watching you as you take in the broad bulk of him, the sloping plains of his shoulders and chest down to a softer stomach. He’s all strength: hard where you’re soft, his scars stretched across thick muscle and tanned flesh. There’s one at his side that canters a jagged line across his stomach, and that’s where your hand goes, holding his waist to rest your thumb against its uneven edge. It looks fairly fresh, no more than a couple of years old, still red.

“What’s this from?” You ask.

“I was stabbed,” He replies, “while I was with Ellie.”

“It looks like it was bad.”

“Well, she stitched it up, so,” He smiles, a hint of mischief returning to his eyes, growing bolder as your hands map his chest and stomach.

“And this one?” An old one, hardly noticeable in the light, to the right of his belly button.

“Appendicitis, when I was twelve.”

“These?” A collection of four or five small white gash marks, peppered across his shoulders and along his collarbone.

“Makeshift grenade.” He says. “Went off in my hand.”

You lean forward, press your lips to the first of the scars and kiss it, drag your lips along to the second, and then the third. At the fourth you let your tongue dart out, tasting the skin at the juncture of his neck and shoulder, salty and warm. He stands stock still as you do so, hands resting at your hips, fingertips gripping the flesh there tight enough to leave bruises. He sighs at the feel of your tongue against his skin, the insistent press of your mouth to his collarbone, your teeth, scraping at the tendon that jolts in his neck.

This time, when you reach for the button of his jeans he helps you, pops the first button, drags the zipper down and pushes them off his hips, revealing thick thighs corded with muscle, dusted with dark hair. He kicks the jeans the rest of the way off, steps forward again into the circle of your hips, letting you knead the thick flesh of his ass, pull him against you so that his hot length is pressed to the crotch of your shorts, two pieces of thin cotton the only thing separating you.

You kiss up the column of his throat, press your teeth to his ear lobe, and are rewarded with a soft groan that sends pleasure sparking up your spine again, cunt clenching down on nothing. His cock twitches against you when you lick a stripe along the underside of his jaw. You fit your lips back to his. This kiss is sloppy and uncoordinated, teeth clashing, his strong nose pressed to yours, one of his hands fisting in your hair, gripping tight at the ponytail at the base of your neck, holding you to him. You shuffle on the counter, pull your shorts off and down to join his jeans and shirt on the tiled floor.

“Take them off,” You say into his mouth, needy fingers sliding into the waistband of his briefs, seeking the length of him.

He does as you ask, bending to push them down, cock dipping and slapping up against his stomach as he frees it. He’s big, thick and beautiful, veins standing out against the shaft, precum beading at the tip. He hisses into your open mouth when you wrap your fist around him and stroke slowly up and down, thumb seeking out his slit, spreading his arousal and yours over it and down his length.

“Jesus, darlin’,” He sighs against the side of your neck, stubble rough against you, his hands seeking out the weight of your tits again, pressing open mouthed kisses against your skin.

You pull him back against you, press the blunt head of him to your slick entrance and watch him watch himself sink inside you, inch by inch, stretching you open. The burn of it is intoxicating, his thick length opening you up, pressing inside deliciously, white-hot pleasure blossoming up through your body.

“Feels so good, Joel,” You tell him as he shakes against you, bottoming out and dragging himself out only to press back inside.

“Pussy’s so goddamn perfect,” He says, his voice almost cracking with the effort of it.

“Please, Joel,” you hiss, “harder, please.”

The sound he makes then is animalistic, something between a grunt and a growl, teeth clenched, jaw pressed hard to your neck. He tightens his grip on your hips, anchors you to the counter and starts pounding into you. The strength of him is something to behold, his hips snapping into yours, muscles of his back shifting and clenching beneath your grasping hands.

“So fucking good,” he groans, “wanna stay inside you for the rest of my fucking life, darlin’.”

You don’t know how he’s so articulate; it’s all you can do to hold on to his shoulders and let him fuck you, whimpers and moans pouring from your open lips as he does, the slap of his hips against yours filthy in the otherwise silent house. When he slows his thrusts again he pulls back from you to watch where you’re joined, eyes dark, perspiration beading on his forehead. There’s a vein in his neck that’s pulsing visibly, a drop of sweat trickling down beside it, charting a course through patchy stubble. He reaches between your bodies, splays his hand over your mound and presses his thumb to your clit.

“Yes, Joel, please, God.”

“I can feel how close you are, darlin’” He says, “can feel you gripping me so tight.”

He strums his thumb over the swollen bundle of nerves, drawing small, tight circles that have you seeing stars within seconds, tension coiling inside you, ratcheting up until it breaks on a hard thrust of his hips, his cock hitting that spongy place inside you that sends pleasure right down to your toes. You come hard, fingernails digging into the hard flesh of his shoulders, Joel’s mouth clamped to your throat, teeth worrying the skin there, repeating the same phrase over and over as you come down.

There it is, there it is, good girl, I’ve got you.

He thrusts lazily into you as you slowly relax again, little aftershocks continuing for several long minutes, the blunt head of him hitting that same spot inside you again and again. You can tell he’s close now, his hands shaking where they’re gripping your hips again, face set in concentration, squeezing his eyes shut every few thrusts as though he’s desperately trying to hold himself back.

“Let go, Joel. Please,” You whisper, and he hisses through his teeth, pulls you bodily forward on the counter so that the angle changes and he can drive up into you, his pace quickening again.

“Jesus fucking Christ, darlin’” He rasps, thrusting into you once- twice- three more times.

He pulls out then, fist gripping the base of his cock as he paints your stomach and cunt with his cum, hot and thick. His face is a rapture, eyes pitch black, teeth bared with pleasure and need, the strong set of his jaw holding together what little restraint he has left.

He kisses you again after, drags kitchen roll from the holder to clean you up, presses sweet lips to your cheeks and temples, down your neck, across your chest, like he’s trying to taste the ecstasy that’s written across your heated skin.

Outside, dawn is quickly approaching. The weak rays of sunlight that filter into the kitchen illuminate the tan glow of Joel’s face and paint the scars on your bodies in pale yellow light. You don’t think anything’s ever looked more beautiful.

[stillmonsterz]

be with her tonight

pairing: heeseung x reader

genre: smut

summary: every week, you go to the same coffee shop for their great service and wonderful drinks. but for some reason, the barista has always rubbed you the wrong way. he seems harmless, though.

contains: unprotected sex, rape, noncon, somnophilia, drug mentions, lying, swearing, johnny is there, mark is there, twitch mention

word count: 5.0k (unproofread)

---

Heeseung’s eyes were shifty, his hands trembling over the paper cups. He plucked one off, a grande, and started to prepare the same familiar order. Despite his quivering hands, Heeseung went through the motions of making the drink with the utmost of effort. A small splash of hot coffee dribbled from the spout onto his hand; he scarcely noticed the pain. 

He set the cup down on the counter and surveyed the small cafe where he worked. Patrons were settled into small wooden tables, the windows were bright, and succulents lined the windowsills. Heeseung tugged at the collar of his black button-up and adjusted his apron. His coworker, Sunghoon, noticed him and smirked. 

“Is she coming again today?” Sunghoon asked while he restocked the croissants in the pastry display.

It took a few seconds for Heeseung to process that Sunghoon was talking to him. “Huh?”

“That girl, what’s-her-name…” Sunghoon conspicuously slipped a small brownie bar into the pocket of his apron.

“Oh,” Heeseung said softly. “I dunno…” Of course you were coming today. You came here every Wednesday and Friday at 2:00 pm, during your lunch break. Your favorite coworker was off those two days, so you ate alone and got yourself a coffee and a pastry. You were coming today. Heeseung had to see you again. 

When 2:00 arrived and you hadn’t walked through the doors with your usual vivacity, Heeseung got nervous. He begrudgingly served some other people whose faces he couldn’t have recalled if he had been paid to do so. 

2:15 and Heeseung’s hands shook even more. Sunghoon was already glancing at him strangely, so Heeseung busied himself by wiping down the counter. Why weren’t you here? He only got to see you twice a week, so he savored the time where he got to drink in your face, to inhale your scent that percolated so harmoniously with the ubiquitous scent of coffee. 

As the second hand slipped to 4, a cold chill spread all over his body and he felt as though someone had forced him to swallow a handful of nails. They sat in his stomach, tearing apart the delicate lining, puncturing holes in his organs, ripping him apart from the inside. It was Wednesday. You were normally here by now. What had happened? 

The drink he had made you in advance was getting cold. 

Had you switched coffeeshops? Had you forgotten about him? What if you hated him? What if you had caught onto him?

Heeseung swallowed hard; he dug his jagged nails into the palms of his hand. “Sunghoon…” he began quietly, “I think I’m going to step outs-,”

The door opened and you stepped inside, waving at Heeseung. The nails melted away and were replaced by spoonfuls of honey, soothing his throat, filling him with golden light. 

“Hi,” you said, pulling your purse out of your wallet. You glanced over at the forgotten drink resting on the counter. “Oh, was that mine?”

“I’ll make you another one,” Heeseung said, far too quickly. He unceremoniously dumped the drink into the sink and started bustling about in the kitchen. Once he was facing away from you, a grin split across his face, and he had to restrain himself from giggling. You hadn’t forgotten him! You had come back. While he pulled himself together, Sunghoon input the order into the machine before wandering away, presumably to take care of more customers. Whatever. 

Heeseung lifted his head up to face you again.”The same as usual?”

You nodded and grinned. “Same as usual. You know me so well.”

If only you knew, Heeseung thought. “You were late today- I mean, you came in later than you, uh, normally, arrive, at the uh, here. Why?” Heeseung wasn’t known for his eloquence on a normal day, but you rendered his vocal cords obsolete, his frontal cortex inoperable. 

“Oh, well, had a long day at the office,” you said, tapping your card on the reader. “Another useless meeting from HR.”

Heeseung wished he had something clever to say, something that could win your heart, make you love him. Instead, all he could offer was, “That sucks.” He bit his lip and got another grande cup so he could remake your drink. 

“It does suck,” you said with a wry smile. “How’s your day been?”

You were asking him how his day was, too? Heeseung nearly dropped the cup as he pumped syrup inside of it, and he couldn’t stop the smile from creeping onto his face. “It’s been…good. Good. A little busy.”

“Well, busy is good,” you said. Then you cleared your throat. “Hey, I was going to come over on Saturday with a…friend of mine. What time do you think would be the best? You know, so it’s quiet?”

Heeseung carefully pressed the lid onto the cup, scrunching his nose as he thought. “Probably…I’d say 5 pm-ish? Most people don’t really want a coffee around that time.”

“Good to know,” you said, placing your wallet back into your purse. Heeseung admired how confident your motions were, and his eyes lingered on your hands. When his eyes flickered up to your face, he realized that you were looking at him. 

Desperate to seem like he wasn’t ogling you, he stammered out, “Y-your friend…does she work at the same, uh, place as you?”

“He actually works down at the insurance company, the one on Smithson?” you kept talking, but Heeseung couldn’t hear a word. His blood ran cold, and his vision went blurry. Him. He. You were going to have your date here? You must despise him. 

Heeseung thrust the cup in your direction. “Uh, enjoy,” he murmured, looking away from you.

“Thanks, Heeseung! You have yourself a good day,” you said brightly before leaving. 

Heeseung felt Sunghoon put a hand on his shoulder, heard him ask if Heeseung were okay. “I feel sick,” Heeseung whispered. “Could I step out for a bit?” Heeseung didn’t actually hear Sunghoon’s answer, but Heeseung was already leaving, stripping his apron and casting it aside someplace in the little break room. He tugged his worn leather jacket on and went outside. The sun stung his eyes so he lowered his gaze to the ground. Heeseung sat down on the concrete step leading into the back room and fished his lighter and cigarettes from his jacket pockets. 

He took a long drag as he tried to calm down, but it was difficult. Every time he thought about your date with some other guy, he started to feel strange. Beyond his initial panic and feelings of abandonment, there was something else nipping at him. A feeling he couldn’t quite place, but it was harsh and red and ragged. 

Heeseung wasn’t an idiot. He knew he wasn’t normal. He knew that his fascination with his pretty customer was irrational, and deep within his heart, he knew that you didn’t belong to him. Yet at the same time, Heeseung knew that you should belong to him. Already, he could read your emotions so well, and that was just after quick interactions twice a week for 3 and a half months. Heeseung would do anything for you, just so he could bask in your sweet glow. 

Normally, the world was cold and boring. Everything was predictable and trite. Heeseung couldn’t remember a time in his life where there had been any novelty. Talking to people wasn’t fun to him at all; navigating the labyrinthine social rules that others seemed to understand effortlessly just made him feel confused and worn. All throughout elementary school and middle school, even into high school, Heeseung had been ignored and ridiculed. He couldn’t decide which was worse. Even at his menial barista job, people purposefully averted his gaze. 

Not you, though. You had given him a bright smile and had even dropped money into the little tip jar. Most importantly, you had awarded him his first compliment. Despite his current misery, Heeseung smiled at the memory. You had sipped the coffee he had made you, your eyes had lit up like a little kid’s, and you had said, “You make great coffee, Heeseung.” When Heeseung had protested shyly, you had continued. “No, no, this is really good. You have a knack for this, you know.”

Heeseung took a long drag off of his cigarette as he sulked. Tears pinpricked his eyes at the thought of you disappearing from his life. Of course, he figured he could always spy on you at work (he had spent hours trying to find your LinkedIn based off of your first name), or maybe break into your house and hide under your bed (he had followed you home from work a few times.) but it just wouldn’t be the same. What made him happy was that you chose to come see him. There were a lot of cafes near your workplace, some even closer than Heeseung’s, but you came to his. Even if it wasn’t for his personality, you liked the coffee that he made. You chose him, but now you were choosing some other guy. And if this date went well, then you might disappear from his life.

Salty tears streamed down his sallow cheeks, and Heeseung swiped them away with his free hand. That feeling simmered within him, festering within him like rot. Angry. That’s what he was. Angry, upset, mad. 

Heeseung couldn’t let you disappear. He couldn’t let you go. 

He stubbed the cigarette out on the step and started coming up with ideas.

Then Heeseung smiled. 

– 

You pursed your lips in the mirror as you applied your red-tinted lip gloss. You had your coffee shop date at 5, and you wanted to look nice. The way you saw it, it was a win-win: you got to get a free coffee and pastry out of a guy, and you could finally subtly let Heeseung down without having to acknowledge his feelings for you at all.

It wasn’t hard to tell that Heeseung felt something for you. Ever since you had complimented his coffee, his dull eyes had developed a shine whenever he saw you. He always made your coffees with the utmost of care, which was one of the reasons why you kept coming back instead of going to another place. And, of course, you’d be lying if you said that his attention didn’t flatter you in some small way. Heeseung wasn’t necessarily unattractive. If he did something about his lank hair, stopped fidgeting so much, and could string together a sentence without stammering, he’d be passable. Even cute. That wasn’t the problem.

It was the same thing you had told your friend and workmate just before she had proposed the date idea. “He’s just…creepy,” you had told her over a shared Cobb salad. “Something about his eyes.”

“Oh, I know what you mean,” she had said, snapping her fingers. “Like they’re empty, right?”

“Exactly,” you had said, relieved that she understood. “Empty. It freaks me out.”

Your friend took a bite of salad and dabbed at her lips with a napkin. “So stop getting coffee from there.”

“No can do,” you had replied. “Gotta take you there sometime. The coffee is amazing.”

“Okay, well, just tell him to back off.”

You frowned. “Technically, he’s never actually said he liked me or done anything or anything, so…”

“Subtly hint that you have a boyfriend?”

“I’m a bad hinter.”

Your friend groaned. “You suck, you know that?”

The two of you had hemmed and hawed over the dilemma before she had offered up a solution: Find a guy from the office, ask him out on a coffee date at that exact place, and make it seem like you were enjoying the date.

So now you were in your bathroom, tucking the front of your sweater into your skirt. As you were posing one last time, you got a text from your date, Mark. He had texted you a succinct “yooooo i’m pulling up 😬”, so you locked up your apartment and walked out. 

When you got to the coffee shop, you were initially worried about Heeseung’s reaction. He looked like a sad little deer when he got upset. You shook your head slightly to get those aberrant thoughts out. You were here to get him off your back, anyways. So that the creepy barista wouldn’t get any ideas and you could keep enjoying some of the best coffee in this part of downtown.

You needn’t have worried, though. Heeseung was kindly towards you and your date. He had even taken your coats at the door and hung them up on the coat rack at the front. He had plied you with pastries, and even stuttered out a, “T-take care of her, she’s a good one” to Mark. When you glanced at the counter, you could see Sunghoon smiling at Heeseung as he brought out refills of coffee and dusted extra powdered sugar onto delicate little desserts. 

Mark looked at you with glee as he dug into his second croiffle. “Nah, this place is dope,” he said, crumbs surrounding his lips. “I see why you come here every week.” You hadn’t bothered telling Mark about Heeseung. It seemed a bit cruel to use a guy  to get rid of another unsavory guy.

You reached out and rubbed some of the crumbs from his mouth, hoping that Heeseung would see you. “Yeah, it’s great. Maybe…” you lowered your voice and leaned in, “this could be our spot, you know?”

Mark gently reached out and took your hand. “Why were you wiping my nose, weirdo? Did I get crumbs up there?”

“Huh? I was wiping your mouth…” you reached out with your other hand to touch his mouth, but your arm started to feel a bit heavy. 

“You okay?” Mark frowned as his eyes scanned your face. 

You nodded. “Yeah, yeah, I’m good.”

“Drink a little more coffee,” he suggested. “It’ll make you alert and shit.”

As you sipped your drink again, you realized that the drowsiness wasn’t going away. Even though you had downed a whole grande latte, you felt like you were about to

–

You slumped over the table and Heeseung had to suppress his smile. This part had to be perfect. He called your name and strode over to the table. Mark was just sitting in his chair, frozen. “What happened?” Heeseung asked, trying to make himself sound worried. His naturally anxious tone actually helped him.

“N-nothing, she just…fell over,” Mark said, staring at you. “I dunno, she must have had a long work week. Or she’s anemic, women are always anemic.”

Heeseung made a show of checking your pulse on your wrist and on your neck. Getting to touch your velvety skin, and not just a quick brush of hands when he handed you a coffee cup, was exquisite. He could already feel himself getting hard, so he had to move fast. 

“I’ll take her to my place,” Heeseung said, already lifting you out of the chair. Mark quickly stood up, blocking Heeseung’s path. Heeseung bit back a groan. 

“Nah, shouldn’t I, you know, take her home? I know her from work,” Mark said, crossing his arms. He looked from Heeseung to you to Heeseung to you as though he were following a ping-pong match. 

Heeseung sighed and attempted to try using that wheedling, condescending tone some male customers had used on him sometimes. “No offense, but when normally, a pretty girl like this passes out on a date, it’s not because of a-anemia.” 

Mark stepped back, holding his hand to his heart. “Ay man, are you tryna say that I roofied her? I’m not like that!”

“Yeah, well…” Heeseung pushed past Mark, carrying you in his arms. “I don’t know you, do I?” Then he paused and turned around. “Tell you what. You give me your number, and after she gets a little more rest, I’ll call you so you can pick her up, okay?”

Mark nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, yeah, sounds good, thanks.” He told Heeseung his number, and Heeseung carefully repeated the numbers in his head. “I think I’mma head home, thanks for the…hospitality.” Without his jacket, Mark stepped into the cold and ran to his car. 

As Heeseung was leaving, he called out to Sunghoon: “Cover me until I get her some medical help, okay?” Sunghoon gave him a curt nod, and Heeseung left the coffee shop. 

With some difficulty, he managed to get you buckled up in the front seat of his old clunker. Now that he was alone and no one could see him, Heeseung could finally smile. The way you were sitting here, all dolled up, it almost seemed like you and him were on a date. You were going on a drive together after a date at the coffee shop, and you would be going home with him. Heeseung carefully adjusted the car seat so that you were reclining, so it would look like you were just napping. 

“Carbs will do that,” Heeseung said sympathetically, rubbing your hand. “Make you tired. You should know better, baby. You come here all the time.” He stroked your warm, soft hand, and he ran his fingers along your sweet little cheeks. The hand that caressed your face slowly fell to your chin, then your neck. “You look so pretty. You always look pretty, of course, but you looked really pretty today. All for me.”

His hand slid all the way to your chest. Heeseung hesitated; he was risking everything, and he didn’t have much time to execute the rest of his plan. Just one kiss, he told himself, just one. Heeseung leaned in and pressed his lips to yours, ever so gently. It made him shudder, the sweet taste of chocolate lingering on your lips. He wanted to keep going, but he would have to wait. 

As Heeseung drove to his apartment, one hand rubbing your thigh, he congratulated himself on his ingenuity. It hadn’t been easy to coordinate this plan. 

–

First, he had had to figure out who you were cheating on him with. That wasn’t hard; you had foolishly Tweeted: “sooo excited for Saturday!” and “onyour_mark” had replied with a devil emoji. A cursory flick through his Twitter account offered Heeseung an informative, if not somewhat nauseating, look into Mark’s life. Heeseung found out that he worked the same hours as you, but he was on a separate floor. He lived with a Twitch streamer, Johnny “suhcondem” Suh, who streamed on Wednesdays, Fridays, and Sundays. As he scrolled through Johnny’s Twitter account, Heeeung found that Johnny had once complained about his fans sending them dildos, pizzas, and other “weird ass shit.” Perfect. 

After that, Heeseung had searched for Mark’s Instagram. Thankfully, Mark had posted a picture of his outfits in front of an open window. Utilizing a combination of Mark’s own descriptions of his neighborhood and Google Earth, Heeseung had found Mark and Johnny’s apartment complex within three hours of tireless searching. He could extrapolate the floor from the basic positioning of the tree, and after scouring Mark and Johnny’s social media accounts for more descriptions of their living space, he had narrowed their apartment to a potential unit. 

Now came the more difficult part. Using Tor browser, Heeseung was able to access a site where he could purchase some Rohypnol. It cost a pretty penny, but Heeseung wasn’t about to experiment with other roofies and potentially ruin his chances of having you. He ordered it on Wednesday, and on Friday he had two packages sitting in front of his door, one small and unmarked, the other a lettermail package. Heeseung used gloves to pick up the white package and take out the white box. He couldn’t have his fingerprints on it, after all. The other package held precious cargo: a used Papa John’s uniform with a pizza carrier.

Next, he had to plant evidence in Mark’s room. On Friday, he begged Sunghoon to cover his shift, citing violent diarrhea. Heeseung knew that Mark would be working, but Johnny would be streaming all day. Heeseung changed into the Papa John’s uniform, threw his jacket over it, ordered a meat lover’s pizza from Papa John’s, and drove a few blocks away from Mark’s apartment complex. No way was he going to risk people seeing his car. 

Heeseung placed the pizza inside of the carrier and headed to the apartment. He was nervous about getting inside, but thankfully an older couple let him inside. With a tremulous hand, Heeseung pressed the button for Mark’s floor. If he screwed this up, then Mark would get to have you. The thought alone spurred Heeseung on to keep going. 

He walked to Mark’s door and rang the doorbell. After a full, heart-wrenching minute, Johnny opened up and gave Heeseung a slow once-over. Johnny was wearing a baggy hoodie that said “I ATTENDED SUH CON AND I GOT THE LONG JOHN” with sweatpants. 

“Uh… meat lover’s pizza for Johnny?” Heeseung said tentatively. 

Johnny groaned. “Dumb ass chat gotta stop buying me pizzas,” he muttered.

“What was that?” Heeseung asked, shifting his weight between his feet. 

Johnny shook his head and waved dismissively. “Sorry man. I uh, I stream on Twitch, so a lot of my fans like to send me shit. I didn’t order this.”

“Oh,” Heeseung said contritely. “Well, I can’t exactly keep it…” 

“Why don’t you eat it?” Johnny asked, leaning his arm on the doorframe. 

“I’m vegan,” Heeseung lied. 

Johnny chuckled. “I can tell. You skinny skinny.”

Heeseung laughed awkwardly. “Right, yeah.” He shifted again, and he could feel sweat pooling under his armpits.

“What, you gotta piss?” Johnny gestured at Heeseung. “You’re dancing like you gotta go.”

“Oh, yeah,” Heeseung said, trying not to appear too eager .”I drank too much, uh, soylent.”

Johnny stared at Heeseung like he was an idiot. “Whatever. You can use the bathroom. Use the one in my buddy’s room, actually. Don’t need chat to hear someone piss.”

As Johnny stepped aside to allow Heeseung to enter, Heeseung fought to keep himself in check. The apartment was as sparsely decorated as a Twitch streamer and male office worker’s living space could be. Which is to say that the only notable decorations were Johnny’s streaming awards that were strewn on the walls and Mark’s bible on the living room table. 

“You can just put the pizza down there,” Johnny said, pointing at the kitchen counter which was already littered with a variety of take-out boxes and greasy bags. “Down the hall and to the right for Mark’s room. Make it quick. Mark gets weird when people go in there.” Johnny retired into his own room, and from the clattering noises he made, Heeseung figured that he was going back to streaming. As Heeseung hurried into Mark’s room he heard Johnny say, “Chat, you’ve been very, very bad…” 

The first thing Heeseung did was take some rubber gloves from his pocket and tug them on. Then he scoured Mark’s room to try and find condoms. They weren’t in the bathroom, they weren’t in his nightstand, and they weren’t under his bed. Heeseung searched desperately for them, before he found them behind his pillow, along with some lube. Just how much fucking does this guy do?

Heeseung inspected the box and was pleased to find that him and Mark were actually the same size: Mark used Trojan larges. Then Heeseung frowned: him and Mark were the same size. Heeseung had always been proud of his size, but now it didn’t feel so special. No matter, Heeseung thought as he removed a condom from the pack, I’m the one who’ll fuck her. He slipped the condom into his pocket and made a note to purchase the same brand of lube. Heeseung went into the bathroom and pulled out the flattened Rohypnol box from a Ziploc bag he had kept in his pocket. He placed it inside of Mark’s trash can and covered it up with some tissues he found in there. As Heeseung searched, he found a tissue coated in Mark’s dried semen. Couldn’t hurt to have it. Heeseung put it in a spare Ziploc and kept it for later. It was nasty, disgusting work, but it would pay off. 

Finally, Heeseung did actually use the bathroom. All this stress made him piss a river. 

When he left the apartment, Johnny didn’t even notice. Heeseung had actually done it. 

– 

Now Heeseung gently carried you into his apartment. It was still early, so thankful there weren’t a lot of people milling around. 

He laid you onto his bed, and your head hit the headboard as he lowered you. “Sorry,” Heeseung said apologetically. “I’m sorry, baby.” Heeseung kissed your forehead. He could wash your forehead, but for the next part, he figured he should put on some gloves. Rummaging around in his nightstand, he found more latex gloves and tugged them on. 

Now that he finally had you, he didn’t actually know what to do. Should he take off your clothes first, or his? He decides to disrobe first, so he could take his time with you. Quickly, Heeseung tossed off his work clothes, throwing them into his dirty laundry pile. His room was about as bare as Mark and Johnny’s living room had been, but once you were his, he would decorate it however you wanted. 

Heeseung forced himself to take his time as he popped your skirt buttons, one after the other. It was the kind of skirt that opened from the front, so when he was done, he could part the skirt off of you, admiring your panties. 

“You wore this just for me?” Heeseung asked softly. God, he wished he could touch you, skin on skin, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. He ran his finger along your clothed pussy, and he trembled from the white-hot flames he felt licking at his cock. Patience, he told himself. Patience. Your sweater came off next, and Heeseung folded it up into a neat square and set it to the side. 

Heeseung pulled the condom he had filched from Mark’s room onto his cock,wishing he could just go in raw. At least Mark used ribbed. Then, he got the lube from his nightstand and slicked his cock with it,making sure it wouldn’t be too hard to slide in.

 He couldn’t believe it. There you were, so pliant, so vulnerable, so his. Of course, now that he was hovering over you, he couldn’t deny the twinge of guilt he felt. As he tugged your panties down, he kept whispering apologies. “Sorry,” he said as his cockhead tapped your entrance. “I’m so sorry,” he said while marveling at the way his thick cock bulged your stomach. 

Heeseung moaned so loudly he thought for sure the neighbors would hear. But he didn’t care, even though he should. How could he care? He had never experienced anything like this. Your pussy was gripping him so tightly, its walls enveloping his cock so warmly, he couldn’t care about anything else. With some effort, he pulled out of you and drenched his cock with even more lube.

He plunged back inside of you and gripped your hips, admiring the way your tits jiggled as he fucked into you. As he took your pussy, it dawned on Heeseung that he wasn’t being very romantic about this. “Sorry,” he said, feeling like an idiot. Heeseung pulled out of you and used his gloved hands to put you in a more sensual position. He would just have to wash the places where your bodies touched. He put you on your side and crawled behind you, so that he was spooning you. 

He groped at your tits as he slid inside of you again. This much was much better. Ever since you had told him that you were going on a date, Heeseung had been edging himself for hours so he could last longer, just for you. He did it all for you.

Heeseung started going faster, pounding your cunt harshly. A part of him was sad that you wouldn’t remember this. No, you would wake up scared, wondering why Mark had done this to you. You wouldn’t even know that Heeseung had given you the most passionate fucking of your life. His headboard smacked against the wall as he pushed himself into you from behind. Using his gloved hand, he turned his face towards his. Your face looked so peaceful, and seeing it only made him go faster. The bed creaked as Heeseung relentlessly thrusted in you. He could feel you getting looser and wetter, accommodating his dick. 

Heeseung felt himself bottom out, hitting the firm muscle of your cervix. He couldn’t stop now. Heeseung gripped your tits, loosening his grip when he remembered that he could leave handprints, and thrust up and down. He could have spent all day in your pussy, but he didn’t have much time left. 

His balls smacked into your thighs as he felt his orgasm approaching. It was unlike any other orgasm he had had; he had never felt so in-tune with his body, and the sensation burned. Heeseung grunted and pulled out of you before he came inside the condom.  Heeseung rolled off of the bed and laid on his carpet, panting. 

Soon, he would get up, wash himself off, then wash you off. Then, he would call Mark and say that you weren’t waking up. While Mark drove to his place to get you, he would use the cum he had extracted from Mark’s tissue, wet it with water, and smear it in your pussy. As soon as Mark had gotten you, Heeseung would dispose of the used condom and wash his sheets. After half an hour, he would call Sunghoon and say that you and Mark had forgotten your coats. 

Undoubtedly, Sunghoon would find the bottle of roofies that Heeseung had planted in Mark’s jacket. 

Heeseung sighed, completely content. After this, you wouldn’t trust men again, let alone Mark. Except, of course, for the man who had taken you home, tried to take care of you, and had called the police on Mark, the man who had assaulted you. 

Heeseung couldn’t wait for you to wake up.

[lockheed-martin-unofficial]

I was thinking about Cybertronians freezing in the Arctic due to the ice that forms on them instead of just the cold & not knowing what humidity is again, and what if they weren’t instantly aware of all the abilities of their alt modes?

They’d have a warmup period after scanning them and have to gradually get used to/ discover all the things they can do. There’s little to no water on cybertron, no reason for them to know that ice forms in the cold, no reason for them to have de-icing. And when they come to earth and choose aircraft as their new vehicle modes, they have no idea those aircraft come with built in warmers on the wings.

I thought about how some flying decepticons would deal with it. Let’s go with Starscream first because I love him very much.

(Also because he complains about cold the most out of all the characters. I imagine everyone ices up the same amount, but the cold is an entirely different problem and one that affects him more because he’s all thin and lanky, not very good at retaining heat. It’s worth clarifying that the freezing is what’s dangerous to them. The cold bothers them but isn’t a threat in and of itself, seeing as they can walk around in space just fine. But I ramble on)

- If he had a human friend or partner, he’d be complaining about how cold it is in front of them and they’d be like “Wait, aren’t you a plane?” He’d ask what that has to do with anything and get very annoyed that he didn’t know he came with extra heating.

- He claims he totally knew about that all along and merely forgot about it in the moment. He also claims he totally knows how to turn it on, but…remind him again?

- The realization that he can just… make himself warmer at will is incredible. He’s still gonna complain about the cold though. Probably out of instinct, he complains to fill the silence. (Is it obvious I want him to be safe and warm. I think it’s obvious.)

- Cue a concerned human asking if he’s been flying through clouds and terrible weather and all the way into the stratosphere with ice building on his wings for all this time. How is he still flying? He just replies that he’s built different, and that he’s far superior to human machines yap yap yap blah blah.

- He doesn’t want to admit how great it is, but after the human shows him how to turn it on, he’d be waking around with the de-icing turned on all day, even when he doesn’t need it. I reckon it’d make the area between his wings an excellent nap spot. He could just put a human in there and squeeze them between his wings and it’d feel like being put in one of these bad boys, I dunno what they’re called in English

In any case, peak nap spot.

Up next is Megan:

- Megatron doesn’t actually have an earth based vehicle mode, leading me to believe he wouldn’t have any form of de-icing. My headcanon is that his bigger, bulkier frame would require and generate more heat, but look at him.

He got a lot of nooks and crannies that ice could build up in. Even spikier than Starscream. Much like Starscream he doesn’t have paint which may also have acted like an extra layer of heat insulation. Additionally, his joints on the arms and legs are visible.

(Actually unsure if Starscream is painted and just gray, but Megs definitely isn’t)

- My point is, I’m not an ice expert but Megatron is terrible for both heat insulation and icing prevention. Megatron is a tough bot, he can take a lot of punches, and as prideful as he is I doubt he’d ignore the fact that a snowstorm would be a genuine threat or hinderance to him.

- Not that he’d let anyone notice, of course. He has a reputation to maintain, and he can’t allow anyone to know his weakness. When he’s in private though, I find the image of evil dictator Megs snuggled up in a billion blankets drinking a hot cocoa hilarious. I’ll probably draw it.

- A human pal or partner may not be able to advise him to turn on de-icing that he doesn’t have, but they might be able to offer him another solution. A badass cloak or cape to protect himself from the snow, while also remaining intimidating. Anyone would think it was just for show, unaware that it’s actually to keep him from freezing.

Last but certainly not least, Soundwave!

-Oh, Soundwave totally knew about the de-icing without needing anyone to mention it. Soundwave knows a lot of things. He’d totally read his own altmode’s manual. I don’t think we’ve ever seen Soundwave in the Arctic though.

Trying to find a good gif for my own reference hang on-

- I’d argue that out of these three he’s probably best with the cold. Sure, he’s spiky too, but nowhere near the other two. His “elbows” are awfully small and exposed, but since his wings form the arms there’d be no issue once he turned on the de-icing. In the gif he easily covers his entire body with those huge arms, so he could easily curl up around himself and defrost if be needed to. Now here’s a good writing idea I probably will never use

- Laserbeak probably has its own de-icing, which makes Soundwave extra warm when he requires it. ADDITIONALLY Laserbeak could be deployed in order to warm up a human friend or partner from afar. Tactical warms.

- Not much to say about Soundwave. Maybe I’ll edit and add later.

[luveline]

Hi jadeeeee I have a request for coworker James! Another man whether it’s at work or somewhere else starts hitting on reader and James get jealous and realizes he hates seeing her with other guys

ty for requesting 💌 fem

It’s another sunny day at the office, but today is the day the vending machine men come in and fill them, so it’s not all bad. The doors and windows are wide open, the air is fresh and clean. 

“It’s too hot,” Remus complains without any real passion. 

“It’s not that bad,” Sirius says, though he raises his hand to begin fanning Remus anyhow. “It feels hotter than it is because of the humidity.” 

“I feel amazing,” James says. He gives you a nudge with his shoe, his hair tickling his neck as he leans back in his chair. “It’s not that hot, is it?” 

“It’s boiling,” you say. 

You were never going to agree with him. It could be sub zero and you’d tell him you were on fire. James rolls his eyes at you and continues a rather lavish existence of sun, breeze, and cold grapes, their crisp insides popping between his teeth. 

“Sorry,” you say. 

James lifts his head. 

“That’s okay,” Jordan says, to James’ immediate affront. There’s no need for the man in charge of maintaining the vending machine to be talking to you in that tone. It’s bordering too sweet. 

“I’m always in your way,” you laugh. 

“You? In my way? Never.” 

You turn to Remus with an obvious expression. Is he flirting with me? it says. 

Remus looks at James —what the fuck?— before he gives you a tentative back and forth of his head, weighing it up. He shrugs. 

James shakes his head resolutely. 

You give them both the silent version of I understand and settle down in your seat again. The vending machine guy (what’s his name again? James can’t remember) pops open the front cover of the machine and takes out the change box. Clearly, he doesn’t categorise you or the boys as a risk of burglary. 

“So,” Jordan says, “how was your weekend? Did you do much?” 

“In this weather?” you ask with light-humoured sarcasm. “I went on a couple of walks, nothing huge. How about you?” 

“Went to a couple of matches.” 

“Rugby or football?” 

“Rugby, always.” 

James feels the pressure of his teeth clenching at the back of his head. “Do you play, mate?” he asks. 

Jordan looks at him in surprise. “No, we just watch. It’s an excuse to have a pint before five.” 

You break two slices of your clementine away from each other. James doesn’t know why, but your gaze is on him, and that’s where he wants it. “Day drinker?” he asks sympathetically. 

“James,” Sirius says, laughing. “Grow up.” 

“Sometimes,” Jordan says. He finishes reinstalling the change holder and starts to push snacks and drinks onto the vending machine shelves. “Gotta have a little bit of fun every now and then, right?” 

He emphasises to you. 

You give a shy smile. “Right.” 

Jordan finishes his job and wishes everyone goodbye quickly after that. You chew your clementine, your finger looped under your bracelet, tugging slowly round and around. He fucked that up for you, didn’t he? You couldn’t get very far with him poking holes at poor Jordan, but… you’d been smiling at him nicely. You’re allowed to smile at whoever you want to, of course you are, so why did James act like that? 

“Sorry,” he says. 

You slide your thumb between slices of clementine. “To me?” you ask from the corner of your mouth. “For what?” 

Sirius and Remus laugh at the same time. 

James ignores them. “I was mean to him. How are you ever gonna get a date if I bully the vending machine guy?” 

“You think I can’t get a date?” you ask. 

“No.” He grimaces. “No, just, he’s a dickhead.” 

“As opposed to who? You?” you ask. 

James is pretty sure his vision goes white. He hates seeing you with other boys, but this isn’t where he wanted the conversation to go. He doesn’t wanna be your boyfriend. He just hates seeing you happy with other people. 

Oh, god, he thinks. That’s horrible. 

“I think you can do a whole lot better than Jacob the vending machine guy.” 

“Jordan,” you correct, laughing. You don’t bring him up on avoiding your real question, perhaps you don’t notice. You just laugh with Remus and pass James a piece of your clementine. “Vending machines are an honest living. Don’t be so classist.” 

“You’re classist,” he rebukes weakly. He ignores Sirius’ knowing gaze to offer you his punnet of grapes. “Horrible woman.” 

“Get it together, Potter.” 

James doesn’t know what to say to you after that, so he says nothing at all. Your clementine is sweet on his tongue. 

[satoruxx]

SWEET SNACKS.

✧ PAIRING: gojo satoru x reader | 2.3k words

✧ SUMMARY: tooth rotting fluff, meet cute, battles with inanimate objects, reader's got exams bc i have exams, satoru's whipped af (as usual), sorry i love writing him as a simp, reader is also whipped bc this is gojo satoru, bonding over snacks !!

✧ RHEYA'S NOTE: if you saw me tryna post this yesterday no you didn’t. this was supposed to be a quick drabble oops. but it's finals week so i'm offering this piece of fluff to maintain sanity and gush over the meet cute i will never have. if y’all are also dealing with finals, i'm wishing you the best !!

satoru strolls down the bustling streets with a quiet hum, hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets to keep them away from the bite of the cold breeze. his boots crunch against the thin layer of melting ice that has formed overnight, now warming under the cold afternoon sun that coyly hides behind gray clouds.

honestly, he wasn't the biggest fan of weather like this, and he wouldn't have stepped out on any other day. but one meeting with the higher ups had his mood souring, and shoko had suggested he take a walk, maybe grab something to eat.

he knew better than to argue with her, especially since she could somehow read him better than most people could—scary.

so here he was, trudging down the streets of tokyo with his hat pulled over his ears, cheeks pink from the frosty air as it dances across his skin. despite the weather, satoru thinks there's something oddly peaceful about the city, the quiet chatter and sounds of boots scuffing against pavement as he turns a corner to head to the nearby vending machines he's frequented so many times.

the peace is broken by an annoyed grunt, and satoru looks up.

"are you serious?" another irritated groan. "of all the days…"

he takes in the scene with interest.

even with all the anger that he's not quite understanding, he thinks you're so undeniably pretty—puffy jacket hugging your body and the warm scarf resting around your neck. your brows are furrowed, exasperation tugging your features into expressions that shouldn't look so endearing.

you groan again, slamming your curled fist against the glass of the vending machine—frustration ticks at your brow.

and why wouldn't it?

nothing was going your way today. it had already started off badly, the atmosphere filled with gloom that made it impossible to want to leave bed. but you had to force yourself to miserably extract your body from the warm cocoon of blankets and pillows that urged you back with a siren's call—a promise of comfort that looked all too enticing.

and then, when you finally did manage to drag yourself to the library to sit down and study, nothing was sticking. you read through paragraphs over and over until your head was spinning, dizzy with information that wouldn't absorb, and that fact is nothing if not disheartening. the impending quickness with which your final exams were approaching made you feel even sicker, so you decided to take a twenty minute break to grab a drink from the nearby vending machines.

but of course, even that couldn't just work out.

satoru watches you stand in front of the machine with a glare, before you're shoving your weight against it, huffing as it remains in place and hoping that at least one of your efforts will prove to be fruitful. he's talking before he can help himself.

"hey, you need some help?"

you turn to face the owner of the voice, finding cerulean eyes behind black shades that so directly contrast the white of his snowy hair. he's tall—abnormally so as he peers down at you with curiosity and a bit of mirth.

you think you've never seen a man so handsome in your life.

then you remember he's asked you a question, and you attempt to swallow down the unnecessary nerves that have taken root in the pit of your stomach. "oh, my uh…my drink got stuck," you reply somewhat lamely, cheeks heating up under his gaze as you think about how utterly ridiculous you must've looked to passersby.

satoru's eyes travel from your face to the machine, noticing the way your drink of choice is stuck in a frozen free fall against the glass and the rack. he sighs in exasperation. "tried hitting it?" he asks, walking closer to stand next to you and take a closer look, even though he knows the answer already.

you're not sure what it is, but this man exudes a certain energy—confidence that leaks through his very skin. it makes you feel like you have no right to be standing this close to him, but all he does is smile at you patiently, waiting for an answer.

so you nod, brows ticking again as the dull throbbing in your fist reminds you of how you had lost the battle with the greedy machine. "yeah, i've been hitting it for the last ten minutes. didn't budge," you sigh, checking your phone to see that there are only a little over five minutes remaining for your quick break. "what a waste of time and money."

satoru watches you shrug helplessly, smiling up at him. "oh well—"

he takes two long strides until he stands right in front of the machine, grips the edges, and shakes it hard.

satoru can feel you gape at him, at the unfiltered display of strength, and the unbothered expression on his face that tells you it didn't faze him. you hadn't been able to move the machine even an inch.

his powerful movements earn you a tell tale thunk, and your heart leaps in excitement as he bends down to push his hand through the slot and pull out your drink. he returns to his full height, an easy smile on his face as he turns around and hands it to you.

"thank you." your voice comes out breathless, a weird kind of excitement thrumming through your veins because it feels like you aren't supposed to know this man.

satoru's smile stretches further when your fingers graze his, taking the drink and popping it open eagerly. he watches you take a sip, oddly pleased with himself at the sheer joy on your face. he doesn't quite understand why this drink looks like it's made your day, but he doesn't ask because you look so sweet drinking it.

"how did you do that anyway?" you ask after you drink a little, curiosity so obvious in your tone. "i tried so hard to move it and it didn't budge at all."

satoru smothers a smile, fighting back the urge to say something stupid. instead he grins, cheeks warming a little under your eager stare. "guess i'm just strong."

you make a face, raising a brow with a playfully disbelieving expression as you cross your arms—to which satoru just laughs. "what's your name?" he asks.

you purse your lips, hiding a smile as you tuck your nose behind your scarf. you give him your name, almost shyly, and satoru tests it on his tongue. he decides he likes the flow, cocking his head as he replies with his own.

"satoru."

for once, the pressure of his last name doesn't permeate the air, and he's all too grateful for it. he turns around to approach the machine again, and he can feel your somewhat confused gaze on his back.

you watch as he stands there for a good minute, his back to you as he ponders the choices in the vending machine like they'll lead to life or death. then he shoves in a bill and clicks a few buttons, and within a couple of seconds, you hear the thud of two things falling.

he remains facing away from you for a few more seconds and then turns around, and you see that he's bought a chocolate bar and the same drink that you have in your hands. you raise a brow.

"well you did almost just lose your life trying to fight a vending machine for it," he says, shrugging his shoulder nonchalantly. "figured it'd be good to try."

you sputter over your words, embarrassment crawling up your neck, but satoru laughs good-naturedly. his eyes shine with mirth as his shoulders relax. "i'm kidding." he stresses, smiling into the collar of his jacket. "but it does look good so…"

he opens the drink and takes a sip, eyes squeezing shut dramatically as he hums at the sweet flavors washing over his tongue. you suddenly feel like getting revenge for his unfiltered teasing.

"well?" you hum cheekily, taking a sip of your own and raising a playful brow. "taste good?"

satoru laughs—a full, pristine sound that makes him throw his head back. "yeah," he agrees easily, feeling oddly fond of the way your voice curls around your words. "it's sweet, i like it. you've got great taste."

somehow the words of this man you've met not five minutes ago cause the muscles of your heart to trip over themselves. you watch him peel open the candy bar, a brand that's unfamiliar to you.

"what'd you get?" you ask, unsure of where the confidence to speak up is coming from. a man like satoru—so unflinchingly ethereal—would normally have your lips zipping and throat muted.

he holds up the bar with a grin. "my favorite."

there's a pause, followed by your sheepish smile, and satoru gapes at you, cerulean widening so clearly behind a backdrop of white. he takes in your innocently confused expression and his ribcage shakes with thuds. "what, you've never tried it?!"

before you can even shake your head no, he's breaking off a piece and handing it to you.

"no, oh my goodness, it's yours—"

"take it." he pushes his hand closer to you, eyes staring imploringly, and you sigh, reaching up to take the piece from between his fingers. a graze of skin—he's warm.

"thank you." you slip the piece past your lips, not at all surprised by its sweetness and yet a little taken aback by its underlying comfort—a rush of warmth.

"good." you're nodding, smiling between chews as satoru's stomach flips. "really good."

he chuckles, all too triumphant for something so menial. "told ya."

you laugh, a quiet subdued sound that satoru wishes he could hear more of. "thanks for getting my drink out," you say. "i really needed it today."

"oh yeah?" he finds himself asking. "how come?"

you sigh, smile dropping as a bit of fatigue makes itself comfortable on your face. "ah well, i've got final exams this week. i've been studying like crazy. nothing's really sticking, and the closer i get to the exams, the more annoyed and stressed i get."

satoru hums, not envying you for a minute.

"so it kinda felt like a kick in the butt from the universe when the drink decided to not just…"

he laughs again, taking another piece of chocolate and chewing on it soundlessly. "i gotcha."

you grin, curling your fingers around each other to diffuse some warmth back into them. "yeah."

there's a silence that follows—not uncomfortable, not unwelcome. you take quiet sips of your drink, and satoru breaks off little pieces of the chocolate bar to chew on. his eyes linger on you, watching the way your lips curl around the bottle, the way your fingers rub against each other, the way the cold has settled into your nose and cheeks and made a home amongst your skin.

when you look up at him, he looks away, throat oddly parched. his fingers flex.

"here, the rest is for you," he says, pushing the half finished candy bar into your hands.

you shake your head immediately. "no way! you paid for it! besides isn't this your favorite snack?"

satoru shrugs, shoving his hands into his pockets with a grin that looks too happy. "you liked it, didn't you?"

you nod, slowly, like you're confused at what he's getting at. "well then, enjoy the rest of it. i buy them all the time—i don't mind sharing this one."

you can't help the soft smile that graces your lips, looking up at him with an odd sense of gratitude and surprise—touched that someone could be so casually kind.

"then thank you," you laugh quietly, eyes fluttering against the gust of cool wind that tickles your skin. "i'll enjoy it."

satoru grins, uncharacteristically pleased—he won't ever admit it, but he's glad shoko told him to take a walk. he'll have to thank her when he gets back.

he clears his throat, offering you a small wave as he turns on his heel to head back to the school. "well then, see you around. good luck with your studies, yeah?"

you smile with a gentle nod, oddly rejuvenated after seeing bright blue eyes and snowy hair. "thank you."

and then he's disappeared into the crowds. you laugh to yourself quietly, looking down at your drink and the half-eaten candy bar nestled between your fingers. a part of you feels strangely forlorn, wishing that you had the guts or confidence to talk to him a little longer—ask a little more.

but you've never been good at that, so even just this small happiness you'll take in stride. you grin to yourself, shoving the drink into your bag and slinging it over your shoulders.

you begin walking back to the library, fingers breaking off pieces of the chocolate and savoring the sweetness on your tongue. somehow you didn't expect a man with such an imposing presence to enjoy simple sweet things like this, but that just makes you all the more fond of him.

by the time you've reached the entrance of the library, you're shoving the last piece of chocolate into your mouth, sighing as the doors of reality swing open once more. the meager slice of giddiness that enveloped your very being dissolves, and all the reminders of what's left to do come back to suffocate you.

you bite back a groan, about to throw the empty wrapper in the trash when something catches your eye. you double-take, peering down at it with wide eyes and rapidly heating skin. there are a set of numbers scrawled there, along with a haphazardly written message:

in case you need someone to fight another vending machine for you -satoru <3

[kooktrash]

lace & luxury | kim taehyung

summary: Money, Money, Money, must be funny in the rich man’s world. At least that’s how you feel working day and night to make end’s meet and still never having enough. Out of nowhere you get roped into a give and take relationship with a very powerful fashion designer who shows you the way into a life of luxury and lingerie. You’ve become his muse and in exchange he’s become your source of pleasure and riches. It’s a rich man’s world and you’re living in it.

➣ genre/au: sugar daddy!taehyung x exotic dancer!reader [she/her, female anatomy], taehyung aged up

➣ 13.6k words

warnings: smut. tae is 31 oc is 21. a lot of teasing. mention of NDAs. he’s a bit cold to everyone else. oc is an exotic dancer. oc dances on Tae a couple times. Tae adores oc. lavishes in gifts. protected sëx. oc is confident af. oc has belly button piercing. Tae is very handsy. jk and Hobi are oc’s besties so a lot of locker room talk between the three. oral [f receiving].m. multiple positions. missionary. mating press. and riding. an open ending but also I feel like y’all know what’s gonna happen

THE BILLIONAIRE’S CLUB

Money does not buy happiness.

Money does not buy happiness.

Money does not bu—

“Fucking hell,” you groaned in annoyance as you hit the machine in front of you. The vending machine seemed to mock you with its silence even as you pushed the button for your drink a dozen times. There was a clear sign above that said not to hit the machine yet here you were beating the shit out of it with your foot.

Three dollars. It just took three dollars and refused to give you your drink. What a fucking con.

Money doesn’t buy happiness but you know that if you had that nice and refrigerated fizzy drink right now you would be at least .05% happier than you are now. With a defeated sigh you gave the vending machine one final ‘fuck you’ and left. Listen, you’re not a moody person [not usually] but you’re stressed, broke, and hungry… and now annoyed.

“You’re stressing over a drink or three dollars? I can’t tell,” Jungkook asked you as you stood at the entrance to work still thinking about earlier, “Go get a drink from Hobi and once you get on stage you’ll make more than 3$ quickly. No biggie.”

“It’s about the morals, Kook,” you sighed, “In this country even the vending machines are capitalists, taking money from the poor and not giving us anything in return.”

“It’s fine, you take money from horny rich people, speaking of which if you don’t go get ready, boss will throw a fit,” Jungkook said, pushing you forward and cutting your talk short. You whined in frustration as you did as told and headed to the dressing room.

You were a bit dramatic, you know you were. It was just three dollars but damn did that piss you off. You haven’t eaten a single thing since you were working a full day waitressing and now you’ve got to get on stage and dance on an empty stomach. You just paid rent and your stupid student debt bills and now you’re very broke. After tonight you’ll surely have way more money but it doesn’t change the fact that this is a common problem you have.

During the day you waitress and at night you dance at an exotic club where the clients treat you like some dress-up doll they touch whenever they want and stuff crumpled dollar bills in your lingerie because they think it’s sexy. You loved to dance, that was not the problem, it was the people you danced for and why you did it. If you had the money to finish off school you would have a degree by now in fashion marketing but instead you’re stuck with two jobs struggling to pay off loans and reach ends meet. It was exhausting.

“I heard about your drink dilemma,” Hoseok said apologetically as you got to the bar already dressed in lingerie waiting for your cue. He handed you a glass meant for whiskey filled with the fizziness of caffeine and you thanked him profusely before chugging it down.

“But if it makes you feel better, a group of very wealthy looking young men just walked into V.I.P,” he added. You released a content sight as you handed him the empty glass, “I’m not in the mood to be groped tonight.”

“So just the stage? Got it,” he said and you gave him a soft smile as you heard your stage name be called and you left.

“You need to loosen up, get some inspiration even,” Jimin said with a chuckle as he led Taehyung by the shoulders into the red night club. He’ll admit it’s above his expectations but at the end of the day — or night — it’s still an exotic club with women in lingerie unlike he’s ever seen. He should be used to it by now but he’s not. He’s too stressed to even enjoy whatever his friends had planned for him tonight.

“How about that one?” Jimin asked pointing to a dancer who was currently sitting on the lap of an older man wearing the ugliest Rolex watch Taehyung has ever seen. He just shook his head and kept his gaze forward as they went to a V.I.P section close to the stage.

Here’s the thing, Taehyung is new to all of this but at the same time he isn’t. Being the eldest grandson of the one and only original creator of the luxurious lingerie brand, Erotes: Sexy, Sensual, & Surreal, you would think he’s more used to this by now and he is. He’s used to the designs and fashion shows that his grandmother and mother would put on but to be the one in charge of it all now? That’s an entirely different ball game and he’s failing miserably to come up with something for the spring catalog. In truth, his younger sister should have been the one to take over but unfortunately that wasn’t the case and now they’re both unhappy with the outcome. He’s 31, he’s thankful to be able to get in the position he’s in at the head of his own empire but he’s just struggling. How is he supposed to find inspiration to follow their footsteps?

“Next up is the loveliest of them all, Venus, with her sensual movements you’ll have no choice but to fall to your knees, worshiping her like the goddess she is.”

You nearly gagged on stage at your intro as the lights went black and you stood at the center of the stage ready to walk forward when the song started. To clarify, you didn’t choose the stage name.

Some bottle girls brought expensive liquor to their section but Taehyung wasn’t paying attention anymore. He’s not sure when he tuned out how the night was going until you came out on stage. It wasn’t your introduction that drew him in but it was the sudden shift in the air that made him take in what was going on. The lights had gone off with only a red and blue hall above your head and it was the first time he took notice in one of the dancer’s he’s seen tonight.

He didn’t know where to look first, his eyes went from your feet which were in tall crystal heels to the length of your smooth legs before stopping at the first hint of lingerie he could see. You wore baby pink panties under a sheer babydoll dress and you looked simple yet elegant, like the stage was where you belonged. Your hand trailed up from your thigh to your stomach lifting the frill fabric for anyone’s watching eyes and he watched you dance, entranced for the first time tonight.

The lingerie was cute, it was simple and appealing to the eye but it wasn’t for you. He could see it in your strong gaze, this wasn’t right for you. You should be in a dark color that matched your strong presence and the desire you brought upon whoever watched you. You needed something that showed more, less concealing. He can picture you in a garter belt, pearls around your neck maybe…

The way you moved seemed to captivate every single person in the room and Taehyung especially.

By the end of your performance Taehyung watched you walk off stage and it’s the same confidence you put formed and the energy immediately changed when you were gone. He hadn’t realized how focused he was on your dance until he released the breath he had been holding in.

“Getting inspo yet?” Jimin joked as he snapped Taehyung out of his trance with a pat on his leg.

When Taehyung first took over Erotes, everyone expected a lot of changes. The company went from being owned by generations of women to now the first man in charge and not a lot were comfortable considering the lingerie was specifically for women and those others who would choose to wear it—very clearly not Taehyung. He knew he would face a lot of challenges and that’s what’s happening right now.

He wants to create a line of lingerie that the wearers [whoever that maybe, biologically female or not] would feel comfortable in. He doesn’t want to make it simply for the male gaze, he wants the wearer to feel comfortable and sexy and proud of their body. It probably isn’t much help that the person who had suddenly inspired him to create is an exotic dancer but something about you just caught his attention.

He’s solely looking at you from a designer’s point of view and he’s picturing that some of the company’s target audience would be people like you. Of course he’s going to create pieces for those who would just like to feel sexy at home or under their work clothes, but he needs to find inspiration first.

That is the sole reason why he went back to the gentlemen's club a couple nights later all by himself. The atmosphere seemed to fit what he was looking for too and he just needed to be in the element and in the presence of someone he considers sexy.

By the time he arrived it was late and since it was a weekday there weren’t that many people there. Business was good, just not as busy as on weekends but it worked in his favor. When he asked for a private dance they directed him to a red room where all he had to do was wait patiently for you to come in.

To be honest, you were a bit annoyed to do the private dance. Usually the ones who request are young arrogant men who don’t pay enough for what they get and if that wasn’t the client then it was typically some old ass dirty sleazebag who needs Viagra to keep it up. You definitely weren’t expecting for a man who looked like a God to be sitting there on the red velvet couch, dressed in a Dolce & Gabbana suit and had sandy blonde hair. He looked arrogant but for a reason, look at him. He was lounging comfortably on the seat with his arms stretched out on the back of the couch holding a glass of whiskey. His legs were spread in a manly way and his shoes shined even in the darkness.

You didn’t say anything when you walked in but the silk robe you wore simply slipped off your shoulders as the music began and exposed your lingerie to his hungry eyes. He raised his glass to his lips as he watched you let it fall to the floor and saunter over to him. You fell to your knees before him and your manicured hands skimmed over his thighs making his legs open just a little more to make room for you. Neither of you have spoken but for the moment it didn’t feel like you needed to.

The room was a little foggy too but Taehyung could see you very clearly as you pushed up against his thighs until you were standing back up and his eyes locked on yours when you swung a leg over his lap and swayed to the music. His fingers twitched with the urge to touch but he kept himself composed as he asked, “What’s your name?”

“Venus,” you used your stage name for obvious reasons as you situated yourself on his lap. Taehyung wasn’t aware of his moving hand until he was just inches away from touching your waist when you grabbed it and pressed it into the couch. Your breasts pushed against his chest as your fingers locked with his and you whispered into her ear, “You can look but don’t touch.”

“Got it,” he said breathlessly and he really did understand. He knew the rules and honestly he was unaware of what his hand was trying to touch until you called him out on it. He watched you closely as you arched your spine back and his eyes caught on the shiny reflection of your belly button ring and he hated to admit he’s a lot more turned on than he thought he would be.

He honestly was just interested in seeing what you wore tonight but he couldn’t even think about that right now when your body looked so appetizing to him. “Have you ever modeled before?”

You had your back to him now as he watched you bend forward and present yourself to him and once again he had to stop himself from reaching out and touching when you showed off your flexibility. You gave him a simple response as your hand came to the back of his neck and your back pressed against his chest to grind on his lap, “No.”

“Would you want to?” He asked in a whisper when you pulled on his neck tie harshly. His suit would have wrinkles now but he does not mind one bit. You laughed softly and he even liked the sound of that more than the music, “No.”

“I’ll pay you for it.”

“You’re paying for this, isn’t that enough?” You asked with your face just an inch away from his that he could feel the heat run between you.

“It’s far more than enough and yet I still want so much more, Venus, I think you would be a perfect model for me,” Taehyung said honestly, “Since the first time I saw you I wanted to see you in my designs.”

“And here I thought you wanted a dance because you found me attractive,” you teased. He was a client of the club and you should just treat him as such but he’s very attractive and he listened to you when you told him not to touch. Most men would still try and catch a feel even after being warned.

Taehyung released a breathy laugh, “Oh I find you absolutely irresistible but I’m sure that’s not something you don’t hear on a regular basis. I think you know your effect on others especially when you dance like this.”

You smiled, content enough that this God of a man found you irresistible, “What kind of model?”

“Lingerie, a boudoir shoot if you will,” Taehyung said but you wanted to play a little longer and his time was almost up.

“Not interested,” you said seductively and though your rejection stung, the way you said it made his growing arousal all the more prominent.

When his time was up he paid for the 140$ fee for a private dance and when he was ready to tip you and give you the money you let him slip it into the waistband of your panties and with that he left. You took out the money, surprised to count a total of 800$ just for you.

“I’ve never wished I had a pussy before in my life.”

You and Hoseok looked at Jungkook completely speechless as the three of you stood around the ivory box that was delivered to the club. It was from your client the other night and when you told Jungkook that he seemed annoyed.

One, he was mad you got tipped so much for a simple dance and second, that you just got a custom lingerie set designed specifically for you by a billionaire. You only know this because he left the Erotes business card there along with a couple hundred more with a note that said, ‘If you’re interested, come visit me.”

“I smell Sugar Daddy in the air,” Hobi finally said after the long silence that followed an envious Jungkook. To be honest, none of you knew much about the company until Jungkook went ahead and searched it up only to find a picture of the man you danced on just a few nights ago tied to an article titled, ‘the newly appointed CEO of Erotes Lingerie, Kim Taehyung.’

They brought your box over from the club and being their nosy selves, they wanted to see what you got.

The two were at your shitty, run down apartment where the three of you have been talking shit about your main boss all day. There’s nothing specifically wrong with the guy other than the fact that’s he’s a fucking cunt who steals from his dancers and never cares for it a man gets too touchy unless Jungkook has to kick them to the curb. You were all just tired of him.

“Go see what he’s gotta say,” Jungkook said with a smirk, “I’ll even drive you there and if he offers you money just remember how supportive your bestie was.”

“Shut up,” you rolled your eyes, “Should I?”

That’s how you ended up in front of the skyscraper before you. Erotes was your typical gray building on the outside but there were hues of red lights basically oozing out of the window panes. It felt otherworldly and stepping inside felt like you were stepping into an Oasis on Mount Olympus. There were large statues of Greek gods and goddesses of love inside and the red and yellow lights seemed to set the mood in the corporate building. You walked right up to the front desk with absolutely no clue on what to say that you found yourself stuttering.

“Uh, um, can I speak to Kim Taehyung?” You immediately wanted to slap yourself for the way you just asked to see the CEO OF THE COMPANY and clearly the receptionist wanted to do the same considering she looked you up and down unimpressed before looking back to her computer. You waited for her to say something but after a minute or two she looked at you as if confused why you were still standing in front of her desk.

This time you couldn’t help but scoff at her rude behavior and reached into your purse for the card. You slid the business card across her desk and looking annoyed, she picked it up and looked it over. You smiled, “Now can I speak to Kim Taehyung?”

“Not if you don’t have an appointment,” she smiled tightly and you mirrored her expression. “So can you set an appointment then?”

“For what reason?”

“You can ask him when you set the appointment since he’s the one who told me to come here, or I can just leave and the next time I see him I can let him know how I tried to see him but I was refused,” you smiled and with a clenched jaw she finally picked up. You were bluffing because in truth you didn’t know if he would see you again or it he would just give up on whatever he’s trying to gain but it scared her enough to finally call whoever she needed to.

“What’s your name?”

“Venus,” you said, “That's all.” With another look at you from head to toe she muttered the name to the person on the phone and hung up shortly after. She flashed you another fake smile and said, “Alright follow me.”

You went up the elevator to the 100th floor which meant a long and uncomfortable ride with this snobby receptionist who kept glancing at you like she couldn’t understand why the man upstairs wanted to see you and in truth you weren’t sure either. His secretary gave you the same judging look as she knocked on Taehyung’s large office doors and honestly you didn’t get it.

It was clear you weren’t his girlfriend or anything so what was their deal? Unless he was just some rich guy already engaged or married and they knew you weren’t the wife… maybe you should check that, men are trash anyway—especially ones with a lot of money. When the receptionist left with Taehyung’s secretary you awkwardly stood in front of you as she typed away, “He’s in a meeting, go ahead and sit over there.”

With a small huff in annoyance you took a seat at one of the waiting chairs not far from the front desk. There was a stack of lingerie magazines but you didn’t bother going through them as you got on your phone instead to text your closest friends.

you: im too poor to be in here

hobi: did they check ur bank acc and see u only have 2.75$ in there?

you: fuck u

kook: is he wrong tho

you: no

you: anyway idk I’m getting bad vibes from the employees

hobi: ask if they’re libras and if they say yes you better run

kook: true. I don’t trust libras

“It was great seeing you again Tae, we need to get together for drinks like old times.”

You looked up for a split second to watch a beautiful tall blonde leave his office as he held the door open for her. She had sparkles in her eyes that made you want to gag at the thought of ever looking at a man like that. You visibly cringed and looked back down to your phone and waited until he was done.

you: oh god I’m scared. I’m about to go in

kook: remember that he’s just a man

hobi: ^ a very rich one who made u clothes for dancing on him

kook: yes that too

“I’ll have to see if it fits into my schedule,” Taehyung finally said back seemingly unmoved by her flirtatious smile and as he was out the door with her his eyes shifted to you making you look up. He didn’t send another glance her way as he asked, “Ready?”

You released a sigh as you finally got up from the chair and walked past the shocked blonde like you’ve been here before. Being a dancer meant you needed confidence — or at least pretend like you had it — so that’s how you acted most of the time. Also, he’s a member of the club and at the end of the day you’re still just an exotic dancer who doesn’t have a place in this building meeting with the CEO.

Taehyung is a little surprised at the sight of you. Well, for clarification, he had hoped you would take him up on his offer but he’s just surprised to see you outside of your normal dancing attire. It’s not that he expected to see you dressed provocatively out in public but… well you simply just looked pretty. You wore a plain long skirt that fit your body nicely and a plain fitted long sleeve and regular heels. Your hair was even pinned back in a cute way and it caught him off guard. He looked over to his secretary who was pretending not to watch as he held the door, turning the lock for privacy and following you in.

You looked around the space, his single office was bigger than a studio apartment. There was no need to have so much space especially if it was big enough to have an entire statue of aros. It was obnoxious, kind of. You could see Taehyung’s suit hanging on a hook and all he wore was a navy blue button up long sleeve tucked into black slacks and a belt. The sleeves were even rolled up and the tie seemed just a bit loose. He looked at you, “You received my gift already? I thought maybe you would get it tonight.”

“Someone brought it to me,” you told him as you stood behind his large glass coffee table, “Did you not want to see me?”

He released a small scoff, “On the contrary, it’s a pleasant surprise, I am curious to know what you think.”

“About the lingerie? Yeah, you designed it?” You asked. He nodded, “As you can see this is a lingerie company and I’m the new appointed CEO and designer. The only problem is that I can’t seem to find any inspiration for original and unique designs. I actually was made to go to the club and well that’s when I saw you and I’ll admit, you were very captivating and for some reason I was able to visualize you in a set.”

“Really?” You asked, genuinely surprised. You knew you were at least somewhat attractive but you didn’t think it was enough for someone to design something for you. He said it so confidently and professional like this was just some sort of business meeting for him and in truth this is not what you had in mind when he gave you his business card. You assumed he wanted to try and gain something with the lingerie like give him a private show. The only reason why you had come is because of how good of a tip he left you and why he gave you the gift.

“Yes, that’s why I would have liked it if you modeled for me,” Taehyung said as he rounded the table to get closer, “I mean you seem to wear lingerie confidently and from what I can see now is that you also seem confident in ordinary clothes—is that second hand?”

Your jaw nearly dropped as he read you like a book and you looked down, “Yes? How’d you know?”

Taehyung moved on instead of answering, “Did you bring the gift?”

“Yes.”

He looked around you like he would suddenly find the white box he sent his gift in but all he could see was you. So Taehyung couldn’t help but let his eyes run along the length of your body as he came to a realization and his eyes seemed to widen with peaked interest, “Is that so? Would you be willing to show me?”

A small smile to your face as you nodded, “Of course, I thought that was the whole reason why you wanted to see me.”

He watched as you began to strip your clothes from him right there in the middle of his office just letting the clothes fall. You made sure he was watching too and he couldn’t look away even if he wanted to. It was exactly how he pictured it would look. He found himself looking around as if the idea of having a woman undress in his office and looking damn good in it was a crime. Not necessarily a crime, but enough to raise questions but he sort of liked that. He locked the door so it’s not like his secretary can barge in and he doesn’t have any meetings till later.

“Well?” You asked completely undressed aside from the lingerie. It was a simple black bodysuit made of lace with embroidered leaf and vines that met over the valley of your breasts down to your navel where the lace didn’t wrap around. The only thing that kept the lace together were those vines down the middle. The straps were made of silk black ribbons that continued into the cups of your breasts where a clip rested in the middle to undo the top. It seemed plain but the lace had small shimmers of glitter that shined the same way your belly button piercing did. It hugged all your curves in the right places and you fit it so well.

Taehyung just nodded, assessing you with a tight lip smile, “Looks amazing.”

“The lingerie?” You questioned even if it was very clear he was talking about that. This man seemed strange to you. You knew people in the fashion world could be eccentric and creative but this was the first guy you’ve ever met more pleased by the lace you wore rather than the body that wore it. Taehyung’s gaze shifted to your face, “No. The wearer.”

He came up to you, finger lightly tracing the silk strap and sliding it under so it grazed your skin too. You tilted your head to the side, an innocent gaze in your eyes as you looked up at him, “Is that all you needed me for? To dress me up?”

Taehyung’s finger traced up toward the curve of your tilted neck and jaw not yet touching but you could feel the heat from it, “Not the only thing, but I’m too tempted to touch you right now and I know that’s off limits.”

“You’re not a guest of the club right now, are you?” You asked softly. Listen, you knew how to play the game. You knew exactly how you should act to have a man entranced and that’s how you get tipped so well. The amount of money he gave you the other night was enough to cover rent and if you had to find a way to make him tip you again, you will. There’s a reason you became a dancer.

“I’m not,” Taehyung softly said back to you, “So what now?”

“Now you sit,” you lightly pushed at his chest until he was walking backward toward the couch. There was no music playing so it felt a bit awkward for you still yet the second you moved closer to him, he took the initiative to guide you onto his lap as you said, “No music? How am I supposed to perform?”

You were teasing him a bit but he didn’t seem to mind as you straddled his lap, feeling his fingers trace along your ankles toward your thighs, hips, waist, and then linger along your rib cage. Taehyung was too busy looking at your body in his design to care for music, “Do we need it?”

He looked up just as you gave him a smile and said, “Without music it feels too close to sex.”

“Mm,” Taehyung hummed in response. You slowly began to move on his lap and now that he could touch he didn’t hold back. He was still gentle but his hands did come forward to graze your covered breasts before running down the exposed front. You also played with the collar of his navy blue button up, pulling on his tie slowly ready to stop if he wanted you to. “What’s your name?”

“Venu—“

“Your real name,” Taehyung said, feeling his breath hitch when you fully yanked his tie open and pulled him closer. You flashed him a smile that showed the whites of your teeth, “Do you really want to know?”

Taehyung couldn’t help but scoff with a small chuckle, “It’s only fair, you know my name is Kim Taehyung. Now can I know yours?”

“Y/n,” you said as you moved to get off his lap but his strong hand held you in place, not hard enough to feel like he’s forcing you, but enough to know he didn’t want you leaving. You made yourself comfortable once more running your hands up his shirt untucking it and making him look like a complete mess of a CEO. Taehyung just let you too, his hands did move up your rib cage until his thumbs pushed against your breasts but other than that he was letting you lead. Once again it’s like you’re back in the red room with him under you as you perform.

“Y/n,” he repeated as he guided your hips however you moved them. Taehyung will admit, he’s turned on by the whole thing but there’s just no way he couldn’t be, right? You’ve stripped down to what he designed for you, sitting pretty on his lap and he can’t help but want to get closer… it’s only natural.

“How old are you?” He asked.

“22,” you told him and you could see the surprise on his face but you already knew his age since your friends looked him up earlier and you found yourself saying, “But I like them a little older.”

Listen, you have rules as an exotic dancer and performer set for your safety and comfort specifically. You keep things professional when you’re at work and if you run into anyone outside of it you simply act oblivious. You very rarely visit any client unless booked for an event and usually you aren’t alone. You never let them get too touchy or personal yet here you are letting him in all because Taehyung was undeniably attractive and wealthy with some sort of interest in you.

Neither one of you seemed to notice the way you both leaned closer until your lips brushed against his suddenly. Taehyung did pull away as he whispered, “Model for me.”

“I don’t have time,” you whispered back, “I have two jobs.”

There was just a small hint of a kiss but it wasn’t long enough to be worth anything and he said, “I’ll pay better than both.”

You smiled and without much thought into what you were doing, you finally kissed him. Taehyung didn’t need any sort of push to be curling his fingers into your hair and kissing you back deeply. It was an intimate kiss, needy and wet. You had a limp hand on his chest nearly touching his tie and his free hand was down on your thigh. Just as your fingers began to slide toward the buttons of his shirt, a loud ringing cut into the room making you jump in surprise.

Just before you could pull away, Taehyung’s tongue licked along yours drawing a light sound out of you as he chose to ignore the ringing. You figured if he was ignoring it then you would too for the time being and soon enough it stopped.

You pulled away a few seconds later feeling out of breath and hot and he looked the way you felt. Shirt untucked. Tie undone. Hair a mess. Like swollen. Eyes hazy. Jesus, this stranger was beautiful and he didn’t even have to try. Looking down into his eyes it made you snap back into realization. You’ve never gotten so physical with a client before and he’s probably not even going to pay you because there’s no reason for him to, so you're wasting time here. It was cute and fun but it’s over and you should get dressed and move on, right?

Taehyung let you slide off his lap as the phone made you both realize where you were and he tried fixing his own appearance as much as possible. He kept his gaze down when you undressed — knowing the moment was over — for privacy but he couldn’t help but ask, “What’s the other job?”

“Waiting on tables,” you told him, slipping your long skirt back on. His brows furrowed, “Really?”

“Why? Is it a surprise?”

“A bit,” he said honestly as you both stood straight looking as organized as you could after what happened. You didn’t give much of a response then, only said, “Alright, I’ve got to go if I want to catch the bus.”

You were looking at the time on your phone not noticing as he left you for a moment only to come back with a checkbook. He didn’t say much as he quickly scribbled away and handed it to you. Your eyes met when he grabbed your hand and made you hold the check.

“This is for today,” Taehyung said, sounding a bit out of it, “Um… I’ve never done anything like this but…” he looked down at the check, “Maybe we can work something out between us. Beneficial to us both.”

You raised a brow as you looked at the number written down on the check, “How so?”

His thumb brushed some hair away from your face and without thinking he leaned further down until your lips never touched but didn’t move closer. You knew he was probably giving you the choice to decide if you want to do it or not and you reached up to kiss him. His hand was firm against your cheek and kept you in place as he pulled back and ran his tongue across his lower lip, “Like this.”

“Truthfully, I don’t have time to go out with someone and personally I don’t want to. I have a lot of work to do and being in a relationship is not something I want right now but,” Taehyung kissed you again when you didn’t pull back, “I want to be able to do this.”

You smiled, pulling back, “You can find any woman who would die to be with you even if it’s for one night.”

“I can,” Taehyung said in agreement, “But I want you. You won’t push me for a relationship, would you?”

“Obviously not.”

“Then let me spoil you with whatever you want and in exchange—“

“Let you have me?” You asked and he nodded his head.

Taehyung was attractive.

He was wealthy and respectful.

There is no doubt in your mind that every woman he comes across wants him yet…

For some reason he would rather have a give and take relationship with no ties and he only wants it with you. It might even free up a little bit of your time too. You finish one job only to go to another that very same night. You’ve been trying to pay off college debt and other things too so money always seemed to be an issue. You don’t mind dancing, you actually enjoy it and that’s where your friends were. You would have to cut back time at the restaurant—it seems like you’ve already made your decision.

“Give me your number then,” you said. It was a short contact information exchange and just as you reached the door with Taehyung behind you, there was a loud knock against it.

The second he opened it, your eyes fell to the secretary who worked right outside his office. You watched the way her eyes seemed to narrow as she found you back in your sweater and long skirt — completely unaware of what was underneath. Taehyung turned to you, “Let’s connect later tonight, I’ll give you a call. Miss Jia, please call a cab for my guest before telling me whatever was so urgent you had to interrupt us more than once.”

The secretary looked stunned before nodding her head and running back to the desk giving you one last dirty look.

As strange as this might sound, you had no idea what to expect the last time you had seen Mr. Kim. You understood what he had implied and in the moment you wanted the same but now as you’re reading over the contract he’s had printed out for you, it all was beginning a little too real. It wasn’t long but the words felt like they just went on forever and ever and he looked at you like he was waiting for you to have some sort of question. It was nothing more than a non disclosure agreement and you understand what it’s for but it all felt just a little bizarre. You’re not put off by it by any means, you’ve signed a few as a dancer, but this will include sexual acts—things like what you did in his office and much more… did you really not mind doing this? Even if it felt a little like signing your freedom away.

Maybe you were just worrying too much, it’s not like you were looking for a real relationship and at least this way you’ll get money and your sexual needs dealt with from an ungodly attractive man.

“Is everything alright?” Taehyung asked once the silence had gone on for too long, “If this is not something you’re interested in then…”

“It’s not that,” you held the paper up and looked over at him from across the long stretch of dining table between you, “I thought this all started because you wanted me to model for you. There’s nothing about that here?”

Taehyung just looked at you, the corner of his lips turning upward as he smirked, “Well this contract is just between us two, I figured if you wanted to stop busting tables or dancing, I could hire you on as a model the legal way.”

You released a laugh, “And have to deal with seeing all of your prissy employees more often? Probably having to work with them? No, thank you.”

His eyes hardened as he watched you eye the contract. Before he could ask you what changes you would like him to make to get you to agree, you picked up the pen and quickly signed your name. A small smile came to his face as you slid the white sheet over to him and he quickly signed in his own name without a single ounce of hesitation, looking up at you with that same dark gaze you’re used to seeing before he gets his hands on you.

After dinner, you got into the back of Taehyung’s G-wagon with him following suit, ordering his driver to take you both back to his penthouse. You couldn’t help but smirk, “Are we starting so soon?”

Taehyung only smirked back as he stared out his window but you watched the way he loosened his tie with one hand, “This is soon to you, dear? After the day in my office?”

You’ve grown slightly accustomed to the deep mess of his face and the seductive way it sounded when it was just the two of you and you couldn’t help but reach over the back seat and press your face against his neck, breathing softly as you said, “You just don’t seem as eager yet.”

He turned to look at you, tongue running along his lips like he was ready to devour you and before he could utter out a single word, he felt your lips on his neck, kissing softly and making his eyes shut for a second. Once the shock had worn off he couldn’t help but look toward the rear view mirror where his driver was trying so damn hard not to stare back and catch sight of your arched back and short dress riding up with the way you stood on your hands and knees on the backseat, just kissing his neck teasingly. Taehyung brought an arm around to run a hand along your back, just keeping you close before turning his neck to capture your lips with his, and just like that the two of you were making out the entire drive to his home.

He blames it on all the teasing you did every time you would meet for his impatience. He’s felt your body on his, he’s touched your lips and stared at you as you stripped for him, it’s not his fault he couldn’t wait much longer to get to the real thing.

You barely had time to take in the sight of the hundred story building of luxury apartments before you when Taehyung was already pushing you through the front door and into the empty elevator. Immediately, you threw your arms around his neck, dragging him close and kissing him once more. He kissed back with such eagerness to feel all of you, hands holding your sides like his life depended on it, not wanting you to slip away.

His penthouse was huge, straight out of a movie and when you walked in it even echoed with each step you took.

“Welcome home si—“ a woman’s voice died on the spot and you couldn’t help but squeal at the thought of being caught doing something you weren’t supposed to. The two of you both turned to look at her, Taehyung holding you by the waist to keep you pressed against his front and you took the chance to get a good look at her.

She was dressed in a stiff pencil skirt with a gray blouse tucked into it. Her hair was in a tight bun and she wore black flats. She looked like house staff to you but you’re not sure, all you know is that she’s just as surprised to see you as you are at her. Taehyung released a deep sigh, clearly displeased, “Did I not tell you to head out early today?”

His voice was stern and authoritative, no room to argue and she looked genuinely scared like she would lose her job or something. You pulled away from Taehyung nervously but he didn’t let you get far as he kept his hold on you, waiting for the cleaning lady to leave and she did so rather quickly, not shying away from looking at you in confusion.

It wasn’t until she was scurrying out the door that you couldn’t help but laugh as you looked around, “What? Do you not have guests over often?”

“Not like you, no,” Taehyung said as he stood behind you, slipping the strap of your dress off your shoulder before placing a kiss on it, “Not as pretty.”

You couldn’t help but laugh as you stared up at the large chandelier above you, “So you only bring home ugly women?”

Taehyung couldn’t help but chuckled as he slipped his hand off your shoulder to your wrist, pulling you along toward his room once more, “We’ve been over this before, I don’t have the energy nor time to deal with romantic partners, and we don’t just pick up any woman off the street and bring her to my home.”

“No,” you teased stepping into his room, “Only women you meet when they dance on you half naked.”

He smirked now, watching as you began to slip your dress off only a couple steps ahead of him walking toward his king sized bed of satin sheets. He couldn’t help but begin to remove his blazer, undoing his tie too as your dress fell at your feet. He slowly began to unbutton his shirt, unable to keep his eyes off when you bent down by the waist to undo your heels, ass in perfect display for his eyes only, “My apologies for having taste.”

Once he was fully undressed he walked straight to you, pushing you onto the bed and taking you by surprise. You quickly turned on your back using your elbows to sit up as you watched him began to crawl between your legs still fully dressed but clearly on his way to change that.

"God, your body is so fucking hot," he said in a low growl as he took in the sight of you on his bed. He’s always thought this since the second he saw you on stage and now he has you in his sheets looking at only him and he couldn’t help but allow himself to let his eyes roam down your body.

You bit your lip as you felt his hands begin to slide along your stomach toward your breasts. A small smirk came to your face as he stopped, looking straight down at the center of your breasts and once he realized, he couldn’t stop his fingers from moving. Taehyung released a small chuckle as he held the small clip that rested right between the mounds of your boobs, “Did you wear this just for me?”

“Obviously,” you said with a small moan as he tugged harshly on the clasp, quickly undoing it and your boobs practically spilled out as your bra fell. He smiled, “Like my own little present.”

Taehyung did not hesitate to dip down and place a kiss on your collarbone, hands cupping your bare tits now and holding the weight of them against his palm. You released a breathy sigh of hen he sucked harshly on your skin leaving a line of red live marks trails toward your boobs until finally he was mouthing at your left nipple, tugging at it softly with his teeth and letting out a quiet groan himself.

He’s ashamed to admit how turned on he was just at the sight of your tits in his face, he’s imagined what they look like under your lingerie but right now you’re laying bare beneath him letting him lavish you in wet and sloppy kisses.

“I need you to take this off,” You told him as he licked along your nipple and slowly began to tug at his shirt. He just smirked sitting up in his knees, “Take it off me.”

You did just that, ripping the buttons open and tugging hard enough to make his body move toward you with his lips parted, turned in by how rough you pulled on him. His eyes fell to your nimble hands as they yanked open the top button of his slacks and undid the zipper, brows scrunching together, “Hurry up.”

He let out a soft laugh at your impatience, nodding his head as he flung the shirt off and quickly got off the bed to kick his slacks off too. He stood there in his Versace briefs, dick print evident and it only made you smirk when you saw how hard he was. You couldn’t help but giggle, “Just for me?”

He picked up on your teasing tone similar to the one he used when he asked if you wore the front clip bra earlier. He brought a hand down to his dick, palm running over it, feeling the weight of his bulge, unbelievably hard, “Do you want it?”

You spread your legs even further apart, “Give it to me, Mr. Kim.”

You said the last part in a mocking tone, remembering the way his employees always referred to him as and he just big his lip, crawling back between them and dipping down to kiss you. You welcome his kiss happily, his body pressed against yours and dick snuggly between your legs rutting against your covered pussy for any sort of friction he could get. Your tongue snuck into his mouth, wet and sticky as it swirled around his and a line of drool connected the two when he pulled away from the kiss till only your tongues kissed.

“Are you going to fuck me yet or make me wait?” You asked with your arms wrapped around his neck, hips grinding against his clothed cock, “I’m already so wet for you.”

Taehyung released a low groan at your dirty words when he felt your hands slide down toward his briefs and begin to tug them down on your own accord.

“Horny girl,” he said deeply as he reached down to tug on your underwear, a tearing sound heard clearly and your na dropped in surprise but he just smirked, “I’ll design you a new pair, love, a million of them for every new set I ruin.”

“That’s a big promise, Taehyung,” you said watching him reach into the drawer in his nightstand for a condom. Taehyung just smirked, “A promise I could keep.”

Taehyung knew he should give your pussy some affection, maybe get you stretched out before he completely impaled you with his cock but as he looked down at the gap of your entrance and the way your slick pooled inside it, he wondered if you would even need it. Your lips parted in surprise at the weight of his cock sliding between your folds coating him in your arousal, teasingly grinding against you until his tip bumped into your clit, “Want my cock, pretty girl?”

His hair was all out of place and his lips swollen from how hard he bit his bottom lip, waiting for you to nod

Your hips were becoming restless, “Give it to me.”

Taehyung smirked finally taking his cock in hand and guided his tip toward your entrance and before he could even attempt to push in, your hands were pulling at his hips and with a low groan, he sank into your heat in one go. You both moaned against each other as his hips fell against yours and unable to stop himself, he laid his body flush over yours, moaning against your chest, “Oh fuck.”

He’ll be honest and say he can’t remember the last time he had the chance to be in a tight wet pussy but he does remember that it didn’t feel like this. It was probably fast and unsatisfactory, just a way for him to release whatever stress he had at the moment. This… this was all just so fucking good, the teasing that led up to this, the dancing, the lingerie, all of it.

"Please fuck me,” you breathed out as he finally began to move and you wrapped your legs around his waist only for him to bring his arms around the underside of your knees and drag your legs up toward your chest. Your pussy stretched wider in the new position as he began to thrust, cock pushing in and out of your wet cunt with low moans leaving his lips.

Your hands clawed at his back and it made his eyes roll with the burn of each scratch, veins in his arms protruding as he made sure that you didn’t move your legs from the position he put you in and fucked you in a mating press that had you releasing moan after moan, head tossed back into the pillows in complete ecstasy.

“Such a good pussy,” Taehyung licked his lips but his mouth felt so dry, fucking you hard with his dick, “Fuck baby, haven’t had pussy this good in so long.”

“Good thing it’s yours,” you moaned, as he rocked his hips into yours roughly. His back muscles tensing with each powerful thrust and he growled, “Show me then.”

You didn’t need any explanation to know what he wanted and you were a bit thankful to relieve your sore legs from this position as he rolled onto his back with you on top.

"So good," you moaned loudly, when his hand groped a handful of your ass digging his nails in with small grunts every time your thighs smacked his. If he thought you were a flexible dancer, nothing compared to the way you split your legs open for him, bouncing on his cock using him like he was just another client of yours watching you perform. He didn’t mind that one but especially now that he could touch and he didn’t hold back from lifting his hand only to smack your ass hard enough to make you whine at the pain. Your hair fell to one side and your hand rested on his chest, riding him like your life depended on it just enjoying the depth his cock went into your cunt, “You’re so big.”

“Mhm,” he moaned in agreement, it was one of his proudest achievements and it had him pushing his upper body up to sit, wrapping his arms tightly around your waist and fucking up into you in this new position. Unable to hold himself back he dropped forward, your back hitting the opposite end of his bed instead of how you had originally been when your head was against the pillow. He quite literally made you switch to the other side just so he could be on top again but his hands never left your ass even as they got trapped between your body and the bed, “Am I fucking you good?”

"Mhm,” you whined softly, “I’m gonna—oh fuck, Taehyung.”

He only growled in response, drilling his cocking into you fully allowing himself to lose all sensibility and just do what he’s been wanting to do since he saw you in his lingerie—just fuck you roughly like he knew you were a slut for.

“You a slut for me?” He asked and you surprisingly nodded your head making him kiss along your neck, “Say it.”

“Wanna be your slut,” you moaned, nails scratching along his back as he just pounded the fuck out of you with his big dick, “Fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

“My slut gonna cum?” He asked in a whispered voice, feeling your legs shake and he just knew you couldn’t hold on any longer, "Cum for me then.”

“Oh my go—“ your words died in your throat when he swallowed your mouth with his, giving you the nastiest kiss you’ve ever had and just like that, the knot in your stomach came undone just as he came in his condom. He released a low growl into your mouth as he felt the flood of your release around him, pussy tightening and he physically began to shake through his orgasm.

You’re not sure how much time had passed with his cock still stuffed inside you and once the two of you both came down, he was finally pulling out of you with a tired groan, “Goddamn.”

You were both covered in sweat as he fell to your side and released a sigh, “Fuck, that was good.”

“Mhm,” you hummed, still out of breath as you attempted to sit up, “Bathroom?”

Taehyung pointed toward the door in the corner of his bedroom letting you go on your own to clean up. As you left you wondered what would happen now. Were you supposed to leave now? Was he at least going to call you an Uber or have his driver take you home? As you finished up, you decided you would ask him, you will pick up your dress and pray it wasn’t torn like your underwear and just leave with your dignity in tact.

When you stepped into the bedroom it was empty, you looked around in shock and feeling the insecurity of being completely bare after rough sex was too much to handle and you picked up your dress, wincing a little at the soreness between your legs.

Just as you were getting ready to pull the dress on, a warm hand touched your shoulder blade, moving your hair out of the way and your breath hitched. Taehyung pressed a soft kiss along your neck, “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Don’t you want me to leave?” You asked looking fully convinced it was what he wanted until he hugged you from behind, hand caressing your arm until he laced your fingers together, “What I want you to do is get your pretty self back in bed.”

You couldn’t help but blush, not sure how to handle the tenderness in his voice and touch. Usually after sex the guy would barely pay you any mind, basically toss you to the side even if it was your boyfriend but Taehyung only pulled you back into bed.

“I’m cold,” you said in a soft voice, suddenly feeling a bit more pliant to get in bed with him. Taehyung just smiled as he lifted the covers, “Then come lay down and let me warm you up.”

“I didn’t expect the CEO to be soft after how hard you fucked me,” your words were blunt and yet he still smiled pulling you into his side to cuddle.

“I was just giving you what you asked for, I’m not a monster, Y/n,” as he said that he pressed a hand to your hip, rubbing the part that was sore from all the positions he had you in, “If I was too rough, just tell me.”

“Don’t worry, I liked it,” you snuggled against him, letting him sooth the pain in your muscles as you rested a head on his chest. You brought a leg up around his waist and he hugged you close, “Good, but don’t think I’m letting you leave this bed anytime soon. I want to hold you to make up for all the marks I left.”

“Fine,” you yawned against him, “I’m tired anyway.”

Hoseok could not hide the look of shock on his face the next time he saw you. You wore an expensive silver diamond necklace, “You actually did it.”

It didn’t take him long to figure out what happened, especially when you grinned teasingly, “I did, and let me just say, oh my god.”

“Oh my god what?” Jungkook asked, coming over. The club has yet to open yet so the only people around were employees and that meant you could all hang around before actually having to do anything. That’s how a bartender, a body guard, and an exotic dancer, found yourselves sitting in a private booth having a very private discussion.

All you had to do was give Jungkook the look for him to examine you curiously, eyes widening at the sight of what adorned your neck, “You screwed the rich guy?!”

You nodded, not all offended by his crass tone, knowing he was just caught off guard, “He was so… so… listen, I’m not in love but wow.”

“That good, huh?” Hoseok asked before looking at Jungkook, “I wondered if I’ve ever been good enough to brag to her friends like this after just one night.”

You gave him a feigned pitied expression, “You’re about seven figures short of being that good.”

He playfully glared at you as he said, “Money doesn’t make up for ability.���

“Yeah,” Jungkook agreed with his equally broke friend, “Quality over quantity.”

Your brows furrowed wondering if he used the phrase right but unable to create a concrete thought on it, you decided to move on, “Well I guess Taehyung just happens to be lucky enough to have both.”

“So how does this work?” Hoseok asked, deciding to just change the subject before you destroy his ego any more than you already have, “Did he just toss cash out on the counter and leave or did he stay and do all that lovey dovey shit for shits and giggles?”

Despite your two best friends being guys, you all felt extremely comfortable discussing your sex lives. When you first started working for the club you thought they were so fucking hot that you would explode right on the spot if they even looked at you… now you can only see them as friends who know way too much about your sex life and vise versa… You did not need to know about the time Jungkook got head wearing nothing but his stupid toe socks.

Taehyung didn’t throw cash at you. You had originally thought he had wanted you to leave once you were done but he went as far as pulling you back in bed and made sure you stayed till morning when he had a driver drop you off back home.

You shook your head no, “No, I didn’t leave till morning when he was getting ready to leave. He let me sleep in when he left and when I woke up a check was laying under this necklace.”

“Should I get myself a sugar mama?” Jungkook asked in all seriousness but the girl dancing on the stage was done and you wanted to practice a new dance.

You shrugged as you stood, “Good luck finding one.”

“Sir,” his secretary Jia knocked in his door lightly, “Ms. Choi is here to see you.”

It took him a second to respond as he looked at her slightly displeased. She knows by now that unless he has an appointment with her, he does not want her just storming into his building. It was very obviously too late when Yuna was letting herself in following the secretary, the familiar blonde hair tied back with a hair clip.

“Do you have an appointment?” Taehyung asked from the comfort of his desk chair. She rolled her eyes at him, “Come on Tae, since when did I need an appointment to see you?”

“Since always,” he said, not bothering to rise from behind his desk, “You just never listen.”

With a small huff in annoyance, she plopped down on his couch, “Well, I just wanted to know who the girl was last time I was here. She didn’t have an appointment either.”

Taehyung seemed to stiffen. He absolutely hated when she asked too many questions like she had the right to know. It’s been heard and he still doesn’t understand how she can’t get the hint that he’s just not interested in her. He does not care that they’re family friends. He does not care that their parents would prefer them to marry. He just does not care about her beyond a friendly view. He enjoys being her friend and he’ll always be on her side but she also needs to know her place—which isn’t next to him.

“But I was expecting her,” Taehyung said simply, not feeling the need to elaborate on what he meant.

Jia just continued like he hadn’t said anything, “Who is she anyway? I didn’t peg you as the type to like them so young.”

“A few years never hurt anyone,” Taehyung said, looking down at his phone to see you finally responded to his last text.

taehyung: I’ve got dinner plans but I’m free after. are u?

you: nope, I’ve gotta work at the club tn and u left me a bit sore :/

He couldn’t help but smirk, lip pulled between his teeth as he remembered last night. The two of you were rough, aroused from the get go and he was not able to hold back. You told him not to so in the end he didn’t and now you’re sending him a picture of a small bruise he left on your hip. He was tempted to show you the scratch mark you left on his shoulder blade from clawing at his back.

He ran his thumb across his lips, unable to stop himself from noticing the red lingerie you wore and he knew you would be performing tonight. It was late in the evening and he did have dinner plans but he’s sure he can move it around… maybe.

taehyung: tomorrow?

you: working at the restaurant till close

Jia watched him completely ignore that she was even there and it was starting to really annoy her. She knows that they’re not dating and they most likely never will but she just doesn’t get it. Does he realize how many guys think he’s lucky just for her considering him?

“So are you two dating or is she just an easy lay?” Jia couldn’t help but ask and that barely got his attention enough to glare at her.

“Careful Jia, you’re beginning to sound bitter and I hate bitter women,” Taehyung said with a deep gaze that had her biting her tongue, “Now is there anything you need or did you just come to complain?”

He looked back down to his phone as he typed back a response.

taehyung: I’ll see u before u gotta go

you: what about ur work?

taehyung: I’m boss. I can do whatever I want

“That’s all,” Jia said, plastering a forced smile on her face and rising to her feet, “Just wanted to know who the slut was.”

That made Taehyung snap, “Go ahead and walk your ass out, Jia, I don’t want you coming back here until you learn how to act.”

Taehyung will never deny how much of a classist he really was deep down. Maybe not to the extent as his friends but when he stepped into your apartment he had become very aware of your financial situation. It wasn’t a studio apartment but pretty damn close and just being in there made him feel a bit suffocated. The whole place had to be about the size of his office.

“Are you judging?” You asked, arms crossed over your chest and hip popped out just slightly. Even knowing you were giving him attitude, he couldn't help but smile and say, “Only slightly.”

He just wanted to see if he would get a reaction. You scoffed, “Well sorry not all of us were born with a silver spoon in our mouths and a lingerie empire just handed to us.”

Normally Taehyung would get annoyed if someone said that to him, he’s very aware of his privilege but it annoyed the hell out of him when his own wealthy friends would say it. Instead of getting frustrated he just shrugged, “I’m just saying, two jobs and this is all you get? I could help y’know.”

“I don’t need a handout,” you told him even if it sounded a bit hypocritical. You know he’s giving you money but that was different, it was like a job that you got to enjoy too. He was very attractive and he was really good in bed, plus he’s lavished you with gifts every day of this week and yes you’ve allowed yourself to be spoiled but for him to offer help for an apartment? Now that was a bit too much, even for you.

Taehyung only smirked as he stood in front of you now, hand sliding under the waistline of your short skirt, “Who said anything about a handout?”

You rolled your eyes even as you let him begin to kiss down your neck, “I’ve got to work in an hour.”

“Plenty of time,” he muttered against your skin, “I just want a taste anyway.”

There was something about a rich, attractive man desperate to touch you that always had you smiling. Taehyung was slowly dropping to his knees and kissing down your clothed sides, raising your shirt to move it out of his way, “And if you quit the restaurant it’ll free up a lot of time for us, you know I can give you more anyway.”

“Yeah?” You asked teasingly, “And what about when you get tired of me?”

His fingers found their way under your skirt and pulled at your underwear, a smile on his face, “Tired of this? Never.”

“Hmm, I’ll think about it,” you bit your lip as he disappeared under your skirt, placing soft kisses along your thigh getting closer and closer to your heat.

Taehyung’s hands circled to the back of your thighs, going higher and until he was groping your hurt, nose brushing against your bare pelvis leaving teasing touches that had your breath hitching. He kissed your mouth doing everything to avoid the space between your legs and you were struggling not to move away from his hold. You were standing in the middle of your living room with no back support whatsoever. Your hand snuck under your skirt to move it held a firm grip on his hair.

Just before you could hurry him along, a breathy sigh left your lips when he pressed a tentative kiss on your hood clit feeling the way it began to rise with arousal. The single kiss became two and finally his tongue was slipping between the folds to lick it directly, feeling it harden. He looked up at you from between your legs urging you to move closer to his face with his hands on your butt pushing you into him and you had to spread your legs even further to do so. Taehyung sat prettily on his knees just under you, his tongue flattening against your slit, licking up the pool of wetness you were protruding rather quickly. You had to bite back your lip to hold in a moan and his brows scrunched together in displeasure. You hissed at the feel of his nails sinking into the softness of your ass in warning, “Don’t hold back on me. I wanna hear you.”

You barely had a chance to nod your head in response when he dug his face even further into your wet cunt, tongue lapping at your slick before traveling the tip of it all the way up to your clit and flicking it a couple times, the hard nub covered in his spit. You couldn’t help but let out a louder moan as you failed to pull your hips away from the pleasure with his hands holding you in place.

Your hand tightened in his hair when his tongue curled inside your pussy traveling between your folds until he was swirling it around your hardened clit once more. He wrapped his lips around the small nub, sucking softly while his tongue continued to flick the tip of it, meaning around your clit when you pulled on his hair. You were completely soaking his chin but that did not stop Taehyung from making out with your clit, hands keeping you upright so he could eat you out to his heart’s content.

"Oh god," you moaned as he moved a little rougher now, never once easing up on your clit and mouth open as he fucked you with his tongue. Taehyung knew he was on a time limit because you had to get ready for your shit too so he was doing everything he can to make you cum soon. Your jaw went slack at the sudden rough feeling of his two front teeth just barely applying pressure to your clit teasingly and you felt your legs begin to shake. You repeated yourself, “Oh god, Tae, I’m gonn—“

He licked along your swollen folds, lighting tugging on them with his teeth, not enough to hurt but enough for you to jolt in surprise and you were damn near rutting against his face, ducking your pretty pussy into his wainting mouth.

Taehyung didn’t need a verbal sign to know you were at your breaking point, he could practically feel the way your cunt twitched and just like that, his mouth was being flooded with your released and like a starved man, he happily licked it up.

“Good girl,” he said softly but in his usual deep voice as he pressed a chaste kiss to your mound before dropping your skirt back down and caressing your thighs as he stood up.

From the look the secretary had given you, you just know she was very displeased to see you again. You’re not sure if it’s because she felt like she had a chance with Taehyung or maybe she just doesn’t think you’re good enough for her employer, but she never failed to have a scowl in her face when you walked in, this time sporting a long Prada coat that reached down to your mid-thigh.

Once again you were here and her boss failed to tell her he had an appointment with you and she’s started to realize what your relationship is with him. You just know in her head she’s saying every word she can to make you seem like a slut but frankly, you didn’t care. You were here in business today… real business.

Okay, well, still with your body but it was different today.

When you got in his office he immediately locked the door and pressed a kiss to your lips in greeting. You whined when the camera around his neck dug into your chest but he smiled as he pulled away, “Let me see.”

“Eager?” You asked, “Take this off me then.”

Taehyung didn’t hesitate to do just that. He pulled in the tie in the front and practically yank off the coat he bought you, eyes scanning your body with his usual lustful gaze.

“You know, you should make your lingerie more affordable,” you said to him as he bid his lip at the sight before him. You were wearing white today with satin ribbons and sheer lace. You put on some body shimmer too and you just looked like a little present for him to unwrap. It was another custom design for you aside from the garter belt you added for a nice touch. Taehyung just nodded as he pulled you by the hand toward the couch, “I’ll look into it.”

He directed you to lay down, a hand down your back as he moved you however he wanted you to be. Today would be a different sort of touching, he was only making you pose however he liked on the expensive couch of his. He had you on your stomach, butt slightly raised making your back arched and he framed your hair around your face perfectly. You rested a side of your face on the couch with an arm stretched out behind you and the other tucked under your chin.

He took a step back, raising the camera up for him to get a good view and that’s how it started. Taehyung looked so fucking hot as he snapped picture after picture of you in whatever pose he liked. He wore his usual white button up but it looked completely messed up. The top three buttons were undone exposing his chest, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and his hair a slight mess. He looked like a sleazy photographer even if he was anything but.

Remember in the beginning when he asked you to model for him and you just kept saying no? Well, there was a change of plans because now you’re in his office doing just that and modeling for him. You don’t even know how he finally convinced you because this was definitely something you weren’t used to. Obviously you were confident in yourself when it came to dancing or putting on a show for Taehyung but to have yourself photographed for others to see? That felt a bit much.

Still, he asked you and you said yes so now here you are listening to his words of assurance, “You look so good, baby.”

Of course with his words you were able to get more into it and did your own poses that had him smiling, “Such a pretty girl.”

“How many more?” You asked as you laid on your side and Taehyung took more close ups of the material. He sighed, “Almost done.”

It went on for a few more minutes till you were beginning to get fed up and Taehyung knew it.

“I’ve got something for you,” Taehyung said as the shoot came to an end and you watched him head toward his desk as you reached into your bag and changed into real clothes. You only came in the coat earlier because you knew he would like to take it off you but now that you’re done and you had work, you had to change. You watched him curiously as he came over to you with a yellow enveloped and a smile on his face. You furrowed your brows in confusion as you took the envelope and opened it.

Taehyung watched your eyes widen with a smile on his face as you skimmed the document, hearing a small jangle and turning it over to drop the last of its content into your palm.

“What’s this?”

“Papers to your new apartment,” Taehyung said as you examined the key, “It’s in your name and fully paid. I’ve signed a contract that covers all the added bills even if you and I happen to fall out.”

“Why’d you do this?” You asked as you looked at the picture of the apartment building. He shrugged, “Call me greedy but I want to spend more time with you and I want you to leave the restaurant, at least. This way you won’t have to worry about making more if I’ve covered your student debt and your housing.”

You just looked at him, unsure how to feel because this all was too much but at the same time you weren’t completely put off by it. You couldn’t comprehend why he would go as far as putting it in your name because then he won’t be able to take it away if you two end.

He didn’t expect you to be jumping in glee but your silence worried him a bit and he had to sit on the edge of the coffee table in front of you to talk, “Sign it and it’s yours, baby, if you want it.”

He handed you a pen and like before when you signed the NDA, you signed the contract wordlessly after reading through it all. He couldn’t help himself, happy to spoil someone with goods and pulled you into him with a hand behind your head and a kiss on your lips.

“You’re spoiling me too much,” you said between kisses and he only smiled.

“That’s the point, isn’t it?” He said, making you laugh softly. When you pulled away you checked the time, eyes widening, “I’ve got to get to work.”

Taehyung released a low groan in a whine, “Noooo.”

You smiled, “How else am I supposed to resign?”

That made him smile and finally, he walked you to the door, “We’ll work out a move-in day and I’ll hire a moving truck so you don’t have to lift a single finger.”

You said your goodbyes and like before he ordered his secretary to call you a cab and promised to see you tonight.

Just after you left, Taehyung called his secretary in holding a flash card in his hand, “I need you to go get these printed, I don’t care how much it costs and if they tell you they can’t fit it in, offer them more. I want these by the end of tonight.”

By late evening Taehyung had what he wanted and a worker was in to install all over his office. There were beautiful black and white photographs, high quality and with a nice depth of field with shadows in all the right places. He purposely did not include your face in a single shot per your request but at least he got to admire the pretty body of yours he gets to touch.

The one above his desk was his absolute favorite, a four foot picture of your breasts clad in the pretty white lingerie wearing his gold Cartier tiger necklace that stopped perfectly at the start of your cleavage, right between them. He looked at it proudly as it looked against the wall behind his desk, distracted by it to the point that he didn’t hear his friend storm into his office with a loud gasp.

“Holy shit,” Jimin did a full 360 as he took in the new art work in his office. Aside from the huh one he had about four others of you in various poses. One was just your arched back, another of your thighs, one with your hand grazing your side and finally, another of his favorite, a pretty view of your belly button ring where he oh so kindly wrote his signature down right next to it with a heart.

“Who’s the new model and is she single?” Jimin asked, smirk on his face as he watched his friend turn to him, clearly displeased.

Jimin wasn’t used to seeing Taehyung like this. Taehyung was always put together and never really let his emotions show. Even if there would come the rare chance when he would be in a relationship he was always private about it but not like this. Jimin has no clue who the person in the pictures was and he was unaware of the NDA you and Taehyung signed. In truth, Taehyung shouldn't even have these pictures in display for anyone who walks into his office to see but he’s not taking them down. The rules of the contract are slowly leaving his head and he’s wondering if the same is happening to you.

Taehyung looked back at the pictures adoringly, “Don’t worry about it, she’s all mine.”

::.

idk how I feel about this 😭💀um hopefully it wasn’t horrible idk man fr. also I’ll probs add more to their relationship in short drabbles

collab taglist: @reissun @piecsblog @joyjunk @kityjoonie @soniaassomething @kioski18 @thvlover7 @cherrymonlightt @nono12bnd @taebangtanbabe @softie00 @exactlygreatcoffee @taetaecatboy @hellbornsworld @taebae19 @theoddinarygirl @queenv1997 @sweet-sourhotcoco @ohsweetmimosa @taebaelove @prajusstuff @amad04 @springfall @peterstarkchrishiddleston @tae-gf @dasa3040 @xyrusty @jjkluver7 @superchamchi88 @bluebloou @eat-sleep-bts-blog1 @bluelesbiann @bachiraslvr @gloriousyouthstudent @hani0407 @ayifawn @yoongiwantsme @kimseokjinsmirror1233 @hellfire-writes

[wonderlanddreamer]

Lean On Me.

[Tommy Shelby × Reader]

Summary - A cute little hurt/comfort one-shot based on this request. When you're hurt during an incident at the Garrison, it's Tommy who notices and takes care of you.

The Garrison was alive with the usual sound of laughter, clinking glasses, and the low hum of conversation. It was a typical evening, and you moved behind the bar with ease, offering your gentle smile and kind eyes to each patron who approached. Your sweet demeanor had made you a favorite among the regulars, and your presence was often a calming influence in the boisterous atmosphere.

As you refilled a customer's drink, you noticed the door swing open with a force that made it bang against the wall, causing a few heads to turn sharply. A group of men entered, their loud voices and aggressive postures immediately altering the mood of the room. You recognized a few of them as troublemakers who had been thrown out before. A knot of anxiety formed in your stomach, but you continued your work, hoping they would leave without causing any trouble.

Unfortunately, it was not going to be one of those nights. The arguments started almost immediately, escalating quickly into shouts and threats. One of the men grabbed a patron by the collar, slamming him against the bar and causing his drink to spill everywhere. A furious brawl erupted, with fists flying and chairs being overturned. Glasses shattered as they were knocked off tables, and the sound of breaking wood filled the air as a table was flipped over.

You moved behind the bar, your heart pounding in your chest, trying to stay out of the fray. The scene was a blur of violent motion: a man was thrown to the ground, another's face was bloodied by a brutal punch, and someone else wielded a broken bottle like a weapon. The shouts and grunts of pain were deafening, and the air was thick with tension and fear.

Then, you heard the unmistakable crack of a gunshot. The noise cut through the chaos like a knife, silencing the room for a brief, heart-stopping moment. 

A searing pain shot through your side, causing you to gasp. You pressed a hand against the pain, feeling the warmth of blood seep through your fingers. Panic surged through you, but you bit down on your lip to stifle a cry. You couldn't afford to let anyone see you falter, not when the pub was in such disarray. You told yourself it was just a graze, nothing serious. You didn't need to cause a fuss.

The tension in the room was palpable when, suddenly, the door to the side room burst open. Tommy Shelby, flanked by his brothers John and Arthur, strode in with an air of authority that immediately commanded attention. Tommy’s sharp blue eyes scanned the chaos, missing nothing. In his hand, he held a revolver, its presence a chilling promise of violence. John, with a snarl on his lips, grabbed one of the troublemakers and threw him against the wall with a force that made the entire room shake. Arthur, always the most volatile, swung a chair with a roar, smashing it over another man's back. The Peaky Blinders moved with the precision and efficiency of a well-oiled machine, their brutal swiftness clearing out the troublemakers in a matter of moments.

Tommy fired a shot into the ceiling, the deafening crack silencing any remaining resistance. The troublemakers froze, their eyes wide with fear. "Out," Tommy growled, his voice low and deadly. "And if I see any of you in here again, you'll regret it." The men scrambled for the door, tripping over each other in their haste to escape.

The Garrison was left in shambles, but the immediate threat was gone. Tommy turned to survey the room, his gaze hard and calculating. He didn’t notice as you quickly tied a makeshift bandage around your waist, gritting your teeth against the pain, and continued your work.

Time seemed to stretch on forever as you cleaned up the broken glass and righted the overturned furniture. Your vision wavered, and a cold sweat broke out on your forehead. You pressed your hand to your side again, feeling the blood still seeping through the fabric of your makeshift bandage. Each movement was agony, but you forced yourself to keep going, telling yourself it would all be okay once your shift was over and you could go home. You swept the shattered remnants of glasses into a dustpan, the sound of the shards tinkling like a cruel reminder of the night's violence.

Eventually, you faltered faster than you could catch yourself, the room spinning around you as you fought to regain your balance. A strong hand caught your arm, steadying you. You looked up to see Tommy Shelby's piercing blue eyes staring at you, concern etched into his usually stoic features.

"What the hell happened to you?" he demanded, his voice low and dangerous, the edge of authority unmistakable.

"I-It's nothing, Mr. Shelby," you stammered, trying to muster a reassuring smile but failing. "Just a scratch."

Tommy's eyes narrowed, scrutinizing you with a penetrating gaze. Before you could protest, he had pulled your hand away from your side, revealing the blood-soaked bandage. His expression darkened, a storm of anger and worry playing across his features.

"You're bleeding and you didn't think to say anything?" he growled, though there was a softness in his eyes that belied his harsh tone. "Come with me."

He led you to a side room of the Garrison, his grip firm but gentle, ensuring you didn't stumble. The room was small and dimly lit, filled with the scent of whiskey and old wood, a hidden sanctuary from the chaos outside. You winced as he helped you sit down, the pain now impossible to ignore.

Tommy worked quickly, his hands surprisingly deft as he removed your makeshift bandage and examined the wound. His fingers were steady, the touch surprisingly tender for someone known for his ruthlessness. 

"This is more than a scratch," Tommy muttered, his jaw tight with restrained anger. "God damn it, sweetheart."

"I'm sorry," you whispered, tears welling up in your eyes. "I didn't want to be a bother."

Tommy's expression softened, his steely exterior cracking just enough to reveal a flicker of concern. He sighed heavily, shaking his head. "You're lucky I pay attention."

He set to work with surprising tenderness, carefully cleaning the wound. The sting of the antiseptic made you flinch, but Tommy's steady presence was oddly comforting. His fingers traced the edges of the wound, ensuring it was free of debris before wrapping a proper bandage around your waist. Despite the sharp focus in his eyes, you could see the undercurrent of tension, the worry he tried to mask behind his composed demeanour.

The room seemed to shrink around the two of you, the dim light casting a warm glow over Tommy's concentrated face. His hands moved with practised ease, but the care in his touch spoke volumes. It was a side of him rarely seen, hidden beneath layers of calculated ruthlessness and unyielding authority.

"There," he said softly, his voice a low, soothing rumble. He met your gaze with those piercing blue eyes, now softened with concern. "You'll be alright. But next time, you come straight to me. Understood?"

You nodded, managing a weak smile. "Thank you, Mr. Shelby."

He tilted your chin up with a gentle hand, his thumb brushing away your tears. "Call me Tommy," he corrected, his voice tender. "And promise me, no more heroics, eh? Leave that to me."

"I promise, Tommy," you replied, your heart swelling with gratitude and something deeper, something you didn't dare to name. The pain in your side seemed to fade, replaced by a warmth that spread through your chest. 

Tommy helped you to your feet, his arm steady around your waist, providing support as you swayed slightly. Each step sent a jolt of pain through your body, but with his strong presence beside you, it felt a little more bearable. His grip was firm yet gentle, a silent promise of protection that wrapped around you like a comforting blanket.

As you walked back into the main room of the Garrison, the remnants of the earlier brawl were still visible. Broken glass glinted on the floor, and overturned chairs lay scattered about. The other Peaky Blinders were busy restoring order, their expressions a mix of annoyance and grim determination. 

Tommy guided you to a quieter corner, easing you into a chair before resting against the table beside you. He reached for a glass of water, handing it to you with a gentleness that seemed almost out of character for the hardened leader of the Peaky Blinders.

"Drink this," he instructed, his voice softer now, the rough edges smoothed out by genuine concern. "It'll help."

You took the glass, your hands trembling slightly as you sipped the cool water. The liquid soothed your parched throat, and you felt a bit of strength return to your limbs. 

"Why didn't you say anything when it happened?" Tommy asked after a moment, genuine curiosity and concern lacing his words. He leaned in slightly, eyes searching yours for an answer, his brow furrowed with worry.

You looked down at your hands, the glass of water clutched between them. "I didn't want to cause more trouble," you admitted quietly. "I thought it was just a graze, and everyone already had so much to deal with."

Tommy's expression softened, his stern demeanor giving way to something more vulnerable. He sighed, shaking his head gently. "You're anything but trouble, sweetheart," he told you, his tone firm yet kind.

Your eyes widened at his words, your heart skipping a beat. You searched his face, looking for any sign that he was merely being kind, but all you saw was sincerity. 

"Thank you, Tommy," you whispered, your voice choked with emotion. The words felt inadequate, but they were all you could manage in the moment.

He reached out, his hand gently cupping your cheek. The warmth of his touch sent a shiver down your spine, not from fear but from a profound sense of connection. "Don’t scare me like that again, alright?" he said softly, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin.

The room seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in that intimate moment. You felt a warmth spread through your chest, a sense of belonging that you hadn't realized you craved. Tommy's touch was tender, his thumb brushing lightly against your cheek. You leaned into his hand, finding solace in the simple, yet profound gesture.

"Rest here for a bit," he said after a moment, his hand reluctantly pulling away, though his eyes remained fixed on yours. "I'll have someone take you home when you're ready."

He stood up, but not before softly tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering just a moment longer than necessary. His presence was a shield, a promise that he would protect you no matter what. 

[lex-the-flex]

34 + 35

Hugh Jackman x reader

Summary: After attending a long and exhausting event, all you want to do is enjoy a coffee espresso, but life has other plans.

Word Count: 1.6k

Warning(s): MEGA FLUFF, Hugh being a LITERAL sweetheart + gentleman, slight angst, dealing with a walking red flag, mentions of stalking (?), BRIEF & MINOR sexual assault/situation, brief cursing, minor violence (just an idiot getting punched in the face), Hugh being your shield, and me gushing about museums. (I'm envisioning this taking place when Hugh was a bit younger).

A/N: I can TOTALLY imagine this being one of my MANY meet-cutes with Hugh and a girl can dream! Feedback is appreciated and enjoy!

“Ladies and gentlemen, if you’ll please follow me back to the dining hall, we will now open the bar and you are free to wander through the museum at your leisure. Thank you for all of your hard work and enjoy the remainder of your evening.” The museum’s director announces, leading the group back inside the building.

Sighing in relief at the cool night air, the instant relief of being able to finally stretch your legs after sitting for more than two hours hits you hard. Glancing down at your watch, you read the time; 11:28 pm.

Silently groaning to yourself, all you wanted to do was take off your makeup and go to sleep in your hotel room. But you couldn’t. The event wasn’t scheduled to end until one in the morning, and the truth was: you secretly wanted to die. While you weren’t the biggest fan of wearing dresses, much less an elegant, custom-made slip gown that was dyed a deep charcoal, this one had its charm. You felt like a warrior adorned for battle. 

Heading back inside the grand museum, the elegant dining room never fails to revive your soul. The dark atmosphere accompanied by the warm lighting felt unreal, like you shouldn’t even be here. But here you were, standing in one of your favorite places in the entire world. Walking towards the bar, you spot an empty seat on the end, so you take the opportunity before anyone else can. 

“What can I get you?” The bartender asks. 

“Um, may I have an espresso martini?” You ask, setting down the drink menu. 

“It’ll be about five minutes. We just finished cleaning the machine.” She replies, taking your drink ticket. 

“Okay, that’s fine.” You answer. 

Smiling back at you, the bartender hands the ticket stub back over to you now dotted with a black check mark. Leaning against the bar, you patiently wait for your drink and decide to look up some of the works of art that were on display in the building. You start to finally feel relaxed knowing you’re allowed to walk freely throughout the art gallery and the mere anticipation makes butterflies rise in your stomach. 

However, the excitement comes to a dead stop the second you accidentally look up from your phone and make eye contact with some young, blonde rich-looking scumbag who was sitting at the other side of the bar. Promptly leaving his seat, the man makes his way over to you.

“Hey, what’s your name? I’m Max.” He flirtatiously asks. 

Bracing himself against the edge of your personal bubble, you try your best to ignore him and the scent of vodka on his lips. Returning with your drink, you thank the bartender and spin in your chair to stand, but the partygoer stops you. 

“I asked you a question, sweetheart. I just want to know who I’m meeting.” Max explains, taking a hold of your shoulder. 

The cold sensation of his hand being incredibly unwelcome on your exposed skin sends a threatening chill down your spine. 

“I’m sure any other girl would enjoy your company. So leave me alone.” You rebuttal. 

Chuckling at your response, the guy leans closer, breaking your precious personal bubble. Max’s fingers hover around the bare skin of your naked thigh, dancing above your freckles. The echoing sound of your heartbeat fills your ears as you couldn’t breathe. 

“Come on, baby. What do you say we get out of here, huh?” He whispers in your ear. 

Seeing red, you instinctively shove Max away from your body. 

“No!” You exclaim.

At the same time, however, someone else was pulling him off of you. Stumbling against a spare fridge, Max knocks into the stranger that had the decency to save you. 

“Look bud, she said no. She’s with me, you understand? So back off.” The stranger threateningly explains, letting his thick Austrian accent take over. 

Cowering away from him, Max playfully raises his hands in defeat. 

“Alright man. You win.” Max teases before walking into the crowd. 

Watching him walk away, you turn your attention towards the kind soul who saved you from something potentially traumatic. 

“Thank you.” You manage to say. 

“You’re welcome, it’s the least I can do.” He replies. 

Standing from your seat, you flash him a quick smile before heading to the art gallery. Exhaling at the entire encounter, you manage to find a wooden bench in the middle of the room and sit down. Rubbing your fingers together, you notice that your hands haven’t stopped shaking, so you reach into your bag for a moment, only to realize that you left your phone at the bar. 

Scoffing, you hesitantly pull yourself together, ready to make the walk of shame back into the dining hall when the sight of the kind stranger stops you in your tracks in the doorway. 

“Hi.” You say. 

“Hi.” He replies with a smirk. 

Walking towards you, he holds up your phone in his hand. 

“You uh, left this at the bar and I didn’t want that asshole to have it. So I thought I’d return it to you.” He says. 

Handing your phone to you, he sits down next to you. 

“Thank you. …And thank you for helping me at the bar. That was the last thing I expected to happen tonight.” You admit. 

Forcing the rising wave of tears back down, you finally put your phone away before deciding to break your shyness to meet new people. 

“I’m Y/N, by the way.” You introduce yourself. 

Extending your hand to the handsome stranger, he gently takes your hand in his, holding it like a gentleman should. 

“It’s lovely to meet you. I’m Hugh. And I’m glad I got to know your name before that asshole.” He replies. 

Laughing at his answer, Hugh lightly chuckles along with you. Looking up at him again, his light hazel eyes and dark brown hair seem to put in a near trance-like state, including the fact that he looks amazing in just a regular suit and tie. Glancing back into your e/c orbs, you feel safe with Hugh by your side, and you didn’t seem to know or understand why. It just felt right. 

“If you don’t mind me asking, what's a normal person like you doing here? This place definitely seems out of your league.” Hugh asks. 

Furrowing your brows, you lightheartedly place your hand over your heart, and pretend to gasp. 

“Wow. I can’t believe you, Hugh. You actually think I’m normal?” You tease, earning yourself a laugh from the man across from you. 

“You know what I mean.” He responds. 

“The company I work for wants me to expand my idea for this article I’m writing. They actually want to know if rich people, including celebrities, truly appreciate the arts and other historical pieces in history.” You explain. 

“Ouch. That hurts you know. Well, if it’s any consolation, I for one do enjoy the arts. I mean, you’re talking to a theater kid here. So the arts sort of come naturally to me.” Hugh replies, feeling hurt for a moment, but he quickly shifts the tone. 

“Then can I interview you? You seem like one of the few knowledgeable people here. I wish more people like you would attend these events than the rich boys who are thriving off of their parent’s money and think they can get away with–” You begin, but slowly trail off in slight terror. 

Suddenly, appearing in the doorway, Max appears to have found you, and that he has been eavesdropping on your delightful conversation. 

“What is it?” Hugh asks, going off the look on your face. 

Turning around to the doorway, Hugh’s kind look drops almost instantly, and you stand from your spot at the bench. Following suit, Hugh fixes his jacket before giving you all of his attention. 

“What did he exactly do to you, Y/N? We can go if you like.” Hugh firmly states, stepping closer to you. 

Briefly holding the brim of Hugh’s jacket, you inch closer so that Max wouldn’t hear. 

“Hugh, he… He tried to…” You can’t bring yourself to tell Hugh, allowing your tears to shed. 

Instantly understanding what you mean, you swear that Hugh’s once calm and peaceful eyes light up with fury, now knowing that this douche tried to violate and humiliate your charming and innocent soul. Hugh understood that you, a young woman such as yourself shouldn’t have to experience something like that. 

So he knew what he had to do, regardless if it would get him banned from this museum for life.

“Look, buddy l’m not looking for trouble. I do appreciate you keeping her company, though.” Max tries again, hoping to win you over. Except this time, he’s a little more drunk. 

“God, when will you learn? Some women actually have the common sense to avoid guys like you.” Hugh spits. 

“Well, most women prefer the young rich guy who can take them places instead of the boring washed-up actor who still chooses to be in shitty superhero movies!” Max shouts, causing you to flinch.

Attempting to walk towards you, Max doesn’t seem to take the obvious hints, and he unfortunately takes the blunt end of the stick. Punching him in the face, you and Hugh watch Max fall to the floor. Groaning in pain, Max wipes his bloody nose as Hugh takes you by the hand, leading you out of the museum.

Taking your shoulders, Hugh calmly recenters himself. 

Pulling Hugh in for an embrace, he welcomes it and tightly holds your frame. Squeezing his broad shoulders, Hugh calmly sways you from side to side. 

“It’s alright. He won’t bother you anymore. I promise.” Hugh announces. 

“Thank you, Hugh. I can’t imagine what would’ve happened if you hadn’t showed up.” You reply, slowly ending the hug. 

“Of course. Now, what do you say about starting that interview?” He asks, waving to the valet employee. 

“I’d love to.” You answer with a smile, knowing that this is the start of something spectacular.

wolverine/hugh taglist ~

@dreamliners

@chronicallybubbly

@dontfeedthebigbadwolf

@the-resident-vampire

@ovaryacted

@misssarcasm15

@yellow-eyed-sams-wife

@lost-in-horrorland

@peterparkernotfound

@pcrushinnerd

@quillycrow

@till-hes-90

@the-moth-archives

@stilllivindue2spite

@wolviesgal

@mostly-marvel-musings

[euphoriaslux]

a gloomy december morning

word count: 1196

warnings: suggestive sexual content, very slight jealousy, mentions of smoking and drinking. vincent being a dreamboat

a/n: i have never written before but i watched anatomy of a fall and knew what i had to do. i am so scared and think this is garbage but i hope u guys like it :))

*

vincent is fast asleep, a true rarity for your household. he’s naked, bar the thin linen blanket draped over his hips that his mother tossed in a bag when you two first moved into this home. you brush your fingers through his silver hair, shifting to give him a soft peck on his forehead. he shifts but ultimately stays in the same position.

smiling, you gently move your duvet off of your body, shivering at the lost warmth. you scan your shared bedroom, littered with strewn clothes, empty wine bottles and folders filled with documents and find a chair with an old tee shirt on it that hits just above your underwear.

you made a mental note to at least try to clean the house sometime soon, but you just couldn’t leave your vincent alone now that you finally had him for more than two hours at a time. after a year of only seeing him at night, or when you could visit his office during your lunch break, or over facetime in the early hours of the morning, something as simple as waking up with him felt sacred. you didn’t know how much of this you had.

you brace as you push the door close as quietly as possible, hissing as your feet hit the cold tile of the linoleum of your kitchen floor. it still smells vaguely of the cake you two shared last night, picking at pieces of tiramisu between gulps of white wine and sneaky kisses even though no one was watching. you grab some ground coffee and start to heat up your stovetop espresso maker, which you got at the insistence of your very stubborn husband.

-

“love, can’t we just get an instant coffee maker? it will be so much faster” you ask from behind your laptop, tucked into your velvet sofa as the december rain gently pattered onto your roof.

vincent chuckled, shaking his head as he pulled a pack of cigarettes from the drawer.

“you have not had a real cappuccino if it comes from a machine, chérie,” he says as he rummages through the kitchen drawers while swearing under his breath.

you rise from the couch with a soft sigh, shutting your laptop and placing it on the glass table in front of you and grabbing vincent’s lighter that’s pressed in between the couch cushions. his head whips around when he hears you click the lighter, and your cheeks widen as you walk over to him. vincent smiles back, his cigarette loosely hanging between his lips and his hair slightly disheveled from his search. he leans down ever so slightly, looking into your eyes as the flame lights the cigarette, taking a long drag before leaning against the kitchen counter.

“the coffee is more, how do you say bien équilibrée in english, darling?”

“well rounded,” you toss the lighter behind him, crossing your arms over your chest. he hums, nodding as he breathes out wafts of smoke.

“the coffee is more well-rounded,” the word sounds a little funny coming out of his mouth as if you could see his brain forming each letter in real-time. you can’t help but giggle, reaching behind him to open the kitchen window.

“i’m sure it is”

before you can fully stand up again his hand is on your lower back, softly bringing your body against his. he smells like tobacco and the slightly too minty toothpaste you buy from the convenience store down the road. he looks so beautiful in the dim winter light.

“tu me fais confiance, n'est-ce pas? (you trust me, don’t you?)” he asks, pressing his fingers into your side. he moves to hover just above your neck, and you can’t help but melt into his touch as he nibbles ever so gently on your neck, just below your ear. your eyes flutter closed and you feel the warmth pool in your lower stomach.

“vincent-”

“ you do, right?” he cuts you off as his hand wanders to the front of your body, playing with the waistband of your panties. his fingers ghost just above your cunt, and you sigh.

“of course, my love. always.”

you whine from the loss of contact as he steps away from you, taking a drag with a slight smile on his face.

“bon,” he says, his free hand caressing the side of your face.

“so we’ll go get our moka pot - not machine - tonight”.

-

you grin at the memory as you pour two shots of espresso into vincent’s favorite mug, along with a splash of whole milk, and turn on the burner to make another for yourself. you rock on your feet as you think of what to make for breakfast - maybe eggs? but vincent forgot to run to the farmers market, maybe jam on toast. there might be some leftover brioche-

you jump when you feel a pair of hands wrap around your chest smiling as you feel your husbands face nuzzle into your shoulder, pressing a few faint kisses on your skin while his hair tickles your neck.

“i thought you’d sleep for a few more hours honey,” you say, turning around to hand him his cup of coffee and laughing as his eyes brighten. he takes a sip, closing his eyes as he drinks.

“couldn’t sleep,” he says after a few moments, opening his eyes to stare into yours. his voice is deeper than normal, and you can tell he just woke up because there’s still a gravelly edge to it.

“i sleep poorly without you, honey.”

you raise your eyebrows as you let your fingers graze his chest and down his stomach.

“that’s a good one, do you tell all your girlfriends that?”

he rolls his eyes, taking a big sip before setting his mug on the counter.

“i’m being serious. i swear, every time it would get late and i’d try to sleep on sandra’s couch, i just couldn’t.”

your body goes rigid at the sound of her name but you try and ignore it, tracing circles onto his stomach. your mouth feels a little drier than it was a few minutes before.

vincent notices, of course he does. there’s nothing you could do that would get past him, the stellar lawyer.

“don’t be like that,” he whispers, cupping your hand in his face. you try to keep your gaze down but he tilts your head up.

you roll your eyes.

“every day while i was gone, all i wanted was to be home with you. you were all i could think about. you are all i ever think about.”

you feel lightheaded at his words, wrapping your arms around his neck as you kiss him deeply, sighing as your hand wanders down to the waistband of his boxers. you feel him smile into the kiss, putting out the cigarette so he has both hands free to touch you.

“take me to bed?”

you feel vincent’s stomach tense as your hand dips into his boxers. he gives you a soft kiss on the side of your face.

“how can i say no when you ask so nicely”.

[vikwrites]

Playboy - Tony Stark

Summary ➣ Tony Stark invites you into his Rolls Royce. Pairing ➣ Tony Stark x Reader Word Count ➣ 2.5k words Warnings ➣ 18+ / Car Sex / Power Imbalance / Age Gap. Author's Notes ➣ The first full Tony Stark oneshot! Comments are highly appreciated <3 Requests are also open!

You didn’t know exactly how you ended up here. 

The events leading up to your current situation were a blur, like trying to see through thick fog. 

Here you were, seated in the plush backseat of Tony Stark's lavish Rolls Royce Phantom. A variety of crystal glasses in all shapes and sizes were scattered haphazardly, some full, most empty. The rich aroma of Macallan 1926 filled the air. A bottle had been tipped on its side, its deep tones spilling onto the seat and seeping into a crevice of the leather, leaving behind a multitude of stains, You wonder how many times Tony had to pay someone to clean up these messes.

The past few hours were a hazy mix of neon lights and blaring speakers, the repercussions of Shoot to Thrill by AC/DC filling your ears.  

Then you recalled that Tony had spotted you at Stark Expo, at the Arc Reactor exhibit, standing in front of the machine, mesmerized by the pulsing reactor and the hypnotic hum that filled the room. 

Tony had made the first approach and talked to you for a while, although most of the conversation consisted of you awkwardly sucking up to him, while another part of you was afraid of saying something embarrassing or coming off as too eager.

You never thought you'd be graced with the opportunity to even be in the same room as Tony Stark, let alone talk to him face-to-face. But as the conversation went on, you felt more and more intimidated. You had always admired Tony and maybe even had a bit of a crush on him, but now that he was standing in front of you, you didn't know what to say or do. 

However, when you were invited to his limousine, you couldn't resist. He had lured you in like a moth into flame. 

The air was thick with tension, your fingers found themselves subconsciously fidgeting, you were sitting mere inches away from Tony after all; who was currently fiddling with a Cuban cigar. Your heart raced with a cocktail of excitement and fear - after all, this was the Tony Stark, one of the most influential figures in the world, and you were just a mere woman-in-the-street. This man probably had more money in his wallet than you’d ever have in your entire life. 

Tony seemed to have picked up on your nervousness, reaching over to the mini-fridge and picking up another bottle of liquid courage. The cigar had found its way in his mouth, and is currently hanging from his lips.

“Mr Stark—” You stuttered, trying to reach for the rear-hinged doors of the car, “I’d think it would be best if I left, it’s getting late.” 

“Relax, honey.” As Tony's hand unexpectedly settled on your wrist, pulling you back, the sudden weight caught you off guard. You couldn't help but flinch when you felt his fingers close around your wrist. His touch gentle yet assertive, a delicate balance that leaves you feeling conflicted. He takes another drag of the cigar.

Internally, you battled with conflicting emotions, but externally, you remained still as his hand steadily guided another crystal glass into your grasp, the weight of the cold drink dragging you back to reality. Initially you wanted to refuse, but you didn’t want to let Stark down, or seem ungrateful—downing the whiskey, you felt the liquid burn your throat.

His hand on yours caused a weighty pause in your conversation, Tony smirked, finding it amusing how tense he made you. Eventually, he breaks the silence by redirecting the conversation towards you. "So, tell me about yourself," he prompts, his tone casual and easy. Another cigar made its way into his mouth. 

You took a moment to recollect your thoughts before answering. "I'm studying at MIT," you replied, "I'm pursuing my degree in Nuclear Engineering." As soon as the words leave your lips, you notice Stark raise an eyebrow in surprise, seemingly impressed by the mention of your alma mater.  

Tony leans back in his seat and exclaims, "Impressive, I’m going to assume I’ve probably funded one of your projects, you’ve been to the September Foundation Grant presentation right?" He turns to look at you, as if trying to make a connection. You nod and continue to take small sips of your Macallan whiskey. 

After a few more rounds, you found yourself becoming less tense around him. 

“—and he’s now the forehead of security, get it?” Tony giggled, clapping his hands at his own joke, his laughter was infectious, and you found yourself laughing along with him, feeling a sense of camaraderie that you hadn't experienced in a long time. He takes another puff of the cigar, attempting to blow smoke rings but failing horrifically, the supposedly circular puffs of smoke coming out in flattened, unidentifiable shapes.

"Mr. Stark-" you began, but were quickly cut off by the man himself.

"Please, dear," Stark offered with a shake of his head, "just call me Tony."

You took a deep breath, trying to muster up courage (as much courage as you could get while being mildly to severely intoxicated, you couldn’t tell at this point), and corrected yourself. "Tony," you said firmly, hoping to sound more confident than you felt. "Why did you invite me here?" The question hung in the air amongst the clouds of smoke.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Tony raised an eyebrow, his eyes twinkling mischievously. “I think you’re cute.” 

Your heart skipped a beat at his bold statement. Did Tony Stark really just say that to you?

“Fuck, Tony Stark thinks I’m cute, never expected that, ever.” But before you could fully process the unexpected compliment, another thought crossed your mind. “Looking past the obvious," you continued, "why isn’t there some Playboy supermodel in my position? Aren’t you just slumming it?” 

“Your expectations of me are too high, darling,” Tony drawled, his voice dripping with charm and confidence. “Honestly, I’d call Playboy right now and make you a model right away. You’ve got the face for it,” he paused to rake his eyes over your body, biting his lip, “—and the bod.” 

A rush of heat spread through your body at his words, igniting a spark of desire that you couldn't deny. The atmosphere became charged with tension, but this time, in a good way. The constant pet names and lingering gazes from Tony were stirring you up, and you could feel something else crackling in the air between you two.

You wouldn't say no to his advances, not when his gaze was so intense and his touch so electric. After all, who would say no to Tony Stark? His smooth words and charming smile were enough to make any woman weak at the knees, and you were no exception.

“I just think that you could do better.” You muttered, all the confidence draining from you the moment he tries to make a move, you cursed yourself for it. 

“Quit being self conscious and just kiss me.” Tony's words were like a soothing balm to your inner turmoil, urging you to let go of your self-consciousness and just give in to the moment. As he leaned in, his lips met yours in a swift motion that caught you off guard. 

Your hands instinctively found their way to his cheek, pulling him closer to you as you melted into his embrace. While his hands grabbed at your hair, caging you in between his body and the leather seat. The taste of his lips and the warmth of his body enveloped you, drowning out the nagging voice in your head reminding you of all the reasons why this could be a mistake. Tony moaned into your mouth, you took a mental recording of that, hoping to replay it in your head later.

In this moment, nothing else mattered except for the feel of his touch and the heat that pulsed between the two of you. You surrender yourself completely, allowing yourself to be swept away by his kiss.

The cigar was carelessly discarded from his trembling hands, the smoke swirling in lazy wisps around the ash urn. The taste of tobacco still lingered on his lips, a bittersweet reminder of his vice. Your senses were heightened as you pulled away from the kiss, your hair tousled and wild from the frenzied grabbing. The two of you shared round after round of kisses, each one more desperate and passionate than the last till Tony decided to go further.

Tony pushed you down onto the seat, his movements were rough and uncoordinated, but it only added to the thrill. Your body responded to his manhandling, and you could feel yourself getting turned on. You laid horizontally on the car's leather seats, taking in the sight of stars twinkling on the headlining, but your attention was quickly diverted as Tony's lips crashed onto yours once again.

"You look so good underneath me, baby." he whispered in that seductive low tone of his, his mouth mere millimetres from your ear. The warmth of his breath sent shivers down your spine and each vibration of his words seemed to make you even wetter. 

Your breath hitched in surprise as Tony's hand traveled down to your core, his fingers grazing the hem of your dress and revealing more of your skin. You were startled by the sudden move but couldn't deny the heat that pooled between your legs. His touch was tentative, tracing circles over your clothed clit with a slow, teasing stroke. Your moans grew louder as he continued, each touch feeling foreign yet undeniably pleasurable.

"F—Fuck," you gasped as his piercing gaze met yours, those maroon eyes no longer their gentle brown hue.

"God, you're so wet for me," Tony's eyes locked onto yours as he brought his glistening finger to his mouth, savouring the taste with a low moan. Just the sight of it nearly sent you over the edge. "And you taste even better." Your eyes rolled back at his declaration, you’re so close and he hasn’t even started yet. 

Your fingers trembled as they reached for the button of Tony's Tom-Ford dress pants, fumbling with it in a desperate frenzy. In this moment, your entire existence seemed to depend on getting his pants off and feeling his naked skin against yours. Tony's hands were still on your clit, his skilled fingers teasing you mercilessly.

You could barely focus on unbuttoning his pants as he brought you closer and closer to the edge with just two fingers, god he was good. Every touch from him felt like electricity pulsing through your body, igniting every nerve ending and making you forget everything else except for the pleasure he was giving you.

"Please, Tony," you pleaded, your voice breathless and desperate. Your body quivered as two fingers slipped into your slick pussy, the wet sounds echoing in the confined space of the car.

At first, Tony's movements were slow and deliberate, teasing and tempting every inch of your sensitive walls. But he knew how to push all your buttons and soon, you were clenching around his fingers, begging for more.

"I'm gonna come," you gasped out, feeling your orgasm building with each thrust of his fingers.

"Come for me, baby,” Tony growled lowly, his voice making you even more wet. "I wanna see you falling apart on just my fingers." And with those words, you unravelled in a mind-blowing climax, your body trembling and shaking against his skilled touch.

As you came down from your high, you felt a new sensation. You realized you had squirted all over the interior of the car, but at that moment, you didn't care. All that mattered was how good Tony made you feel.

You were dazed and lost in the haze of pleasure when you felt him shuffling over you. His pants were unbuttoned and his cock was in his hand, slowly stroking as he took in the sight before him: your flushed skin, your heaving chest, and the evidence of your pleasure coating the seat beneath you.

You let out a soft gasp as he playfully teases you, running his member along your slit. With regained control over your limbs, your hands find their way into his once-slicked back, now ruffled hair. Your legs lock behind his lower back, pulling him closer to you in an attempt to deepen the connection between you two.

His voice is low and husky as he groans, "Your tight pussy feels so good, darling." As he pushes into you, you feel a fullness that you've never experienced before. The initial sting of pain quickly gives way to a deep pleasure that radiates through your entire body.

"Fuck, I love you, Tony." The words escape your lips before you even have time to register them. The intensity of the moment sparking a declaration that surprises even yourself. But before you can worry about whether it was too soon or not, Tony returns the sentiment.

"Love you too, baby," he whispers as he bottoms out inside of you. You can feel every inch of him inside you, and the sensation causes you to writhe beneath him. His chest is pressed against yours, and you can feel his heart beating through the fabric of his suit that was yet to leave his figure, but you figured you’d see him without the suit another time. 

“Fuck, gonna be a good girl and take my cum?” Tony's deep, ragged breaths spurred you on as his orgasm neared. You could feel your own climax building, your body shuddering in anticipation. Unable to form coherent sentences, you nodded in response.

Your back arched off the leather couch as you reached your peak, crying out in ecstasy as Tony's movements became even more frenzied. "Yes, gonna come so hard, Tony. Need you so bad." Your words were barely audible through your moans as he grunted and thrust into you one final time before the both of you came. 

Breathless and spent, Tony's lips crashed down on yours once again.

The heat between your bodies was almost suffocating as you rode out your high. He remained inside you until he was soft, and when he finally pulled out, a trail of your arousal leaked onto the leather beneath you. A groan escaped him as he took in the sinful sight, but you were too lost in your pleasure-drunk haze to fully register it.

You're too spent to move, but from the hazy corner of your vision, you see him in front of a mirror slicking back his disheveled hair. Still dazed and caught up in the aftermath of your orgasm, it took you a while to gather yourself and get dressed. But as soon as you did, Tony turned to you with his trademark smirk. 

"So, about that Playboy call?"

⎊ back to masterlist

[dandylovesturtles]

kids are about 8/9 here. idk what this is. happy 10 days to Halloween?

cw: violence, blood, gore (not the turtles'), cussing

-----

Later, Donnie would say going to the surface was Leo's idea, but really, it had been an unspoken joint decision. He wanted to search the trash in the alley for building materials, Leo was just annoyed at being treated like a baby. Sure, it made sense why Mikey wasn't allowed to go to the surface without Raph, but why were the two of them subject to the same rules? They were a whole year older!

So when Papa fell asleep in his chair, and with Raph chasing an uncooperative Mikey around, begging him to take a bath, Leo looked at Donnie, then at the exit to the tunnels, and Donnie followed him right out.

At first it was exhilarating. He and Leo had been to the surface several times now, but it was always with Raph or Splinter, and that meant it came with rules. Don't touch that. Stay where I can see you. Don't run off. There's too many humans that way. No you can't take that back to the lair, it's dangerous. On and on and on. But this time they were alone, and Donnie wasn't going to stop Leo from climbing the fire escape and petting the cats sitting on windowsills as long as Leo wouldn't tell him to put the old, broken electronics and jagged pieces of metal he found back in the dumpster.

And Leo didn't say a thing about it, other than to call him a nerd. Of course.

It was a cool night, but not so cold that it made Donnie shiver. It had rained recently, so everything was damp and there was a fog that held in the air. The only noise besides what the two of them made came from an old pair of vending machines right by the entrance to the street, buzzing and humming with electricity. Leo had already asked Donnie if he could "hack it" to get them some drinks and snacks, and Donnie had shooed him off so he could get back to his scavenging. But he was seriously considering giving it a try once his work was done.

Leo dropped off the fire escape and wandered closer to the street. It was deep into the night, but when Donnie looked he could still see Leo in the glow from the vending machine, so he didn't worry too much. He'd just found a perfectly good toaster that someone threw out, and he absolutely planned to take it back with him.

He'd just ducked down to tug at a box sticking out of the mound of trash, when he heard a voice echo off the bricks of the buildings.

"Yooo, dude. Did you see that!?"

"Shhh, shhh, hold on," said another voice, followed by some quick footsteps.

And then Leo yelped.

Donnie's heart was pounding against his plastron as he slowly and carefully peeked above the rim of the dumpster. Two big humans stood in the light of the vending machine; one of them had Leo, holding him by the lip of his shell where it opened for his head.

"The hell is this?"

"Looks like some kind of fucked up turtle."

"I knew the Hudson was radioactive, man."

Leo squirmed in their grasp, but they were way bigger and stronger, and they kept him from escaping. He didn't have his weapons, because Dad only let them have them when they were training ("You'll poke your eye out," he'd said). Fat lot of good that did them now.

"What do you think we could sell it for?" asked one of the humans.

"Who would even want it?"

"Dude, someone's gotta. A zoo or something!"

"Damn, you're right. It's worth a try, right?"

Donnie's blood ran cold. They were going to take Leo away. They were going to take his brother away, and he'd never see him again, never get to talk to him or play with him again, and Donnie

couldn't

let

that

happen.

Before he himself even knew what he was planning, he'd jumped out of the dumpster and shot straight toward the humans. They'd only just noticed him when he launched himself at the one holding Leo and bit, directly into the hairy, exposed flesh.

An agonized scream filled the alley.

The leg Donnie was biting began to shake and kick, frantically trying to dislodge him, but Donnie only bit down tighter, sinking all his teeth into the man, his jaws locking and refusing to let go. There was a thud as something hit the concrete beside him; the man was still screaming.

"GET HIM OFF ME! GET HIM OFF GET HIM OFF- OH SHIT-"

Human hands grabbed at Donnie and yanked, but he didn't let go. A disgusting, metallic taste filled his mouth, and something chewy and unpleasant was coming loose between his teeth.

The men were both yelling now, kicking, hitting, but Donnie didn't let go, he wouldn't, he couldn't-

Until he felt a hand wrap around his. Small, three-fingered, and as familiar as his own.

Donnie yanked back. The chewy thing between his teeth came with him. The man was still shrieking in pain, blood pouring down his leg and staining his socks and sneakers, snot and spittle hanging from his face.

"WHAT THE FUCK!" yelled the man.

Donnie and Leo scrambled backwards, hands locked tight together.

"Dude, we gotta get you to a hospital," said the uninjured man, grabbing the other human's arm and tugging. For a moment, the injured man fought back, waving his fists at Donnie and Leo.

"I'M GONNA KILL THAT THING!" the man screamed. A light came on in a window above.

"Come on, man, it probably has rabies," said the other human, still tugging. "Let's get out of here. Call animal control."

For a second, Donnie thought he would keep coming, even with a limp, but eventually he relented, and went with his companion. They could still here the man yelling as they disappeared from sight.

Donnie and Leo watched, still and silent in the shadows beyond the vending machines, for a very long moment. The only sounds in the alley were the electric hum of the vending machines, but it was louder now, somehow, louder and more annoying and pressing in on Donnie from all sides.

He suddenly became very aware of a sticky substance on his hands and arms and shoulders and face. The unpleasant taste was still in his mouth, as was the squishy thing, and it filled him with revulsion. He spat it out on the ground, and saw skin and hair and red stuff and-

He wanted to gag, but he couldn't. He could feel his muscles shutting down, the way they did sometimes. He hated this feeling, but he knew from experience he couldn't stop it. It was out of his control now.

The whine started at the back of his throat and built in intensity until it drowned out the sounds of the vending machines. His hands moved to clutch his head against his will, and he sank to the ground, curling up over his knees and pressing himself against them in a desperate bid to get it all to stop.

"Shoot, Dee," he heard Leo say, and then he moved away. Donnie couldn't open his eyes to see where he went, but a moment later he heard the sound of glass breaking.

A few seconds later, he heard a soft fizz, and then something cool was being pressed against his arm.

Slowly, he squinted his eyes open. He could barely stand it, but he had to do it, to see Leo in crouching in front of him, holding out a bottle of cola and signing at him to drink.

Clumsily, he took it. The mix of cola and the metallic taste in his mouth almost made him gag again, and he spat that out, too. Somehow, it helped. He repeated this action several more times, until the bottle was almost empty and his mouth was free of that terrible taste.

Then, slowly, a little at a time, he drank the rest.

The world backed down to a manageable level. Leo was still in front of him, looking worried. His eyes and face were wet, and Donnie didn't think it was from the mist.

Still, he met Donnie's eyes with a wobbly smile and asked, "Ready to go down?"

Hesitantly, Donnie stood up. When he didn't fall over, he nodded. Leo nodded back, then went to the manhole cover and opened it up.

Donnie didn't go back for the toaster. He didn't even remember it, really.

Leo gestured for Donnie to go down the ladder first, then covered over the hole behind them. They made their way to the bottom more slowly than they ever did with Raph, neither of them feeling up to any tricks tonight.

They walked back towards the lair in silent for a few minutes, while Donnie got his voice back. Leo waited for him to talk first, and Donnie appreciated that.

"...Where'd you get the soda?" he asked, when he could.

"Broke the glass on the vending machine with a rock," Leo explained. He gave Donnie a playful grin. "It's faster than hacking."

Donnie rolled his eyes at that. He could have done it if he'd had time!

They walked a bit further. Donnie was still covered in the sticky, gross substance, but when Leo reached for his hand again, Donnie took it.

"Thanks," said Leo, quieter now.

"I didn't want them to take you away," said Donnie honestly.

Leo's hand squeezed his. "I didn't want to go away," he said, his voice sounding strained.

Donnie stopped, and so did Leo. They turned to look at each other, as best as they could in the dark sewer tunnels.

Then Donnie launched himself at Leo, wrapping him in the tightest hug he could, and Leo hugged him back, burying his face in the soft place against Donnie's neck and shell. Donnie could feel something wet land on him, but he didn't mind because it wasn't sticky like the other stuff.

He just held Leo tight, and Leo held back, for a long while.

(They were still like that when Splinter and Raph found them. The blood freaked them out, and learning it wasn't Donnie's hadn't reassured them.

They were grounded for three weeks, but they still got to be together and read comics, so really, it wasn't too bad.)

[vivwritesfics]

Spider-Man Kiss

One particularly bad crash lands her in hospital, out for the count. Max, Lando and Charles visit her every single day. While she's out the reader lives several different lives. The one thing they all have in common? Her boys

Max Verstappen x Reader, Lando Norris x reader, Charles Leclerc x reader

Any suggestions for the fandoms used in the next part would be much appreciated!! I'm thinking maybe pjo, maybe harry potter, maybe star wars but im not sure

The Second Part The Third Part

Huge thanks to @cheriladycl01 for their help with this one

The Ferrari hadn’t felt right all afternoon. But her engineers insisted that there was nothing wrong with the car, that she should keep driving. So, she did just that. Qualifying had been good, not the best, but good, and she’d started in fourth.

But then she was overtaken by a Mercedes. She wasn’t sure what Mercedes; she just knew it was a Mercedes. The car fell apart after that. It wasn’t long before she lost control of the car. Her back tyre clipped the corner and sent her flying into the barriers.

The session was red flagged when she didn’t climb out of her car or respond on the radio. “What happened?” Asked Max Verstappen as he led the rest of grid into the pit lane. His engineer didn’t tell him right away. He let Max stop his car before he told him.

Charles and Lando had been behind her. Charles himself had almost been involved in the accident, having followed close behind. “Fuck, Y/N!” He shouted as it happened. With no other choice but to keep driving, Charles looked in his mirrors, trying to watch for her leaving the car. At the red flag he was panicking. This couldn’t have been good news.

“Holy shit,” Lando found himself saying as he drove past the Ferrari in the barriers. “Is she okay?” But nobody had an answer for him.

She was pulled out of the car and placed onto a stretcher. She was out cold as they placed her in the ambulance and drove away. As soon as her car was removed from the barrier the race resumed. But neither of the three drivers could concentrate. All she had been told was that she was alive, but they couldn’t stop worrying about her.

For maybe the first time in all of their careers, they couldn’t wait for the race to end. It was a foreign sensation, and none of them liked it. The podium wasn’t for celebrating, and none of them were filled with enthusiasm as they covered one another in champagne.

As soon as they could they raced to the hospital to be by her side. It wasn’t an easy sight, seeing her lying on the hospital bed, connected to a drip. “Oh my God,” whispered Lando as he slipped in the seat beside her and took her hand. Max sat on a small space on her bed and Charles leaned against the wall beside the bed.

Videos of the crash had been all over social media. The boys couldn’t go into Instagram without seeing it. Sure, the captions and comments were all wishing her well, but it was still hard to see. “I wonder what she’s dreaming about,” Charles said quietly, almost sadly as he petted her hair.

“I hope it’s something nice,” Max said, kissing the side of her head.

***

The party was in full swing. The drinks were flowing, and Y/N had already had plenty. Charles stood behind the bar, serving with a sultry smile, and Lewis entertained his guests. She sat beside Daniel, leaning against him as she sipped her drink. He was speaking to Max, a man who still refused to acknowledge everyone.

Lewis and Max didn’t get along. It was understandable, Max had been an unstoppable killing machine, and he’d killed Lewis’s parents. But they’d saved the world together, and he was giving him a chance.

The Iron Man, in his strapping suit, walked past and offered Y/N his hand. “Dance with me,” Lewis said and she happily obliged, handing Daniel her drink to look after.

Daniel may have been Australian, but he was still Captain America. He certainly loved this country enough to be their Captain America. He protected Y/N’s drink as he continued talking to Max. Misunderstood Max, who had been his best friend all those years ago. Max, who had been ripped away from him in the war. Max, who wasn’t the same man he used to be now that he was returned to him.

“Where’s Lando?” She asked as she danced with him.

Lewis shrugged his shoulders. “Oh, you know kids. He’s probably swinging about somewhere.”

She gave him a look, one that said she was unimpressed. “You didn’t invite him, did you?” She asked, and Lewis looked at the floor, still slightly smiling. “Lewis! He really looks up to you,” she said and stepped away from him.

“Hey!” Lewis called after her. “Where are you going?”

“To get him!” She called back as she grabbed her coat. Lewis, Max and Daniel watched as she walked out of the tower they called home.

Lando wasn’t an easy guy to find. He didn’t answer his phone when he was in his suit, swinging from building to building. The easiest way to find him was to look up (and follow the news articles).

Currently, Lando was sat on top of the building opposite Lewis’s, watching as the party went on without him. He’d just so happened to land on the building opposite during his nightly patrol, and it was just a little heart breaking. He didn’t see as Y/N left the party to go find him, just continued to watch as Pierre sat on the bar as Charles poured drinks.

Using news sites, Y/N found herself on the next roof over. Lando didn’t spot her. But she certainly spotted him. As quickly as she could, she left the roof and ran over to the next building.

Lando knew she was there before she opened the door. Well, he knew that somebody was there. He stood up in an almost protective stance, waiting for her to push open the door to the roof.

"Lan?" She called softly as she walked towards him. "What're you doing up here?"

He pulled his mask off as he strode towards her. "Having fun at the party?" He asked somewhat bitterly.

She gave him a look. "C'mon," she said, reaching for him. "Lewis meant to invite you but he never got around to it. I came to get you."

But Lando didn't believe her. Of course he didn't. She stepped up to him and ran her fingers through his hair. They'd always been close, and, as much as he wanted to kiss her, he couldn't. Not yet.

Lando bit the inside of his cheek. He wrapped his arms around her and looked down at her, waiting for her next move. "I left the party to come get you," she said as she gently swayed from side to side. "How about you swing us across and we can crash the party," she said.

He pulled his mask back over his face and wrapped on arms around her. "Hold on tight," he said and she squeezed her arms around him.

Lando swung them across. He shot a web at Lewis's tower and swung them both across, landing them on the helicopter pad. Even once they had landed Lando still had his arms around her. She giggled and pulled his mask off as she grabbed a hold of him and pulled him through the tower.

The party was dwindling down. Daniel and Max were still there, as was Charles and Pierre. Esteban was pulling on his coat, heading out, and Lewis was surveying everything from the landing above.

"Sorry we're late," said Y/N as she pulled Lando over to the bar. Charles got the both of them a drink and Y/N pulled him over to Max and Daniel.

Daniel liked Lando. He was a good kid and Daniel knew he had a lot to give. It took some time for Max to warm up for Lando, but he felt somewhat protective over him, like Lando was some lost puppy.

"We were wondering when you were gonna turn up," Daniel said as he leaned back in his chair.

Lando pulled at his suit somewhat uncomfortably. "Anybody got anything I can change into?" He asked as he sipped at his drink.

Nodding his head, Max stood up and led Lando out of the room to get changed into something a lot more comfortable.

"I'm not surprised you went to get him," said Daniel as Y/N sat herself opposite. She rolled her eyes and leaned back, looking towards the doorway. "You've liked him since our Formula One days."

"What?" She asked quickly. "What did you say?"

Daniel cleared his throat. "I said you've liked him since he first joined the team."

That was definitely not what he said, but she didn't call into into question. "Have not," she mumbled, quickly finishing her drink.

Daniel rolled his eyes. On the next mission, he was putting them together. They could work it out then."

***

"Here," Lando said as he bought Max something to eat. Just days before Max and Charles had gone into Y/N's apartment and pulled books from her shelf. They took it in turns to read to her as she laid in her hospital bed.

A few of the grid had come by to see her, to wish her well. But, to them, it wasn't looking good. Daniel tried to talk to her, tried to jog her awake that way, but it wasn't working. Nothing seemed to be working.

Eventually their teams came to pull them away. They still had a job to do, and she would want them to do it. But it was damn near impossible to leave her. It broke their goddamn hearts.

"Keep dreaming, chérie," said Charles as he kissed the top of her head. Max squeezed her hand, but he got no squeeze in return. Lando couldn't bear to leave her.

***

The first half of the mission was a success. They stopped H.Y.D.R.A from making more super soldiers or something (nobody was really concentrating on the first half of the mission. It was piece of cake anyway) and were ready to head home.

Except one of their cohort was missing. Spider-Man was nowhere to be seen. "Lan?" Y/N said into her comm. "Where are you? Are you okay?"

There was a moment of a struggle, not like Lando was in trouble, but like he was pushing on something. "Yeah," he said. "I'm... somewhere. I've been locked in a room."

Daniel let out a sigh. "Let's go find him," he said and led the way. Daniel led Y/N back through the H.Y.D.R.A base, almost like he knew exactly where to go.

In a room deep inside of the base, Y/N ran over to the closet. There was chains holding the doors shut with a padlock keeping them secure. The doors shook; clearly Lando was in there.

"Danny? Use those strong arms of your and pull these open," she said as she stood beside the closet door.

Daniel did just that. He pulled open the closet door, but he didn't let Lando out. Instead he pushed Y/N inside and shut the door again, holding them shut. "Daniel, what the hell?!" She shouted as she pounded against the door. "Let us out, you dick!"

"Not until you kiss or something!" He shouted back.

She could barely see in the dark closet as Lando pulled off his mask, his hair messy. "What is he going on about?" He asked as he leaned against the wall.

Y/N let out a sigh. It was now or never. "Our gracious Captain America thinks I have a crush on you," she said as she continued to push on the door. But Daniel was annoyingly strong and the door wouldn't budge.

Lando looked at her. "Do you?" He asked somewhat hesitantly.

She tried the best to look at him in the darkness. "Would it matter if I do?"

He thought about it for a moment. Yeah, it really would matter. Instead of answering, Lando climbed his way up the wall. He went to the middle of the ceiling and let himself hang down. "Have you ever heard of a Spider-Man kiss?"

Her hands held his cheek. She leaned forward and kissed him. Their eyes were shut as Y/N tried to pull him closer. But it was impossible, he was as close as he could possibly be.

It was so intoxicating. She was so intoxicating that Lando nearly slipped off the wall. He still had a hold of it as Daniel opened the door to let them out. He probably wouldn't have believed them unless he saw it with his own eyes, saw the way Lando kissed her.

Her eyes opened when she saw the light flooding into the closet. "Wow," she whispered, but it was only for Lando's ears. But she still pulled away and lunged at Daniel, knocking him to the floor. Her punches weren't hurting him. As she punched him she said a quiet, "thank you."

Daniel couldn't stop himself from grinning.

***

Lando brushed his fingers through her hair. As soon as the race was over he headed back to the hospital to once again be at her side. "I miss you," he whispered, his hands stilling. "We all do. But I think me and Max and Charles miss you the most."

He didn't expect a response. And he didn't get one.

"You missed Monza. I know how much you love Monza." She excelled at Monza. Everybody expected this to be her first Ferrari win. The TIFOSI loved her and couldn't wait to see her win in Italy.

But she didn't get to this year. Lando would have loved to watch her win, to stand on the podium with her.

"Fuck." Tears sprung to his ears. "I miss you so fucking much."

[nhaaauyen]

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨ The Ghost of You ୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

"This thou perceiv'st, which makes thy love more strong // To love that well which thou must leave ere long." -William Shakespeare (Sonnet 73)

PART II: MY HEART DREAMS

zombie apocalypse sevika x reader au!: sevika was the super soldier; a killing machine driven solely by survival. you were nomadic, constantly searching for something in whatever was left of the world—till you met her.

series masterpost: part I // part III // part IV // part V // part V

wc: 7.1k author's note: ahhh tysm to everyone reading!!! your comments literally make my day and the taglist DAMN!! seriously I'm so grateful <3 also i apologize for this chapter being so long, i tried to stfu but it still ended up being 7k

One thing you should've realized sooner was that nothing escapes Sevika's notice in Zaun. 

You were barely a week into your new routine, legs burning as you struggled through your morning run. The only sound you could hear was of blood pounding in your ear—and the addition of a rumbling engine approaching from behind.  

You whip your head back, unsure if your ears were deceiving you but there it was, a truck filled with Sevika's scavenging team catching up, with Sevika herself leaning out the passenger window.

"Pick up the pace, pantry girl!" she shouted, her voice laden with amusement. "At this rate, you'll be old and gray before you join my team!"

Her crew howled with laughter as they sped by, leaving you red-faced and fuming in a cloud of dust.

Now, weeks later, you collapse onto the grass beside Caitlyn, both of you panting heavily after finishing your lap around the neighborhood. The memory of Sevika's taunts still burns, spurring you to push yourself harder during training.

Just as you're about to ask if you should do another lap, something ice-cold presses against your neck. You yelp, jerking upright in surprise.

A dark-haired woman hovers over you, a familiar smirk playing on her lips and a frosty water bottle in her hand. "Still jumping at shadows, I see," she teases. "I'm not sure I can use someone so easily startled on my team."

You glare up at her. "That's rich, coming from you," you retort. "Your late-night victory parties make it impossible to get a good night's sleep around here."

"Feeling left out? The invitations open, you know. Just bring your own drink."

"How about an invitation to join your team instead?"  You counter.

Sevika laughs, the sound was simultaneously frustrating and oddly captivating. "Maybe focus on not tripping over your own feet first, pantry girl."

After you finish your training for the day, you take a quick shower and make your way to the pantry for your shift. But as you approach, you notice something odd - your name isn't on the schedule. Again.

"That's the third time this week," you mutter.

Caitlyn notices your confusion. "Maybe they're cutting back on hours?" she suggests, but her tone is uncertain.

With your unexpected free time, you find yourself spending more time with your makeshift family. Family dinners were something you always had, but for the first time you didn’t have to worry about where or what your next meal would be.

Powder chatters animatedly about her latest inventions, while Caitlyn asks questions that make the kid’s eyes go wild with excitement. Vi listens with a mix of amusement and pride, occasionally ruffling her sister's hair.

Vander sits at the head of the table and he interjects with the occasional piece of wisdom that makes Vi interrupt to remind him that they were too old for lectures or dad jokes, drawing laughter from the group.

As plates are cleared and the conversation winds down, Powder asks to star gaze again, which Vander wants to say no to when everyone has work tomorrow. But then he looks outside and he’s reminded that things weren’t the same, you could afford the leisure to enjoy the skies now.

So you all move to the roof, continuing your evening under the stars. Powder points out constellations, making up stories for each one. Vi playfully argues with her interpretations, while Caitlyn offers more scientific explanations. You lean back, taking in the moment, feeling truly at peace for the first time in a long while.

As the night deepens, drowsiness sets in. One by one, you bid each other goodnight and retreat to your beds.

Morning arrives sooner than you'd like and you meet Caitlyn early, both of you squinting against the bright sunlight as you make your way to the training grounds. The morning sun warms your face as you and Caitlyn wait on the grass for Grayson to arrive with your sparring partner. You're chatting idly, speculating about who it might be when you hear approaching footsteps.

Your eyes widen as you see Grayson walking towards you, but it's the figure beside her that makes your breath catch. Sevika strides across the field, her presence somehow always able to steal your attention. She's wearing dark wash jeans that hug her legs and a sleeveless, tight black tee that shows off her toned arms with her usual red shawl draping over her left side.

Grayson offers an apologetic smile as they reach you. "Sorry we're late. There was a situation to handle."

Sevika merely grunts, barely acknowledging you and Caitlyn. Your heart races—if she was here to watch you were so screwed, there was no way Sevika would let you have a match without her snarky comments. 

"Marcus was supposed to be here today," Grayson explains, "but it seems he's... incapacitated."

You and Caitlyn exchange knowing looks. It's not the first time Marcus has been too drunk to show up, and frankly, you're relieved. Even when sober, he's a total ass.

"So... who are we sparring with?" you ask, though you have a sinking feeling you already know the answer.

Grayson gestures to Sevika. "Someone owes me a favor."

Sevika rubs her head, clearly annoyed. "Can we get this over with?" she grumbles.

Grayson chuckles. "She's just grumpy because she's hungover," she explains to you, then turns to Sevika with a raised eyebrow. "Which you wouldn't be if you didn't drink like it's water."

Sevika scowls, softly as she crosses her arms. "It's my day off," she retorts. "You never come to my parties."

"I drink on my own time," Grayson replies primly, adjusting her stance.

"You're too much of a goody two shoes," Sevika snorts, rolling her eyes.

You and Caitlyn look at each other in shock, from the fact that the two captains are bickering like siblings and they’re going to be sparring with Sevika. 

"Sevika?" Caitlyn sputters. "You want us to spar Sevika?"

"It's better practice for you two - Sevika has years of fighting experience. You can learn some new techniques today,"  She reassures. "So, who's first?"

"I'll get it over with," Caitlyn acquiesced, her voice steady despite the nerves you can see in her eyes.

As Caitlyn approaches the sparring area, Sevika reaches for her shawl. In one swift motion, she removes it, and your eyes widen in shock. Where you expected to see flesh and bone, there's instead a gleaming bionic arm. 

Intricate gears and pistons are visible beneath panels of transparent material, offering glimpses of the arm's inner workings. As Sevika flexes her fingers, you can see these components whirring and sliding with precision, each movement accompanied by a soft, almost musical hum.

Sevika doesn't react to the stares, her face stony as if this reveal is inconsequential. You feel a pang of guilt for gawking, but you can't help wondering - was this a war injury, or a result of the walkers? 

Caitlyn recovers from her shock like you do, now both of you feeling more intimidated by the strength and skills of the woman before you.  You watch as Sevika easily deflects Caitlyn's first attack, countering with a move so fast you barely see it. Caitlyn hits the ground hard, she barely has any time to react when Sevika strikes again.

"Come on, cupcake," Sevika taunts, using Vi's nickname for Caitlyn. 

The use of the nickname catches both you and Caitlyn off guard and she narrowly dodges a punch.  You had no idea how much Sevika had been paying attention to your group.

"Is that all you've got?" The captain says smugly.

As the sparring continues, you find yourself studying Sevika's every move. The way she anticipates Caitlyn's attacks, the efficiency of her counterstrikes, the subtle shifts in her stance.  

But it's more than just her fighting skills that captivate you. It's the fierce concentration in her eyes, the slight smirk that plays on her lips when she lands a particularly good hit. It's the way her muscles flex as she moves, the sheen of sweat that forms on her skin under the hot sun.

You're so lost in your observations that you almost miss when Grayson calls an end to the match. Caitlyn is panting, bruised but not beaten, while Sevika looks barely winded.

"Your turn, rookie," Sevika calls out, her eyes locking with yours.

Sevika takes a menacing stance, her bionic arm whirring softly as she flexes her fingers. You try to quell your nerves, reminding yourself of all your training.

The match begins, and Sevika doesn't hold back. She lunges forward with a quick jab that you barely dodge. Her follow-up kick catches you in the side, and you stumble back.

"With those sparring skills, you'll be dead by now," Sevika taunts, circling you like a predator.

You regain your footing, countering with a series of quick strikes that force Sevika to step back. "As far as I'm concerned, I don't think any walkers would be punching me back anytime soon," you retort.

Sevika smirks, effortlessly blocking your attacks. "There are still survivors out there, some who might not be as merciful as me." she says, suddenly dropping low and sweeping your legs out from under you.

You hit the ground hard but roll quickly, narrowly avoiding Sevika's follow-up strike. "I’m only alive because you needed the meds.”

“But you’re alive regardless?” She counters.

“Urgh, you're the worst, you know that? You just like watching me suffer-"

Your words are cut off as Sevika charges forward. You manage to sidestep, grabbing her arm and using her momentum to throw her off balance. For a moment, you have the upper hand, landing a solid hit to her midsection.

Sevika grunts, a flash of surprise in her eyes. "Well, it's not a bad view," she quips, her voice slightly breathless.

You're holding your own better than you expected, your training with Grayson evident in your improved technique. You even manage to land a few solid hits, each one making you more hopeful that you could finally prove yourself to the captain.

But Sevika is still Sevika. Just when you think you might have a chance, she changes tactics. As she unleashes a flurry of lightning-fast strikes, you are able to block the first few, but the last one catches you off guard, sending you stumbling back.

Before you can recover, Sevika is on you. With a move so smooth it seems almost effortless, she sweeps your legs again and follows you down. You’re on the ground immediately, the air knocked from your lungs, and suddenly Sevika is on top of you, pinning you down.

Her face is inches from yours, her breath hot on your cheek. "There's always next time, pantry girl," she says, her voice laced with arrogance.

Fury and frustration surge through you—at the nickname, at losing, but most of all at yourself for the way your heart races at her proximity. You struggle against her hold, but it's futile—you lost and couldn’t prove you were ready. 

The days blur into a haze of relentless training after the match, your body pushed to its limits.  Yet despite your efforts, something feels off. Each time you miss a target or fumble a move, Sevika's face flashes in your mind. Your focus wavers, distracted by unnameable thoughts that surface whenever you recall her challenging gaze or the smugness in her voice. 

The sharp crack of gunfire echoes across the makeshift shooting range. You squeeze the trigger, watching as your shot goes wide, missing the target by a good margin. Expaseration bubbles up inside you for missing yet again.

Next to you, Caitlyn's sniper barks and the center of her target explodes. Again. You can't help but feel a twinge of envy at her precision.

"Excellent shot, Caitlyn," Grayson praises, her eyes gleaming with approval. "I think I’m looking at my newest sniper."

Caitlyn beams at the compliment.

Grayson turns to you, her expression apprehensive. "Something on your mind? You seem distracted today."

"No, I'm fine," you mutter, trying to focus on the target in front of you.

Grayson raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. "Well, if you keep shooting like you did today, you can expect another month before Sevika would even consider accepting you on her team."

At the mention of Sevika's name, you can't help but frown. Grayson catches it immediately.

"What's wrong?" she probes, her voice a mix of curiosity and concern.

You hesitate, then the words tumble out. "I just... I don't get her. I don't know how to convince her I deserve that spot on the team when she's so infuriating and stubborn."

To your surprise, Grayson laughs, a warm, rich sound. "She hasn't changed since we were deployed together, then."

Your ears perk up at this. "You were deployed with Sevika? Can you tell me about it?"

Grayson shrugs. "What is there to tell? We were in the military together for 10 years and she's a brilliant soldier."

"That's all to her?" you press, not satisfied with such a simple answer.

Grayson gives you a long, appraising look. "What is it that you really want to know about her?"

The question catches you off guard. You open your mouth to respond, then close it again. What do you want to know? But more importantly, why do you want to know? You realize you don't have an answer, and the realization unsettles you.

Seeing your confusion, Grayson's expression softens. "Sevika is not the best fighter," she says quietly.

"What?"

Grayson chuckles at your expression. "Don't get me wrong, she's an advanced and skilled fighter. But she's not unbeatable." She pauses, her eyes distant as if recalling memories from long ago. "What makes her different... She is loyal and fierce. That woman fights till her very last breath. If she's going to hell, she'll drag you down with her."

Your mind whirs at this information. Who is Sevika beyond the soldier everyone knows her as? You find yourself hungry for more details, more glimpses into the woman behind the tough exterior.

Then you catch yourself, anger flaring up. Why do you care? Why does it matter who Sevika really is? She's just the leader of the scavenging team, nothing more.

You shake your head, trying to clear these thoughts. "Thanks, Grayson," you mutter, turning back to the target.

As you raise your gun again, you can feel Grayson's knowing gaze on you. You take a deep breath, trying to focus on the target. But in your mind's eye, all you can see is Sevika—her cocky grin, her ruthless determination, the mystery that surrounds her.

You squeeze the trigger, and this time, your shot flies true, hitting just off-center. Progress, but not perfection. Much like your understanding of Sevika, you realize. You're getting closer, but there's still so much more to uncover.

⁺˚⋆｡°✩

A slight breeze rustles the leaves as you wait by the usual tree, checking your watch. Caitlyn's late, which isn't like her.   You’ve been waiting for 20 minutes already and this was the Caitlyn, the one who’s never even been late to a shift at the pantry.  

You’re about to turn back to the house when suddenly you hear shouting from the road a few blocks away. Without thinking, you immediately sprint towards the commotion.

When you arrived, the scene before you was the last thing you would expect—Caitlyn and Vi were in each other's faces, their voices rising with each exchange. A burly guy from Sevika's crew is half-heartedly trying to separate them.

"You fucking liar!" Caitlyn screams, her face flushed with anger. "Why would you join without telling me?"  

You momentarily pause from trying to pull the fighting couple apart, in all the years you knew Caitlyn she had hardly cursed; Vi must’ve fucked up, bad.

Vi's stance is defensive, her hands raised. "It's safer for you this way!"

"Safer?" Caitlyn's laugh is bitter. "I didn't ask for a white knight, I asked for a partner that's honest!"

The guy from Sevika's crew steps between them. "Come on, ladies, this ain't the place-"

Caitlyn whirls on him. "How could you let her in Sevika’s group like this?"

He backs up, hands raised. “Listen, I had no part in this. Vi was the one who asked, and Sevika accepted her."

Caitlyn's face contorts with anger, and she lunges forward. You jump in, grabbing her arms. "Cait, stop!"

But as you hold her back, his words sink in. "Wait, WHAT?" You turn to Vi, shock evident on your face. "She accepted you to join her scavenging and not me?"

Vi looks away, guilt written across her features. Your blood boils. You release Caitlyn and round on the guy. "Where the HELL is she?"

He crosses his arms, defiant. "I don't have to answer to you."

You step closer, your voice low and dangerous. "Oh, trust me. You want to tell me."

He hesitates, then sighs. "Fine, but it's your funeral. She's in her garage."

Without another word, you turn on your heel and march away, leaving Caitlyn and Vi to their argument. You had your own annoying, lying woman to deal with.

The garage comes into view, its large door open. As you approach, you catch sight of Sevika bent over a motorcycle. Her back muscles flex as she works, visible beneath a black sports bra. Her jeans hang low on her hips, revealing the band of her boxers. For a moment, you were unable to comprehend the sight of Sevika in clothes that weren't military green. 

You take a deep breath, steadying yourself before addressing her. "Vi and Caitlyn are out there fighting. I thought you should know."

She turns, surprise briefly flickering across her features before her trademark nonchalance slides back into place. "And that concerns me... how exactly?" she questions, wiping her hand with a rag. "Last I checked, I wasn't running a relationship counseling service."

"Because of all the bullshit you gave about me not being ready? Why won't you let me on the team?" you demand, your voice cracking with desperation. "You let Vi join. What makes her so special?"

"You don't know what you're asking for."

"Then tell me!" you shout, stepping closer. "I'm sick of your cryptic bullshit, Sevika. I deserve to know!"

Something in Sevika snaps—Her composure shatters, replaced by a raw, barely contained fury. "Fine? You want to know why?" She grabs your arm, her grip tight enough to bruise. "Let's go."

She drags you out of the garage, marching through the community with large strides. You struggle to keep up, confused and a little scared by this sudden change in her demeanor.

As you reach the outskirts of the settlement, Sevika slows down. You follow her gaze and feel your blood run cold. Wooden crosses stretch out before you, maybe 20 to 25 of them, each marking a grave.

"This is why," Sevika grits.

You stand there, frozen, as Sevika turns to face you. Her eyes are blazing, but there's something else there too - something melancholic you've never seen before.

"Do you know how many empty graves we have?" she asks, gesturing to the crosses. "It's a fortune if you're able to bring a body home, or if you can spend someone's last moments together."

She walks among the graves, her fingers trailing over the rough wood of a cross. "This is the type of thing we have to deal with. Every time we go out there, we risk not coming back. And if we don't come back, this is what's left of us. A wooden cross and a memory."

"I've had to bury too many people. I've had to tell too many families that their loved ones aren't coming home. And sometimes, I couldn't even give them that closure."

She turns back to you, her eyes now hard, and gone was the brief moment of vulnerability you saw before. "This is why I won't let you on the team. Because I can't... I won't add another cross to this field."

The weight of her words hits you like a physical blow. But instead of understanding, you feel a surge of anger.

"So what?" you snap, surprising both yourself and Sevika. "You keep me locked away like I'm Rapunzel in a tower? Look around, Sevika!" You gesture wildly at the desolate landscape beyond the settlement. "There is nothing left to lose. The world is gone!"

For a moment, she's silent, and you think you might have finally gotten through to her. But then her expression hardens, a bitter smile twisting her lips.

"You can say that," she says softly, her voice barely above a whisper, "until you have the world in your hand and it's ripped away from you."

The words hang in the air between you, heavy with meaning. You see a flash of something in Sevika's eyes - a deep, soul-crushing resignation that makes your anger falter.

"There is always something to lose," she continues. "And every time you think you have nothing left to lose, life finds a way to prove you wrong."

She steps closer to you. "You think you're ready to face what's out there? You think you have nothing to lose? Trust me, pantry girl, you have no idea what loss really is."

"What are you living for if you're constantly scared of losing?" you challenge, your voice rising. "This isn't living, Sevika. It's just... existing."

Sevika's eyes flash dangerously. "You don't understand-"

"No, you don't understand!" you interrupted, shoving her back. "We're all going to die—But I'd rather die out there, trying to do something I wanted, rather than rot away in here!"

You’re angry and you know you just provoked her but you can’t help but shove her back again, frustrated at her but, even more so at yourself.  You were terrified, of fucking course you were—but who wasn’t in the world you were living in? 

With a growl, she lunges forward, shoving you hard. You stumble back, shock and anger coursing through you. Without thinking, you retaliate, pushing Sevika with all your might.

The two of you grapple, a tangle of limbs and fury. Grass and dirt kick up around you as you roll on the ground, each trying to gain the upper hand. Sevika's bionic arm hisses as she tries to pin you down, but you're quicker, fueled by frustration and pent-up emotion.

With a burst of strength, you manage to flip Sevika onto her back. You straddle her waist, pinning her arms to her sides, which fall limp immediately. Both of you are panting heavily, faces flushed and hair disheveled.

"I won," you gasp out, your chest heaving. "You promised. If I could beat you, you'd let me join."

Sevika looks up at you, her expression unreadable. "When will you learn patience?" 

The proximity is intoxicating, and for a moment, you're distracted by the feeling of Sevika beneath you, the rise and fall of her chest, the intensity in her eyes. 

"You can't expect me to live like this," you insist, your voice softer now but no less passionate. "What are you living for if you're constantly scared of losing?"

Something flickers in Sevika's eyes—pain, fear, or something else entirely. Without warning, she bucks her hips, throwing you off balance. In one smooth motion, she shoves you away and stands up.

You scramble to your feet, ready to continue the fight, but Sevika's next move stops you cold. 

"Sevika!" you call out, your voice cracking. "Don't you walk away from me!"

But she doesn't stop, doesn't even look back. 

You're left standing there, alone among silent tombstones and empty graves, watching her retreating figure disappear into the gathering dusk.

⁺˚⋆｡°✩

The weight of defeat settles heavily on your shoulders as you stumble into your room. You collapse onto your bed, fully clothed, as the scene replays in your mind. Sevika's face haunts you - not her usual cocky smirk or searching gaze, but that fleeting expression of raw pain you glimpsed just before she walked away.

There's something deeper, a hollowness in your chest you can't quite name. It's more than just the sting of losing an argument or watching her retreat. 

There was something else in her eyes that truly unsettled you—that flash of fear when she looked at you, as if dreading you might become another one of those wooden crosses she would have to mark.

Just as you're about to drift off, a sudden burst of loud music jolts you awake. Shouts and laughter follow, unmistakably coming from a few blocks down—right where Sevika's house is located.

You groan, pressing your pillow over your head. Of course, another one of her infamous parties. But as you lie there, listening to the distant sounds of celebration, a part of you can't help but wonder what Sevika looks like when she's relaxed, surrounded by her team. 

After an hour of futile attempts to sleep, frustration wins out.  You sit up, running a hand through your hair in annoyance. You throw on a hoodie and stomp towards the door, grabbing the nearest pair of slippers without looking.  

The cool night air does little to calm your irritation as you march down the street. You pound on the door, ready to give her a piece of your mind.

To your surprise, it's Sevika herself who answers. Her usual scowl morphs into a grimace as she recognizes you, a lit cigarette dangling from her lips. The sight of her throws you off balance—her gray wife beater clings to her frame, and her cargo pants are smeared with what you hope is just mud. Despite the mess, she looks... good. Annoyingly so.

"Do you know what time it is?" you demand, trying to focus on your anger.

Sevika takes a long drag of her cigarette and then blows the smoke out slowly. Her eyes drift downward. "I like your slippers," she remarks.

You glance down, mortification washing over you as you realize you're wearing Powder's pink bunny slippers. "Shit," you mutter, but quickly shake it off. "Why do you have to be so loud? This might come as a surprise but some people are trying to sleep!"

"Worried you won't get enough sleep to organize properly tomorrow?" Sevika taunts, leaning against the doorframe. "Make sure you don't mix up the soup and fruit cocktail cans."

Her dismissive attitude ignites your temper. "Fine, whatever. You're acting like a complete ass," you spit out.

Sevika's eyebrow raises slightly. "Is that all? Because if so, I've got a party to get back to."

You're about to retort when you catch a glimpse of the interior of her house. It's a mess—empty bottles strewn about, gear haphazardly tossed in corners. 

"What?" Sevika's voice snaps you back to reality.

"I... nothing," you stammer, taking a step back. "Just turn the music down, okay?"

Sevika studies you for a moment, her expression unreadable. Then, without a word, she turns and disappears into the house. A few seconds later, the volume of the music noticeably decreases.  Sevika.. Was being obedient? 

She reappears at the door, taking another drag of her cigarette. "Anything else?" 

You open your mouth, then close it again. What else is there to say? That her apparent disregard for what you want infuriates you? That her words about from earlier today won’t leave your mind? That despite everything, you find yourself drawn to her in a way you can't explain?

Instead, you just shake your head. "No. That's... that's all. Thanks."

As you turn to leave, Sevika's voice stops you. "Wait."

You pause, looking back at her expectantly.  You notice that there is a hesitancy to her this time, like you were fragile and if she got too close you might shatter.

"Wear proper attire tomorrow, okay?" she says, her tone businesslike. "And check in at the armory with Vi."

You blink, confused. "Vi? What does she-"

Sevika cuts you off with an exasperated sigh. "Do I really have to explain it to you, rookie?"

"Yeah, cause I don't get it," you retort.

"You're on the team."

For a moment, you just stare at her, unable to process what you've heard. Sevika refuses to meet your gaze, suddenly finding the wall very interesting.

As realization dawns, a wide grin breaks out across your face. Sevika immediately cuts in, "Don't think I'm going soft on you and giving you anything you want. This is an easy spot, but-"

You can't help the shit-eating grin that spreads even wider. "Thank you," you say, your voice sincere despite your obvious excitement.

Sevika just nods, her expression carefully neutral. "Yeah, okay. Now get out of here before I change my mind."

You nod enthusiastically. "Right. Yes. Thank you again. Good night!"

You turn and walk away, trying desperately to keep your cool. But as soon as you think Sevika has fully closed her door, you can't contain yourself anymore. You do a little excited jump right there in the street, pumping your fist in the air. Then, grinning like a fool, you take off running towards home.

What you don't see is Sevika, still standing in her doorway. She watches your celebratory dance with a mixture of disbelief and something akin to fondness. Shaking her head, she finally closes the door, a small, bemused smile playing at the corners of her lips.

⁺˚⋆｡°✩

The early morning sun casts a golden glow over the farm as your team arrives. The dilapidated barn looms ahead, its red paint peeling and faded. Overgrown fields stretch out to your right, while a rickety fence encloses what must have once been a thriving chicken coop.

Sevika's voice rings out across the coop.  "Alright, gather the chickens."

You blink, certain you've misheard. "Wait, what?"  

You weren’t expecting your first mission to be on a farm, much less to gather the animals. But your confusion is quickly overwhelmed by the sight of your teammates scattering, chasing after a flock of very startled, very loud chickens.  

"How do you expect us to get food?" Sevika asks, her tone matter-of-fact.

You turn to her, eyebrow raised. "Why aren't you helping?"

The air seems to still as everyone freezes, shocked by your boldness. Sevika's eyes narrow dangerously.

"I'm your captain," she states, as if that explains everything.

A reckless grin spreads across your face. "What? Afraid you can't catch a single chicken in front of your people?"

Sevika's jaw clenches, and for a moment, you wonder if you've pushed too far. Then, to everyone's surprise, she vaults over the fence and into the coop.

"You have a mouth on you," she growls, eyeing a particularly plump hen. "That's going to get you in trouble one day."

You hop in after her, heart racing at how she easily accepted your challenge. "Only if I'm caught," you quip back.

The two of you circle the hen, which clucks nervously. You lunge forward, but the bird darts away.

"You're scaring it!" Sevika snaps.

"Me?!" you retort. "You're practically harassing the thing!"

As you both scan the coop for a chicken that wasn’t running like it had its head chopped off, a voice pipes up from outside the fence. "They’re bickering like an old couple!"

In perfect unison, you and Sevika whip around, shouting, "Don't you dare say that!"

The moment the words leave your mouth, you freeze, looking at each other in shock, and then it’s replaced quickly with a scowl as the determination to capture the chicken sets back in.

Okay, so barreling at full force towards the animal was not the way to go considering everyone was already filling their cages.  You mentally devise a plan to corner the chicken, gesturing for Sevika to move to the right while you go left. But as you both rush forward, the hen squawks indignantly and darts between you in a perfect straight line.

Unable to stop your momentum, you and Sevika collide, tumbling to the ground in a tangle of limbs. You find yourself pinned beneath her, acutely aware of her weight, her warmth, the scent of her body wash and gunpowder that clings to her skin.

Sevika pushes herself up slightly, her face inches from yours. "This is dumb," she mutters. "I don't need to prove anything."

"Mhmm," you manage, your brain short-circuiting from the proximity.

She grunts, rolling off you and standing up. "There's one last chicken," she says, brushing dirt from her clothes. "We better get it."

You turn your attention back to the task at hand, scanning the coop for that last elusive hen. The last hen clucks nervously, darting between the wooden beams of the coop. You and Sevika exchange a quick nod, wordlessly agreeing on a strategy.

Sevika crouches low, her movements slow and deliberate as she inches towards the left side of the coop. You mirror her actions on the right, creating a human barrier. The hen's beady eyes dart between you, sensing the trap.  

"Easy now," Sevika murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper. 

The hen makes a break for it, but you're ready. You lunge forward, herding it back towards Sevika. She reaches out, her fingers just brushing the chicken's feathers—

A deep rumble suddenly echoes across the farm, stopping you both in your tracks. You both freeze, exchanging a brief, confused glance. In that instant, the barn door explodes outward with a deafening crash. Splinters of wood fly through the air, unleashing a horde of walkers that stumble and lurch towards you.

"Fuck! Run!" someone screams, and chaos erupts.

Your teammates scramble to grab their chicken cages, but you're transfixed by the sight of Sevika, who's inexplicably clutching the chicken she just caught to her chest with her left arm. Without thinking, you grab her right hand and bolt, pulling her along.

As you run, weaving between broken fences and overgrown crops, the absurdity of the situation hits you. Here you are, fleeing from a walkers horde, hand-in-hand with your usually stoic captain who was so dead set on capturing a single chicken she risked a few minutes just to get it. Suddenly, Sevika bursts out laughing, a rich, genuine sound you've never heard before.

"This is so fucking stupid," she gasps between chuckles.

Her laughter is infectious, and soon you're both giggling like maniacs as you sprint towards the getaway car. The wind whips through your hair, you look over at her and see her tiny ponytail bouncing, her eyes sparkling with unadulterated joy.

As you approach the car, you see one of your teammates dancing in the driver's seat, bobbing their head to music that was loud enough you could hear it from a distance.

Sevika's eyes widened in disbelief. "What is that moron doing?"

"Start the car!" you yell in unison with Sevika.

"Start the fucking car!" echoes from all directions as your team converges on the vehicle.

In a mad scramble, you and Sevika end up diving into the trunk together, barely missing from crashing into each other. The car peels out, tires kicking up dust as you make your escape. You twist around to look back, seeing the walkers crest the hill behind you, their grotesque forms looking like ants as you get further away from the farm.

As the adrenaline starts to fade, you become acutely aware that you're still clutching Sevika's hand. You both look down at your intertwined fingers and quickly release a faint blush coloring your cheeks. 

You glance at Sevika and are struck by the sight of her wide grin, revealing the charming tooth gap from the first time you met her. She looks lighter somehow, the usual weight of responsibility temporarily lifted from her shoulders.

"Maybe you should put the chicken in the cage," you suggest, nodding towards the bird still tucked under her arm.

"Right," Sevika says, quickly stuffing the bewildered chicken into a nearby cage.

Free of your feathered companion, you lean out of the trunk slightly, letting the wind rush through your hair. The music from the car's speakers drifts back to you, and you close your eyes for a moment, savoring the smell of the woods and the high from the adrenaline rush.

When you open your eyes and turn back, you catch Sevika staring at you. She's not looking at the receding farmland or checking for pursuing walkers. Her eyes are fixed solely on you, an unreadable expression on her face. In this moment, bathed in sunlight and the afterglow of survival, she looks different. Softer. There was no reminiscent of the super soldier you knew her as.

As your eyes meet, Sevika doesn't look away. Instead, her grin softens into something more intimate, more real. You feel a warmth bloom in your chest, a feeling you can't quite name but don't want to let go of.

The car hits a bump, jolting you both and breaking the moment. Sevika clears her throat and turns to secure the chicken cage, you weren’t sure if had imagined the smile or not.

As you return to Zaun, the adrenaline from your narrow escape fades into a collective sense of relief and camaraderie. The team works together to unload the chickens, and despite the close call, everyone seems to be in high spirits.

"Hey, how about another bonfire party?" someone suggests, and a chorus of agreement follows.

To your surprise, Sevika turns to you. "You should come," she says gruffly. "You’re part of the team now."

"Yeah, sure," you reply, fighting to keep the eagerness out of your voice.

As the team disperses to prepare, you notice Vi sprinting towards a certain someone waiting for her at the entrance. "Caitlyn!" Vi shouts, throwing herself into Caitlyn's arms and kissing her passionately.

You raise an eyebrow. "Well, those two made up fast," you mutter to yourself.

Later that evening, you find yourself seated on the cool ground in front of a roaring bonfire. The flames dance hypnotically, casting flickering shadows across the faces of your teammates. The air is filled with laughter, the clink of bottles, and the rich aroma of smoke and grilled food.

You're nursing a beer, listening intently as the others regale you with stories from previous hunts. Sevika sits not far from you, perched regally on a lawn chair. She's quieter than the others, but you notice her lips quirk up occasionally at particularly funny or outrageous parts of the stories.

As the night wears on, a cool breeze picks up. You shiver involuntarily, the chill seeping through your thin shirt. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Sevika glance your way. Without a word, she shrugs off her shawl and leans forward, draping it over your shoulders.

The gesture catches you off guard. You want to thank her, but something in her posture tells you she'd rather not draw attention to the act of kindness. No one else seems to have noticed, and you wonder if this is just how Sevika takes care of her team—quietly, without fuss or expectation of gratitude.

You pull the shawl tighter around you, inhaling the faint scent of cigarettes and gunpowder that clings to it. 

The conversation lulls for a moment, and then someone pipes up, "Hey, remember that time at the hospital in Piltover when we-"

"Uh," another teammate interrupts, glancing nervously at Sevika. "Sevika’s here."

All eyes turn to your captain. Sevika just grunts, taking a long swig from her bottle. You can't tell if it's approval or indifference, but the storyteller takes it as permission to continue.

The crackling fire seems to dim as the storyteller begins, his voice low and reverent. "It was before Zaun was established. Sevika, Silco, Grayson, and some of us old veterans had been cooped up in the hospital for weeks. But it was time we got out, find new people and a place to stay."

You lean in, curious, sneaking glances at Sevika, whose face remains impassive.

"The hospital was completely surrounded," the storyteller continues. "But we had weapons and vehicles. Silco had this completely badass idea to add extra defenses to the ambulance in the garage."

A chorus of whoops erupts from the group, and you see a flicker of pride in Sevika's eyes.

"The plan was to pile as many people as possible into the ambulance. But in the garage," The storyteller's voice drops. "There must've been an opening or something. Somehow, those bastards found their way in."

You find yourself holding your breath while Sevika's face is impassive, but you notice her grip tightening on her bottle.

"It happened so fast. One second Silco was up, the next he was down, a walker lunging for his throat. And Sevika," He shakes his head in awe. "She didn't hesitate. She threw herself between them."

All eyes turn to Sevika. You glance at Sevika, trying to imagine her and the emotions in that moment. 

"Go on," she says. "Finish it."

The storyteller hesitates, unsure. "We had to go back in. We cleared the area, but the walker's teeth sank into her arm instead of Silco's neck." the storyteller says softly. "Even then, she didn't stop fighting. She bashed its skull in with her free hand, then turned and took out two more, saving a few more of us.  But the bite meant she was infected…"

There's a collective intake of breath around the fire. You feel a chill that has nothing to do with the night air.

His voice trails off, and Sevika finishes for him. "So Silco ended up amputating my arm," she states.

"When I die, I'll die on my own accord.  Not because some mindless corpse decided it was my time."

The silence that follows is profound. You see a mix of awe, respect, and a hint of fear on the faces around you as Sevika's words hang in the air.

Then, as if a spell is broken, cheers erupt. "Fuck yeah, boss!" someone shouts, and others join in.

Sevika just grins as she stubs out her cigarette and stands.  “I’m calling it a night, try not to have too much fun."

You remain rooted to the spot even though you know you should go give the shawl that's still draped around your shoulders back.  

As you’re watching Sevika’s retreating form, you're struck once again by how little you truly understand her. Just when you think you've got her figured out, she does something that shatters your assumptions. Her rare, genuine smile from moments ago was like a crack in her armor, offering a glimpse of something you're not sure you were meant to see.

You recall Grayson's comment; If she's going to hell, she'll drag you down with her. But Sevika isn’t just dragging anyone down—she's fighting, clawing her way up. She’ll endure whatever comes, as long as she’s the one who gets to forge her own path.

Sevika faced death itself, and she emerged victorious.

taglist:

@mirconreadzztuff22 @lils-1979 @veoomvroom @schmoni @theacedragon0w0

@poxismind @kittykatz1227 @archangeldyke-all @abbyssgf @ivorydevil

@lez-zuha @iamastar @jellyfishrnice @anemoxlys @l0vel3tterl0ver

@lavendersgirl @h0pe-scotch @lia-winther @kittykatz1227 @dontknowwhenispawned

@sevikitty @sarahduke @raphaellearp

[arjwrites]

In The Stillness (To Love is To Hurt)- Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: A glimpse into the ways you've impacted Dean.

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: Angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, brief reference to sexual activity. Fem!Reader <3 (but like barely)

A/N: Hi!!! This story is a product of me wanting to try writing a one shot in the kind of writing style I use in my personal works! I write a lot of poetry and drabbley stuff outside of this blog and I felt like some of it would pair well in a one shot like this, based largely in narration rather than dialogue. I am worried it might veer a little bit too far into poetry territory in a few spots- I want to make sure it retains its clarity. Let me know what you think!

There were very few moments of true stillness in Dean’s life. Part of him was always moving somehow- legs carrying him to and from danger, hands absentmindedly cleaning guns and filling shotgun shells with salt, or perhaps the most restless of them all, his mind, always racing and always bearing the weight of the world. Dean’s brain was a machine, programmed all his life to carry out a list of simple tasks. Follow orders, protect Sammy, kill the monster, save the world. While the true meaning of these functions had changed wildly over the years, they always manifested in the worries that kept him up as he lay in bed at night, or ate at his soul during long, quiet stretches of the road.

There was nothing that could completely shut Dean’s thoughts off. Many of his younger years had been spent with a drink in his hand or a girl on his arm, picking his poison and hoping if he tried it often enough, it would become his antidote. Sure, these things sometimes helped, but only ever briefly- he would always wake in the morning, mind racing, head pounding, and searching for a quick getaway. These things were just another excuse to fill the gaps between cases, to keep from ever being still. 

Dean was always running from the quiet. When there wasn’t a task at hand, there needed to be something to fill the space. If he lingered in his own mind for too long, he would close his eyes and his thoughts would take off, always landing somewhere where Dean should have been better. Somewhere he should’ve cracked the case sooner or saved the day quicker or protected someone- usually Sam- better. And sometimes, he could swear he felt himself strung up in the pit again, all of the suffering ever inflicted upon him concentrated in the knot that formed in his stomach and pulsing through his body via the racing of his heart. But Dean could never let his mind wander that far, because that far was dangerous. So he kept busy, kept compacting the memories and tucking them away in unlabeled boxes in his head in hopes that he would misplace them. Besides, the wars of the world took precedence far above the violence waging in his own head. It made sense to keep busy. 

Dean had been a soldier for years, but the most difficult battle he ever fought was against his own feelings. When you stumbled into his life, magnetic and miraculous, he wasn’t quite sure what to do. He knew if he kept you close, his heart would force him to love you, his duty would force him to protect you, and his fear would force him to bear you as yet another burden. Another person in his life for him to love and to lose. In a desperate act of preservation- both for himself and for you- Dean fought tooth and nail to keep you at bay. He holed himself away at the brink of the darkest corners of his mind. But your warmth and light radiated through the cold world he had made for himself, drawing him in like a moth to a flame. And he couldn’t help but fall. Like much of his life thus far, he had been given no choice in the matter. He felt like you were his destiny. 

Dean didn’t believe in much. He had no faith in religion or philosophy or science or himself. Nothing in his life thus far had ever made him feel at peace with his pain and his mortality. The world was chaotic and terrifying and there was no such true thing as heaven or holy or even good. But then there was you. Dean worshipped you, prayed to you, heard your word like gospel. You were the God he had always denied himself. You made sense of his suffering and lit the path to his salvation. It was always for you.

“To love, is to hurt,” you had told Dean one day, and he had looked back at you as if you had three heads. Though he hummed in tentative response, studying your words and the way your mouth moved to create them, he couldn’t bring himself to agree- and yet, he couldn't ask what you meant. He feared that he wouldn’t like the answer. 

You would say these things to Dean from time to time, sharing tidbits about love, life, things you had learned in your years and carried with you wherever you went. It felt nice to have something to offer to him in exchange for the labor of loving you. His responses were often full of praise and piety as he kissed down your body in a practiced map of places, rhythmically, as if speaking in a secret language that only you two could decode. 

Dean loved you during late nights and early mornings when you were your most peaceful and soft. In these moments he would look outside to see the silent moon or the rising sun, and smile to himself- as if it had been you who hung them there, just for him. Dean loved you on the drive home after finishing a hunt, when he kicked Sam to the back seat just to have you close, to feel your fingers bless his knuckles with your touch as he gripped the gear shift and hummed along with a melody. The lyrics never mattered anymore- to him, every piece of music was a love song he wrote to you. 

Dean would watch you. He took you in like a piece of art- one he had waited in line for years to catch a glimpse of, just to be told that he could take the exhibit home. All the velvet ropes had fallen and the warning signs were painted over. Please, do not touch the art. And so he would. His fingertips would trace over your brushstrokes and he would compliment the artistry, always grateful to have been given a closer look. 

Your gravity was enough to pull him in from wherever he wandered, though he never wandered far if he could help it. It felt as though you were what rooted him to time and space. Early in your relationship, silence was rare, but in times when the two of you would sit and share slices of it like an orange, he swore he could hear the buzzing of your life force. After a while, he could hear his own, too. And eventually, he would revel in the way your energies would harmonize and dance around each other in a well-rehearsed routine, swirling together and swaying to their own silent rhythm- two beings in love and intertwined in their own right. 

He was scared to lose you- of course he was. He would beg for you to stay behind on hunts, or fling himself between you and the monsters you’d encounter. But in some ways, Dean felt you were most likely invincible. You were made of sunlight and stardust, how could anything kill that? And he felt you were too tied into his life to ever lose you- as if he had already peered through a window into his future and seen you in it, waving back at him. You would be there, he didn’t have to worry. It was a feeling that was so strikingly out of his nature that it grabbed hold of him and didn’t let go. He told you about this feeling once, and it comforted and worried you all at the same time. But the next hunt rolled around and he remained your fierce protector, taking on many of the injuries that would’ve befallen you had he not stepped in. As you stitched him up in a peaceful quiet, he mused- 

“I think I’m starting to understand that whole “to love is to hurt” thing. You laughed. Dean beamed. The hunting, the fighting, the saving the world. All of it was worth it. He would do it all, just so you would patch him back up afterwards with a kiss and a smile. Sometimes you would play soft music and hum to him- in these moments, he would close his eyes and if he hadn’t known any better, he would’ve thought he was in heaven. If it was his heaven, why was he in pain? As he watched you work, he came to an easy decision. He would cut himself open, over and over again for eternity, just for the chance to see your eyes narrow in focus and your mouth purse in concentration as your nimble hands worked to stitch his wounds. Just to feel the vibrations of your lips as they planted a kiss to his cheek mid-melody. He felt his pain was an offering that you rewarded with your presence, and it was an exchange he would happily make throughout his life and far beyond his death. 

Dean cherished the moments when the world outside his door faded into insignificance. You were the master switch that shut off the chaos, leaving him to bask in the warmth of your body and soul. But it took a while for Dean to realize the indelible mark you had left on him. He hadn’t spent more than a moment without you since you had first met- a hunter’s life didn’t leave much room for privacy, but that worked to his advantage in the early days. But you had left for a night, having to take care of a family obligation, pressing him a tender kiss and a don’t miss me too much as you rolled out the door that afternoon. And that night, tucked into your side of the bed in an effort to feel closer to you, Dean couldn’t sleep. Things that hadn’t crossed his mind in years went racing back and forth, round and round on a track until he couldn’t breathe- as if they had been chasing him every lap. When he closed his eyes, all of the memories he had stuffed in the closet and under the bed had spilled into a great big room and he was buried in the rubble. And when he opened his eyes and looked out at the moon, it seemed distant and cold, like it belonged to someone else. So he picked up the phone and called you, his body softening at the sound of your voice and falling asleep to the murmur of your words. He woke early, busy researching a case with Sam, but in a brief moment of stillness in the morning, he realized this was what she really meant. I get it now. Thankfully, you were home by dinnertime with a slice of your grandmother’s pie and a few crazy family stories to tell. Dean practically floated to you and wrapped you in a hug you had to beg him to release you from. 

It hadn’t been until your absence that Dean realized how much still lurked below the surface. While your presence gilded every facet of Dean’s life with a warm, glowing gold, he still hurt, ached, withered when you were gone. And it wasn’t until this realization that Dean understood the labor it was to love him. And it made him want to be better. 

The first time Dean opened up to you was a rainy spring evening. Then again one summer afternoon. He spent August feeding you breadcrumbs from his childhood. And he told you about his time in Hell in late October. You remembered this because you had looked out the window and resonated with the way the leaves trembled and fell from the trees. You raised a shaky hand to his cheek and wiped a tear and swore to Dean that he would never go through that pain again. And Dean, who had just relived each excruciating moment all over again, just for her, spoke. 

“I- I get it now. To love is to hurt because it forces you to be better. And it hurts because you take on a whole second person’s pain, wanting to spare them from it. And to love is to hurt because-”

You raised a finger to his lips and then replaced it with a kiss. And you smiled. And you leaned into his chest. And you let things be still. And so did he. 

[nappingmoon]

I think the way to higuruma’s heart is through acts of service.

wc: 1.3k

the first time you wake up in higuruma's bed is the day after you meet him. he's still sound asleep, and he looks like he needs it, so you let him rest while you get up. when confronted with the choice of slipping out the door or staying, you don't think twice. you make your way into his kitchen, and it's clean-- simple in a way that is just so him. you grab two mugs and get started on a pot of coffee.

you’re not too familiar with him yet; unsure of how he takes it, so you make a simple batch of black coffee and decide to wait to ask him, finding you like the idea of learning along the way.

when higuruma walks into the kitchen, still groggy and hair tussled, it takes him a moment to digest what he’s seeing. he blinks slowly, eyes adjusting to the light pouring in from the window. you’ve got a cup in your hands, full and still steaming, while another sits empty to the side.

“I didnt know if liked sugar and milk in your coffee, or I would’ve brought you some in bed, handsome.” you say, lips just hovering over the lip of your cup. you place it down softly on the coaster and stretch for a moment before grabbing his and turning around, filling it with the rest of the brew. you call out over your shoulder, asking for the instructions to his preferred tastes, but are met with silence. you turn.

“h-” he starts, but seems unsure of how to finish. “how did you figure out the coffee machine?” he asks, and you both know it’s not the question that was supposed to come out. why are you doing this? why are you still here? most of his other endeavors have always fled in the morning, the bed cold and the house empty by the time he awakes. he felt the connection between the two of you last night, but normally the people he pursue leave without a trace, and he’s gotten used to it. it’s what he knows. so why are you in his t shirt, sipping from his mug, and acting like this is normal? why does he find himself wishing it was?

“there’s only four buttons on here, and one is for the clock. you don’t think me so simple, do you?” you tease with a smile.

no, he doesn’t. quite the opposite, in fact. he thinks you’re brilliant. you had met at a bar downtown and talked and talked, the tension eased by a few fruity cocktails. taken by your wit and humor immediately, he found himself inviting you over to extend the night a little, maybe have a glass of wine or two. not entirely surprisingly, you ended up in his sheets, all giggles and sloppy kisses and passionate touches. he fell asleep, sated and content with his limbs intertwined in yours.

instead of answering your question, he replies, “just a splash of milk, please.” 

your quirked brow betrays your skepticism. "not even a little sugar?" he seemed to have had the largest sweet tooth last night, if you correctly remember the sweet drinks that were downed absentmindedly between quips, stories, and touches that lingered just long enough to be more than friendly.

he's sheepish when he replies "i shouldn't, right? i have to limit my sugar somewhere or later down the line I am going to have to see my doctor more often and I am trying to avoid that. she's a scary lady."

he's not finished with his sentence before you tip in a small dash of sugar. "you're still in your early thirties. give it another decade or two before you start worrying about your blood sugar." you bring the mug over, bare feet padding softly on his hardwood floor as you approach. "i don't think a little sweetness in your life will kill you."

as he takes the mug from your hands, his fingers brush over yours. he doesn't look away from you eyes as he lifts the mug to his lips, but just before he takes a sip, he murmurs, "it might."

you hum and walk back over to where your mug sits on the counter. leaning against it, you ask, "how'd you sleep?"

"better than I have in ages," he replies, and his tone is oddly sincere. "I wasn't expecting you to still be here."

"should I not have been?" though you try to sound confident and carefree, a light waver in your voice reveals the fear at the idea that you've gravely misunderstood him and embarrassed yourself to no end in the process.

your thoughts don't get to stray far, however, because he's quick to respond. "no, no. it was a pleasant surprise. you have been a truly pleasant surprise."

your cheeks warm and you suddenly find his cabinets fascinating. "you're not supposed to be smooth first thing in the morning, you know." you grumble.

he's closer now, directly in front of you, and he places his mug down, just to you right. as he retracts his hand, it comes up to tilt your chin back towards him.

he's so handsome it's unfair.

"i'm sorry, sweetness, can I make it up to you with some breakfast?" he asks, his voice entrancing and still thick with sleep. the gesture and the question leave you breathless, so you just nod affirmatively. he places a kiss to your temple before turning and digging around his fridge and grabbing the ingredients he needs to get started.

-

soon after that, you become a constant in his life. he hadn't planned on you as a part of his routine, but you just, fit. in the mornings he finds himself spending less time in the bathroom mirror fixing his suit. now he wakes up eager to get dressed and sit on the edge of his bed with his choice of tie, waiting for you to take your spot between his legs and tie it for him. seeing the furrow in your brow as you adjust it just right, fixing the collar and tugging on the lapels to make sure he's perfect, it all makes him swoon.

before you, his lunch couldn't even be considered a break. he would just pop open whatever prepackaged meal he had bought that day and eat it in between readings of contracts and reviews of cases. now, he leaves his office without fail, never missing the time to eat and listen to you talk about your day.

when his bouts of insomnia get worse, you're there to help him. the house starts to smell like lavender. you've got all kinds of melatonin gummies and you don't let him say no to a massage, first focusing on his temples and scalp, then laying him down to work the knots out of his back. he's snoring by the time you're halfway down.

when he gets really stressed and the pressure starts to get too much, he comes home to a quiet house. he finds you in the bathroom preparing a bath with salts and soaps. you usher him in, insisting on taking care of him- carding water and shampoo through his locks and providing him with a safer space than he's ever had in his life.

higuruma is a lawyer. he deals with people who spin words all day. lies, loopholes, and secrets are all imbedded in his quotidian conversations with clients and colleagues. you, however, don't ripen him up with flattery or kind words. you don't make promises you don't intend to keep and you don't mince and twist your words to use against him. you simply do what you think is right. your actions have captured him far more than any words alone could do. in return, to show you how much he has truly come to love and need you, he looks to what he knows best. contracts.

though, when he's down on one knee, the legalities of it mean nothing to him. all that is important in that moment, and for the rest of his life, his you.