#may be short and thick but he is handsome and the girl knows

[marioboyy]

'Love at first sight' parallel scene for historical\iconic couples 💕

[fayes-fics]

The Secrets We Keep: Pt I

Part II >>

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: Knowing someone your whole life doesn’t mean they can’t surprise you…

Warnings: none yet… fluff and angst. Childhood friends, yearning, arranged marriage, kissing. Pt II will contain a warning/rating change.

Word Count: 5.1k (this part)

Authors Note: Part 1 of 2. My longest gestating WIP! It’s been more than 18 months since I received a request for this secret diary fic. Tulip Anon, I have no idea if you still follow me, but I hope you think I did your detailed request justice. I won't post your ask yet, as it contains spoilers for the second half. Betaed by the awesome @colettebronte, who I can’t thank enough. I’m in the process of writing Pt II, so there will be a gap between instalments. Enjoy! 🫶

-i-

For as long as you can remember, you have loved one man secretly. To the point that you cannot imagine your life without a deep, burning affection simmering in your very core, as fundamental to your existence as drawing air into your lungs.

Benedict Bridgerton.

Your families have been neighbours in Mayfair and Kent for many generations—two aristocratic dynasties that, despite enduring friendships, have never seen intermarriage. There have been attempted matches down the years, according to family lore, but nothing came to fruition. 

So when you were brought to Aubrey Hall as a mere babe in arms, the eldest daughter, there were many good-natured jokes that Anthony’s future wife had been born. But the Viscount, wonderful as he is, was not the man who stole your heart just a few short years later. A bright sunny day in June that you suspect Benedict may not even be able to recall, but you can with perfect clarity, even now, some fifteen years later. 

He picked you as the first person to join his team for a round of garden games. Paying you heed and ensuring you were included, patiently showing you the ropes and applauding your achievements, ignoring the ridicule from the other twelve-year-old boys for letting a girl - and a little five-year-old at that - join in their games. 

Ever since that day, all you have ever seen is his enormous heart and steadfast empathy: always the one to reach out to those excluded, to be supportive, and to love harder and more expansively than his siblings. Thus, unsurprisingly, he became the focus of your singular devotion—a childish adoration transmuting into something more profound and complicated as you matured.

On your fourteenth birthday, your mother gifted you a thick notebook. And it became your refuge, the private canvas on which you outlet your innermost secrets and thoughts. The beautiful but now slightly battered, silk-covered tome is still your most treasured possession even now, more than six years later, so close to filled now, with only a couple of blank pages left. Never long from your hands, but when it must be, carefully stashed under the floorboards of your bedroom. Its pages the reflection of a naive, growing heart. There is one person who features frequently on its crammed, jumbled pages. Sketches of his handsome face, mostly from memory, interspersed with ardent notes and poems that, while they may not mention his name, are written for him. Adoration writ large in every pen and pencil stroke.

Little were you to know that the secrets you keep within its hallowed pages would one day alter the course of your life…

-ii-

It's the evening of the Bridgerton Ball, and usually, you would be brimming with anticipation for such an occasion, a chance to see the man who holds your most ardent admiration. Instead, you find yourself glum, mechanically stepping into the dress your ladies' maid Rachel assists you with, staring blankly into the vanity mirror as she adorns your hair with jewels. Still reeling from your father's shocking announcement the previous day.

The inheritance of a European title had seen him spend eighteen months abroad. In his absence last spring, you were able to persuade your more indulgent mother to delay your societal debut—a yearning to be free in the ways you know no woman really can be for long. A compounding factor was spending the summer in the Highlands with her sister, your Aunt Eliza, a spirited, independent woman who taught you many things and encouraged your artistic whims. And when you were back in London, your mother’s somewhat inattentive running of the house meant you were often able to slip away in the evenings, spending your time deepening your passion for art. Frequenting galleries and conversing with artists led to you being drawn into the bohemian, artsy underbelly of Bloomsbury, a beguiling, exotic contrast to Mayfair. Another secret you keep.

Upon his return to England, your father was not best pleased to learn that not only had you been allowed to skip the previous Season, but Eliza had also taught you to fish, fence and hunt—most unladylike pursuits in his opinion. He, therefore, made it his mission to ensure not only would you debut this year but also a swift match should be made, lest you “get other fanciful, dangerous ideas”.

Perhaps that is why, yesterday, nary two weeks into your first season, he abruptly announced over afternoon tea that he had secured a match for you and the man in question would be dining with you all that evening. A deal no doubt brokered in a private gentleman’s club as if you were merely chattel to be traded.

Revulsion filled your every fibre as you were introduced to Lord Farringdon a few hours later. A wiry man twenty years your senior with a hawk-like countenance and a disdainful disposition. Apparently, a brilliant intellectual mind but accompanied by a mercurial, malevolent reputation. You had read in Whistledown rumours about his mistreatment of his household staff and his previous wife. A forlorn figure who became a recluse long before she died of consumption tragically young. The idea of being betrothed to this cold, abusive man turned your stomach—a seemingly outsized punishment for your rebellion. Once the man left, you had begged and pleaded with your father to reconsider the arrangement, but sadly, your appeal fell on deaf ears. 

And so here you are. Going to a ball at which your father plans to announce your engagement. The stately beauty of Bridgerton House is not as heartening of a sight as it typically is. Tonight, it feels more akin to a gallows.

As soon as you arrive, you are scanning the crowds for the only friend you know will understand just how ghastly your predicament is—Eloise Bridgerton. A kindred spirit whose interest in marriage is as scant as your own. Bonding over your similar yearnings for freedom, you have been good friends since you were little, many a day spent together as children running through the Kentish fields, escaping expectation and flouting convention.

Acutely aware of time running out until your father speaks up, you fiddle distractedly with your fan, impatiently awaiting her entrance.

“For heaven's sake, y/n, please cease your fidgeting!” your mother chastises under her breath, snatching away the item. “I do not see why you are so agitated. Tonight is to be a wonderful occasion for you!”

A myriad of caustic comments are on the tip of your tongue, but you swallow them down. The last thing you want is to draw attention, and you certainly don't want to be gossip fodder; these ballrooms are a veritable hotbed of eavesdropping if Whistledown is anything to go by. 

When the collective Bridgerton family finally enter their ballroom as hosts, however, your eyes can't help but drift to Benedict instead. A reflex from years of longing, even though it is his sister,  arm looped into his, whose counsel you seek tonight. You excuse yourself to fetch a lemonade as soon as you spy a window of opportunity—Eloise standing alone, looking excessively bored. Abandoning your glass, you hurry over to her.

“I have news…”  You try to keep your voice neutral but grab her arm and practically drag her away from anyone within earshot.

“Well, it cannot be good if you are willing to rip my arm off to impart it,” she remarks dryly as you lead her down a hallway.

“It is not,” you pull a face that you know will convey to her the gravity of what you need to divulge.

With a nod of understanding and a look to a nearby footman, she leads you beyond him into an area of the house off-limits for guests. 

“Tell me…” her tone is sincere as she ushers you into the library and closes the door.

“My father has seen fit to arrange a marriage for me. He is planning to announce it tonight, right here at your family ball!”

She says nothing, only a sympathetic noise as she pulls you into a consoling hug. The emotions you have been tamping down for hours escape as a couple of bitter tears, her arms banding tight around you. You are not sure how long, but you stand in a hug, just grateful for her steadfast support.

“What am I to do?” you whisper.

“I do not know,” she confesses. “Have you tried to reason with your father?”

“A hopeless cause…”  

Her mouth twists in understanding, knowing you will have put up a spirited defence as much as she would have. She detangles from you and goes to a nearby brandy decanter.

“It's the very least you deserve, frankly,” she points out, handing you a glass and pulling you into a loveseat with her, wrapping an arm around your shoulder, clinking her glass against yours in a silent but bittersweet toast about your seemingly futile situation.

-iii-

Half an hour later, your parents are distracted across the far side of the room with friends when a large hand grabs yours out of the blue. You startle when you realise it is Benedict, your heart suddenly in your mouth. Before you know it, you are wordlessly being pulled out of the French doors behind you and into the night air.

“Where are we going!?” you demand when you recover from the initial surprise, his gloved hand tugging yours along through the darkened gardens. 

“Shh, make haste, we must not be seen,” he hushes you but keeps moving, furtive and fast, your feet having to take extra steps to keep up with his long stride over the lush, dewy grass.

“Benedict…” you try again once you round a thick hedge into the rose garden.  “What is going on?”

He slows a little but does not relinquish his tight hold. Gravel path now crunching under his boots as the honeyed scent of damask hangs heavy in the air. 

“Eloise told me,” is all he offers. “So we are escaping.”

“W-we are?” you stutter, frowning, a claggy tumult behind your ribs at his use of ‘we’. 

“Yes! Or at least we would be if you would keep quiet… please…” he amends, sounding a touch contrite about his initial brusqueness, but speeding up again, headed straight for a small wooden door in a high stone wall, almost hidden behind long, draping ropes of ivy, glowing silver in the moonlight.

When you reach it, he releases his grip on your hand and shoulders the door open with considerable force. The weathered wood creaks loudly, almost splintering under the duress. He signals to the inky blackness of the deserted mews behind Bridgerton House.

“It is now or never, y/n,” he warns as you look back at the house, lit up with the life of the ball inside. “So what is your choice?”

He may be presenting it as an option, but really, you know there would only ever be one answer. You would accompany him to the ends of the earth if he so much as asked. And so wordlessly, you step through the doorway and into the narrow street beyond.

“Good choice,” he compliments as he follows suit and closes the door behind him. “You may stay at my friend Granville’s tonight,” he offers sagely, “I have not seen him in a while, but I will explain when we arrive; I am certain he can provide shelter.”

“Benedict, I already know Henry… Quite well, in fact.”

He looks taken aback as if it had not occurred to him that you may move in the same clandestine circles as he does. To be fair, you have always been discreet in your outings, and it’s not something you have divulged to anyone, including Eloise. Still, what confounds you more is why he is suddenly so seemingly invested in seeing you escape from your predicament. It doesn't entirely make sense.

“Well, then,” he cuts into your brief reverie, “you know Henry is a generous host and discreet about the affairs of others. Your father will not come looking for you there. It will buy some time to figure out what to do next. To ensure your freedom.”

“Freedom?” You scoff. “Benedict, as much as I may wish it, there is no other path open to me. Tonight is merely a delay tactic at best. The only way to stop my father’s pursuit of this union is if I marry another….”

The admittance of this truth out loud makes you restless, belatedly realising that it truly is your only way out. You stalk towards the main road, the faint glow of the street lamp guiding your way over the cobbles. You soon hear Benedict’s footsteps behind.

“That is ridiculous!” he exclaims as he attempts to catch up with you. “There are other options available to you…”

“Such as?” you whip around, raising your hands, countering his assertion. When he falters, you return to walking, throwing a tart addition over your shoulder: “Unlike you, a man, I do not have the freedom of choice.” 

“You should always have a choice…” he counters earnestly, still catching up to your furious pace.

“Should and do are different things, Benedict. You do not even know how lucky you are!” You add bitterly, rounding onto the main street.

A gust of wind causes you to pause and a shiver to run down your arms, your gauzy dress not enough to ward off the unseasonable chill in the air tonight. Ever the observant gentleman, Benedict shucks his jacket and wraps it around your shoulders. Uncharitably, your ire makes you attempt to shake it off, even while knowing it is intended purely as a chivalrous gesture. You are surprised when he seems to grasp your shoulders tighter, holding the heavy velvet in place. It is cloaked in his woodsy, citrus scent, your vexed state turning into an entirely different type of flush as he crowds closer to you.

“My birth has allowed me certain privileges, I concede,” he replies, his stare seemingly far away as you are unable to look anywhere but the dampness of his bottom lip, shimmering slightly in the lamplight. Then he tilts his head down to meet your eyes. “But that does not mean I am able to have everything I wish for in life, y/n…”

Your tongue burns to ask what it is that he wants but cannot have, yet you do not allow yourself to pry. But seeing the wistfulness in his gaze deflates your irritation, your long-held adoration for this man taking over, making you sigh.

‘You deserve the world, Benedict….’

His face morphs into one of breathtaking intensity, and you realise, horrified, you spoke those thoughts aloud. 

“As do you, y/n,” he murmurs, eyes sincere, your heart beating wildly as his chest vibrates against your own. 

The upheaval of the last day, the man you secretly adore abetting a somewhat daring escape, your heated exchange of words, the lateness of the hour, and the feel of his tall, lithe body pressed against yours…. It's all a dangerous cocktail that culminates in you being utterly impetuous, pushing up onto your tiptoes and mashing your mouth against his with no thought.

His lips are plush and warm, and suddenly, he is kissing you back. It's like a cannon firing in your chest as his warm mouth opens yours. Suddenly, you are urgently taking from each other. A sweeping tidal wave through you obliterates any kissing experiences you have ever had before. It’s a desperate slide of tongues, a passionate continuation of your sparring. His hands are like a hot brand through your thin dress as they sweep around to your back, tugging you into him, his heat, scent and taste overwhelming.

But all too soon you are pulling apart, a need for air in your lungs overriding the spontaneous, reckless moment. For a few seconds, you stare at each other, breathing each other's panted air, hands still grasping onto each other, almost confused by what just occurred… until the whinny of a passing horse carriage has you springing apart as if burned. 

Realisation engulfs his entire being. “Oh god! Please, please forgive me!” he stutters, backing away, holding his hands out in a conciliatory gesture, almost tripping in his haste to put space between you, even though it was you who kissed him. “Please, just go to Granville,” he counsels rapidly before turning heel and disappearing into the night, leaving you standing alone, unmoored and breathless, utterly turned upside down.

-iv-

You drift home in a daze, your family’s London residence only a few hundred yards away. Your escape plans are forgotten in the haze of tumbling thoughts about that blistering kiss. How fervently and immediately Benedict had kissed you back, how wonderful it felt to be caged in his arms….  Climbing into bed and passing out, still bewildered. In fact, it’s only the rude awakening of your bedroom door slamming open the following morning that brings you crashing back to your senses.

“WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?!” Your father roars, holding aloft what looks like the latest copy of Whistledown. “You have brought shame upon our family and likely ruination to your prospects!!”

Utterly alarmed, you sit bolt upright, blinking, taking a few moments before you can find your voice. “What are you referring to, father?”.

He glares at you, then throws the paper onto your bed and stalks out of the room without another word, puce with outrage. You know there will be crossed words at the breakfast table. The sight of your name on the crisp ivory page immediately draws your eye, and your stomach plunges as you read the paragraph:

The annual Bridgerton Ball last night was, once again, resplendent. A triumph that the dowager Countess can be rightfully proud of. Although less contentment could likely be gleaned from the behaviour of her offspring. The second eldest of whom was allegedly seen escaping into the unlit gardens hand in hand with none other than the most reluctant of this season's debutantes, the spirited Miss Y/n Y/l/n. Perhaps the rebellious Miss will not have to endure many more of society’s events that she so patently abhors, should a proposal from the most wayward of Bridgerton sons be forthcoming? I, for one, however, Dear Reader, am not holding my breath…

Hiding in your room as long as you can, hunger drives you to join the frosty lunch table, apologising for inadvertently ruining your father’s plans to announce your betrothal and meekly explaining the incident with Benedict as a complete misunderstanding. It was merely an old friend helping you to gather some air before the big news was to be proclaimed. His taking your hand was out of benevolent concern, nothing more, and when you suddenly felt unwell, he chivalrously saw you the few hundred yards home. The lies feel odd on your tongue, your thoughts only of Benedict’s mouth and body moulded hotly to yours as your father lectures about appropriate behaviour for a young lady and your family’s long-standing friendship with the Bridgertons not being an excuse for a lackadaisical attitude to impropriety.

“There is nothing else to be done now—I must secure you a special licence to be wed tomorrow before Lord Farringdon hears about this,” he decrees with finality, his tone brokering no argument.

You slump silently into your chair, dread creeping through every cell, silently chastising yourself for not following Benedict’s advice and running away. If only you hadn't been impetuous and kissed him, you might have been in your right mind to do so. It feels cruel that the one moment you chose to throw caution to the wind is the one moment that sealed a worse fate.

-v-

That afternoon, your mother ushers you to the Modiste, paying handsomely for a very rushed wedding dress. Something simple that can be finished at such a late hour. It will only be your family in attendance anyway; so much else seems unnecessary. As you stand forlornly upon the raised dias, ivory silk tacked up around you with pins; your mother announces she needs to depart to secure other last-minute arrangements, leaving your trusty ladies' maid to accompany you home once alterations are complete.

“You do not look a happy bride…” Madam Delacroix mutters after the tinkle of the bell above the door signals her departure.

“Your observation skills are certainly not lacking,” you respond quietly, craning to double-check that Rachel, your maid, is out of earshot, sitting listlessly in the front of the store, staring out of the window.

“I do read Whistledown, my dear,” she remarks delicately, “and this does not appear to be a dress someone marrying a Bridgerton would wear.”

Your stomach vaults at the implication; the thought of marrying Benedict has your heart going haywire, even as you know it would never happen. The crestfallen look as your mind flits to the awful man you will be marrying instead is one you cannot hide as she meets your eyes in the reflection.

“It is not indeed,” you sigh, “but Whistledown has rather accelerated my unfortunate fate. Hence the rushed dress…” you gesture to your outfit.

“Mr Bridgerton is a friend?” she digs delicately.

“Lifelong,” you admit, “but Lady Whistledown could not have been more erroneous in her assertions…”

“That you and Mr Bridgerton are together? Or that he would marry you?” 

You look away from the mirror and down to where she is crouched by your hem on your left side, taken back not only at her astuteness but her drive for information. Almost as if she were Whistledown herself.

“I do not mean to pry,” she modifies, “merely to understand your predicament. Maybe I can be of assistance? I have privately counselled many a young lady on the eve of their wedding. Be it a happy occasion or not. And have kept many a secret of the Ton. ‘Tis the reason my business is so successful, Miss y/l/n. A good modiste can be a trusted confidante.”

“W-we are not together,” you stumble out without meaning to.

“But you wish to be? Or perhaps something has happened between you?”

Your eyes dart furtively, and your cheeks heat at the memory, but you say nothing. 

“You need say no more,” she chuckles and offers a knowing smile that appears as much reminiscent as sympathetic.

You rapidly attempt to deflect. “I do not wish to be married to anyone, really. I do find it so unfair a man is free to pursue his passions in life, but merely due to my sex, I am not.”

There is a nod of understanding, and she stands up with her hands on her hips. “I keep a certain array of refreshments for special clients such as yourself.” She nods to what looks like a liquor cabinet partially obscured behind a curtain at the back of her shop. “If you can dismiss your maid, I can assist you on your last night as an unmarried lady.”

The suggestion is too intriguing to refuse. And Rachel will greatly appreciate your pin money.

A few hours later, you are sat upon a circular conversation chair, Gen, as she insists you call her, pouring you another snifter of brandy.

“Tell me, what is your passion?” she inquires, her polished French accent slipping a little, sounding far more East End than Parisian. Something about that makes you like her more.

“Art,” you answer wistfully, “not that I have many opportunities to practice beyond a private notebook. But it is my most prized possession.” You gesture to your pelisse, hanging on a nearby hook. “I have it with me always. I have sewn a secret pocket into all of my coats myself.”

“Ingenious! ” She declares. “You shall have my job one day!”

You laugh, feeling light for the first time in what feels like days, as Gen leans in, raising an eyebrow. “I can also see well why you may have bonded with Mr Bridgerton…”

You giggle and lower your eyes, taking a fortifying sip.

“But it is not just that, is it?” Her tone is thoughtful, delicate even, as she continues: “A life outside the boundaries of so-called polite society can be so very beguiling, can it not? I have seen you, Miss y/l/n, at parties in Bloomsbury…”

A panicked bile rises as your head snaps up.

“As I said before, I am always discreet,” she reassures, “your secret is more than safe with me,” she winks before taking a generous sip from her glass.

Possibly, it's the alcohol, but her understanding of your predicament and the fact she has, unbeknownst to you, moved in similar circles brings an odd sense of relief. Having a confidante, someone to finally share your secrets with, albeit a somewhat stranger, lifts a burden from your shoulders. Wonderful as Eloise is, being the sister of the man who secretly holds your heart is not without complications in many ways.

“Another?” she chimes animatedly, holding aloft the bottle.

You cannot resist that offer.

-vi-

It’s close to midnight when Gen loops her arm in yours as she guides you, quite inebriated herself, away from the hackney cab to the familiar abode of one Henry Granville. Her declaration that a party is what you need on your last night of freedom is definitely not one you would dispute. A myriad of heightened emotions roil inside as you await the door being answered: contentment at your newly cemented friendship with Gen, bewildered every time you think of your kiss with Benedict and abhorrence for tomorrow. 

As you wander into the debauched tableau of a party in full swing: the air thick with smoke and merriment, the sounds of pleasure, people consorting together, a hedonistic swirl of self-expression unfurling all around you—it all consolidates into a yen to be reckless. Take part this time rather than just observe as you have before. Alcohol mutating the simmering rage about the injustice of your circumstance into a yearning to experience pleasure, especially physical. To get lost in sensation on your one last night of liberty.

So when you encounter Sir Simms - Matthew - friend to your older brother, renowned rake, but quite handsome, you throw caution to the wind. He seems delighted to see you, instantly flirtatious and familiar in a way you would rebuff any other night but this one. Whispering in your ear how very bold you are to be at such a bohemian event and pondering what other adventurous experiences you might be willing to indulge in. At one point Gen pulls you aside, her breath sweetened with fermented fruits, as she leans in and counsels you to be cautious. But you rebuff her concerns, swatting away her hold and returning to Matthew, allowing him to pull you into a kiss. 

It’s not the same as with Benedict; your mind screams at the altogether more jarring experience. A wet invasion of tongue that is less pleasant and certainly doesn’t fire anything inside you the way that he had. Merely kindling a defiant resolve to rage against the dying light of your freedom. And so when he slurs into your ear, you consent to his invitation upstairs, knowing fully the implications of what will transpire—feeling vaguely detached from yourself as he pulls you along by the hand towards the staircase. 

Suddenly, your field of vision is filled with dark blue velvet, a strong arm wrapping around you, caging you into a warm body mass, disconnecting your hand from Matthew’s—crossed words in two male voices. A momentarily confusing blur that only begins to make sense when you tilt your chin up… and the breath is quite stolen from your lungs.

Benedict.

At first, it feels like a cruel mirage, the man you most desire here to stymie your last gamble at impulsivity. His hold is strong as you sense Matthew shrink away, defeated by Benedict’s threat to expose some dalliance or other. But as he whisks you to an empty room within the house, all you feel bubbling up is anger.

“Stop trying to rescue me!” you rail, reeling out of his grip and stamping your foot to emphasise your point, uncaring that you may be behaving more akin to a petulant toddler.

“Stop making foolish decisions!” he lobbies back after a fleeting wounded look.

You glare at him momentarily before turning your back and staring out of the window into the inky blackness of Granville’s garden, frustration prickling a tear in the corner of your eye.

Behind you, there is a sigh; then his voice turns softer. “Why did you not follow my advice? I came here this morning only to be informed you never arrived…”

That he came to check on you weakens your bluster, although you still have no earthy idea why, once again, he is so invested in your actions. But you are not done saying your piece. 

“What does it matter now?” you bite bitterly before spinning around to face him. “Benedict, we are in Whistledown. My father would have arranged a special licence for tomorrow regardless of whether I had come here or not…”

“He did what?” he splutters, shock almost choking the words.

You square your shoulders and cross your arms defensively. “I am to be married in the morning. 11am at St George’s.” When all he offers is floored silence, you uncharitably dig the knife in. “No thanks to you...” 

Your words are like a body blow, a world of hurt in his quiet tone as he stares at the ground. “I was only trying to help.” 

Regret floods your every cell; why you would choose to lash out at him, even you don't know—so many conflicting feelings and strong liquor coursing through you.

“Please… let me return to the party,” you sigh wearily, after a beat, gesturing to his blocking your exit from the room.

“You would regret what you were about to do until your dying day,” he attests, lifting his head, a vein on his forehead pulsing as his jaw tenses.

“Perhaps,” you shrug. “But that is my burden to endure, not yours.”

“I am your friend,” he frowns, “I will always want to alleviate your burdens…”

“I do not want a friend, Benedict, not tonight. I want a beau.” If you aimed to shock him, you are successful; a cavalcade of expressions warring on his face as you plough on. “So please move so that I may continue with my most inadvisable plan….”

“No.” It's soft but unequivocal, resolute.

When you realise he is not going to budge, you throw your hands up in exasperation. “What do you want from me, Benedict?” 

There is a gruff noise in the back of his throat, and then, with two determined strides, he is pressed up against you, his breath hot on your face. Then he is kissing you, ferociously, wantonly, opening your mouth with his, his hands encircling your waist and pulling you roughly into him.

And you are lost.

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[chocochipsushi]

“𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐬, 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞?”

NSFW! minors do not interact! 18+ only!

2024 Chocochipsushi Kinktober - Day 4

⤷ Yukichi Fukuzawa as your boss

⤷ TW: Dom/sub, face slapping, office sex

⤷ WC: 1.4K

⤷ Short summary: It's after hours and your boss needs you.

𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

“B-Boss—”

“Oh, fuck.”

Yukichi’s normally fierce eyes are on you, hazy and filled with lust. His grip tightens on your hips as he pounds into you harder. 

He watches your tits bouncing at every slam of his hips, your teeth biting down so hard on your bottom lip that he sees tears in your eyes, your cheek pink from his slapping. You look so pretty like this, lying atop his paperwork, your arms coming together in an attempt to hide your body from your boss, unknowingly squeezing your tits together perfectly. 

“Lower… ha… your voice, doll,” your boss grunts in a low voice. “They can hear you outside.”

Slapping your palm over your mouth and grasping at his wrist with your other hand, you bite down on your bottom lip to restrain any sound that may escape. Fukuzawa has his gaze trained on you, so intense that you felt your pussy clamping down on his hard cock. His unbound hand reaches up to brush his sweaty bangs back and you think he looks so handsome like this. Taking your hand away from your lips, you extend it in his direction. 

“Kiss,” you whine like the little girl you always turn into whenever you’re with your boss. 

He clicks his tongue. The very next moment, you have your breath knocked out of your chest when he lands a slap on your cheek, hard enough for it to sting but not painful enough to hurt, as usual. He knows your threshold now. When your senses come back to you, you realise that his movements are slow as he sheathes in and out of you at a leisurely pace, trying to catch his breath while enjoying your gummy walls rubbing against the ridges of his cock. 

“Where are your manners, little one?” he berates.

“Kiss me, please,” you plead. He quirks an eyebrow and you immediately add, “Sir!”

With a palm on the table, he leans down slowly, giving you some time to appreciate the opening of his yukata drooping, allowing you to glimpse at his toned chest. The first touch of his lips on yours is gentle and soft. At the same time, he buries his dick to the hilt inside you, filling you up with his throbbing meat. He moans softly as he spreads his lips, now lining your bottom lip with his tongue. You place your hand on his nape, your fingers tangling with his silver hair. 

He kisses you more fervently this time, his tongue slipping inside your mouth with a hungry desire to taste you. Your boss starts fucking you slowly, pulling out an inch before slamming back into you. You’re moaning into his mouth and this only makes  Fukuzawa speed up his fucking. There’s just something about you and the cute sounds that you make that drive him ballistic. 

You’re whimpering beneath him as your hips move in tandem with his fucking. Taking your hand off his wrist, this time you slide it under his Yukata, making the fabric fall off his shoulder slightly. This prompts your boss to break the kiss and lift himself up. You stare up at him, no longer the composed Yukichi Fukuzawa that everyone looks up to. His Yukata is falling off a shoulder, the ends of his bangs are clumped in sweat, and his face is flushed at the physical exertion. Your pussy flutters around his thick meat. 

Yukichi lets out a shaky breath and swallows the rising feeling of affection in his chest. He tries not to have favourites but he can’t help how he feels when he sees you, always so small and cute and polite. Every time you’re in an empty room with him, the very same outcome is always bound to happen. 

Cupping your breasts now with his big hands, he squeezes your bosoms experimentally. You lick your lips and bite down on the bottom one, your eyelids heavy with lust that Fukuzawa can’t stop himself anymore. He starts thrusting into you, slowly at first, just watching your bottom lip being bitten white as you clench around his cock. He toys your stiff nipples with his thumbs, just twirling and caressing. As he speeds up his pace, he entertains his impulse to slap your tits, causing you to gasp. His eyes sparkle at the sight of you with your thumb between your teeth now, trying to force yourself to be quiet as you let your boss have his way with your body. 

“You like this, baby?” he grunts, breathless at how tight your grip on him is and how easily he’s sliding in and out of your sopping pussy. 

You nod your head, looking so small and cute before him that he just wants to ruin you even more. Yukichi pinches your tits and follows that with another slap. Your core flutters around him again, pulsing tightly. He doesn’t stop fucking you as he alternates between squeezing and slapping your breasts, enjoying the little mewls and whimpers you make. 

“Fuck, you’re so wet, doll face,” he moans, throwing his head back at the pleasure of your warm, wet pussy. He is the hardest he has ever been. “I’m gonna cum.” Your boss brings his gaze back to you, eyes shining with determination. “I’m gonna cum in you, baby.” 

You bob your head, just letting him use your body however he likes. What you don’t expect is when he spits on your clit, a thin string of saliva still connected to his lips, as he glances up at you through his bangs. He slides a hand down your body and spreads the fluid around your peaked clit, enjoying how your body jolts at every swipe of his thumb. 

Lifting your leg up to rest on his shoulder, he grips tightly on your thigh while his other hand plays with your sensitive pearl. Fukuzawa drills his cock into your throbbing pussy, so fast and hard that you’re sure the others can hear the slapping of your hips and the squelching of your wet cunt being abused from outside. 

“Fuck, baby,” he curses at how tight you’re clenching around him. 

He turns his head and bites down lightly on your thigh, sending another jolt of pleasure through your body. Your walls are so tight around him that he finds it hard to pull out every time he fucks you. 

Kissing the spot he bit down on, Fukuzawa murmurs, “Gonna cum, little one?” 

You immediately nod your head. Your boss is a chivalrous man. He always lets you cum first, which he does now as he assaults your clit and speeds up his hard pounding. Paired with his whiskery kisses and light bites on your thigh, you gush around his cock, clamping down so hard on him that his fingers digs into your flesh. The strangled moans and whimpers coming out of you are really what he needs to hear. Because all it takes is one hard slam into your pulsing cunt before he releases his seeds into you, filling you up with his cum. 

You’re still twitching on his desk when Fukuzawa’s mind is cleared from the orgasmic pleasure. He thinks that post-nut clarity has to be a myth because he has never seen anything or anyone more beautiful or cuter than you writhing beneath him, your eyes shut tightly, your cheeks red from his slapping and the passion from the sex, your thumb completely in your mouth to muffle your cries. 

Yukichi doesn’t stop himself when he leans down and takes your thumb away from your mouth, replacing it with his lips. You curl your limbs around him, always so needy for him. Your pussy reflexively makes one last clench around his deflating cock, causing him to moan quietly into the kiss. When he pulls back, he cups the side of your head and brushes the tendrils of your hair back with his thumb. His eyes flicker about your features for a second, so gentle and so affectionate that your heart stutters in your chest. 

“Do you have to go back to work yet?” 

You shake your head at your boss’ question. He nods and immediately gathers you in his arms, carrying you to sit on his lap as he settles down on his office chair, your sexes still connected. He places a hand on the back of your head and brings you closer. Choosing the shoulder that is exposed by his yukata, you rest your cheek on his skin, tucking your head into the crook of his neck. 

Yukichi Fukuzawa really tries very hard not to show favouritism towards his employees but God, he thinks he loves you. 

-

© chocochipsushi 2024 all works are mine, please do not rewrite/plagiarise

[roosterforme]

Right Girl, Wrong Time Part 1 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: Beer Boy and Sugar may have spent years apart, but their ten year college reunion proves they have always been part of the same equation. 

Warnings: Fluff, swears, and angst. Eventual smut. 18+ only

Length: 3100 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader (former fuckboy college student Bradley)

This is a sequel to accompany my story Old Habits Die Hard (you'll want to read that one first)!

Check my profile for my masterlist

It was kind of funny to you when you thought about it. Everyone from your graduating class was flooding back to the University of Virginia for your class reunion, but you'd been here pretty much every single day for the past six years.

You hadn't planned on ending up right back where you started after graduating from the University of Chicago with your PhD, but things never usually went as you planned.  

"Big ten year reunion for you tomorrow night," said Veronica, your closest friend from work. "Are you excited?" You and she were sitting at a small table in a trendy bar near campus.

You just shrugged and swirled the last sip of your beer around in your pint glass. "Honestly? Not really. I haven't kept in contact with that many people I graduated with, and I probably wouldn't be going if I wasn't already living in town."

You pictured your cute rental house with the crooked fence and crumbling front step. It was only a few blocks from where you had lived your senior year. 

"I'm sure you'll have fun!" Veronica said with a grin. "And if everyone sucks, you can rub it in that you have your PhD from one of the most prestigious programs in the country. And that you were published in Mathematics of Tomorrow when you were only twenty two." 

You laughed. "I think you are overestimating how many people I plan on talking to. Maybe I'll see someone I know, but I'm just going for the free drinks and dinner, and then heading home."

"Yeah, you better head home early! Head home and make a decision for the fall! You are the only person I know who has ever been offered a tenure track at six colleges at once!"

You just waved your hand. "I have it narrowed down to Miami and San Diego. The other offers were kind of bogus, to be honest."

"Either way, you'll be somewhere warmer than Chicago," Veronica said with a shrug.

"I will cheers to that," you said, tipping your nearly empty pint of beer to her nearly empty glass of chardonnay. "Now, I need to run home before I meet this guy John for a second date."

Veronica made a face and shook her head. "That's the most generic name ever. And he sounded boring when you described him."

You just sighed. "Well, he was boring, but giving someone a second chance never hurt anyone."

You waved down your waiter for the check and handed him cash for the drinks. 

"Want to walk out with me?" Veronica asked, checking the time. 

"You go ahead, I'm going to use the ladies' room before I head out. See you on Monday?" 

"I can't wait to hear all about your class reunion!"

You just shook your head and waved over your shoulder as you went to use the restroom. When you finished washing your hands, you glanced in the mirror. You were having such a good hair and makeup day, it was almost a given that you'd look like a clown or a wet dog for the reunion tomorrow night.

You straightened out your short, blue dress and headed for the bar exit. You ducked past a server who was carrying a tray of drinks, almost bumping some of the patrons seated at the bar in the process. 

But as you walked past the guy sitting on the end, you slowed down a little bit. Even from behind, you knew he was going to be handsome. He had broad shoulders and thick, wavy brown hair. Just what you liked. 

Just what you'd loved, actually. Since college.

You tucked your hair behind your ear and glanced at him as you turned toward the door, but you stopped dead in your tracks.

The scars. You knew those scars by heart. You'd touched his cheek and his neck so many times, you'd be able to describe them in your sleep. You'd thought about his face more than you should have. You'd thought about his body next to yours. You'd imagined what could have been.

But now Bradley Bradshaw was right in front of you, leaning his forearms against the bar and watching sports highlights while he played with the label on his beer bottle. 

Only now he was all grown up. 

"Beer Boy?" you asked softly, and he spun in his seat to face you so quickly it made you smile. 

He just gaped at you, his eyes softly searching your face and dipping down as far as your neck before he licked his lips and grinned.

"Sugar."

Your belly swooped, and you were afraid you actually gasped out loud. His voice was even deeper than you remembered. You took a step closer to him, and his grin lit up his eyes. God, you could remember everything with him. Every bittersweet feeling came flooding back.

"I can't believe it's you." A giggle escaped your lips as you spoke, and his grin faltered a bit as his eyes landed on your lips. 

He had a mustache now, and his hair was a little shorter than it was ten years ago. And he was so big and impossibly handsome. 

"It's me," he said, his eyes flicking back up to yours. "And I guess you really are Doctor Sugar now?"

"Yes," you said before you bit your lip, remembering how many times he had called you that. 

He shook his head, and that crooked grin was back. "Chicago was lucky to have you."

You felt your cheeks grow warm as his eyes roamed your face. He looked good. He looked so fucking good. 

"You're still in the Navy?" you managed to ask as you inched ever closer to him. He turned his stool a little more to face you, his legs splayed apart with one hand resting on his thigh.

"Yeah," he confirmed. "I'm Lieutenant Bradshaw these days."

You looked him up and down in his fitted pants and black tee shirt that really hugged his chest and biceps. "I can just picture you in your uniform."

When your gaze settled on his face again, you saw hunger there that had you squeezing your thighs gently together. 

"I wear a flight suit a lot of the time," he said in the raspiest tone you'd ever heard from him.

You pressed your lips together before you whispered, "You're just so much bigger now. You really filled out." 

Part of you recognized that you should be embarrassed at saying that, but it felt like no time had passed at all. It felt like all those years ago you had turned back around, climbed back in bed with him and told him you never wanted to break up, ever.

"Yeah, I guess basic training will do that to a guy," he said casually, but his eyes were making you feel so warm. "Can I buy you a drink, Sugar?"

The fact that nobody had called you Sugar in the past ten years was not lost on you, but nothing had ever felt more right. You had missed him, thought about him frequently, too. Especially during those years you spent in Chicago.

"Yeah," you agreed with a slight nod, praying you weren't about to embarrass yourself. "As long as your girlfriend doesn't mind." He wasn't wearing a ring, but you needed to know for sure. 

He just smirked. "Well, yeah, she would have absolutely minded if I was buying drinks for my beautiful ex-girlfriend. But we broke up two months ago, so I'm single."

"I see," you said, trying to bite back your smile, but you knew he was onto you. 

"So what are you drinking?" he asked, already raising two fingers toward the bartender to get his attention.

"The good beer," you said softly. 

And then Bradley turned toward you with a longing look that reminded you of ten years ago. "You still remember everything, Sugar?" he asked, his brows scrunching together as he took a deep breath and waited for you to answer.

"Everything," you confirmed with a nod. 

"Another beer for you?" the bartender asked Bradley before he turned toward you as well. 

"Make it two. Please," Bradley confirmed, and you shifted a little closer to him. 

When the bartender returned with two bottles, Bradley shifted on his stool to stand.

"Have a seat," he told you, but you placed your hand on his very muscular chest and stopped him.

"No, stay where you are," you told him, pushing him gently back down. When he eased himself back against the stool, you tucked yourself closer so your hip was nudging the inside of his knee. "Is this okay?"

"Yep," he said, quickly grabbing both of the beers and handing you one. "It's okay," he added as his cheeks started to grow pink.

When he shifted around in his seat, his leg rubbed against you, and you needed to start a new conversation to keep from moaning. 

"You're in town for the reunion?" you asked quickly.

"Yeah," he confirmed after taking a sip of beer. "I was in Virginia for work. It made sense to try to stop by. Where are you living these days?"

You laughed, and it seemed to make him more comfortable. "Like six streets over. I'm working at UVA."

"No way," he said with another grin. "You're teaching here?"

"Yeah, but only for another couple of weeks. I'm trying to decide between two tenure positions."

"Which schools?" he asked softly, and you couldn't help but think he kept intentionally bumping you with his knee. 

"University of Miami and San Diego State."

His eyes went wide as he sucked in a short breath. "That's great," he told you, looking at you in awe now. "I still can't believe you teach math to a bunch twenty year old guys."

"Why not?" you asked with a laugh. 

Bradley turned his head to face the bar and took a long drink of beer. He gave you side eye and said, "I would have died if you were my math teacher, Sugar. Trying to teach me calculus, looking like that? Please, I'd have failed the class."

"What? Why?"

"Come on," he said, turning fully back and giving you a playfully annoyed look. "You're just as gorgeous as you were ten years ago. Maybe moreso. I mean...you filled out, too."

Your mouth was hanging open and your heart was pounding erratically. 

"But at least your students don't know about your math tattoo. So I guess they don't have it so bad. Me on the other hand? I wouldn't last a minute in your lecture."

"Bradley," you gasped, but he just kept his eyes on you while he finished his beer.

Your phone started vibrating in your clutch purse which you were gripping tightly in your sweaty hand. You set down your beer and pulled it out to see that John had been texting you.

"Shit," you muttered, and Bradley adjusted himself in his seat again, eyes still on you. 

"You need to go?" he asked, and it sounded like he was dreading the answer. 

"I...just need to send a quick text, actually," you replied, setting your purse down on the bartop and frantically typing back to John. "I'm just going to cancel my plans."

When you lowered your phone and set it down on your purse, he asked you, "Are you seeing someone then?"

"No," you replied quickly. "It was just a second date." You would have canceled plans with anyone to stay here longer. 

Bradley's grin was slowly creeping back. "Did you just cancel a date for me?"

You scoffed playfully. "Yeah, but he was boring anyway."

"That'll never do. Not for you. You deserve the best."

You looked at him carefully, letting your palm rest on his knee. "Is that why I had you?"

"Hmm," he hummed teasingly. "I would assume so." 

You just stood there for a minute, barely moving at all, except for your fingertips moving against his muscular thigh. "I missed you. When I was in Chicago," you whispered, and he was nodding right away.

"I missed you, too. Had a hard time at first. I thought about you a lot."

"I thought about you all the time," you replied, your heartbeat picking up in tempo again. 

Bradley nudged you a little closer with his knee, and you willingly went. "I still think about you sometimes," he whispered.

You sighed softly, and he sat up a little straighter, his face closer to yours. You felt like you could melt against him, if you thought that was a good idea. Which it was not.

A loud group of college students entered the bar and made their way toward the crowded tables, jostling you and bumping your butt in the process. You stepped further into Bradley's personal space to make room, bumping both of his thighs with your hips. 

His sharp intake of breath and slow exhale had you meeting his eyes and withdrawing your hand from the top of his thigh.

"No," he told you, grabbing your hand and then gently pressing it where it had been. You looked down and saw you were standing precariously close to him; if you moved your hand just a little bit, it would be on his zipper. "It's okay," he murmured, bringing his hand to your hip. 

This felt very good.

"I like your mustache," you told him, blurting out the first idiotic thing that came to your mind. Of course you liked it. He looked great with it. You weren't even aware you actually liked facial hair before this moment.

"Thanks," he said softly, and his eyes grew wider as you brought your other hand up to run your fingers along his mustache. His lips parted, but he didn't move otherwise.

"You couldn't grow one of these in college," you told him with a laugh. 

"No," he replied, his lips skimming along your fingertips. "Would have looked ridiculous."

Your soft laughter seemed to spur him on as his huge hand wrapped around your hip and settled on your lower back. 

Oh god, you wanted him. So badly. You needed him. You had never stopped feeling this way about Bradley Bradshaw.

------------------------------

Bradley had often wondered what it would be like to see you again. At first the idea of it haunted him; it was the only thing he wanted, but he figured it was never going to happen. 

Then as he got older, thoughts of you would jump into the forefront of his mind when he least expected it. He always figured you were doing everything you wanted to do. He thought you would be married by now. He was absolutely certain you would have found someone better than him. 

But you made him better. He grew into a man because of you. Every girlfriend he had since you broke his heart should have honestly written you a thank you letter.

But the crazy thing was, Bradley wasn't surprised in the least that he still felt a connection to you right now. His heart was leaping in his chest, elation pouring through his body. 

Your beautiful face was a few inches from his and you were touching his mustache. Your other hand was on his leg, and he couldn't seem to stop himself from guiding you closer with his palm on your lower back. Your gaze was still sharp, and you were just as witty as he remembered. And you were so perfect, he never wanted to stop looking at you.

"Maybe your mustache would have looked ridiculous ten years ago, but it looks good now," you told him. He wanted to kiss you. He thought he was going to, when you added, "You look so handsome."

"You're fucking gorgeous, Sugar," he told you, and he was treated to a radiant smile as your fingers rubbed the end of his mustache and trailed along to the faded scars on his cheek. "You always have been."

You were softly sighing as you examined him. 

"You look like you want to ask me something," he told you, and you nodded the tiniest bit.

"Yeah," you confirmed with a soft laugh. "But I'm scared."

"Don't be scared. Just ask." He would be honest with you, no matter what you asked him.

"When you think about me... what do you think about?"

A montage of images rushed through his mind, and he swallowed hard. Your lips parted with a little gasp like you just knew some of his thoughts on the matter were completely filthy. 

His cock was getting a little hard as he let his mind settle on the first time he got you off. "I think about that study room, Sugar. And how cute you looked in my bathrobe. And I think about how effortlessly you made me want to change my ways."

Bradley started to close the distance between you, and you cupped his cheek as your lips brushed his in the softest kiss.

"Beer Boy," you whispered, nudging his lips with yours again. But you were already pulling away as he was trying to get closer. 

Then you asked, "Do you want to know what comes to my mind when I start thinking about you?"

"Tell me."

You licked your lips before you said, "I think about your Navy desk lamp. And I think about your bedroom door. Nobody else has ever done anything like that for me."

Bradley kissed your lips nudging your nose with his. "I'd do it again in a heartbeat, Sugar." 

You threaded your fingers through his hair, and Bradley was absolutely aching for you now. He wanted to take you to his hotel room. He wanted to make you feel so good. 

You had your hand incredibly close to his cock as you looked him in the eye and said, "And when I think about you, Bradley, I think about the fact that nobody else has made me cum as good in the last ten years."

"Shit," he groaned, growing harder by the second as you sighed and moved your hand higher.

Bradley had to take your hand in his to stop you. But it was your wide pupils that had him shifting his right knee so it rubbed against your core. 

You sucked in a deep breath and gasped, gently grinding yourself against him as your eyes drifted closed. 

"Sugar," he groaned. "Please tell me you're coming back to my hotel room."

------------------------

Ahhhh!!!! They are back! Seemingly picking up right where they left off! Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls.

PART 2

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[absurdthirst]

One Night Possession {Dave York x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 4.6k

Warnings: Sex work, prostitution, oral sex (male receiving), vaginal fingering, protected sex, rough sex, thigh slapping, dirty talk, spitting, choking, death, haunting/possession

Comments: Picking you up on Halloween night for a little fun gives Dave more than he expected.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.

|| MasterList || Dave York MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

Halloween is your favorite night of the year. The time where you feel like you are most yourself. The tall boots on your feet don’t even hurt, making your legs look long and the short skirt appear even shorter. Walking down the street, the witch’s hat perched on your head, you turn to watch a car approach and quickly adjust your tits in your shirt to make them appear to almost spill out. Smirking when the vehicle starts to slow down. 

Dave pulls up next to you and puts his passenger side window down. You smirk and stride over, his dark eyes taking in your legs, dragging up to the short skirt, and his eyes linger over your cleavage when you bend into his car. You’re perfect. “Nice hat.” He smirks, clicking the button to unlock the door. You chuckle and reach for the handle, “thought I’d celebrate the holiday. I see you’re lacking an outfit.” You tut playfully and Dave turns his head to look at you once you’re in his car and the door is shut. “Not all monsters wear costumes.” He chuckles and your smirk falters a little. “You wanna come back to my hotel?” He asks, “I’ll pay for the night.”

You assess him carefully, being a pretty good judge of character in your line of work. He’s handsome and clean cut. Almost too clean, but you won’t mind that. It will be better than some of the men you entertain. “One thousand for the entire night.” You decide after a moment, sending him a small smirk. “It’s a popular night and I’d be losing money if I didn’t charge you that much.”

He nods, unable to disagree and he unlocks his car so you can get in. Once you’re in, he rolls the window up and smirks at you, “what’s your name, sweetheart?” He asks and you chuckle, “you can call me sweetheart, baby.” He nods and grins as he puts the car in drive and starts to head to the motel he’s been using during this op. It’s been a long mission to take down the man he needs to kill and he’s finally done it. He has one night here to not be suspicious and then he’s heading home. He wants to enjoy himself tonight. It is Halloween after all.

“So do I call you John?” You ask teasingly, shifting in the seat to watch him as he drives. He checks his mirrors often and you know that it’s not a cop thing, more of military training from the way he holds himself. “Fuck no.” Dave shakes his head, always hating that name. “The name you are going to scream tonight is Dave.” He tells you, making you smirk as you lean forward and rub his crotch. “That so, baby?” You coo, feeling him start to harden as you touch him.

Dave chuckles, “oh, you won’t be doubting my skills soon, little girl.” He smirks and reaches down to squeeze his cock with your hand under his. “I don’t know if you’ll be able to take me. I’m big. Thick. I’ll stretch your little cunt out.”

He is girthy. You snort and reach for his zipper. “I can take it.” You promise, reaching in to fumble with his boxers to pull his cock out while he is driving. You don’t normally engage in blow jobs until you’ve gotten paid and you’re in a room, but you’ll make an exception for him.

Dave chuckles, watching as you lower your head and your witches hat brushes the drivers side door. He smirks and caresses your neck, groaning when you take him into your mouth without a moment to spare. “Jesus. You’re cock hungry, aren’t you?” He asks roughly, trying to focus on the road.m

You hum, taking him deep, but he’s right. He will stretch you out and your cunt clenches at the thought. Your tongue laps around the head when you pull back and you push him deep again to swallow around his length.

“Shit. You’ve got a good mouth.” He hisses as he tightens his grip on the steering wheel. “Anyone would think you do this for a living.” He jokes and presses his foot to the accelerator a little harder. “Fuck baby.” He murmurs, twisting his hands over the wheel as you start to bob on his length.

You hear him start to sound breathless and you hum again. Enjoying the way that he’s enjoying himself. He’s telling dirty without degrading you and that’s a nice start. You don’t mind dirty talk; but it always turns you off when the first words out of a John’s mouth is ‘whore’.

You take him down your throat, a choked sound escaping you, and he hisses through his teeth. “Fuck. You feel so good. Worth every goddamn penny. Shit. So enthusiastic. You wanted to do this from the moment you saw me, didn’t you?” He asks, turning into the street where the motel is located.

You don’t pull off of him to answer. The real reason for your enthusiasm would surprise him and you don’t want to give up the game this early in the night. Instead, you press down even more, your lips stretched against the rough fabric of his pants.

He pants, letting go of the wheel so he can reach down and stroke your cheek, feeling how he stretches your skin and the way your jaw is wide as possible. “Shit. Feels so fucking good. You love this. You want me to fill your throat with my cum, sweetheart? You want to taste it?” He asks and you hum around him. He groans as he pulls into the parking lot and the space outside his room. Just as he slams the gear into park his cock twitches and he starts to cum down your throat.

You gasp and start to swallow. You had anticipated him lasting a little longer and you wonder when the last time he had a blowjob was. Swallowing down as much as you can until you have to pull back, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand and looking up at his wrecked expression.

He knows he should’ve lasted longer but Carol has been cold towards him and hasn’t sucked his cock in a while. He’s been pent up and that’s why he decided to seek a release tonight. Carol is taking the girls trick or treating so there’s plenty of time for him to enjoy himself before she calls him to say a cool goodnight. “Goddamn.” He mutters, reaching to cut the engine.

“I’m worth every penny.” You promise, winking at him before you look up at the motel he brought you to. It’s clean, decent, although it’s definitely not the Ritz. He is probably some mid-level salesman or management here in town for a few days and wanted some fun. Doesn’t matter to you. A girl’s gotta eat. “Take me to your room.”

He nods, opening his car door after tucking himself away and he doesn’t bother to open yours. He grabs the key and unlocks his room and the car beeps as it locks when you saunter over to him, smirking as you walk into the room past him and he inhales your perfume.

“Cozy.” You coo, looking around the neat room. This place might be lower budget, but they are clean. Smirking when you point to the bed, you lift a brow at him. “Have you touched yourself here, thinking about how you need to get laid?” You ask playfully, walking over and sitting down on the end and leaning back, displaying your body for him to look at.

He drags his eyes along your body, watching you as you kick your heels off, and he smirks, eying the witches hat. “Maybe. Was thinking about a nice tight pussy to push my cock into.” He hums and reaches up to start unbuttoning his shirt. “Money first or after?” He asks once his shirt is open.

“Show me the money.” You want to make sure he’s good for it first. But you can collect after you're done. You’ve actually never had anyone stiff you on a payment. Especially not someone who wanted an entire night.

He nods, reaching for his envelope of cash that he uses for ops. He never uses his card. He’s not a moron. He makes a show of counting the bills for you before he sets it down on the desk in the room. “One thousand.” He declares and you nod, “thanks, baby.” He smirks and his dark eyes drag over your body once more. “Now, I want to watch you strip. But keep the hat on.” He decides, wanting to be festive.

“Whatever you say, Dave.” You make a show of standing up and prop one heeled boot on the bed to start unzipping it. It will feel good to have the heels off for a little bit and you enjoy the way his dark eyes drink you in.

He watches you, his eyes darkening and he is happy to eye up your legs as you expose more of your body to his hungry eyes. “That’s it, sweetheart. I want a show.” He demands, reaching down to squeeze his cock through his pants.

It’s not an unheard of request, a lot of men like to watch. Instead of leering, his eyes are dark with want. He’s not even hard yet since he had just cum but you have a feeling he’s the going to fuck you multiple times tonight.

He watches you, eagerly, hungrily, as you start to strip down. It’s methodical. Like you’ve done it a thousand times before but it’s an intoxicatingly sexy sight that has him groaning softly, squeezing his soft cock once more through his pants as he kicks off his shoes.

When you get down to your thong and bra, you turn around and bend down, giving him a nice view of your ass as you peel them down. Then unclipping your bra and flinging it off so all you are wearing is the witch’s hat before you reveal your tits to him.

Dave chuckles at your display and smirks, reaching for you once you’re naked so he can drag you into his chest. “You have any rules on kissing?” He asks and you snort, “this isn’t Pretty Woman. Kiss me.” You demand and cup the back of his neck to drag him towards you just as he surges forward to press his lips to yours.

He’s a good kisser. A little rough, demanding, but you don’t mind. This is obviously a man who likes to be in control and his hands slide down to squeeze your ass harshly. Tongue tangling with yours until he bites your bottom lip.

His hands squeeze your flesh and he starts to harden against your hip. It’s been too long since he was this attracted to a woman. Carol hasn’t touched him for a while and he’s pent up. He wants to touch and be touched.

Your hands slide over his shoulders and you tangle your fingers into his short hair as you start to grind down on him. Rolling your hips and feeling him harden underneath you. Deepening the kiss even more as you pull him closer.

He groans into your mouth, his fingers digging into your ass, and his tongue slides against yours while his hands trail up your figure. He cups your tits, squeezing them, and he loves the way you moan when he pinches your nipples.

This man has a good set of hands on him. You moan for him again, it’s not practiced or put on, he’s drawing it out of you. “Dave.” You pull away from his lips and kiss down his throat. “What do you want to do to me?”

“I want you to sit there.” He says and his hand slides down your stomach until he’s cupping your cunt. He groans when he finds you’re wet. “You get wet for everyone?” He asks as he starts to stroke your clit with his fingers.

“No.” You admit breathlessly, moaning softly when he presses his fingers with the perfect amount of pressure. “Sucking your cock helped, but you are hot.”

Dave chuckles, continuing to work his fingers along your slit until he’s pushing two thick digits into you with a groan at how wet you are. “Fuck sweetheart. You’re so tight. Gonna feel so good around my cock.”

“Practice my kegals.” You tease and close your eyes when he curls his fingers deep inside you. “Your hands feel so good on me.”

He hums, shifting his wrist so he can press your thumb against your clit. “Gotta stretch you out.” He smirks and leans in to kiss along your jaw, “want to feel you cum so you’re nice and wet for me.”

It’s rare that a client cares about your pleasure so you roll your hips against his hand. “Oh fuck.” You whimper, closing your eyes and riding his fingers.

He watches you, loving the way your eyelashes flutter as you rock down onto his fingers. “That’s it, sweetheart. Look at you. So goddamn pretty like this. Keep going. Want you to soak my fingers.” His voice is rough and demanding as he drinks in the sight of you.

You rarely cum when you are with someone, so you appreciate his effort. It’s not that you can’t, they are just focused on the pleasure they pay you for and not your. Dave apparently gets enjoyment from others cumming. “I will.” You promise, grinding down even more.

He hums, watching you as you ride his digits and his cock twitches, hardening with each moan you let escape from your lips. “Good girl, sweetheart.” He murmurs, “take what you want. Then I promise I’m gonna fuck you so hard you won’t even remember it’s Halloween.”

You chuckle. “That’s a big promise.” You moan breathlessly. “I’m only allowed out to play on Halloween.” You tease, flicking your witch’s hat. You groan again and clench down around his fingers when he presses them deeper. “Fuck.”

“Come on baby. Soak my fingers.” He growls out his demand as he strokes your walls, curling his digits inside you and groaning at the way your thighs shake against his hand. “That’s it. Do it.” He demands, leaning in to nip your jaw.

You close your eyes and fall over the edge. Pleasure splintering through your body as you shake on his lap. Pouring over his fingers since you always have a lot of juices when you cum.

Dave groans at the way you soak his digits, working you through it and he withdraws his fingers. “Good girl. Now, hands and knees. I’m gonna fuck you.” He smirks as he admires the slick on his fingers and he stands up, using his sticky fingers to undo his pants.

“Yes sir.” You coo cheekily, your legs shaky as you shift onto your knees and turn to present your cunt to him. “You want to fuck me, Dave? Make me scream your name?” You ask, looking over your shoulder as you he pushes down his pants and underwear.

He reaches for his pants to grab his wallet, pulling out the condoms he keeps in there and he tosses two onto the bed while he opens the third, rolling it onto his hard cock before he starts to pump himself. His dark eyes admire your fluttering pussy as you present yourself to him. “Look at you. Fucking gagging for it. You haven’t been properly fucked for a while, have you? Been too used to piss ant losers who pump three times and cum.”

“Yessssss.” You admit, wiggling your hips at him and smirking at the cocky look on his face. He’s fucking sexy and he acts like he actually knows how to fuck. It will be a treat for Halloween if he does. “Need someone to wreck me. Make me sore.”

He kneels on the bed behind you, caressing your ass with his free hand as he positions his cock at your entrance, sliding through your folds until he pushes into you in one thrust. Your gasp makes him chuckle and he grabs your ass, squeezing it.

He feels so good inside you. His cock rubbing against your walls and stretching you out enough that there is a pinch of pain. “Fuck.” Your head drops between your shoulder blades and you push your stomach down to arch your back. “Feels good, baby.”

“Shit. Such a tight little pussy.” Dave murmurs, admiring the way you feel around his cock. His hand smacks your ass and he doesn’t give you another moment to adjust as he starts to rock into you.

“Dave.” You moan, enjoying the way that he immediately starts to fuck you. He doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t work up to a rhythm. He just pulls his hips back and starts to hammer into you. Your fingers clench around the sheets and you feel your body being pushed forward when he drives back into you.

He chuckles at your moan and smacks your ass cheek, working himself into your tight cunt over and over. His jaw is clenched and he’s pent up. The adrenaline of his completed op surges through him and he wants to lose the energy in your body.

“Give me more.” You beg. “I can take it.” You can tell that he is holding back, not fully unleashed and you want to see what he can do with your body.

He growls, rocking into you a little harder, his hips slamming into your ass and he loves the moan that escapes your lips. You want more, you want him to lose control and he is almost there. “Fuck. You’re so cock hungry, aren’t you?” He groans, bending over your body to palm your breast.

“Yes!” You always agree with your client but you do want him to wreck you. You feel like he might be the only one who could. You push your hips back and moan his name again.

He hisses, pinching your nipple and he slaps your tit, loving the way it shakes. “You’re so pliable. You’ll take whatever I give you.” He chuckles and turns his head to kiss your shoulder.

The sharp sting of the pinch and slap is directly opposite of the kiss. A paradox or perhaps more of a layer of the multi-faceted man who is currently in charge of your body.

His mind blurs to the chaos he lives in and he focuses on you. He pushes deep into your pussy over and over, loving the way you grind back against him while he presses another kiss to your shoulder.

You rock back as he fucks you, pushing him deeper. “God. Dave.” You pant. “It’s so good. Fuck, you are good. Your cock is so deep.”

He shifts to sit up, his hands finding your hips to keep you still as he starts to fuck you harder. He wants to wreck you. He wants you to be breathless and your heart pounding at the way he fucks you. The witches hat is crooked and it makes him chuckle as his hips slap against yours.

A low moan rolls out of you. Pushed out from the slapping of his hips against your ass and the piercing of his cock deep into your walls. It feels like he’s trying to bury his cock in your throat again and you love it.

Dave rocks into you, his jaw clenched as he focuses on fucking you hard and fast. He grunts through his nose and his fingers dig into your flesh, pulling you back onto him as he thrusts hard.

You whine and whimper, letting your sounds come out naturally and without any of the exaggerations that you might have used with others. You have a feeling he wouldn’t like that. Not that you have to fake with the harsh pace he’s plowing into you at.

Your whines make his cock twitch and he shifts his knees to adjust, chuckling when you cry out. “There it fucking is.” He smirks, knowing that he has no obligation to make a whore cum but he wants to hear your screams. He gets off on them.

Every time he punches deep from this new angle. He cock shreds up inside you and makes you continuously cry out. It feels incredible and every time you squeal, Dave growls and just seems to go that much harder.

Dave hisses when you clench around him and he’s desperate to hear you cum. He can be selfish, especially when he’s paying for sex, but for some reason, he wants to feel you clamp down on his cock. He wants to hear your scream of pleasure. He hears so many screams of fear, he wants to hear something sensual for a change.

It doesn’t take long for you to feel that desperate clenching in your stomach. Pushing you closer to cumming with every swing of his hips.

Dave can sense you’re close. The way your whines become incoherent and the moans that resembled his name have become rambles. Your walls flutter around his cock and he hisses when finally you clamp down on him and squeal, collapsing onto the bed. He follows you, working you through it until your whines become sensitive and he pulls out. “Roll over.” He commands, squeezing his cock.

Panting, you puff out a groan as you roll over onto your back. Facing Dave as he squeezes and strokes his cock. He looks darker, his face pinched in desire and his eyes are almost black as night. It makes your breath catch at how perfect he is and you spread your legs enticingly. “That all you got?” You tease.

He chuckles, “you ain’t seen nothing yet, sweetheart.” He promises as he shuffles closer so he can notch his cock at your entrance again before he pushes into you with a groan. “Fuck. You feel so good.” He hisses, fingers digging into your thighs and he pushes them back so he can sink deeper into you.

You lift your legs, feeling him start to push them back towards your chest. Obviously wanting to fold you over and fuck you into oblivion again. You whine at the angle, his cock pushing the breath out of you the next time he snaps his hips forward.

Your gasp makes him chuckle and he rocks into you, his hips pressing against your ass as you take what he gives you without a word of complaint. “That’s it. Shit. Look at you. Wrecked and I haven’t even gotten started.” He smirks, slapping your thigh.

You squeal, the slap hard enough that you feel the edges of a welt start to form. Normally you don’t allow a client to mark your body, but you are his for the night and him making you cum lets you give him a little more leeway.

“That’s it, baby. Take it.” He demands, slapping your thigh again and he lets go to push your body in half, his hand gripping your chin so he can surge forward to press his lips to yours, his tongue possessively sliding into your mouth.

You cry out, the sound muffled by his tongue and you feel him pulse inside you. Turned on by your sound so you give him more. Breathing them into his mouth as he completely possesses you.

His fingers dig into your jaw, keeping your mouth open, and he smirks as he pulls back. He pauses for a second as he spits into your mouth, “swallow.” He demands, dark eyes watching you as he fucks into you.

It’s filthy and you clench down around him as you swallow down his spit. Right now he is completely in control and dominating every aspect of your entire being. “Fuck.” You whine. “I’m g-gonna cum.”

He smirks, “do it. Wanna feel you again. Cum for me.” He demands, rocking into you a little harder. “I want to watch you.” He murmurs, nudging his nose against yours before he pulls back to look at you, “cum for me, sweetheart.”

Him giving you permission is all you need. A scream rips out of your throat as he pounds into you. Your juices coating his cock and soaking him while you shake and thrash under this man.

He loves feeling you cum and seeing it. It’s intoxicating and he can’t help but twitch inside you. “That’s it. Shit. So fucking tight.” He hisses, unable to hold back anymore and he thrusts a half dozen more times, grunting until he groans, cock twitching inside you as he fills the condom with his seed.

Tilting your head back, you close your eyes. Panting as you try to catch your breath while your cunt still flutters around his cock. “Fu-“ you catch your word when his hand slides up to your throat and he presses his lips to yours.

His other hand comes up to your neck, squeezing and you gasp into his mouth. “Dave.” Your choked cry of his name makes him chuckle and he leans back to look at you. “Sshhh. Don’t worry, baby. It’s all gonna be okay. Just look at me. I wanna see the life fade from your eyes.” He coos, squeezing harder.

Your eyes blow wide and you struggle against him, but he has you pinned down. His cock buried inside your body as he slowly chokes the life out of you. The last thing you see before your vision blurs and goes black is Dave’s eyes watching you.

He groans, unable to stop himself as he cums again, his cock softening as he twitches inside you while his hands squeeze your neck until you slacken beneath him. You’re dead. Your eyes glaze over and he chuckles, leaning in to kid you softly. “Thank you, baby.” He murmurs, caressing your cheek. You’ve been perfect. Exactly what he needed. He grips the base of his cock as he pulls out of you, wrapping up the condom to toss it in the trash can. He needs to deal with your body but for now, he’s going to shower and clean the room.

**** 

Slipping into bed next to Carol the next morning, Dave smirks to himself when she rolls over and gives him a sleepy-eyed smile. “Hey, honey.” She murmurs before she closes her eyes and goes back to sleep.

He pulls her close, breathing her in, and he knows the evilness that haunts him has been satiated with his latest kill. You are buried in the woods, no marker, and no one will miss you. The thousand dollars is back in his wallet and he can make love to his wife without wanting to choke her, hurt her. His demons are at bay. He sleeps for a bit until he’s ready to get up. When he wakes up, he goes to the bathroom for a pee and to get ready. He grabs his toothbrush and looks in the bathroom mirror when he starts to brush until he chokes on the toothpaste. He murmurs your name, spinning his head to see where you are, and turns back to the mirror.

Your eyes are black, completely black with none of the white showing, lips curved into a wicked smile. Looking possessed by a demon. “Don’t worry baby.” You coo, leaning in to hover over the edge of his shoulder. “I’ll be with you forever.” You promise.

His eyes widen and he shakes his head. Closing his eyes, he slaps his cheek as if he’s still asleep, but when he opens his eyes, you’re still in the mirror. “What the fuck?” He murmurs, gripping the edge of the sink. “I’ll be here forever.” You promise, black eyes burning into his and Dave swallows harshly when you say “I’ll be watching you.” Dave drops his toothbrush and stumbles from the bathroom, confused and scared of the image in the mirror. He thinks he’s dreaming but you’re right. Every time he looks in the mirror…you’re there.

[lizzaneia-elizalde]

Older Male Yandere x Young Female Reader

I don’t want this to sound/look bad, but a new yandere who has DILF energy. NOT an actual DILF (he doesn’t have any children…yet), but he could basically pass as one since he’s amazing with children and is on the older side (so like 40s?)

I’m sorry…I kinda have a thing for older, mature, responsible men. And I just wanna be a baby girl for them sometimes (yes don’t worry I’m an adult adult, not someone who just legally became an adult; I know about relationship power dynamics, potential for abuse, etc.)

P.S. There needs to be older yandere men in general (like genuinely older than reader darling). It’s such an untapped archetype

Thanks!!! 💝

Yandere! Male! Dilf! NSFW asmrtist! x Fem! regular! Superfan! Reader

Hmm, I actually had problems thinking of what to put as a plot... Then my keyboard autocorrected Dilf to D*ldo and I was like 👁️👄👁️ and then WAIT. HOW ABOUT A NSFW ASMRTIST? (since you know, d*ldo is sexual and some people please themselves with the toy when they listen-- you get the gist)

I remembered a certain ASMRtist(?) that introduced me to NSFW yandere audios, so I'm naming the yan from him. He just did one from what I know? But "Hot Boy Summer" will have a special place in my heart bajwkdkxmf

Note: this one has explicit NSFW in this one, just putting it out. Daddy kink, but only mentioned once.

Yandere! NSFW asmrtist name: Rose

"Another Rosas banger"

"It was so good help"

"My legs just spread apart"

"Daddy just served dinner AND I'M EATING WELL TONIGHT"

As Rose posted on a certain subreddit for NSFW audiophiles, people immediately flooded the post. They upvoted, commented, some dared to share.

But to a lot, it's a sweet, dirty secret that they listen to NSFW audios. Especially yandere audios.

I mean, who in their right mind want somebody as obsessed and possessive as yanderes? Even in fiction, they are weird!

Well, not for Rose and his audiences.

He feeds into their fantasies. May it be CNC, full on NC, BDSM, or his audience's favorites: Yandere Dilf audios.

God, people eat them up like no other.

Due to this, Rose, with his username RosasAudios, achieved some kind of cult following. Close to a million followers, he made being an NSFW voice actor a full time job.

His naturally deep voice with a little bit of huskiness, a little bit of accent that's vaguely SE Asian, and an undertone of sweetness, made people giggle and writhe in their bed. And to those more peculiar, he feeds into their daddy issues.

He was never loud in his audios. Just a modulated talking tone, maybe even a whisper. So when the NSFW part happens, due to the binaural nature of his audios, it feels like he's really there when you listen to his audios. Whispering hot breath into your ear as the wet sfx filled your senses.

He loved the attention. But at most, he looks at it as a past time that provides enough money to live in slight luxury due to commissions and subscriptions.

In reality, he's a 40-ish year old man, living alone in a suburban neighborhood. Bookish in nature, he dons a soft, yet reliable look. Messy hair that covers his forehead, thick framed black eyeglasses, a carefully trimmed short beard that clings to his olive skin, soft, resting eyes that feels like it soothes one's soul whenever they look at them, a tall frame with enough buff-ness that one can rest on his chest with comfort, and an outfit consisting of light academia clothes of sweaters, shirts, pants, vests, etc. Laugh lines and slight wrinkles decorated his handsome face.

Even then, neighbors swoon for the man. Even married people.

He's sweet, reliable, generous, kind, good with kids. Why doesn't he have a spouse again?

With a gentle shake to his head, he scratches his neck and whispers bashfully with a red face.

"I'm waiting for somebody."

That made people swoon over him more.

As people longingly look at the lonely man, he bows to them and enters his home to record another set of audios for the highest tier on his subscription.

And, despite having a handful of people there, there's one person he's excited on making a dedicated, personal audio for.

You

And you? A superfan. You've been listening to Rose for a long time. Dare I say, one of his first, if not the first, regular.

You discovered him first when your friend introduced you to the subreddit.

His post, not getting that much attention due to being plain. No that much tags nor flairs at all. Just an inconspicuous "first audio [M4F] [Vanilla] [yandere]" and that was it.

When you listened, the mic had a weird quality to it, but god where you aroused due to how genuine it sounds. Like he's specifically talking to you with how... Personal it sounds.

And yeah, his first audios were not for you at all. Just your typical audios for a lot of people.

So, you lurked on his account, being his first follower.

You commented on the post also.

"first audio? Are you sure? You sound so good! This is my first time here in the subreddit. And if a newcomer like you already has this quality, I know I'll have a good time here."

Lengthy, but it gave Rose the boost of confidence he needs.

So, naturally, he replied.

"thank you so much! I just saw this subreddit one day and, by sheer boredom, decided to try it. It's weird, but thrilling. And it's your first too? I'm glad to be your first 😉"

He felt the wink and joke was too risky, but you replied in barks so, despite being bewildered due to not used to internet in-jokes, he laughed and decided to continue the grind.

Even as he continued to pump audios, you never failed to listen to every. Single. One.

You were in love with his audios and voice.

And he was falling for you.

God, is it weird to fall for a stranger on the internet?

So, by the time he reached 100k followers, he decided to do a small meet and greet online to those who can decipher the message.

And you, feral little minx you are, deciphered it in a jiffy and slammed the answer on his inbox.

You were the first too.

Rose, frozen, shakily sent you the zoom meeting room.

Nobody other than you deciphered the message yet.

He wants to talk to you one on one.

So, as he fixes himself and slaps his own cheeks to wake him up, he nervously waited for you to join the meeting with the password.

Then, he saw you.

Gorgeous, beautiful you.

His eyes sparkled like it didn't sparkle before. His heart, painfully beating on his chest and his ears, overflowed with attraction and love as he drank in your figure.

"Rosas omg hi! We finally got to talk one on one. Well, as one on one as a video call is."

Oh, how he groans. Your voice is sweet and lovely in his ears.

"Hi, y/nDarling. I can't believe I get to see the face of the person who has been with me since... Forever!"

"Right?! And damn. Rosas, take this with full confidence, alright? You're fucking hot."

Rose shakes his head with a chuckle.

"You... You're as cheeky as your typings."

You stuck out your tongue childishly and he laughs. His deep voice making you shiver.

"Oh and, you're actually old?"

"ouch?"

"OH MY GOD NO WHAT I MEAN IS, since you frequently make dilf audios, and you're actually one--"

Rose blinks. You consider him a dilf even in person?

He leans forward with a lopsided smirk.

"So, you consider me as a daddy you'd like to fuck?"

"No, stop STOP I DIDN'T MEAN THAT! WAIT, I MEAN IT, WAIT OH MY GOD ROSAS PLEASE STOP TEASING ME."

And as he laughs loudly, he knew you were the one.

He continued to talk to you for a long time, due to his other followers being quite slow in deciphering the message.

He did make the message with you solving it immediately in mind, while the others will struggle.

They were not you, after all.

Why would he care?

When he ended the video call, he had a silly, lovesick grin on his face.

He wants to make an audio.

And that audio was his most viral due to being so genuinely feral, lovesick, and longing it is for the listener.

"Ugh... Fuck, you're so tight..."

"Bend over for me, love. Don't you fucking dare crawl away."

"yes, just like that. Open your mouth, stick out your tongue like that..."

Rose, in his recording studio (his walk in closet), recorded the personal audio for you. You requested CNC, predator and prey, DILF, and breeding, along with other tags that can make a victorian lady die from how obscene it is.

At first, when he opened his subscriptions, he was bewildered by your wild and straightforward requests, but now he's used to it. Maybe even love it.

He imagined you bending over for him, your sweet hole gripping his c0ck as he pistons inside of you. Your tear stricken face, aroused with fear and desire, looks at him, begging for more.

Rose flinches, as he lets out a loud groan to the microphone. Cumming all over his hands.

Hey, it helps with authenticity, okay?

Rose sighs, imagining you cradled into his tight embrace as he said the last lines of the script.

"You're mine, y/n. Nobody else's, just mine."

And, he ends the audio with a sloppy kiss.

He slumped down to his chair, spent yet satisfied.

But he wants more.

Yes, he did screenshot when you video called him, but that was it. It was years ago too, and he needs more material.

After cleaning up, he spun around and went to the computer to edit his raw audio with sound effects.

At first, it was weird hearing his voice saying all of the deprived shit he said, but now it's just work.

But with your audios, he was meticulous. Making sure to put as much genuine wet sfx (from him masturbat1ng), and atmospheric sfx to make your listening experience the best of all. Yours were the longest too, at least climaxing twice every personal audio.

Can you tell he has favoritism for you?

And, when he finished editing, it was already morning.

Sending the audio to you, he stood up, stretching, and went to the kitchen to make himself coffee.

It was supposed to be a typical Tuesday. Nothing that much happens in this suburbs, let alone the town he's in.

So, he turned on the radio, grabbed his coffee mug, and went outside to watch the beautiful sun coming up to the sky.

Settling in his usual chair on his patio, he drank his coffee, greeted people as they passed by, doing their own thing.

The wind was kind of cold, but nothing unwelcomed as Rose's attention got picked up by a moving truck just in front of his home.

Huh, finally. A new face to the suburbs.

He drank his coffee, before coughing it out when he saw a familiar face getting out of the car following it.

It was you.

How?

What?

Why?

Huh?

He watched with wide eyes as he watches you bounce around in excitement as you helped the movers take out your things and into your home.

He doesn't know what to do. He wants to run to you, embrace you and twirl you around.

But no, not yet.

Why are you here?

By some kind of sick joke, he thought you were stalking him.

But no, that's too much.

You're too sweet. You can't do that.

So, he just watched, waiting for you to notice him.

But you didn't, too busy on your own work to notice the older man on his patio looking at you with such longing and desire.

With you finally going inside your home, he ran inside the house and slumped down behind the door. He clutched his chest, eyes wide, blood pumping, soul rattled.

You were here.

You came to him.

He gulped, shakily standing up. The coffee mug forgotten outside but who gives a shit right now.

You're so close to him, within his grasp, and he will make sure to utilize it.

He went to the kitchen, immediately whipping up breakfast food from your country of origin before stopping.

Were you allergic to anything?

God is he stupid?!

4 decades of being alive yet he forgets if you have any allergies?

His hand shook before scrapping the food altogether.

What should he do?

He decided to whip up something relatively tasty and safe before letting it slightly cool down.

He rushes to his room, frantically showering and lathering and cleaning as much as he could, getting dressed in his casual fit that looked like he just "carelessly put together despite how amazing it looked". He trimmed his beard, dabbing on serums and moisturizers, concealers on his eyebags, before running downstairs.

He grabbed the food before rushing to your doorstep.

Wait, would it be weird?

Wouldn't it be awkward?

He did do NSWF audios, so that means you pleased yourself to his voice, right?, ( God please let it be real that you did use his audios as material)

So, it's like... Maybe seeing your teacher in public?

No, the comparison is off.

He knocked on the door.

"hello, do you..."

You froze.

He froze.

Time seemed to stop as the both of you looked at each other.

You recognized him, he recognized you.

"Ah... Rosas...?"

He grinned, laughing gently. You shivered, hearing the voice you unconsciously conditioned your body to become aroused in person for the first time.

"Hey, Y/n. Welcome to our neighborhood."

He revels in the desire in your eyes as you squeezed your thighs together.

You both became somehow good friends.

It was still awkward, seeing as how much you listened to Rose moaning and doing NSFW stuff.

But it didn't overwhelm your excitement.

It's like, seeing your idol irl, but you're his neighbor.

It made you giddy, happy, and nervous.

Meanwhile, Rose loves this new development.

He's not going to die alone.

You were there with him.

God gave you to him on a cement platter.

At first, it was just an innocent pass by.

He would pass by your house, looking at the inside by your window, his mouth whispering loving words to your figure inside. Then he got a bit risky by going boldly to your house at night to spy on you sleep.

But he wanted to know more about you. He ached, craved to know more.

So, with little to no morality left, and the only source he knew of extreme ways to show affection are his audios, he decided to fully embrace being a yandere.

At first, he still felt guilty. You inviting him over to talk, he pocketing some of your mundane things like a sock, and him bringing hidden cameras and microphones to plant inside your home.

He shivers. The thought of seeing you inside your home so vulnerable and unprotected is making him aroused.

Next, he does the next script. Using your sock to pleasure himself to make the moans and groans genuine.

The feeling of your sock, the knowledge that you wore this is making him burst at the seams.

"God, you make me feral, love."

"you're only mine, only mine. Nobody else to have you, just me."

"Yeah, cum for daddy. Come undone, baby."

How he wishes to tell you these words in person.

And, as he finishes with a jolt and a loud groan, he imagines you laying on his chest and him combing your hair with his fingers.

By the morning, he finished editing the audio, and uploads it.

He waits for you to listen to it.

He didn't need to wait for long, as the coms crackle with your giggle.

He turns on the hidden cameras, and saw you dive to your bed with headphones on, watching you close your eyes and probably imagining him.

He saw you look longingly at the window that faces his house, and he grins at the thought of you wanting him so bad.

He watches as you writhe and relax, your hands going under your clothes as you followed what's happening on the audio. He felt himself harden once more.

Fingers playing with yourself, and his hand encircling his hardened c0ck.

He pants in want, seeing you bite your lip and arch your back from the pleasure. Your eyes trembling with the euphoria.

He continued to please himself to you pleasing yourself, groaning and grinding into his hand. Wishing it was you.

And, as you came, he threw his head back, breathless and dizzy from the overwhelming pleasure.

As he stayed there lying, he watches you do the same thing again. Looking longingly at the window.

"Soon, love." Rose whispered to the computer monitor. "I will have you in my arms soon."

Both of you were relatively normal after that. Like you didn't just pleasure yourself to his voice and him doing the same to you.

But the unmistakable hunger in both of your eyes and teasing touches were a sign that things are going to break soon.

And he just waits until you can't do it anymore.

Yet he waits.

He'll continue to upload audios.

Make you ache for him so badly, knowing he's just a few meters away.

Who will break first?

But in the end, you will still end up in his arms.

"Come to me, love."

And he'll whisper to your ear lovingly as he breeds you in an animalistic way.

Don't you want that, baby?

[cumulo-stratus]

01- Lover

pairing- Spencer Reid x Male!reader summary- slow burn story of how spencer reid fell in love with Y/n L/n warnings- profanities, some arguing, lemme know if theres anything else! wc- 2k

a/n- Guys!! im so excited about this idea, orginally it was going to be short blurbs for each time all in one fic but i got carried away and its turned into a series now. And i know im still a little behind on Flufftober ficus but i needed to take a break from writing things to fit a prompt, i was feeling kinda creatively burnt out from it so i just wanted to write something off the top of my head and the song came on my headphones and then i blacked out and here we are lmao, hope you like it! (P.S. so much credit to @avis-writeshq for the inspo around some of it , totally a great writer and you should totally go check them out!)

Notes: (E/C) = Eye color | (H/T) = hair type (curly, wavy, thick, thin etc.)

part 1//part 2

spencer stepped onto the same train he took every morning; the green line for 5 stops, and the red line for 1 after that. Spencer prefers his first leg of the journey though- but thats only because of The Boy. Who’s The Boy, you ask? Well, The Boy is a man on the train, and this man on the train spencer had seen everyday for last 6 months. everyday, 1 stop after spencer gets on The Boy would get on. He would sit in the same seat near the back, put his olive green backpack between his legs, and put his headphones in his ears. he would sit, one leg crossed over the other and read anything from Poe to Austen.

Spencer always stared, now to be fair The Boy was very naturally handsome. He had striking (E/C) eyes, and (H/T) hair. His style often resembled spencers, slacks and button ups with cardigans and sweater vests, The Boy tended to lean towards more bright colors ad fun patterns then spencer.

Today, spencer noticed he had started a new book; A Collected Works of Edgar Allen Poe. Yesterday he had been reading a book on the history of witch craft, spencer thought it went well with the the witch hats and black cats on his knitted sweater, very fitting for October he may add.

And once again spencer was staring (nothing out of the ordinary) but today The Boy looked up at just the right time and caught spencer in the act. He immediately looked down, blushing profusely. But if he had looked back for another second spencer wouldve seen The boys sly smirk, and the slight tinge of warmth on his cheeks. Spencer decided the best possible course of action was to pretend nothing had happened and bury his silent admiration of the mystery boy on the train. But that plan was thrown completely out the window when The mystery boy got up from his seat, picked up his bag and plopped down next to spencer in an open plastic seat. Because little did spencer know but The Boy had done his own fair share of staring at spencer from afar, admiring his natural beauty and book choice. He had been toying with the notion of finally approaching this mystery man, and this was the final push he needed to approach spencer.

“so, you like Poes works?”

spencer looked up to find The Boy looking at him expectedly with a friendly smile. The same boy he had fantasized over for almost 6 months but never even thought of approaching, had just walked up to him and started a conversation.

spencers mind was reeling, to say the least.

but he still managed to squeak out “Yes, he’s one of my favorites” But add in a dash of stuttering and blushing. What can i say? It was an awkward interaction for and awkward guy. But this didnt deter The Boy, who then lit up at spencers words (which also caught spencer off guard and left him reeling for a moment) and said “Me too! but my favorite has to be ‘Annabel Lee’, everyone thinks its the documentation of a man going insane over his obsession with a girl named Annabel Lee. But i personally think its just a guy who’s madly in love, and people are a little jealous of the pure, intense type of love that Poe was writing about..” The boy looked down and blushed, trailing off. spencer looked at him confused and with a surge of confidence said “what-?” with confusion. The boy looked back up, almost surprised at spencers words, at spencers encouragement. This said encouragement gave him the confidence needed to say “im sorry, i realized i was rambling to a stranger on the train and i didnt even introduce myself; Im dr. Y/n L/n, whats your name? Spencer chuckled to himself at how who he now knew as Y/n, managed to say so many words in so little time. “I also have a habit of talking too fast when im nervous, sorry about that” Y/n added, taking care to speak at a slower pace. Spencer didnt mind it and was mostly focused on the fact that Y/n was nervous, did spencer make Y/n nervous? but he wasnt caught up in his thoughts for too long and remembered to respond to Y/ns question “its okay, i ramble a lot too, i dont mind. And im spencer. Dr. Spencer reid-“ spencer cut himself off to finally look at y/n before continuing- “but im not a medical doctor, I have doctorates in Math, Chemistry and Engineering.”

Y/n had an almost proud smile on his face, And said “wow, smart cookie!” his tone was joking of course but spencer still blushed profusely, despite his many attempts to stop it. Y/n continued, not noticing spencers flushed state, much to spencer’s relief. “Im not a medical doctor either though, i have PHDs in both math and physics. I always thought i was above average, but ive been outdone!” Y/ns tone was joking as he said it.

They continued their introductory conversation for another couple minutes when Spencer, in an effort to keep the conversation going, had asked what Y/n was listening to.

“im listening to Ours, by taylor swift, and im not a swiftie, im a taylor swift enjoyer.” Y/n said with a definitive tone. But spencer only looked at Y/n with confusion written across his features. “Whats a- swiftie…?” spencer asked. Y/ns faced seemed to almost drain of color at this statement. “Whats a swiftie?!” his tone was incredulous, as if spencer had committed some heinous act, which he was pretty sure he hadn’t. “swifties are people who thoroughly enjoy the music of none other than the greatest pop musician of all time!” spencer was a little embarrassed, he didnt want to miss out on something Y/n enjoyed so he held his hand out and asked, “maybe i could listen to it with you, and learn about her music?” Y/n grinned at the idea, and handed spencer one of his airpods and restarted the song.

and so for the rest of their train ride, they listened Y/n’s taylor swift playlist. But After hearing Ours, it remained his favorite.

And so, for the next few weeks it continued on like this. Y/n would get on the train at spencers first stop, and B-line straight to the back of the train where spencer had saved a seat for him. And then they would sit and talk, about anything from literature, to art, to science. But one thing always remained; Taylor Swift. Everyday Y/n would have a new collection of song for him to listen to on his airpods as they talked. But Ours still remained his ever favorite, although Cardigan and Willow were close seconds.

Today, however, was different. Today, after much encouragement and much teasing, spencer was going to ask Y/n out. His team couldnt deal with anymore gushing about Y/n, the guy from the train.

spencer waited impatiently for Y/n to step onto the train at his stop. He almost missed and almost ran into at least 2 people on the way to his seat. Y/n plopped down into his seat breathlessly and started his normal routine of pulling out his airpods and queuing up the music. But he was stopped in his tracks, the airpod he was about to offer to spencer, when the latter blurted out “Hey would you maybe wanna go get coffee with me on Saturday afternoon at perfectos?” Spencer had spoken so fast Y/n barely caught it. But he was amazed at spencers attention to detail. Y/n had never even told him he liked perfectos cafe (he was of the firm belief that they made the best coffee in DC). He had just walked in with a cup of coffee from them almost everyday. It made his heart swell at the gesture, and his cheeks redden at spencers question.

that reminded Y/n to answer, instead of just sitting there wide eyed like a deer in headlights. And said; “i’d love that spencer, thank you”

spencer had been so caught up in his thoughts, and worries over the words that had just spilled from his lips moments ago that he was caught off guard at Y/n’s positive response. They both beefed at each other like children for the rest of the ride until Y/n got off, and not even when spencer arrived for work could he wipe the smile off his face, much to the delight of Morgan and JJ.

To Be Continued…

[beefrobeefcal]

Ok ok ok… we’ve seen defensive mouse when someone hits on her and talks down on Frankie but what about if someone tried to flirt with Frankie? What would she do? What would Frankie do🤷🏻‍♀️

Oh HOW I LOVE THIS! How would our Mouse react? Thank you, Nonnie, for planting that THOT.

Our fav chubby guy may have a thing or two to learn, but thankfully, he's ready and willing to put in the work.

Beefro 👌🥩💜

--------<3----------

Beefro Proudly Presents:

a Chubby!Frankie one shot

The Catfish & The Mouse: Just Desserts

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Fem!Reader (Mouse!)

Summary: A novel and sweet apology.

Rating: Explicit 18+ (MDNI)

Word Count: 3,163

Content Warning: Smutty smutty smut smut, swearing, name calling, Nasty Lady, Body Insecurity, Oral (F receiving), Licking things off things, food in bed, big mess, coming in pants

Author's Notes: Our Mouse is ready to fight anyone who disrespects her Frankie. But is he willing to do the same? Please suspend your disbelief for a moment and allow confectionary sweets to roam places it never should in the real world.

Not proofed. Enjoy!

__________________________

You’d taken Elise for dinner after work to say thank your for driving you all week – your car was in the shop waiting for a new bumper after being hit in a parking lot. Frankie had asked if you wanted to meet at the bar before heading home, so Elise dropped you off after dinner.  

“Hey honey, what’re you doin’ sitting here all alone?”, a woman asked Frankie as she sat down next to him, teasing her straw with her teeth. 

Frankie looked around to see who she was talking to, assuming it was one of the other men sitting along the bar. He’d gone to his favourite burger joint for dinner prior to the bar and had his fill. He didn’t think anyone would approach him given his big, full tummy was now pressing up against the bar. 

When her gaze kept at him, he raised his eyebrows and took a drink of his beer. She was curvy and wore a short, emerald green dress with a plunging neckline that amplified her ample chest and thick thighs. Frankie couldn’t deny that she was attractive, but he wasn’t interested. 

“I, uh… I’m just waiting for someone.”, he said politely, his fingers playing with the coaster under his drink.  

“You want company while you wait, honey?” She leaned in and put a hand on his knee. 

“I… whoa… that’s… uh… I’m good. I’m actually waiting for my girl-FRIEND!”, Frankie said, squeaking the last word as her hand moved dangerously up his thigh. 

He gently gripped her wrist and place it on the bar, giving her a nevous grin. 

“No need to be shy, honey. I know what a big guy like you wants from a woman, you just gotta ask.”, she crooned with a wink, her voice dripping with sex. 

Frankie’s eyes darted around, and he politely said with a nod, “No thanks. I’m good.” 

You arrived at the bar and walked in, immediately seeing a beautiful woman talking with Frankie. While you couldn’t hear what was being said by the woman, you knew what was going on based on both of their body languages as you walked up to the bar. She was gorgeous and you were intimidated. 

You approached Frankie and pressed a kiss to his cheek. He put his arm around your waist and held you firm, and you looked at the woman and narrowed your eyes at her while she smiled back at you. 

“Thank you for keeping my seat warm.”, you said curtly, and nodded for her to move. 

“And I thought you were here to take our order. My mistake.”, the woman hissed with a faux-smile, then looked at Frankie, and put a hand on his thigh. “Come find me if you need another seat warmed, big guy.” 

Seeing her hand touch him made you take a step towards her and Frankie stood up quickly, seeing where this was going, and hand on your shoulder, pulling you back gently. 

You snarled at her, “Touch him again and I’ll break your fing…” 

“Oh honey, I’d love to see a little thing like you try it.”, the woman spat back as she stood up, then looked up at Frankie who was standing behind you. “Come on, handsome, you don’t wanna be stuck being a dog catcher. Drop the little bitch and we’ll find somewhere private.” 

“Oh, fuck you!”, you snapped, balling up your fist.  

Frankie grabbed you by the waist and pulled you back. “Mouse! Come on!” 

“Mouse? More like a fucking rat.”, she laughed. She looked to Frankie and said in a sarcastic tone. “Good luck with your rodent problem.” 

Your eyes widened as your jaw clenched. You could feel your fists tighten as the woman winked at you and got up from her seat. You could feel your blood boiling in your veins while Frankie kept his grip on you tight; he kissed your head and shushed you. 

You watched as the woman sauntered away, feeling uneasy with her words and immediately began to compare yourself to her, making yourself angrier.  

“Calm down, Mouse.”, he said softly, kissing your cheek, but your eyes didn’t leave the direction of the woman.  

You’re breaths were shallow and short from the rage you felt and Frankie kept his breathing even and calm, trying to get you to follow. He finally let you go when he was satisfied that you had calmed down, and you both sat at the bar. He reached out and put a hand on the small of your back, but you shook him off. Before he could say anything, you spoke in a monotone voice. 

“Your new friend was… something. So glad you know how to come to my defense, Frank.”, you sneered through gritted teeth, your eyes remained focused on the bar counter in front of you.  

“Mouse,”, Frankie spoke with a sigh, not wanting to dwell on it. “I was just waiting for you, and she showed up. You got here a minute after she sat down. Okay? I told her I wasn’t interested, and I was waiting for you.” 

You only hummed in response and raised your eyebrows, and he took it as your cue that this wouldn’t be the end of it. 

He took a deep breath before saying as calmly as possible, “Why don’t we head home. I think I’m about done here.” 

“Yeah, sure thing. Frank.”, you said in that same tone. He motioned to the bartender for his bill.  

The car ride home was silent, minus the sounds of the radio. Just as Frankie turned the truck into your neighbourhood, you finally spoke.  

“Why didn’t you say anything to her? Tell her to fuck off and get her hands off you. Or maybe fuck her up for calling me a rat!”, you spoke harshly.. 

“I’m not fighting with you, baby.”, Frankie responded calmly. 

“I’m not trying to fight. I’m asking you a perfectly simple question. You let her rub your thigh and call me a fucking rat. You did dick fuck all and you said jack shit about any of it, you fucking coward.”, you said in a nasty tone. 

“Mouse! Come on, knock it off!”, he barked back, then took a deep breath and said quieter, “It’s over. Please, let’s just get home and forget it ever happened.” 

“Fuck you, Frank.”, you spat. 

“Grow the fuck up, Mouse.”, he yelled back at you. 

The hot, frustrated tears were burning your eyes and you didn’t trust your voice to no betray you. He didn’t get it. He could have done anything other than sit there. But he didn’t, and it left you wondering if there was maybe a reason why he didn’t. You felt Frankie look over at you a few times, and you decided to just ask the question that was burning a hole in your brain. 

“Do you want me to look like that?”, you asked fighting with your voice to not crack and give away how much this was hurting you, fidgeting with the zipper on your purse. 

“Do I… what?”, he groaned, shaking his head. “Mouse… don’t do this.” 

“How can I not? She was gorgeous!”, you snapped, “Did you see her tits? Of course, you fucking did. Is that why you didn’t say anything?” 

“Mouse! I said knock it off!”, he yelled angrily at you as put the truck in park in your driveway and pulled the keys out of the ignition. “I’m not fucking doing this with you!”  

As soon as the words left his mouth and he saw you flinch, he regretted it. He sighed and watched you get out of the truck and slam the door with tears on your face, and it hit him why you were upset; you’d spent a lot of energy lately reminding him that he was attractive and how much you loved him, even going so far as to almost get in a fight with someone at your work event because a guy insulted him. And tonight, he essentially let a random woman insult you and said nothing in your defense. And now, he’d hurt you, his beautiful, feisty, sexy Mouse. 

He quickly followed you into the house, trying to catch you, but was only able to watch as you headed down the hallway to your bedroom, slamming the door. Once he heard the shower running, he sighed and sat on the couch. He felt like an idiot, an asshole; he;d become one of those guys who just sat back and watched instead of intervening. He debated on going in and talking to you, trying to figure out how he could fix this, but decided he would need a snack to get in the right head space. Opening the fridge, he saw a something that gave him an idea. 

Once showered, you quickly dried off and put on some baggy lounge clothes. Now that your anger was pretty well gone, you were left feeling like an idiot from you taking it out on Frankie. You changed into your sweatshirt and sweatpants, then walked into your bedroom and saw Frankie sitting on your bed with a bottle of chocolate sauce in his hand.  

“What the fuck is this?”, you groaned, motioning towards him on the bed. 

“I’m sorry.”, he said, trying to give you his best big puppy eyes. 

“I really don’t want to talk to you right now, Frankie.”, you sighed, rubbing your face. 

At least it’s back to Frankie. He thought to himself, this giving him the courage to continue. 

“I am sorry. I don’t ever want you to feel like I’m not on your side, and I know tonight, I fucked up.”, he spoke softly, getting up from the bed and stepping cautiously towards you. 

While you didn’t tell him to stop or push him back, you didn’t give him any sign that he was welcome either. 

“I guess I figured you had it handled and didn’t need to say anything... and I know I was wrong. I'm so sorry, baby.” 

He reached out and took your hand in his, fully expecting you to rip it back, but you didn’t. He took a step closer to you gently pulled you into a hug, and you eventually hugged him back, not being able to resist him any longer. 

“What’s with the chocolate sauce?”, you asked into his chest. 

“Wanted dessert and I was wondering if you could help me with that.”, he said in a low voice. “Got some chocolate sauce and nothing to put it on… any ideas?” 

“Frankie…”, you sighed and pulled back, trying to suppress a smile.  

“What?”, he asked with a grin. 

“I… I love you… so much… I just feel kinda… not great… right now…”, you said, grimacing and looking up at him. 

“How about then you let me show you how sorry I am and what a fucking smoke show you really are. Then dessert.”, he said in a husky voice as le leaned down and kissed you. 

He took the small moan you gave as a ‘yes’, and back you to the bed, laying you down. 

He knelt at the end of the bed and picked up your foot, pushing your sweatpants up to expose your ankle. He kissed it, placing it on his shoulder, and began to rub his hand over your clothed leg towards your centre. 

“I’m so sorry, pretty girl… love how your feel in my hands… body was made for me, Mouse…”, he murmured while maintaining eye contact with you. 

You couldn’t help but lay back and be mesmerized by touch. The affection he was handling you with was playing with your heart strings in the best way. 

His hands were on your waist, and he raised his eyebrows at you to ask for your approval to remove your pants. You nodded and with one quick movement, your sweatpants were tossed over his shoulder, quickly followed by your panties. He continued to run his hands over your legs, again starting at your ankles then working his way back up, slowly and with the intention to show how much he appreciated you.  

He leaned forward between your legs and moved his hands up your torso under your sweatshirt. He gently tugged the shirt over your head and threw it to join your other clothes on the floor. 

Laying naked before him while he remained fully clothed had you feeling vulnerable, and you went to cover yourself. 

“Look at me, princess. Don’t need to cover anything. Look what you do to me.”, he murmured with a grin as he palmed the bulge in his pants.  

His mouth came down on your mouth and he kissed you deeply. He pulled his mouth away and when you moved to trying and recapture his lips with a whine, he hushed you and kissed your jaw, then your neck while he palmed one of your tits with his big hand. He moved down further and captured your nipple in his mouth, sucking and teasing it between his lips, eliciting a moan from you while arching your back into his touch.  

“Too fucking good for me… love you so much”, he murmured as he sat up, looking over your body.  

“Frankie…”, you whimpered and reached out for him to come back. “Please…” 

“I know, princess. I know…”, he cooed, grabbing the chocolate sauce bottle. “You look so fucking tasty, baby.” 

Seeing the bottle, your eyes shot open wide. “Frankie! No!” 

With a smirk, he opened the bottle and squeezed the contents out on to your torso, and you gasped at the cold substance hitting your skin.  

“Jesus Christ! The bedding!”, you yelped, your hands unintentionally touched the sticky sauce. 

He threw the empty bottle on the floor and his mouth was on you, sucking and licking, starting with your neck, and you no longer gave a shit about the bedding and the mess he had made on it. 

He pulled his chocolate-covered face up to look at you with a wide grin and he pressed his tongue on your sternum, then licked up between your tits and you let out a low whine. 

“Look so fucking good, baby… laid out, ready for me to eat you… fucking delicious”, he growled, taking your tit into his mouth again and sucking hard, his tongue flicking your nipple. You keened and your hips bucked up against him. 

He moved down to your stomach and began licking the chocolate sauce that had pooled in your belly button. 

“Fucking gorgeous… so fucking tasty… perfect for me…”, he mouthed against your toned stomach.  

His satisfied groans and grunts sounded deliciously obscene to you; your dripping cunt throbbed and clenched on nothing. Your sticky hands went to his hair, and you panted and moaned. You had no idea that this could be as erotic as it was.  

“Frankie… baby…”, you whined. “Please… oh fuck...” 

He sat up and took his now chocolate-coated shirt off. You sat up with him and palmed his belly, leaving sticky handprints on him. Your hands went to his belt, but he stopped you. 

He shook his head with a grin and guided you back down. “Dessert first.” 

He pressed his large body on you and began kissing, licking and nipping his way back down your torso, dragging himself over you, until his mouth is breathing right on your mound. He stops and grins again. “I fuckin’ love you. No one hold a candle to you, princess. Tell me what I can do to prove that to you, baby. Tell me while I get fatter on your pussy for the rest of the night.” 

Before you could answer, he licked up your slit, then began to fuck you with his tongue.  

“Oh fuck, Frankie!”, you cried out, your hands going to his hair again. “I… oh fuck… I love you… please…“ 

Frankie replaced his tongue with his finger and kept the pace. He brought his head up to look at you. 

“Look at me, princess.”, he coaxed. When you didn’t comply, he said a little firmer, “Come on, princess… look at me, baby… I asked you a question.” 

“Please… don’t stop…. don’t stop…”, you panted. You were already close from how wound up you were from Frankie’s attention to your body, and you knew you wouldn’t last long. 

“Tell me what I can do to prove I don’t want anyone else… tell me, princess…tell how I can say sorry...”, he said in a deep voice before l putting his mouth on your clit and flicking it with his tongue. 

You cried out and panted, your orgasm forcing its way through you, and you moaned, “Fuck… I just… need you… need you… fuck, Frankie…” 

He hummed and grunted into your pussy, continuing to finger fuck you and assault your clit through your orgasm, pushing you to talk.  

You cried out and writhed, making Frankie hold your hips in place. He kept up his pace and felt your walls start to flutter. He hummed as he sucked and fucked you. 

“Frankie… please!... it’s … it’s too much…”, you cried out. 

He shook his head then lifted it, “Tell me, princess… please baby.”, he moaned, his own hips trying to grind into the mattress to alleviate his own arousal. 

“Fran-oh my god… please! Frankie!... want you to… to get angry… fight for me…”, you whined.  

“Fuck… princess…  yeah… keep talking…”, he grunted into your pussy, finally finding a satisfying angle to grind his cock into on the bed.  

Then he added another finger, and you pulled on his hair. 

“Want you… t-to be… fuck, oh god!... be jealous… mark me… make me yours… make it hurt!”, you cried out, then screamed as you came a second time, your cunt clamping down on his fingers and gushing onto his fingers and chin, the onto the bed. 

Frankie grunted and panted into your pussy a few more times as his movements slowed. 

You both laid on the bed in your sticky mess, panting; you on your back, knees open, and Frankie on his stomach, face first in your pussy.  

“Frankie?”, you spoke in a hoarse voice. 

“Hmmm?”, he responded, getting up on his elbows to look at you. 

“You haven’t come up here yet and fucked me.” 

He groaned, and crawled up next to you and kissed you gently. You tasted a bizarrely erotic mix of yourself and chocolate on his tongue.  

He pulled back just a bit and whispered with a laugh. “I came in my fucking pants.” 

“Oh… that’s… new….”, you said with eyebrows raise, trying to keep from laughing. 

It didn’t work as you both fell into a fit of giggles and kisses.  

“Can we clean this up tomorrow? Sleep in the guest room tonight?”, you whispered after your giggles had died down. 

He chuckled, “Yup… this is a tomorrow problem. I’ll be better prepared for next time.” 

“Next time?”, you asked. 

“Yeah. The next time I fuck up and feel like coming in my pants.” 

You both laughed and headed for the shower. 

__________________________

TAGLIST:

@harryleatherfit @theywhowriteandknowthings @toxicanonymity @harriedandharassed

[goosewriting]

THE WAY YOU WRITE FOR RAPH IS JUST ♥️✨♥️✨

I have an idea for the cutie pie

How about him and his s/o are chilling in his room watch a film but they are just staring up at him like "wow handsome boy look at him. Baby boy baby♥️" and raph ofc noticed and gets all blushy so the reader just climbs on top of him and pecks him with smooches to death like "YOUR SO CUTE how?!?!"

Sorry I get cuteness aggression when ever I read about raph 😭

Cuteness Aggression

summary: reader has to make very clear just how great Raph is in their eyes

relationship: Rise Raph x reader (established)

warnings: f l u f f

word count: ~730

A/N: tysm!! i’m glad to hear you like how i write for him :’) this ask was so cute omg sdfsdfsfd enjoy!<3 also sorry it’s very short!! but i really wanted to post this one ;;v;; (and thanks for the great title lol)

(english is not my first language. constructive criticism and grammar corrections are very appreciated!)

— — —

Outside, snow kept slowly falling from the sky, covering the whole landscape in a white fluffy blanket. You didn’t see any of that however, because you were cuddled up against Raph in his room, watching a movie.

You both lied in his bed, on your bellies, with the laptop balanced on a thick book on the pillow. Since you two had seen the movie a thousand times and it was a pretty chill part of the plot, Raph allowed himself to steal a glance at you: your head was propped up on your elbows, with your legs folding at the knee and dangling up and down behind you. You looked like a teenage girl from a 90s sitcom, talking on the phone to her crush. The only thing missing was a landline and your fingers tangling in the cord.

At that mental image, Raph snorted softly and laughed to himself. Since there wasn’t anything particularly funny happening on screen, you turned your head to look at him with a questioning look.

“What is it?” you asked, your lips turning into a curious smile.

“It’s silly, nevermind” he simply stated and turned his attention back to the movie.

“Raph” you whined. “I wanna know so I can laugh too! What is it?” you tried again.

After a moment of consideration whether to tell you or not, he decided it was futile to try and resist; you’d insist and poke at him as long as it took for him to spill the beans.

“The way your legs are dangling like that, it just reminded me of how girls would be talking on the phone in those old TV series” Raph explained. You seemed amused at that thought. “That’s all. Besides, you look cute” he added with a slight blush.

“Well, you look cute too!” you retorted, trying to hide your own flushed cheeks behind your hands.

“There’s a lot of words to describe me but ‘cute’ ain’t one of them, I think. Thanks though” he said with a sheepish smile. You looked at him with a face that could only be described as a mix of shock and indignation, and were about to retort and very strongly disagree with him, but he talked first.

“I- I mean, look at you: so small in comparison, soft but also strong, with the most adorable smile that could brighten the darkest room: you are cute. Meanwhile I’m big and rough, spiky, and my signature move is literally to smash things.”

No longer paying attention to the movie, you brought your legs forwards to sit up properly on the bed.

“I will not allow you to say mean things about my bestest friend and wonderful boyfriend!” you scolded him, flicking his forehead. “You are gentle, down to Earth, and extremely handsome may I add.”

You slowly pushed him over while you talked so he was on his back, and you climbed on top of him, straddling his waist. Raph’s face was as red as his bandana, his brain unable to compute, as his hands came to rest on your waist.

Placing your hands on his chest, you inched closer to his face, enumerating all his wonderful qualities, each followed by a peck to his face.

“Attentive.” Smooch. “Loving.” Mwah. “Always giving his all, never expecting anything in return.”

You held his face between your hands, and he couldn't tear away his eyes from yours, which caused you both to end up with a furious blush.

“And most importantly: you’re all mine. My boy, baby boy. You’re literally the babiest, you don’t understand, ugh!”

Unable to hold back anymore you went in to properly kiss him, trying your best to pour all your love you had for him into it. By the way he was responding, you assumed you had succeeded, and that he didn’t feel any different about you.

You broke apart for air, pulling back just enough to be able to talk.

“You have no idea how cute you are. HOW are you this cute?!” you asked, and closed the distance again. You weren’t even gonna give him the chance to answer; this was about getting it into that big turtle skull of his that you weren’t just saying those things earlier, you meant everything you said.

The rest of the night was spent whispering sweet nothings into his skin, kissing and doting on him like there was no tomorrow.

[karmic-vibes]

If I Can Dream

2 - There Must Be Somewhere

cw: gender dysphoria

a/n: the chapters are short for now, but will get longer. just easing into everything. enjoy!

Year: 1984

“Hey, kiddo, how was school?” Wayne asked, gathering his belongings for work.

“It was good.” Eden kicked off her shoes and let her hair down from the dingy bun.

“No Hellfire today?” She shook her head and ran her fingers through her curls. “Okay, well, I’m off to work. Dinners in the freezer. You know the drill—call me if you need me.” She nodded, sighing. “Love you, kiddo.”

“Love you too.”

Once Wayne’s car left the driveway, Eden headed to her room, pulling her shirt off, tossing it on the bed. She turned her torso from side to side, twisting her face at her changing body. Her chest was larger, hips were wider, period annoyingly making itself known once a month.

She hated every last bit of it. She’d seen things on the news and read articles in her free time about people who felt like her. She couldn’t quite articulate how she felt, especially not to anyone in Hawkins, Indiana.

Eden felt as if she wasn’t herself. Like her body didn’t belong to her. As if she were living a lie. She was a ghost of herself—living the life everyone else expected of her. She couldn’t just be. The only thing that felt normal in her life was her attraction to boys—specifically, Steve Harrington.

What wasn’t there to love about Steve? He had eyes softer than clouds with long, thick lashes. He had a head of hair that would make nearly anyone, guys and girls alike, green with envy. He was one of the most athletic people in the school and still managed to get through (most of) his classes on the first go. He may have been a bit ditzy in some senses, but it only added to his charm.

But he would never date someone like Eden. Never, in a million years, would King Steve even look at a freak like her.

Eden’s hair was unkempt and ratty, given that she didn’t have enough money for the supplies to properly maintain it. She wasn’t smart, she didn’t consider herself very pretty, and she was a total nerd. She spent all her free time planning Dungeon and Dragons campaigns for Hellfire Club or writing music for her band. That’s one thing she considered herself good at: music—she poured her whole heart and soul into becoming a better musician.

However, even if he was willing to look past all that, he would run for the hills at the first mention of not being a girl (or at least not feeling like one). Steve very clearly liked to stay in the status quo. He was handsome, athletic, and an absolute womanizer. He was going to graduate on time, go to college, marry a nice girl, who would be a stay-at-home mom with their two kids (one boy, one girl).

Eden didn’t fit into that plan, and she accepted that, as much as it killed her.

Day in and day out she would think about the life she could live with Steve. He would go out and make the money, while she stayed home during the day, pretending to tend to the household chores. Steve would be her biggest fan, going to each and every show, cheering her on from the front row. They would have a few dogs, maybe a cat, to take care of that would consume their life (but they would be so worth it). Eden loved to daydream about her life with Steve. They would be happy. For the first time, in each of their lives, they would be happy.

Eden would be a liar if she said she didn’t think about completely changing herself to be more appealing to Steve. It was silly, sure, but if she could keep up her current charade everyday, what’s doing it for the rest of your life? Yes, she hated everything about herself, but if Steve could love her, that’s all she would ever need. Being with him would make up for it all.

Now, she wasn’t crazy or a stalker, so she never fed into her intrusive thoughts, leaving her pining from afar. But hey, a girl person, can dream, can’t she they?

[thefanbasewhore]

Can you do 100 with Hal? 🥺

summary: prompt no. 100, "I'm yours."

content: argument between characters, cursing, jealous reader

paring: King Henry V (Hal) x female reader

a/n: Yes, thank you so much for the request!! The lack of Henry V fics on here is saddening 😔😔

Henry couldn't help but notice the way you pick your nose up, look away from his direction as he enters the room. Despite the company of his most trusted advisors and noble men in the room, you still find a way to misbehave and disrespect him.

He has been easy on you, it's not easy to move to a new country, marry a man you barely know but he can't help the irritation that drips warmth into his chest but he nods quickly, dismissing the standing crowd with fist clenched inside his tunic.

He didn't understand the sudden cold shoulder as he rested a slender hand to the small of you back and closed the distance to press a quick kiss to your temple. The eyes that glared at him resembled the hottest, deepest pits of hell, filled with despondent and distaste.

Everything was fine yesterday, believe it or not, the two of you had grown pretty close. Both have agreed that it was appropriate to get to know each other before your marriage ceremony, since you were to be bonded for life without choice, might as well try and make bring some light to the situation. It may work.

"Is there something wrong?" He whispers lowly, taking his rightful spot as the head of the table. The varies smells that came from the beautifully crafted table made his stomach rumble but there seemed to be more pressing matters. His eyes meet yours under the darkening room, the only light comes from the large, open windows of the castle but the sun is just bright enough to capture the shadows of his cheek bones, naturally highlights the contours of your face.

"Nothing you should worry yourself about, your majesty."

The snippy reply along with the title makes his mouth sour, the words do not belong in the mouth of his equal. He takes one sweep of the room with warning eyes, "Leave."

Just like that the room is cleared, only the future queen and king remain. Henry pulls at the latch of the red cloak, thick in the luxury material it's weaved from.

The light eyes swirl with annoyance, the way he stares you down is both exciting and exasperating. Truly, the most infrauting human you have ever met. So stuck in his way and easily riled, it makes you wonder how he has made it this far.

"Is there a problem, I should be aware of my dear?"

The scoff that falls from your lips as you stand to leave is the last straw, he catches your wrist with a gentle but firm grasp. "Stay."

The word is spoken with authority, there is no challenging the cocky attitude of the king, it's spoken with an annoyed grunt. Henry seems to care very little about the dishes on the table, moving them out of the way before a hand presses on the underside of thigh under your dress and lifts you to the table.

Within seconds he's between your parted legs, a knuckle white grasp on the edge of the table, boxing you in. Hazel eyes test you, daring you to move or look away from the stone, uncanny gaze.

"Let's not behave like children, free tongues only."

He speaks so full of himself, like he is better than this behavior, better than you. Quite possibly he may be but as this moment you want nothing else but to stick a fist against his idiosyncratic handsome face. But he's distracting.

His hot breath fans your face, with every small movement his eyes follow. The short, brown strands of hair messily stick against his forehead in contrasts with the light eyes that makes your heart pound.

"I do not wish to speak to you."

"You think it's fair I'm punished for something non exist to my knowledge?" He press a soft kiss to your right cheek, holding it there only to catch the sweet smelling lavender and vanilla pressed against your skin.

"Why don't you ask that chamber girl you are so hell spent on keeping? Why does she posses that I do not have?"

Two eyes press together and creases of confusion form against the king's forehead, "The chamber girl? What in the -."

"I saw it with my own eyes. I told you I would not be that type of wife, regardless of the alliance our ceremony will bring. You either are my husband or just a man I will provide children to keep my country safe." With those words his mouth snaps closed, eyes flickering to your own as he watches the way you unintentionally lean into his touch as a slender hand cups your cheek. A woman so beautiful, so filled with fire it makes fire stir inside his abdomen, so unknowingly sexy that any man would drop to how knees and beg to be in your good graces. Hell, he even thinks about going it at this very moment. "I am just the woman you are forced to marry."

The long thumb runs the most prominent spot on your cheek, the bone rough and ridgid under his digit. "How can one be so smart, so beautiful and stupid at once?"

You scoff at the insult, a hand grasping his wrist to push it away but he stays solid, pressing his thumb deeper into your cheek to bring your eyes to his own, "I'm yours, petal."

He presses the most gentle, soft kiss against the corner of your lips, "These are nothing but insecure thoughts. There is no other woman, I don't want another, I want you, my flower."

"Swear? Swear it's all in my head."

The king smiles so wide, it takes your breath away. A hand knots your hair from behind as pink lips descend against your own. He pulls away just to whisper against your lips, "While it was not our choice to wed, you make it easy to love you. It is now my choice to make you my queen, understand this, petal."

[ateezmakemeweep]

playing with fire (part 1)

word count: 23k

fluff, smut (warning: age gap, infidelity, roommate’s father)

(series masterlist)

“is there any other way you could pay?” the woman behind the desk asked, stout and soft spoken with sympathy in her eyes.

she probably has to have this conversation with students a lot, tell them that their tuition payment didn’t go through or that they’re not eligible for government support.

or that the athletics department needed more scholarship money, successfully rendering you, one of the many photography majors on campus, unable to pay for your last semester of college.

“a loan of some sort or another scholarship, maybe?” she tried to help, “i could send over an e-mail of ones you might be eligible for.”

you swallow the lump forming in your throat, attempting to calm all the anxiety and stress violently making its way through your body.

“y-yes, that would be great, thank you,” you barely manage to get out, hoping and praying to some unknown force above that you don’t burst into tears.

you were nearing the end of the fall semester, the last fall semester you ever anticipated of having, when you found out just last week that you were no longer eligible for your scholarship.

in a short, curt e-mail explaining that, while you kept up your gpa and never strayed from the requirements, they’ve maxed out their amount of funding and are looking to use that money elsewhere.

“can they do that!?” your best friend and roommate of four years yelps, gucci sunglasses atop her head as she stomps around your shared, off-campus apartment.

“they can’t seriously do that! you’ve been a straight a student since you started and now they wanna take it away?! before your last semester of senior year?!”

“eunbi, it’s not ideal but i’ve already come to terms with it,” you explain gently, leaving out the part where you did, in fact, have a break down right outside the bursar office only an hour ago. “i’ll just save up money and come back in the fall to finish.”

“that’s so not right or fair though!” she whines, something about the concept of not getting what she wants unfamiliar to your roommate.

you first met park eunbi during freshmen move in day, your two raggedy luggages and beat up backpacks an embarrassing contrast to the multiple louis vuitton travel bags she lunged in.

you were intimidated for all of three seconds, before she looked at you with a smile and threw her arms around you like a long lost best friend.

it was obvious she came from money, the way she spoke and carried herself so confidently before her parents came in and introduced themselves.

they were both gorgeous and tall and looked far too young to have an 18-year-old daughter, covered in fancy jewelry and expensive looking clothing.

her dad, who introduced himself as mr. park seonghwa, didn’t seem to bat an eye at your more humble appearance. he reminded you a lot of eunbi, honest and genuine in the way he was kind and nonjudgemental.

mrs. park seemed nice enough, too, though you could see the judgement behind her pretty eyes.

the way she sneered at your bags and looked down at your hands, so different from her and her daughter’s not covered in diamond bracelets or acrylic nails.

“did we just miss your parents?” she asked, her voice just as pretty and rich sounding as she appeared; you bet if she laughed, she’d had have that melodic, care-free laugh all rich women seem to have.

“oh, uh, yeah, i’m sorry,” you apologized, lying through your teeth with a shy smile and averting gaze - you had to move in by yourself, the same way you traveled here all alone with no one to send you off.

“it’s okay, we just thought it’d be nice to meet them,” eunbi’s father interjects, the smile on his handsome face causing your stomach to swoop - how is he a dad?

“we were gonna take eunbi to an early dinner before we left. do you wanna join us?”

“oh no, it’s okay, i’d hate to intru-”

“no, you’re coming, c’mon!” your new roommate whined, grabbing your hand and pulling you toward the door. “we’ll be able to get a lot of dessert out of them. probably the whole menu if we wanted.”

and you saw that over the years, eunbi knew she could, in fact, get whatever she wanted from her parents. they had the money and the means and the fondness in their hearts for their only daughter.

but it never seemed to get to your friend.

she was always kind and thoughtful of others and never said or did anything to suggest she was just a brainless, spoiled rich kid.

even in your guy’s second year when she found out you were going to school on an academic scholarship, she didn’t care. she didn’t turn her nose up or think you were lesser than her for not having the funds; if anything, it only made her praise you more.

that you were smart and ambitious enough to work under the strict guidelines of a prestigious scholarship.

“i know it’s not fair,” you mumble, not wanting to cry or have another anxiety attack over this matter. “but it is what it is. i’ll figure it out.”

she lets out a dejected, defeated sigh so uncharacteristic of the girl, plopping down on her pink, fluffy bed and bringing you down with her.

“we’ll sell feet pics over winter break,” she concludes after a few minutes of silence, wrapping her arm around yours and curling her body into yours. “you know how much money we can get from that? and we have pretty feet,” she says, sticking her leg up and wiggling her red, painted toes.

there’s a little less tightness in your chest and a little heaviness lifted in your stomach as you let out a giggle, looking over at your best friend who truly got you through the last four years of school.

you really don’t know how you’d still be functioning if it weren’t for her.

“you’re sick.”

“i’m serious,” she giggles out, flipping on her side and causing the bed to bounce under you. “you’re still good with coming tomorrow, right? i told my parents you were.”

she had invited you to her house for the winter break this year, the girl not wanting you to spend a month alone in the apartment.

you’ve shared with her how strained your relationship with your parents has been, really, since birth. never seeing eye to eye to them and feeling as if they never had your best interests at heart.

when most kids get full ride scholarships, their parents are immensely proud. bragging about how smart they are and telling them how proud they were.

but your parents were the opposite.

they didn’t want you to up and leave them to pursue an education. they thought you were gonna stay with them forever, not go to college like them and help run the family business back home in your tiny little hometown.

it was your dream to go to college and get a degree, though, so that’s exactly what you did for yourself; but they saw it as a giant fuck you.

saw it as you thinking you were better than them and basically told you to never come back if you thought you were so much smarter and better off without them.

so you’d spent every winter or summer vacation in the dorms, this year finally being the time you accepted eunbi’s invitation to stay over - reluctantly.

“i packed all my stuff, yeah,” you mumble, hands twisted into one another nervously. “but... are you sure they’re okay with it? i don’t wanna intrude or be there if i’m not wanted.”

“y/n, please,” she whines, “my mom may be a raging bitch but you know i make the rules in that house.”

“that’s not what i meant,” you mutter immediately, looking to the girl with a small frown on your lips.

although it was no secret eunbi’s mom didn’t ever seem too fond of you, always sneering at your off-brand items or questioning the logistics of why exactly you needed a scholarship to afford college, you always tried to remain polite.

smile at her and greet her happily even though there was always a thick, palpable tension between you two.

“oh but it is,” she chuckles out, the girl far too aware of what a materialistic snob her mother is. “it’s fine, i know she’s a bitch. my dad’s just coming tomorrow anyway. i told him to bring one of the bigger cars so we can lay out in the back.”

you have to bite back a snarky comment about the fact there are multiple cars in question, though the look in your eye certainly gives it away. she can only giggle and shrug her shoulders, flopping onto her back as she tells you about how excited she is to be reunited with her boyfriend.

eunbi and jiwoon have been dating since their second year of high school, going to colleges only an hour away from each other; he was just as handsome as he was kind and good to her, leaving you with no other option but to love and support the both of them.

and you try to listen to her rambling that ensues, you really do, but your mind is swirling with some slight anxiety about staying with her family for a month.

you don’t wanna make her mom even more irritated, deal with the side eyes and passive aggressive comments and overall feeling of just not being wanted.

you don’t want eunbi to feel obligated to be with you 24/7, act as a cock block to her and her boyfriend who haven’t seen each other in almost six weeks.

and maybe, you don’t want your tiny, small, miniscule crush on mr. park to make you feel any more awkward than it does, wondering how a married man who has a daughter in college is still so handsome and alluring.

it also doesn’t help that he’s just so incredibly kind, always making everyone feel so comfortable and welcomed, it’d be hard not to just develop a little, secret crush on him.

“eunbi, who is that sexy ass man who just dropped you off?” one of your suite mates asks your roommate, everyone gathering back in front of the dorm building after winter break.

it was sophomore year and you spent a month in the quiet, almost eerie college dorms alone (apart from the ra down the hall). you were grateful for everyone to return, no matter how loud or catty things were about to become.

“yeah, for real. is that your new boyfriend? he’s hotter than the last one and i didn’t even think that was possible.”

“uhhh.. no,” eunbi says, shooting the crowd of girls with lustful eyes and curious glances a look of distaste. “that’s my dad.”

and that’s when a chorus of disbelief and inappropriate comments erupted from the group of college girls.

asking how a dad could look like that while hoping and praying he’s single.

inquiring about just how much her dad’s on campus and when’s the next time he’s gonna pick her up.

about how he’s definitely hotter than her boyfriend, with a more mature and sophisticated look than these college boys.

“are they fucking serious! like how disgusting? he’s my literal father!” eunbi rages once in the dorm room, sharing a few curse words and vulgar phrases at the girl’s before stomping away from them.

“and for them to say that shit in front of me? did they think i want to hear that?”

“i know, that was so sick,” you agree, because even though you, too, think he’s attractive, it’s not something you would ever verbalize to your friend.

“like... i know he’s younger than most dads, my parents had me when they were teenagers, but shit! how sick,” she rants, throwing down her heavy designer bags and flopping on her bed.

you can tell by the look on her face how much it truly bothers her, everyone always noticing her dad and making comments like that. she handles it well, she’s always able to handle herself well, but it doesn’t take away from the fact that it’s something that worries her.

people getting close to her to get to her dad, even if it was teachers or other moms in elementary school or her friends when she got to college.

it’s one of the many reasons you would never give away your little crush on him - because it’s not only inappropriate and uncomfortable for her to know but there’s also no need to tell her.

because it’s not like it would go anywhere.

he’s a married man and your roommate’s father, a twisted, dark, forbidden fantasy that will stay in the walls of your head and never see the light of day - no matter how thrilling and fulfilling being with him would be.

“eunbi, your dad’s gonna be here soon,” you yell into your roommate’s doorway, met with the sound of her groaned “five more minutes!” that you’ve been hearing for the past twenty.

she was on facetime with jiwoon when you went to bed around one, briefly waking to the sound of her girlish screams or high-pitched giggles three hours later; you wouldn’t be surprised if she only went to bed a few hours ago.

“you said five more minutes thirty minutes ago,” you say, stomping your way over before smacking her over the head with a pillow. she lets out a loud sigh before swatting you away, your surprisingly fast reflexes grabbing her wrist.

she peeks one eye open as a smirk covers her morning face, looking from you all dressed up and ready in your pink pleated skirt and white thigh high stockings, down to her wrist in your hold.

“that was kinda hot. and you look good. i don’t know how to act right now.”

“shut up and get your ass out of bed,” you demand, biting back a smile as you storm out of her room.

you’d been pacing around the apartment ever since you woke up at seven a.m., more and more unsettled about staying over her house as the time drew closer.

you checked to make sure you had enough clothes and chargers and skincare products for nearly an hour, finally settling the same purple suitcase you moved in with freshmen year near the door.

you hope mrs. park doesn’t notice, remembering the way she sneered at the wonky zipper and slightly stained bottom.

you also hope you can keep yourself in check, not get too nervous or flustered by eunbi’s exorbitant wealth or a new setting you don’t feel welcomed in or her hot ass father whose bones you wanna jump.

the knock at the door completely sobers you, jumping in your spot just in time to see eunbi fly across the living room to get to the door. there’s a big, happy smile on her face, ripping open the door and greeting her father in typical eunbi fashion.

“are those for me?” she asks, snatching the red box from his hands.

excitement bubbles inside the girl as she unveils twelve chocolate covered strawberries, a speciality at one of the local dessert shops just a few miles from her home.

“you shouldn’t have, dad, really. i’m much too tired to appreciate this.”

the man can only look at his daughter with a look of disdain and affection, waking up to an extremely passive aggressive text that she’d really appreciate an early morning treat from her favorite place ever and that it’d really inspire her to be ready.

but as he can currently see, given the state of her hair and pajamas pants, it didn’t at all act as a motivator.

“then maybe i should just-” but upon her father’s hand reaching out to grab the box of strawberries, the girl brings it to her body and runs away, yelling that her bags are packed and she’s just gonna wash her face.

he looks to you with a mock annoyed expression, your heart jumping in your chest as you send him a small, polite smile.

“how do you deal with her, y/n?” he asks, a smirk on his face rising as you let out a soft, slightly forced giggle - this man looks too good for his own good at ten o’clock in the morning.

“don’t talk shit about me!” she yelps before you can even think to say something, a smile lighting up his face again before he nods his head down the hall.

“i’ll bring down your girl’s bags,” he says, his tall, large frame coming toward you making your knees feel slightly wobbly.

you swear you see his eyes roam over you for the shortest of seconds, down to your shirt and exposed legs before back to your face, until he’s looking into your eyes questioningly.

totally not like someone who just checked out their daughter’s roommate - this is what you feared, your own delusionals and attraction making your crazy little brain see something that’s not there.

“her bedroom’s down that hall?”

you resist the urge to swallow nervously, begging yourself to snap out of it and remind yourself you have to deal with the man for a month. a month of his dark, piercing eyes and bright, white smile and skin so smooth and clear, it’s far too easy to forget he’s almost forty years old.

“yeah,” you barely manage to get out. “i-i can help and bring down mine.”

“no, it’s okay,” he insists, “help in getting eunbi ready. you know she’ll delay us thirty more minutes.”

you let out another strained chuckle as you nod your head, finally letting out the breath you’ve been holding when you hear his footsteps disappear down the hall and into her room.

as long as you distance yourself from him, not look him in the eye or let any sort of idea get in your head that an older, married man could want you back, this will be fine.

it’ll be a nice, calm, relaxed break actually full of interaction and socialization opposed to your usual lonely bubble of solitude.

eunbi’s not making that very easy though, when twenty minutes later, she’s opening the back door of her father’s black g-wagen and sprawling out on the black leather seats.

“where’s y/n supposed to go, eunbi?” seonghwa asked, the fatherly tone is his voice causing eunbi to let out a huff; the only time you see eunbi’s spoiled tendencies come out is around her father, the girl knowing he’ll do anything and everything for her.

and apparently, so will you.

sitting in the front seat of her car, next to her extremely hot father you’re trying to stay calm around, while she sleeps soundly in the backseat - if she didn’t invite to stay at her home, meals and bed and transportation free, you’d say she has to owe you.

“was she up all night talking to jiwoon?” mr. park asked, the past few moments of silence just as comforting as they were terrifying. it felt awkward to you, extremely tense and full of suspense, but you knew it was completely normal.

you bite down on your lip, looking back at eunbi sleeping soundly on the seat, even prepared with a fuzzy white blanket. you let out a soft giggle when you see her mouth open, the slightest bit of drool hanging from her mouth and threatening to spill on the dark leather.

“she might’ve been,” you mutter, a breathy laugh leaving her father that causes you to sneak a glance at him.

there’s not a hint of a wrinkle or imperfection on his glowing skin, black hair hanging in his face and red lips quirked into a content smile. that’s something you always noticed about him, despite his dark appearance and looming figure, he always appears to be happy.

smiles and laughs and never gives anyone without his same wealth a dirty glance - he treats everyone the same and that’s another reason you’ve taking a liking to him, not just because he’s the hottest man you’ve ever seen in your life.

“y/n?” he asks, your intrusive thoughts being ripped away at the sound of his voice calling your name.

your eyes move to his and he’s watching you in slight amusement, a rampant blush creeping up on your cheeks at the way you’ve been caught. you’re quick to look away, shake your head and let out an awkward chuckle and apology.

you miss the way his eyes roam your side profile, a delightful smirk and feeling in his chest blooming before he speaks again.

“how was your semester?”

“it was good,” you say, hands placed nervously in your lap. “a lot of work on top of an internship but it was good.”

“and you girls are almost done,” he hums lowly, one hand atop the steering wheel while his eyes focus on the highway in front of him. “eunbi’s been talking about a combined graduation party since the moment you guys met.”

you let out a small laugh as you remember eunbi’s plan since your second semester of freshmen year, ignoring the twinge of sadness in your stomach.

you could’ve never anticipated delaying your college career when you first received your scholarship, happy and proud and eternally grateful for the opportunity.

but you suppose you’re lucky enough to have gotten this far, and delaying one last semester is nothing compared to people who never get to go to college - but it still makes you feel upset.

you think you have the right to feel disappointed and sad, the lingering sick feeling in your stomach making you feel nauseous.

“is it okay if i open the window for a second?” you mumble to mr. park, the man looking over your face.

he presses down on the passenger window button immediately, your face met with cold air as relief floods through your body.

“are you okay? do you get car sick?” he asks, remembering how much eunbi used to get car sick (on the rare occasion she wasn’t passed out during a road trip).

“not usually,” you mumble, resting your head on the side of the door.

then again, i’m not usually freaking out about making tuition money or repressing my violent attraction to my roommate’s father.

seonghwa watches as you close your eyes for a few moment, allowing the cold, windy air to hit your face. he couldn’t help but notice the pinkish tint to your cheeks, suppressing the urge for his eyes and thoughts to wander.

you’re a college girl in the prime of her life and his daughter’s best friend, he’d be a fool to think you were blushing and nervous because of him - but he also doesn’t remember you looking like.... this.

so pretty and dressed up and pink in the face as you check him out with a soft and curious look in your eye.

“maybe try to take a nap,” he suggests, his gaze lingering back onto the road so he doesn’t look at your exposed legs. “i’ll pull off at a rest stop to get you ginger ale.”

“that’s not necessary, mr. park,” your sweet voice says, something about it causing his insides to jump - he definitely doesn’t remember you sounding like that. “i’ll be okay. just need the window open for a little longer.”

you spend the next few minutes with the cold, december wind blowing through the car, your back pressed against the comfortable seat behind you. a chill runs through your body, goosebumps rising on your exposed thighs, but it feels better than the alternative.

potentially panicking or vomiting due to current stress of your life.

your gaze shifts to the man beside you, whether it be to check him out or ask if he’s cold unknown to you.

“are you okay with the-”

the words are stuck in your throat when you see his eyes aren’t on the road but your exposed, goose-bumpy thighs, the white lace of your thigh high stockings and pink skirt leaving little to the imagination.

you wish you could see the look in his eye, if it’s judgemental and shameful or full of lust and curiosity. if he’s wondering what you have on just a few inches under your skirt and if that’s something he even thinks about.

or maybe he’s just looking because it’s there - your skirt blowing in the wind and him caught off guard by the sight right there in his passenger seat.

“um, i think i’m good now,” you mumble, watching from your peripheral as he shifts in his seat and tightens his hold on the steering wheel.

“alright, let me know if you wanna stop.”

you bite down on your lip as you nod your head, keeping your eyes on the view in front of you.

the faint sounds of eunbi snoring behind you act as a way to ground you, remind you that these thoughts and feelings you’re having can’t stay.

maybe you have to get it our of your system now, take all the looks you can and feel all the hopefulness your delusional brain needs until you act as if eunbi’s father is a mean, disgusting, grotesque man.

not someone who gets your heart and body pounding.

you’re not sure how many songs play on the radio until you both are talking again, seonghwa looking in the rearview mirror to see his daughter still passed out on the seats.

“do you think she’ll sleep the whole time?”

he hope for his sake, she doesn’t.

you look back at eunbi sleeping soundly, the drool previously trickling down her mouth successfully making a pool on the black leather.

“probably,” you chuckle out lightly. “i have a feeling she went to bed around six.”

“shit,” he laughs out, remembering the days he used to be able to pull all nighters in college or dreaded the idea of waking up in the morning. “i can’t remember the last time i was able to stay up past one.”

“you’re not even that old, mr. park,” you tease, not sure where you got the balls to say that and feeling, at least for a few seconds, that you overstepped; but then he lets out a deep, amused chuckle and it causes butterflies to erupt in your stomach.

“not that old, huh?” he quips, your tooth sinking into your lip at the tone of his voice. “you know i’m turning 40 in a few months, right?”

you crane your neck to look at the man in the driver’s seat, swallowing thickly when you see his eyes are already on you. there’s a certain type of lightness and teasing in them that you’ve never seen before, the man always happy and jovial but never like this.

never looking so... teasing and playful.

“yeah,” you say with a growing smirk, not being able to help your own nervous excitement. “that doesn’t seem too bad.”

the deep, low chuckle that leaves him causes your stomach to swoop, eyes wide and the small smile on your face causing him to look over you once more.

it’s shameless and bold but neither of you seem to care in that moment.

“i’ll keep that in mind,” he says, deep brown eyes piercing through yours before his face turns teasing and.. appropriate.. “the next time eunbi tries to call me an old man or something.”

“right,” you chuckle out, cheeks burning and heart pounding as you allow yourself to break eye contact.

the ride to eunbi’s house is just over two hours, hoping and praying that it goes by quickly - because you’re not sure how much longer you’ll be able to be alone, or mostly alone, with him.

you’re thinking too much into his words and his gaze and the way he makes you feel, making you silly enough to believe that, maybe, a part of him wants you too.

the second you arrived at eunbi’s, you had already felt unwelcomed.

not only because of mrs. park, who just about sneered at your presence in her exquisite home, but because of the dozens of other socialites in the immaculately white living room.

it looked and felt almost like a hospital. a white color scheme with black accents, extremely cold and spotless - the only bit of color was in eunbi’s room where it felt like you could actually breathe.

“i’m sorry, i told her not to throw her fucking gathering today,” eunbi complained, grumpy from her nap but still happy to finally be home.

“a bunch of stuck up snobs, i swear to god. they either have to get the stick lodged so far up their asshole removed or get dicked down by their lousy excuses of-”

“eunbi,” you hear her father’s deep voice reprimand, the girl not even feeling the slightest bit of shame or embarrassment for talking that way in front of her father.

“oh, c’mon, dad, you know it’s true!” she whines in a whispered tone. “they’re the worst! and she knew me and y/n were coming today, do you really think that wasn’t a coincidence?”

because, as far as eunbi thinks, she has sinking suspicions that her mom did this solely to make you uncomfortable.

she had already been hesitant to let you stay in the first place, had eunbi not gone full on bitch mode and stubbornly proclaimed she’d spend the break with you at the apartment.

but you didn’t have to know that.

“i don’t care, it’ll just be my first christmas without my family, mom, who cares about that,” she had said, all types of manipulative and toxic behavior that she learned from the best.

she’s sure her mother was sweet and good at one point in her life, she wouldn’t have ended up with her father in the first place if she wasn’t, but money changes people.

wealth and greed and having the power to get anything you want because you flash a stack of money around or write out a check.

“i told her to have them out by dinner,” he said, his eyes moving from eunbi to you, standing there with tense shoulders and a shy, uncomfortable look on your face.

“you’re more than welcomed here, y/n,” he said, his voice low and full of kindness as he stands in eunbi’s doorway. “don’t worry about it, okay?”

you resist the urge to pout at the touched feeling in your chest, looking from the man to eunbi who’s nodding at her dad’s words.

“thank you, mr. park,” you say, a phrase he swears has never effected him this deeply.

and because of that, he’s quick to haul ass out of there. tells you guys that dinner will be ready around seven and to come down whenever.

you and eunbi spend that time in her room to unpack both of your things and watch movies, her king sized bed nearly lulling you to sleep until her loud squeal and bounce of the bed causes you to jump in shock.

“y/n, don’t be mad at me please,” she whines directly in your face, all wide-eyed and cutesy as she looks at you with mock innocence.

“what did you do?” you mumble tiredly, pushing her away with the smallest of sneers.

“i’ll be back for dinner, i promise, but... is it okay if i go to jiwoon’s for a little?” she asks, cocking her head to the side before shimming closer to you. “i have to get railed so bad.”

“jesus christ, eunbi,” you snort, pushing her away again and burying your face in the pillow - you’ve never met someone who overshares as much as she does.

she plops down on her back with an unabashed giggle, popping right back up like an annoying little dog and looking at you with a smile.

“of course you can go, i’m not gonna hold you hostage here,” you say when she pulls your face away, looking at you so expectantly and sweetly, you couldn’t say no if you wanted.

“okay, but i don’t want you thinking that i’m gonna ditch you this whole time. i’m really not, y/n,” she pouts, knowing that was one of the reasons you were apprehensive about coming - that and her bitch of a mother. “i just miss him.”

a pout falls on your face as you look at eunbi and the genuine look on her face.

“bi, i’m serious, go. i want you to,” you insist, moving a piece of her tangled hair away from her face. “we were just gonna be up here anyway. i’ll probably take a nap, i was about to fall asleep before your loud ass-”

“thank you, thank you, thank you,” she says, pulling you into a tight hug before jumping off her bed and rushing toward her door. “i’ll be back a lot more calm and happy. oh, why, you ask? because i’m about to get my back blown the fuck ou-”

you thank god for your impeccable aim, promptly whacking eunbi in the face with one of her pillows.

“get out of here,” you groan, eunbi throwing the pillow back with a smile on her face.

“sweet dreams, y/n!”

you let out a sigh when she closes her door, falling back onto her bed with a soft plop.

you were definitely tired from your anxious pacing this morning but aren’t sure how much sleep you’re gonna get right now, tonight or for the rest of the month.

knowing that you’re unwelcomed by one person, extremely attracted to another and silently betraying the person you should be most loyal too - but as long as it just stays in your head, and you remind yourself that there’s no way mr. park could feel anything back to you, it’ll be fine.

you’ll just get by quietly and smoothly at dinners or in passing through the hallways, enjoy eunbi’s comfortable king-sized bed and the fact that you don’t have to spend yet another holiday alone.

reruns of drake and josh play in the background, keeping your giggles quiet as drake soaks his feet in lizard pee. you feel your eyes grow heavy the more episodes you watch, the shitty laugh track and loud, bickering brothers eventually lulling you to sleep.

it takes about five knocks on the door to eventually stir you, your eyes fluttering open to see mr park’s figure in the doorway. you can only stare at the man as you adjust to him, taking in his tall, slim figure just a few feet away from you.

taking in the way his white shirt clings to his body, broad shoulders and slim torso on display in a way that makes you wish you could see, just for a second, what he looks like underneath that a-

“sorry if i woke you,” his deep voice hums, the slightest bit of amusement in his voice that causes your cheeks to warm. “i didn’t think you’d be sleeping at seven p.m.”

“no, it’s okay,” you stammer out, sitting up in eunbi’s bed. “i... i don’t even know when i fell asleep, to be honest.”

he looks at the screen to see drake and josh playing, a smirk pulling at his lips as his gaze shifts back to you.

“it’s funny,” you defend with a mumble, a deep chuckle leaving his mouth that causes butterflies to erupt in your stomach - he’s far too handsome, everything about him is just far too attractive, even in his laugh.

“that’s what eunbi claims,” he says, remembering all the years of his daughter forcing him to watch ridiculous shows.

despite his daughter’s outgoing nature, she never had a lot of friends growing up.

there was once a small group of girls she hung out but they quickly drifted apart throughout high school, leaving eunbi really only with him and her boyfriend.

the boyfriend who seonghwa really didn’t wanna like out of principal but seeing that the kid really does love his daughter quickly coming around.

“speaking of, where is she? jiwoon’s?”

“yeah,” you tell him, settling back into the pillows and stretching your arms out in front of you. “she said she’d be back for dinner.”

“well she’s wrong, as usual, because dinner’s ready,” he quips playfully, the smirk pulling at his lips causing you to smile back at him. you swallow nervously when his eyes roam over your face, your own gaze trained on him before you see his mouth start to move again.

“do you want me to bring some up for you? or you’ll come down?”

he can see the apprehension on your face immediately, fear crossing your eyes and your arms folding into each other uncomfortably. he tries to ignores the way your soft white sweater dips by your chest, a hint of perky cleavage just barely showing that causes his dick to twitch in his pants.

he doesn’t know when this happened.

he didn’t know when he became a pervy old man who checked out college girls with his wife just downstairs and the knowledge that you’re his daughter’s friend.

“i’ll come down,” you say, surprising him just as he was about to insist he brings some up for you. “she’ll probably be back soon anyway.”

but five minutes pass by, then ten, then twenty and eunbi’s still not home - it’s just you, seonghwa and mrs. park at the long, glass dining room table.

white chairs with high backs and comfortable cushions to match the immaculate, hospital-like color scheme and environment; truthfully, you’ve never been more terrified to eat a plate of chicken parmesan in your life.

the sound of utensils scraping on the china and the crackling of the fireplace a room over are the only noises heard throughout the home, mrs. park taking a swig of wine and gently placing it on the table with a light clack.

“so, y/n,” she finally says, breaking the tension with her rich-sounding, nasally voice. “how has school been, dear? you’re an... art major, am i remembering that correctly?”

“uh, photography, yeah,” you smile tensely, trying to ignore the judgment in her voice.

“ah, so you never switched over to business then,” she hums, her wine glass back in hand as her dark, gorgeous eyes look you over.

you bite the inside of your cheek as you feel a pink flush cover your face, faintly remembering your roommate saving you a few semesters ago when her mom was grilling you about picking a more practical and useful major.

“she can do whatever she wants, mom,” eunbi eventually snapped, “whether she does business or photography or even liberal arts is none of your business.”

“no,” you mutter out, dropping your gaze to look over the intricate pattern on the table. “i thought about it but it wasn’t something i wanted.”

“so you didn’t want something practical? or useful?” she asks, using those two words yet again while cocking her head to the side with a perfectly plucked eyebrow.

“a business degree would’ve been great, y/n. everyone always has connections to somewhere, you could’ve found a job right out of college.”

you bite back the urge to tell her no. that not everyone has connections to multi billion dollar companies or numbers of ceos in their phones or the ceo of a tech company as their next door neighbors.

but instead, the same way eunbi defended you against her mother, seonghwa does against his wife. gives you a soft, sympathetic side eye before placing his larger hand on his wife’s.

“there are tons of jobs in photography too, honey,” seonghwa says, his voice so warm and soft and welcoming compared to hers even despite the slight edge in it.

“and she can travel to build her portfolio. it’s a fantastic opportunity to explore the world and make money. is there a particular type of photography you’d wanna do?”

you feel yourself relax slightly, a small smile on your face as you nod your head toward the striking couple.

“i would love to be a wedding photographer actually,” you mumble, a romantic at heart who’s read and watched far too many novels and romcoms.

“taking pictures of all those moments would be really fun, i think. like when the groom sees the bride for the first time or just everyone dancing and having fun. weddings are usually happy and i like to photography happy things.”

“that sounds perfect for you then,” seonghwa smiles, his brown eyes lighting up and making you feel even more at ease.

“i think you’ll do great, y/n. and you only have a semester left, right? maybe you and eunbi you could travel for the summer before you start your jobs.”

you ignore the swish of dread and anxiety in your stomach at the mention of next semester, instead choosing to smile softly and nod your head at the man.

“i think she’d love that,” you giggle out, knowing damn well your roommate already has an extensive list of cities she wants to visit before ‘real life begins.’

“and how do your parents feel about everything?” mrs. park asks, making your stomach twist with even more dread and discomfort. “are they proud?”

you wish you could fold in on yourself right now, swallowing the growing, nervous lump in your throat.

because not only is she making you incredibly uncomfortable right now, with her harsh looks and topic of conversation and snide little tone, she just mentioned the people you haven’t spoken to since you left home at eighteen.

you don’t know what to say, you have the slightest bit of concern you might throw up on her, when the loud, chipper voice of your roommate floats through the cold, silent house.

“i’m back!” her chipper voice yelps, sock-clad feet running through the house and sliding on the marble floor. “what’d you guys make?”

“you’re late, eunbi,” seonghwa mumbles warningly, an innocent smile on her face as she picks up her plate of food and plops down next to you.

“am i? or are you girls just early?”

“i’m not a girl.”

“it’s a figure of speech, father,” eunbi says, smiling playfully at her father before turning to you.

she’s able to tell the second she sees your face that you’re uncomfortable, the pink flush still lingering on your face and the tenseness of your shoulders making her frown.

“i’m sorry you were alone with them,” she whispers, genuine sorrow in her wide, mock-innocent eyes. “i got held up. or... down, rather, but i tried to leave on time. i promise.”

“uh huh, i bet,” you mumble back, fighting back a smile despite your discomfort.

because eunbi has always had something about her that made it impossible to stay mad at her, her carefree, unfiltered way of communicating that made being her friend so easy.

even if, sometimes, you wanted to kill her.

“so mom,” eunbi quips, turning her soft gaze to you before looking over her mother.

“what was with your little group of bitchy housewives today? you couldn’t have had them over any other day? what kind of christmas disgrace is that?”

“eunbi...” seonghwa chastises lowly, the girl with her brow already quirked and eyes narrowed.

“i can do whatever i want in my home, eunbi. are you forgetting how things work around here?”

“how could i, when i’m met with thirty middle-aged women with botox out the ass in my home the second i get back from school?” she asks, “you didn’t think me and y/n would wanna spend the break, like, resting?”

“you ran off to your boyfriend’s the second you got here,” mrs. park bites back, her glass of wine empty as she pinches the bridge of her nose. “left your friend all alone in your room. what did i tell you about leaving... guests unattended in the house?”

the accusation and direction of conversation is quickly making you feel uncomfortable, your head turned down in your lap and leaving your cheeks aflame.

she’s making it sound like you would steal something in her home for christ’s sake, like you’re not a guest who’s dreaded coming here due to this very reason.

you block out the back and forth between eunbi and her mom, a few more seconds of yappy feminine voices before a deeply spoken “enough,” echoes through the dining room.

you even look up at the sound, watching as mr. park’s eyes rest on you. his eyes narrow as he takes in the sight of your red cheeks, his gaze shifting from you to his daughter to his wife beside him.

“y/n’s here for a month and we’re gonna make her feel welcomed the entire time. if you two are gonna fight, don’t do it at the dinner table.”

“but dad, she totally-”

“maybe you should’ve taught your daughter-”

“no more,” seonghwa growls, a sense of finality in his tone that causes the room to go silent.

you can tell your friend is unbothered by the reprimanding, shoveling food into her mouth and sipping from her wine glass completely unbothered.

sometimes you wish you could be more like her, so unfazed by conflict or loud voices or the strained relationship with a parent.

eunbi was always open with you about the rocky relationship with her mother, saying more than once to you that if it weren’t for her father, she would’ve long cut off any contact with her.

she had never really been there for eunbi growing up, having nannies and chefs take care of her for most of her life - it was her nanny of fifteen years who taught her how to walk and talk, was there with her for all the milestones she met through infancy, childhood and even adolescence.

but even then, eunbi was nonchalant and carefree about it.

saying that she’s not gonna waste her time being upset over it when she knows her mom doesn’t think about her at all. it makes your heart hurt for eunbi, grateful that the girl at least has a good relationship with her father and boyfriend.

and you, of course. you consider her your best friend and you know she does the same - even if sometimes, you wanna pull her hair out.

“i’m gonna go the food store tomorrow, eunbi, so if you and y/n want anything, just text it to me.”

“oooh can we come!” she squeals, knocking her arm into yours like an excited kid in a candy store. “we wanna try making our cookies again.”

“you’re gonna bake?” the girl’s father asks, a look of doubt on his face that causes you to bite back a smile.

“no, we’re gonna bake,” she corrects with snark, “y/n measures the ingredients and stirs, i put it in the oven and watch.”

“right, silly me,” the man hums, a smirk pulling at his lips the more he sees his daughter get irritated. “but of course you girls can come,” he says, his eyes flicking to you for just a few seconds too long.

you can only look back with a small smile, a quiet “thank you,” leaving your mouth that you’re positive he doesn’t catch.

(he did).

you help clean your plate off before you and eunbi go up to her room later that night, once her door’s closed and she’s sitting down shooting her a look of disdain.

“i know you’re mad, okay, i’m sorry, i really am!” she whines, holding her arms out for you to come over. “i tried to leave but he wouldn’t let me. he just kept wanting to-”

“i don’t need the details you sick freak!” you yelp, going over and plopping down on her bed. “ugh, it was just... so awkward. your mom hates me. she was utterly perturbed that i didn’t switch my major to business.”

“ugh, she’s a crotchety bitch i swear,” eunbi says, falling onto her back and looking at you with sorrow in her eyes. “i’m sorry, i really am. i won’t leave you alone with her again, i promise.”

you quirk an unconvinced eyebrow her way, eyes full of doubt and distrust before she throws herself on you and squeals that, at least, now you can have a scary movie marathon without any interruptions.

it seems you also probably should’ve made her promise last night that you’d never be alone with her father either; it didn’t even occur to you at the time, not thinking that she’d really ditch you two days in a row.

but alas, jiwoon’s car pulled up when all three of you were walking out of the house to the g-wagon for the trip to the food store, her shooting you an apologetic look and whispered condolences in your ear.

“i’m technically not breaking my promise because my dad’s nice,” she mumbled, the feeling in your body more nervous and aroused than it is angry and upset.

but she could’t know that.

“and when i break your head? then what, eunbi?”

“i love you,” she giggles in your ear, the playful tone of your voice letting her know she got off the hook again. “it’ll be fine. my dad’s a good man. he wouldn’t ever talk shit to you the way my mom does.”

little does she know how much you want her dad to talk shit to you.

talk to you in a way that’s casual and playful and teasing, like the hints of it you’ve seen in the car or in eunbi’s room when you were alone last night. you just want him to look at you with the slightest bit of something, even though it’s wrong.

not only because of his wife, no matter how big a bitch she is, but because of-

“do you still wanna come with me?”

seonghwa’s voice pulls you away from your thoughts, looking to the man dressed in a long, black jacket and expensive loafers. he looks far too fancy and delectable for a trip to the grocery store.

eunbi is long gone by now, her giggles and carefree run down the driveway and into her boyfriend’s car leaving you and mr. park alone, with only the blue sky and crisp air as your witness.

him looking you over hopefully, with a twinge of teasing and longing in his gaze.

you looking at him full of nerves and excitement, biting down on your lip as you nod your head timidly.

“s-sure, if that’s okay,” you say, looking from him to his car just a few feet away. “it’d be better than sitting in eunbi’s room again.”

a handsome smile crosses his face as he nods his head, heart pounding and throat constricting as you watch him walk toward the car.

he walks around the front of a smaller, sleek suv, your own eyes watching in confusion until he opens the passenger side door.

you can only stare blankly, head cocked to the side as you really start to wonder if this man is about to make you drive his car costing more than your life.

“are you getting in, y/n?” he asks, an amused smile pulling at his lips - almost like he’s making fun of your nervous, intimidated disposition.

you shake your head of the confusion, cheeks flushing in the cold december air as you do an awkward jog toward the car. you dip in beside him as your body hits the cool leather, craning your neck to shoot him a small, grateful smile.

your faces are closer than you anticipated, breath catching in your throat as his gaze watches you closely.

he doesn’t say a word or move a muscle, taking a few moments for his eyes to roam your face and body before mumbling to buckle up.

you wish you knew how long the drive to the store would be, as it would slightly settle you and the thick, awkward tension in the air. it appears to be enough time for the heat to go on, warm air blowing from the vents before he asks if you want your seat heater on.

“oh, sure, thank you,” you mumble, a smile quirking on his lips as he presses down on the small circular button.

more silence lingers in the air as the trees outside you pass by, the bright winter sun and blue sky not making it feel like christmas is only a few days away.

you can’t remember the last time the holidays have actually felt like it, though,  all the lonely days blending into one and feeling as if they were the same.

maybe this year, because you’re surrounded by eunbi and her family, it’ll feel less lonely. maybe you’ll actually enjoy yourself and find that you’ve missed out when you denied her invitation each and every-

“i’m sorry about my wife last night.”

those are words you don’t expect so they shock you even more, looking at the older man beside you with a wide-eyed, confused gaze. his dark eyes are expressionless and casual on the road, one hand on the wheel while the other rests beside him.

“i... what do you mean?” you ask, knowing damn well you understand his apology - and given the unamused look he throws you, he knows you’re full of shit too.

“i don’t think she means to judge you so harshly,” he begins, his deep, smooth voice full of sympathy and softness. “it’s not her place to question your education or major, so i just want to apologize for her.”

“that’s not necessary, mr. park,” you insist, shaking your head as a small, breathy chuckle leaves you. “and it’s not like i haven’t heard it before.”

because no one is ever too confident in any of the arts being your main source of income or profession; even your own parents, although it really wouldn’t matter what you would have chosen, haven’t been supportive.

and you especially haven’t missed the looks of pity or distaste when you tell people on campus or at parties in the frat house, future business leaders or stem majors looking at you like just said the sky is hot pink.  

“well that’s just ridiculous,” seonghwa says, ripping you from your thoughts so you can roam over his strong, handsome face. “it’s a great field to work in and something you’re passionate about. that’s what matters most.”

he can tell by the way your cheeks flush that you’re slightly embarrassed and he can’t help but find it endearing, licking over his lips as his mind begins to wander.

wonder about what other parts of you could flush so easily or what else he could say to really make the pinkness deepen.

“i guess,” you mutter, shrugging your shoulders as you look at the passing oak trees and mansions.

“and... what you said last night about traveling to build my portfolio,” you begin, shocked by the words continuing to leave your mouth. “that’s something i’ve thought about doing. i think it’d be really fun, regardless if i did wedding photographer or not.”

“yeah?” he asks, the smile on his face causing your head to jump. “i think that’d be good, too. where would you wanna go first?”

your lips purse to the side as you think it over, a love for traveling anywhere you could but having an especially strong pull toward the tropics.

“cancun or the maldives,” you answer, the financial aspect of the trip leaving it most likely impossible for you. “it’ll probably never happen, because i’d have to sell my first born, but i’ve always wanted to go somewhere like that. somewhere tropical and fun.”

seonghwa bites his tongue about his multiple trips there, instead letting out a chuckle that causes butterflies to erupt. his eyes are too drawn to your body in the front seat, legs crossed and arms over your lap politely.

“you never know,” he hums, ripping his gaze away before you catch his gawking. “you might get there one day, after being the best wedding photographer the city has to offer.”

“oh, please,��� you glggle out, cheeks flushing despite the absurdity of the comment.

you catch the smile that creeps on his face, the same handsome, carefree smile you saw in the car last time.

you try not to let it get to you, let your brain convince you that maybe he likes hanging out with you alone as much as you like it too.

“i’m serious,” he says, the earnest tone of his voice slipping into dad mode in a way he doesn’t even realize. “your parents must be proud.”

you bite down on your lip as you let out a soft, almost scornful, chuckle, a quietly mumbled “yeah,” leaving your mouth that causes his eyebrows to pull together.

he always thought it was a little suspicious that in the four years eunbi has known you, she’s never told him about your parents; as far as he knows, she’s never even seen them.

“she has her scholarship and stuff so she doesn’t really need them,” his daughter said one day, the two of them discussing why you were spending yet another break alone in the apartment.

“but they don’t want her home for the holidays? you told her she was welcomed, right?”

“ugh, about a thousand times,” his daughter groans in the seat, throwing herself against the window dramatically. “i basically begged her, dad, but she said she didn’t wanna intrude. i’m telling you it’s because mom is the biggest fucking-”

“eunbi...”

“you know it’s true!” she squeals, seonghwa biting his tongue in an effort to be the bigger and better parent. “i don’t even know why you guys got married.”

but that’s what happens with teen pregnancies and rich families. how they were destined to marry anyway, due to their parents companies and stupid business politics.

it was one drunken night at his dad’s company party and a broken condom that sealed his fate with finality - made him go from a single, carefree high school student to a married businessman with a child just two short years later.

his wife was good at one point he likes to think, remembering she was gorgeous and sassy and not like the other girls who would drop to their knees for him.

but marriage and a child and just life quickly caught up with them, already trapped in a loveless, pointless marriage by the time he hit 25.

he’d be lying if he said he didn’t stay for eunbi, that they both didn’t stay for eunbi throughout her childhood and now just grew too used to being an unhappy married couple who live separate lives.  

there was never any reason for them to divorce though, no one serious in his or his wife’s lives and the hassle of money and disputing houses and cars and assets far too draining.

“i don’t believe i’ve ever met them,” seonghwa says, pulling into the store parking lot to see it’s less crowded than he suspected it’d be. “what do they do?”

you couldn’t imagine anything more unbearable than disclosing to your friend’s hot dad who you may or may not have feelings for about the messed up relationship with your parents.

it just screams daddy issues, which might say a lot about your very attraction to him in the first place.

“they run a little restaurant back in my home town. it’s about three hours from campus, which is why i don’t really go home for breaks.”

seonghwa hums lowly, nodding his head as he looks at you at a stop sign.

you’re unnerved by the way his eyes roam you, like he can see signs of you being uncomfortable about your parents and wants to know why - but why would he care? you’re only his daughter’s roommate.

“do you miss seeing them?”

you lick over your lips nervously, watching as his eyes darken every so slightly.

he watches each and every of your movements carefully, so in tune with your reactions and breaths you can just feel yourself getting more and more worked up.

not in the slightest, you wanna say. i’ll probably never see them again and have no qualms about it, mr. park.

“i suppose,” you mutter, shrugging your shoulders as you apprehensively meet his gaze.

“you suppose?” he asks, concern etched on his face. “when was the time you’ve seen them? since your freshmen year?”

you avert your gaze as your teeth sink into your bottom lip, in no way wanting to have this discussion at ten a.m. when, much to your pleasure, an impatient car behind beeps at seonghwa’s mercedes.

his dark eyes move to the rearview mirror, narrowed and irritated in a way you can’t help but think is sexy, before he puts his foot off the break and turns into the parking lot.

“i think this person’s leaving,” you mutter when you notice another car go in reverse, seonghwa snatching the spot before the impatient, crotchety lady behind him could steal it.

you can’t help but smirk as seonghwa eyes her when you get out of the car, giving him a look that’s half judgmental and half amused.

“what? she beeped at me.”

“aren’t you supposed to be, like, an adult?”

he rolls his eyes as he takes a cart from the pile, nodding his head for you to go in front and “stop talking back to an elder.”

you can’t help but smirk at his playfulness, taking your spot in the front and pretending as if you always move your hips this much when you walk casually; you would’ve felt embarrassed, had you not turned around a few moments later to see his eyes already on you.

“where to first, mr. park?”

he has to bite back the groan threatening to leave his mouth, reminding himself to keep himself in check this month - starting tomorrow.

“depends, y/n,” he hums, voice far too deep and sultry to be surrounded by innocent bystanders in the grocery store. “what do you want?”

words are caught in your throat and you can only stare dumbly, your plan quickly back firing as he appears to do the same - but it’s gotta be in your head, right?

regardless, it quickly humbles you in the form of a small, unsure shrug.

it’s how you two start walking up and down the aisles, seonghwa putting in what he remembers and items on his mental list while also insisting you put in anything you want.

your arms bump ever so often, softly apologizing and acknowledging it the first few times before you both realize it may be happening on purpose.

you stick close to him when the aisles get tight and crowded, his deep voice telling you to “go ahead,” causing you to swallow shakily. you feel the presence of his hand just a few inches from your hips, lingering and hovering but never fully touching.

it’s finally when you’re in the bread aisle, seonghwa a few feet away talking to the man at the bakery counter, that you decide to put something in the cart.

you would usually never accept someone’s offer to buy you something, already feeling bad about staying with them rent free and eating their meals without compensating.

but the brioche loaf brand is one of your favorites, only sold on occasion at the corner store near campus.

you press up on your tippy toes to grab the bag of bread, stretching your arm up with all your might. the plastic slips through your fingers just as you’re about to snatch it down, letting out an annoyed huff as you pulled down your sweater dress.

you mumble your annoyances before trying again, back on the tips of your toes with your arm raising when you feel a hand on the small of your back.

it’s large and warm and seeping through the thin material of your burgundy dress, a snappy protest about to leave your mouth when you catch mr. park’s face in your peripheral.

there’s a content look on his face as he takes the bag with ease, holding it above your head as his hand moves from your back to your waist with a gentle touch.

you look at him with wide eyes and a pounding heart, his hand on your waist so foreign and strange but... good. something you didn’t even realize you’d been craving until it happened.

the strength and warmth of his hand, though if you think about it just enough, you can feel the weight of his wedding band through the fabric.

“is this what you wanted?”

his voice is deep and low as he speaks to you and you alone, your eyes raising to see him staring down at you. you can’t make out the expression in them, just the darkness in his eyes and the frantic beating of your heart.

you can’t even being to understand the context of his words right now because, yes, this is exactly what you’ve wanted - but he doesn’t know that, right?

“w-what?”

he can’t help the smirk that crosses his face, all sorts of pride and satisfaction and arousal coursing through his veins at your current disposition.

“the bread,” he says, stepping back and holding it out to you. “is this the one you wanted?”

your eyes narrow as you look at him, the smirk on his face, the amusement in his gaze, the playfulness that’s radiating off him - is he fucking with you?

“oh... i... yes,” you finally say, coming to your senses and not allowing yourself to think this way anymore. “that’s the one. i hope it’s okay.”

“of course,” he hums, placing the bread in the cart before going back to the front handles. “you can get anything you want, i already told you that.”

you nod dumbly as you follow beside him, seonghwa picking more things off the shelves and muttering the list to himself as you try to get your shit together.

because yes, you’re attracted to him and yes, you’ve found yourself alone with him for more than two days in a row and yes, there’s been some lingering looks and touches but that doesn’t mean anything.

you can’t let your own deluded thoughts and desires get in the way of reality.

the reality that he’s your friend and roommate’s married father and you’re a college student. he doesn’t want you just as much as you shouldn’t want him so what’s the problem here?

maybe it’s that you’re a 22-year-old woman who’s only been on a handful of dates.

that the last time you made out with someone was when you were drunk and dared to kiss the first guy that walked through the bar (luckily, somewhat attractive and surprisingly polite).

that, maybe, you’re so horribly touch-starved and aching for affection, you’re trying to find it in a hot father figure who’s just as kind as he sexy - and that, you think, is the second most tragic thing here.

because the first would absolutely be thinking that any of this, any of these stares or touches or coincidences of eunbi leaving you two alone, means something.

means that maybe this break is for you two is create an attraction and build some sort of bond and-

“y/n.”

you’re barely able to register seonghwa’s voice before his arm is wrapped around your waist, pulling your body into his taller one and having you pressed up right against him.

you were so lost in thought of him that you didn’t see the older women skirting her cart around the aisle quickly, phone pressed to her ear as she yells to her husband about the christmas ham.

you’re not even sure if she shoots you a look of sorrow or utters any apology, too consumed and distracted by the feeling and proximity of mr. park.

his arm wrapped around you, your body pressed flush up against him, his neck craned down to look at you with a building... something in his eyes. playfulness and teasing but also something darker, something that makes your stomach swoop and renders you unable to move.

“are you always so clumsy and distracted?” he mumbles lowly, his deep voice quiet for only you two to hear - like he knows even in a sea of strangers, he has to keep these interactions quiet.

“what would you do if i wasn’t here to help you, y/n?”

i wouldn’t have been distracted in the first place, you’re tempted to say - but you certainly don’t wanna open that can of worms, especially not in the middle of this grocery store with the way your heart is pounding.

“i... i’m sorry, i was distracted,” you mutter, playing up the damsel in distress just a little bit. “my mistake, mr. park.”

he licks over his lips, swearing his name just being spoken has never effected him like this. he doesn’t even know where this attraction came from, seeing you leave the dorm building yesterday morning and something in his body jumping at the sight of you.

maybe it’s just showing how unhappy he really is with his life, living day to day to just work. hang out with his friends and go to sleep alone - he doesn’t remember the last time his wife touched him, looked at him like she wanted him or made any move to be with him.

he just knows that you showed up, looking so pretty and wide-eyed and coy, and is now about to lose his mind.

“it’s alright,” he says, hoping you don’t hear the thick tension he hears in his own voice, like he’s some idiotic, hormonal young boy. “i think we only have a few more aisles left, anyway.”

he plucks the remaining items off the shelves before you both make your way to the self check-out, him scanning and you bagging because “eunbi says if my career as a photographer fails, i could be the best grocery bagger ever.”

“that’s just because she puts the bread on the bottom,” seonghwa mutters, a smile on your face as you nod your head - she squished one too many of your brioche loafs before you realized bagging just wasn’t for her.

your fingers graze ever so often, the coldness of his tips a stark contrast to your warmer ones.

a particularly big, bulk bag of vegetables proves to be a challenge for you, working through the packed bag with some difficulty. you let out an annoyed groan as you play a dangerous game of tetris, trying not to rip open the brown paper bag.

you finally get the box inside, a little bit prouder than you care to admit, when your precious brioche loaf is dropped right atop. you look up at seonghwa to see him already apologizing, your brow raised as you look at the older man in confusion.

did he think your hand was out? why would he just throw the food at you?

but it’s only when you feel a little more air than normal on your chest that you see what could’ve possibly caused the distraction, the white lace from your bra sticking out.

your cleavage in this dress was hidden for the most part, only becoming a little more obvious when you moved around or packed a shitload of groceries. it makes you bite back a smirk as you put two and two together, looking up to see his eyes still lingering over you.

two can play at this game mr. park.

“mr. park,” you begin, feigning a certain kind of innocence as you place your bread atop the other groceries and finally look up at him. “are you always so clumsy?”

it takes a few seconds for a smile to pull at his lips, the tick in his jaw not going unnoticed to you - so maybe this wasn’t all in your head. maybe he wants you too... possibly.

“you’re funny, y/n,” he mumbles, a smile pulling at your lips as he takes out his black card. “i guess i was distracted, too.”

you swallow the lump in your throat as you feel the slightest hint of arousal run through you, shaking it off and letting out a forced, girlish chuckle.

you pack the car a few minutes later without any lingering eyes or touches, seonghwa telling you about the meals they plan on cooking for christmas.

they usually don’t make their own food for holidays but decided to have a more traditional set up for you and eunbi’s arrival - he also hasn’t cooked a meal for his family in god knows how long.

“that’ll be great, thank you,” you tell him, clicking your seatbelt in as he backs out the spot. “i’m kind of a picky eater but i’ll eat anything you guys provide me.”

“and you have the whole brioche loaf,” seonghwa says, a giggle leaving your mouth as you nod your head.

“true. it’s really good.”

“i’ve never tried, perhaps you’d be willing to-”

his wife’s name popping up on his car dashboard acts as a way to bring you back to reality, brings a certain kind of silence over the both of you for a few seconds.

like he wasn’t just rubbing his body against yours and you weren’t just flirting with him in the form of smirking lips and snarky comments.

you watch a twinge of annoyance behind seonghwa’s eyes, gaze roaming over the screen as if he’s in contemplation before muttering “one second.”

“hello?”

“where are you?” her voice snaps in annoyance, “i told you we had that board meeting at one.”

“and it’s only noon,” his deep voice mumbles, not matching her level of irritation but sounding a whole lot different than a few seconds ago. “me and y/n are coming back now.”

“y/n?” she spats, like it’s a disgusting piece of food she wouldn’t dare put in her mouth. “what about eunbi?”

“she went off with jiwoon before i could get her in the car.”

“so it was only you two?” she asks, the snide judgment and underlying tone in her voice causing your stomach to churn. “did she ask you to buy a bunch of-”

“i’ll be home in twenty and then be on my way over,” he says, cutting her off and hanging up before she can even get another word you.

your stomach churns and a sick feeling comes over you, her utter dislike and disdain for you causing you to bite your lip.

because not only does she not like you to be with her daughter, she doesn’t want you with her husband (although, you suppose, you can’t really blame her for that one).

“i’m sorry about that,” seonghwa winces, the silence lingering between you two heavy. “you could’ve gotten anything you wanted, y/n. this is your christmas too. don’t feel bad about anything, okay?”

you swallow the lump in your throat, your gaze moving to his as he stops at the red light.

your eyes lingering over his and his doing the very same, hand twitching to reach out and move the piece of hair from your slightly flushed face.

and there was something about the way you were both looking at each other, eyes so focused and unwavering and honest, that had you thinking maybe all of this wasn’t in your heads.

but it didn’t mean either of you could act on it - they were just... feelings of lust and wonder and all things forbidden, not seriously believing that a relationship like this could unfold right under the nose of his wife, his daughter and your roommate.

unless the pull was so desperate.

so overwhelming and all-consuming and present between the both of you, little moments couldn’t help but happen.

strike one:

with none other than eunbi as a distraction, the girl promising she wasn’t gonna leave you alone anymore, you were able to take your mind off everything.

the tension-filled, heart pounding moments with mr. park that felt just as wrong as they did right.

you spent a few nights going out with her, jiwoon and all of their high school friends, a surprisingly nice group of young adults who you got along well with.

they were loud and crazy and did far too many shots but they also seemed to be genuinely kind. even the boy who was flirting with you all night, handsome and tall with pretty dark eyes, acted as a good distraction.

grinding up against him as the music pounded throughout the bar, alcohol coursing through your veins allowing you to forget about the older man who’s been living in your head for almost a week now.

“how have i never met you before, y/n?” the boy mumbled lowly in your ear, your head against his shoulder carelessly.

but it was right there in that moment, him saying your name, that the moment was over.

because it just didn’t sound like seonghwa, as delusional as that was.

it didn’t get your heart racing or lips quirking the same way it did when you heard the older man say it. the smile attached to his handsome, mature face and the deep, lowly spoken tone that always held a hint of teasing and sincerity.

“but danny really is so freakin’ nice!” eunbi squeals to you on christmas eve, the two of you in her immaculately white and modern kitchen prepping the chocolate chip cookie cough for tomorrow.

“and you two seemed to be getting along, i saw your ass all up on him.”

“eunbi, that wasn’t me. that was the vodka. i don’t know who that girl was.”

she throws her head back as a loud chuckle leaves her, telling you again that she warned you her snobby, rich little friends have been able to handle their liquor since middle school.

it’s how they cope, she had said, unloved kids with more money than god learning to deal with the world of limitless funds and minimal parental supervision.

“well he hasn’t stopped asking me about you, you know,” she hums, her eyebrows quirked suggestively as she mixes the bowl of ingredients lazily.

“and not just because of your newfound grinding skills, which by the way, are usually learned by the tenth grade.”

your eyes narrow at her comment, throwing a small ball of dough at her that she, impressively, catches in her mouth.

“he really is just, like, so taken by you, y/n. seriously. i told him that you’re graduating this year with a degree in photography and he nearly came in his pants. he loves the artsy girls.”

“you are so vile,” you snort out, shaking your head at the girl sitting criss-crossed on the counter. “and stop saying that. we both know i’m not graduating this year,” you mumble, her face falling pathetically.

“i told you we’re gonna find a way,” she whines lowly, looking at you with all kinds of sympathy and sadness in her eyes - she would offer to pay for you, if she didn’t think you would smack her upside the head.

“oh and what? is my new boyfriend danny gonna do that for me?”

“in exchange for more grinding and a photoshoot, i think. do you want me to try?”

she lets out another giggle despite the way you pinch her leg, peeking inside the bowl with a surprising amount of pride.

"this looks good,” you mumble, swiping your finger to collect some of the chocolate dough.

“hey!” she whines brattily, thrusting a spoon toward your hand just a second too late.  

“why are you whining in here like a child, eunbi?” seonghwa asks, walking through the entryway and the large, white island in the center. “what are you making? please don’t burn the house down.”

“haha dad, you’re so funny,” she mocks sarcastically, jumping down from the counter with her hands on her hips. “where are the baking sheets?”

a simple shrug from her father causes her to roll her eyes, grumbling about how she was really trying to avoid her bitch of a mother today. he holds back his smirk, about to reprimand her before she’s out the kitchen and shouting for her mother upstairs.

it’s only you and seonghwa in the kitchen now, a heavy silence in the air as you stand there dumbly - bowl beside you, cookie dough adorning the top of your finger.

“what are you girls making?” he finally asks, his body moving closer and closer causing you to swallow.

“i... uh, cookie dough. for tomorrow,” you say, lifting your finger and wiggling the tip full of batter. “chocolate chip.”

his eyes move to your finger before grazing over your mouth, his tongue peeking out ever so slightly as he reminds himself to act right.

he hasn’t been alone with you since that day at the food store, just seeing you in passing in the hallways or outside the house as you and eunbi went to and fro.

he hears your giggles at night and tired groans in the morning, quietly yelling at his daughter to wake up and get her ass out of bed.

and he knows it’s probably for the better, that you two don’t find yourselves alone with each other, but he can’t help but feel a rush of excitement right now.

you watch as he moves closer, with the same wide-eyed look you’ve been giving him since he first saw you in your apartment weeks ago.

“ahh, you’re making it from scratch? that’s ambitious.”

“yeah, we googled a recipe,” you tell him, finger still beside you in the air.

you don’t know what causes you to be so bold, maybe him attempting to carry out a normal conversation even though he’s looking at you with so much lust and desire, but you can’t stop once you start.

“how’s it taste?” he asks, his voice deep and slightly strained as he nods his head toward your finger.

you don’t even bat an eye as you slip the tip of your finger in your mouth slowly, swirling your tongue around as you take up all the dough on your skin.

it’s sweeter than you originally thought it’d be but it tastes good nonetheless, keeping your eyes on him as you reamin as innocent and unassuming as possible.

“it’s good,” you say, dropping your finger like you didn’t just make a show of licking and sucking it. “i like it better raw.”

you don’t even realize your words until you see the fleeting look on his face, tongue swiping across his lip and eyes hardening. they roam you so slowly and darkly, you can’t control the growing butterflies and swooping in your lower stomach.

“mm, me too,” he hums lowly, the hardening of his cock in his pants something he hasn’t felt in forever. it’s taking everything in him to control himself, from his eyes popping out of his head to letting out the deepest of growls in the back of his throat.

“do you want some?” you ask, cocking your head to the side questioningly.

he has to desperately hold on to his composure, not think about how easy it’d be to pin you against the cabinet right behind you. take just a few steps closer, have your back against the cold granite and let you feel just how much he wants some.

but he has to play it cool, push down these building desires and ignore your teasing because he’s almost fucking positive that’s what’s happening here.

“want some what?” he asks, his voice lowering just a tad.

he hasn’t played a game like this since college, watching as your eyes widen and brow quirks up.

but he sees that’s exactly what it is when you turn around and face the bowl of cookie dough to him, a smile just as sweet as the cookies on your face.

“cookie dough. before we put them in the oven and possibly burn them.”

the breathy chuckle he lets out leaves your stomach in shambles, his tongue peeking out and poking the inside of his cheek causing a swooping sensation to flood through you.

but before he can even think to say anything, before your eyes can look over his body and make you feel even more warm and bothered, eunbi floats back in and fiddles in the cabinets for the baking sheets.

“that woman is too much, i swear,” she grunts, whipping out the materials quickly before her head snaps to her father. “why are you still here?”

“i wanted some cookies. and to ensure y/n won’t allow you do burn down the kitchen.”

“it was one time, dad, and an accident. how many times do i have to defend myself in this house?”

you let out a giggle as you look from eunbi to seonghwa, your roommate turning her back to set up the practice baking session.

“let’s go bitch! i hope we didn’t fuck this up.”

seonghwa’s eyes roam over you for a few more moments, his tongue swiping across his lips before, finally, leaving the kitchen with his dick hard as a rock.

strike two:

christmas consisted of successful cookies per your and eunbi’s homemade batch, passive aggressive comments from mrs. park about your degree and a whole fuck ton of sexual energy between you and seonghwa.

you could almost always feel when his gaze was boring into you, when you got up to take more mashed potatoes or kept your attention on eunbi as she told her parents about what job she wants to start at next semester.  

it’s also when eunbi almost let it slip about your scholarships, had you not viciously pinched her arm and caused a pained cry to leave her mouth - if you ever thought jiwoon was gonna verbally assault you, it was certainly in that moment.

“why did you pinch me so hard?” she whined later that night, jiwoon passed out on the couch after five too many homemade cookies. “look at my bruise.”

a genuine frown crosses your lips as you look at her arm, rubbing her skin gently as you mumble your soft spoken apologies.

“i’m sorry but i just... i didn’t want your mom to know that,” you say back just as whiney and pathetic. “she already thinks i’m an incompetent idiot. knowing i have to wait a whole year because i’m broke is just too embarrassing.”

it’s an admission that, while eunbi already suspected that, still makes her feel bad - it nearly makes her wanna cry, that you don’t feel welcomed and loved in her home because her mom has to be a judgmental bitch.

“y/n...”

“bi, it’s fine, oh, my god do not cry right now,” you grumble, flicking her in the head lightly.

“i just feel bad,” she cries lowly, moving hrself closer to you and away from her boyfried. “it’s not fair, y/n. you worked so hard and now you have to wait. how could they do this to you?”

a small, touched smile crosses your face at eunbi as you shake your head, dabbing at her watery eyes.

if jiwoon wakes up, he’s literally gonna beat my ass,” you say, smiling when a wet giggle leaves eunbi; you don’t want this time to be sad or upsetting. “i thought he was gonna hit me at dinner.”

“okay if he’s hitting anything, it’s gonna be my-”

“no. no, no, no.”

the snort that leaves her mouth doesn’t help the sinking feeling in her stomach, looking at you with a frown still adorning her face.

“i’m sorry if my mom’s making you feel uncomfortable. she does it to every single person ever and i don’t-”

“it’s fine, please stop apologizing for her,” you say, the sinking reminder in the back of your mind that seonghwa had been doing the very same thing - apologizing for that woman.

“i know she’s stressing you out, too. we’re in it together.”

“that’s true,” she sighs, letting out a long, dramatic groan before resting her head on your shoulder. “i’m so bloated, i don’t think i’m ever gonna be able to eat again.”

and it was funny that, days after the holiday, eunbi was still convinced that she was bloated from christmas dinner.

“babe, i don’t even think that’s possible,” jiwoon consoled her, you and him sitting in her room as she gets ready to go down to the pool.

because, naturally, like everyone in this godforsaken rich town, they get ready to go to the pool that’s inside of their homes; when eunbi told you to pack a bathing suit back at your apartment, you looked at her like she was insane.

until she clarified that her pool is heated and, conveniently, indoors.

“just through the backyard,” she had said - and she truly meant it.

just a few yards away from the main deck area, with floor to ceiling glass windows that showcase the extravagant landscaping and, of course, the outdoor pool and jacuzzi just a few feet away.

“eunbi, this is insane,” you say, marveling at the sight before you.

“don’t you wish you came sooner?” she asks with a wink, your eyes rolling as you place down your towel.

you had the option to bring two bathing suits - a skimpy black one you don’t remember being so scandalous or a red one you remember eunbi insisting you buy last summer.

and you just knew it was because danny was coming, currently showcasing his impressive eight pack that, truly, just doesn’t do it for you - maybe if he was twenty years older, apparently, and somebody’s father and husband.

you shake the thoughts out of your head, walking a few steps toward the pool before eunbi tackles you from behind. you both land with a loud splash, followed by the excited shouts and loud splashes of her other friends.

you’d be lying if you said you could remember the last time you had this much fun, splashing and giggling and acting so carefree despite the many challenges you’ll have to face soon.

but that’s not any of your concern right now, currently sitting atop danny’s shoulders and trying to knock down eunbi in a game of chicken.

“you little bitch! get your nails out of me!”

“coming from the girl who literally just tried to choke me two seconds ago!”

“like it’s your first time being choked!”

and you don’t know whether jiwoon was shocked by you saying that statement or the fact that his girlfriend exposes all of her sexual kinks to you but alas, it did the trick in sealing you a victory.

a smug smile on your face as danny jumps up and down in excitement, your body bouncing and nearly falling over him had you not gripped onto his shoulders.

it’s at that time eunbi pops up from the water, hair a soaking mess and mascara running down her face. she’s about to open her mouth, probably to yell at you, before a volleyball is thrown through the air and just misses her face.

instead, it hits danny square in the head. the boy letting out a yelp before you promptly fall backwards in the water, hearing eunbi’s shrill squeal and giggle on your way down.

you pop up and throw her a dirty look, danny rubbing at the back of his side before apologizing profusely.

“it’s okay,” you giggle out, about to say you shouldn’t have been up there for so long before eunbi’s squealing in the air.

“dad, what the hell kind of aim was that!”

you feel your body stiffen before you quickly shoot around, none another than mr. park standing there looking as handsome as ever.

he puts the young men around you to shame, good-looking, muscular college boys who anyone in their right mind would find attractive - but they just don’t beat him.

his striking eyes or tall, lean stature or the fact that he’s just so fucking-

“got worse with age, bi, what can i say?” he chuckles, extra white fluffy towels in his hold that he places on the chair. “sorry, danny.”

seonghwa’s known danny for a few years now, one of jiwoon’s friends who seems... alright. not a bad guy but also not a good guy - just kind of there; but it didn’t occur to the man just how much he was bothered by him until he saw you on his shoulders.

because he could’ve put you in danger, of course. put you in danger at his house where if things got bad, he’d be responsible; as for the ball, it merely slipped from his finger tips.

“no problem mr. park,” the kid smiles, the other friends gathering around and looking at him expectantly. “we’re gonna play a round of volleyball. you in?”

“no. no dads allowed,” eunbi whines, seonghwa rolling his eyes at his bratty adult daughter.

“why not? because i’m better than all of you, eunbi?”

“oh please,” she grumbles lowly, rolling her eyes and grabbing you to lead you toward the stairs. “you know what, we’re going in the hot tub anyway. since she decided to rock my shit in chicken. enjoy my father traitors,” eunbi grumbles to jiwoon and his friends.

“i did not,” you protest weakly, feeling two pairs of eyes on you as you make your way out of the pool with your friend.

the first thing that strikes seonghwa, apart from the major twitch in his pants, is how skimpy your bikini is.

red bottoms with thin straps holding it up, a matching red top showcasing cleavage and beauty marks on your chest and all the things that are proving to drive him fucking crazy upon seeing you every day.

it’s taking everything in him to control the growing ache in his shorts, your eyes looking at him so coyly and attentively that you’re ignoring the college boy gawking at you right in front of him.

there’s a certain sort of twisted pride in his chest, you giving him attention and seemingly reciprocating his interest, when there’s someone younger right there for you.

younger and unmarried and more suitable for you. someone you can actually be with where it wouldn’t be considered dirty or wrong or secretive; but maybe that’s why you’re both drawn to it in the first place.

that, and because you’re both really hot.

“he’s literally hot, y/n! why don’t you like him?” eunbi whines to you, the two of you sitting across from one another in the hot tub outside.

the december air is crisp but feels nice comapred to the steaming water you’re gratefully submerged in. anything to take you away from mr. park shirtless and wet in the pool right now.

“i do like him, bi,” you mutter, trying your best to convince her and now seem suspicious.

“okay, yeah, as a person but who cares about that!” she whines, flopping her hands dramatically in the water. “you don’t want him to rail you.”

“eunbi!” you squeak, splashing in her direction as a warm, embarrassed blush rises to your cheeks.

“i’m serious y/n. you’ve never been railed before and danny’s such a good option. he’s hot and he’s sweet and he’s so pathetically into you, it’s a little sick.”

you don’t know what to say so you don’t say anything, shooting her a look that screams can we please not talk about this because you don’t know how much i actually wanna be railed by your father so let’s stop this discussion.

but she only rolls her eyes, moving herself closer to you so she can tug at your arm annoyingly.

“is he just not your type?” she questions, her eyebrows pulling together in confusion for a few moments before utter shock crosses her face.

“wait, what is your type? it’s... men, right? have i been hooking you up with the wrong gender this whole time?” she asks in disbelief, “could we have been hooking up this whole time?”

you press your lips together so you don’t burst out laughing, dryly replying “yes, eunbi, i’m into men.”

but the more you think about it, the more you think maybe you don’t have a type.

“and i’ve... never really thought about it before, to be honest. i just know i’m not into like... frat guys or whatever.”

because any party you’d been to, any douchey college guy wearing a backwards hat or cut off shirt, you had never been more disinterested. you couldn’t ever picture yourself falling for someone like that, romantically or sexually.

the one time you remember thinking someone was hot was when you took film and lit with your 31-year-old professor.

“so older guys?” eunbi concludes after hearing that, a smirk on her face as she raises her eyebrows playfully. “we gotta scope out some golf courses or retirement homes?”

“please,” you scoff, a giggle leaving her mouth as she throws her head back gleefully.

“okay, really though, i’ll tell danny you’re not interested and to stop trying so hard if you’re really not interested.”

but maybe danny as a distraction will be good.

will make you see that, perhaps, someone single and your own age and not your best friend’s father will be good thing for you to explore.

so you shrug lightheartedly, the smirk on your face causing eunbi to let out a low “oooh shit.”

you look over at her and your smile only widens when she knocks your shoulder, saying that you’re looking to be a play girl and drain a rich, lovesick man of some christmas presents.

“yeah, right! why drain a rich man when i can drain my best friend,” you tease, looking around her yard and still in astonishment that this is really her life. “i mean, two pools? is that really necessary?”

“three actually. there’s one behind the guest house on the other side. a small one. very humble.”

“oh, a small one, okay. great.”

she lets out another giggle, the two of you talking over plans for new years eve.

you might go up to jiwoon’s parents house in the mountains for the weekend, spend the time drinking with the small group of friends you’ve come to genuinely like over these past few weeks.

“it’s only two hours away so it won’t be that bad either,” she says, getting up to shake the hot water off her arms. “i’ll be right back, i have to pee.”

you nod your head, grateful she didn’t piss in the pool and allowing yourself to sit there, eyes closed, body relaxed, in the silence.

you can hear the faint screams of the boys from the indoor pool area and the swish of the hot tub filter, peeking open your eyes when, suddenly, you think you hear a boom of thunder in the distance.

you watch the sky darkening and clouds coming in, signaling a storm is coming in soon and quick. a sigh leaves your mouth, enjoying your last few moments of peace before finally standing in the hot tub.

the crisp winter air blows and sends goosebumps up your arms, a shiver running through your body as you attempt to splash some hot water on your upper body.

you don’t know how you know someone’s watching you but you do, some sort of strange intuition within you looking up to see none other than mr. park standing a few feet away from the hot tub.

his dark hair is wet and hanging in his face, swimming trunks soaked and his exposed chest still dripping chlorine water.

you press your lips together as your eyes roam his chest, a hint of abs on his lean stomach that causes a small, strangled groan to leave your mouth - you will never understand how this man is pushing 40.

but the same way you’re looking at him, he’s looking at you.

water covering your body, currently hunched over trying to warm the rest of your body; but it’s when you stand he really starts to gawk, your figure standing full and tall and giving him a perfect view of your hardening nipples from the cold crisp air.

you can see the lust in his eyes the same way you know he can and you’re about to do something to just make him crack. mistakingly untie your bottoms, catching them at the last second so he thinks he’s about to get a peak.

or undo the back of your top and pout at him, ask him to please tie it back for you because it’s way too hard to reach behind and do it yourself.

or maybe you’ll just drop to your knees right there, try to see if there’s any hint of a bulge in his swimming trunk bottoms and-

his body is gone just as fast as he arrived, confusion covering your face before you shake your head of your perverted thoughts - dropping to your knees when his daughter and wife are right here, what the fuck is wrong with you today?

you blame eunbi, all her talk about getting railed when you’ve been wanting to jump her father’s bones.

you carefully make your way out of the hot tub, not wanting to eat shit and scarp your leg on the concrete.

it feels like you’re about to freeze in the cold, another shiver wracking your body before you turn to stick your cold, goosebump-ridden arms back in the hot tub. it warms you for just a few seconds, a low, satisfied hum leaving your mouth before you hear footsteps coming up from behind you.

something in you tells you it’s him again.

whether it be the way your body heats up and feels prickly, the obvious feeling of eyes burning into your exposed back causing you to remain still and oblivious.

but you can longer remain oblivious a few seconds later, when a tall body is just a few inches away from completely pressing against you.

“you forgot a towel,” is all he says, placing it on the wet rim of the hot tub.

when he leans forward to place the white towel down, he’s careful and meticulous with his movements. brushing up against you every so slightly and carefully that you can feel his hard bulge on your ass for a few seconds too long.

at first you think you’re crazy, feeling what you were trying to envision in your head, but then you absolutely know it there’s.

you can feel the wetness from his bathing suit on your legs, his cock right there resting on the thin, red fabric of your bikini bottoms and if you were as weak as you felt inside, if he stayed there just a little bit longer, a moan would’ve absolutely left your mouth.

if you pushed back just a little to feel more of his cock on you, grind your ass his hardness just enough to hear him let out a low groan or maybe curse a little.

but he moves away, almost like he knew the perfect amount of time before that happened and almost like he did it by accident - but when you turn around and see the look in his eyes, you know it wasn’t.

the same way he can see a palpable desire and surprise and tension in your gaze, causing him to suppress a growing smirk. it makes you wanna tease him back in whatever way you can but you know that eunbi’s due back from the bathroom at any moment.

so you only cock your head to the side, lick over your lower lip carefully as you grasp the towel in your hands gently.

“thank you, mr. park,” you say, your voice as airy and sweet as you can possibly make it without sounding like an idiot.

“you’re welcome, y/n,” he says, taking a few steps back as his eyes lock on you. he stays there for a few moments until he hears the door to the pool house open.

you watch his lustful, dark expression change right then and there, a towel wrapping around his lower body and his face stretching into a happy, father-approved look.

“so you’re good with anything for dinner, y/n?” he asks, his voice loud and clear enough for his approaching daughter to hear. “i know you mentioned you were picky.”

“let’s get pizza!” eunbi screeches through the air, telling seonghwa that everyone’s staying over and they’ll need at least four boxes.

but you can’t even think about pizza right now, not when this moment right here is solidifying the crazy thought in your head that your best friend’s dad wants you just as much as you want him.

you called him out later that night around one a.m., after eunbi and jiwoon were the last to pass out to your scary movie marathon.

the others were sprawled out on the basement floor, an intricate array of blankets and pillows on the floor that you attempted to weave through, both, skillfully and quietly.

there was a dryness in your throat that could only be settled by a cold glass of water, making your way through the house quietly and praying you don’t run into mrs. park.

she’s been just as passive aggressive as she usually is in front of people so you could never imagine being alone with her. wondering what the hell she’d say to you without seonghwa and eunbi as buffers.

you were relieved when the lights were off in the kitchen, padding your way to the fridge to take out a bottle of water. you twist and turn the cap off to gulp down the cold liquid in the refrigerator light, a quiet gasp leaving you as your thirst is quenched.

you briefly consider going up to eunbi’s room to sleep tonight, not sure how you feel about being squished in with eunbi and jiwoon cuddling on the couch, when the light suddenly flicks off.

it causes you to freeze and halt all thoughts, fear running through you for all three seconds before you see seonghwa’s tall, familiar figure pass you. you watch him carefully in the dim light of the fridge, his shirtless chest yet again right in front of your face.

leaned back against the counter across from you, giving you a perfect view of his toned chest and gray sweatpants.

“midnight snack?” he asks, the smirk on his face almost causing you to roll your eyes.

instead, your lips quirk into a small smile. raising your water bottle by your head and shaking it, the water swishing in your pounding ears.

“just water,” you respond quietly, matching his low tone. “i hope that’s okay.”

“that you took water? of course, y/n,” he says, amusement in his gaze as he looks you over.

you’re freshly showered and in a pair of pajamas, matching pink sets that eunbi got you for christmas one year - he remembers because he was with her when she bought it.

a soft smile crosses your face, your back getting cold from the open fridge but not daring to move a muscle. not with him looking at you the way he is and with his body just a few feet away from you.

a silence lingers in the kitchen, you not sure why he’s looking at you and him waiting to see if you say something, before he bites the inside of his cheek.

“i wanted to say sorry about before.”

your eyebrow quirks up, interest so clearly peaked as you cock your head to the side.

“what do you mean?”

a smirk crosses his face as he watches you play dumb, head cocked and eyes wide and everything about you with such mock innocence, he thinks that’s what’s driving him the most crazy.

that you do this shit and say certain things with almost complete unawareness and innocence, if it weren’t for the hidden look of desire and teasing in your eyes.

“you know,” is all he says, his voice dipping and eyes twinging darker, it makes your lower stomach swoop.

a part of is positive, even if you ask, he’s not gonna say it aloud.

he’s not gonna say or acknowledge any of this aloud and make you guys play this game until you leave in a few weeks.

and then when you leave, unsure about your next prospects of college or education or even living arrangements, who knows if you’re ever gonna see him again.

so you only hum lowly, closing the fridge behind you and leaving you both in darkness. the only source of light is from the moon outside, lighting up half the kitchen from the large bay window.

it leaves you both incredibly exposed, anyone from the outside able to see the two seemingly innocent bodies standing toe to toe with each other; but they don’t see the lustful looks and eyes full of desire, both of you so entrapped by the other, it’s obvious with the tension in the air.

“oh, well, then... it’s okay, mr. park,” you say with a smile, taking a step back as your eyes roam his chest one last time. “i didn’t mind.”

you’re about to say goodnight when you see his arm reach out, shocked but oh, so ready ready to give into your desire and feel your body crash against his or your lips connect finally.

moan into his mouth and feel more of his hardness against you - but he only takes the water from your hand, presses his mouth against the plastic rim and swigs down a big gulp.

you watch with wide eyes as his adam’s apple bobs in the moonlight, head tipped back and body perched calmly on the counter as he takes a swig of your water bottle, spit exchanged and his mouth right where yours was.

he pulls back with an unreadable expression, licking the excess water from his lips before simply closing the cap, holding out the bottle and smiling at you with the most wise-ass smirk you’ve ever seen, you’re not sure how you’re ever gonna one up this man.

"sweet dreams, y/n.”

strike 3:

your new years weekend get away turned into an extended stay that consisted of sleeping on a lumpy air mattress, five extra guests and so much alcohol, you’re positive you’re still hungover three days later.

“it wasn’t that... we only did a... i mean it wasn’t like we were....” eunbi says, the two of you laying on her bed nursing headaches and body aches to the severest degree.

“okay, it was pretty bad. we were kind of rowdy and out of control.”

“you don’t say?” you grumble, never one to black out and get that shit faced and then doing it nearly every night - maybe to deal with danny’s pathetic soft looks or whispered sweet nothings to you.

“nothing is working either. not advil or water or greasy food. we might’ve fucked ourselves for life, bi.”

but if there’s one thing that always helped for eunbi, it was a nice, long bath. steaming hot water that burned her skin and the prettiest bath bombs to make the entire bathroom smell of strawberries and cream.

so even though you didn’t want to, nothing more comfortable than eunbi’s king size bed and warm, fluffy comforter, you allowed the girl to drag you to the bathroom down the hall to set up ‘your last resort, hangover paradise.’

it consisted of every type of bath bomb and lotion and bubble bath the luxurious could dream of, sending her out immediately when you saw her sneaking in with a glass of champagne.

“are you crazy?” you ask, dipping your toe in the water to test the temperature. “that’s what started this disaster.”

“fine, more for me!” she squeals happily, turning down the lights and pressing the bluetooth button for your phone’s music. “enjoy. i’ll see you in an hour, completely hangover free.”

“we’ll see about that,” you grumble, your words falling on deaf ears as she locks and closes the door to makes her way back to her ensuite.

and as much as you wanna give eunbi shit for her pompous tactics and techniques for everything in life, you have to say that this is certainly helping.

soaking in the steaming hot water, with cucumbers on your eyes and quiet music playing through the ceiling speakers. the jets in the tub also added another layer of relaxation to it, healing your sore muscles from days of waking up on a hard, wooden floor.

the mirrors were steamed and the room was boiling by the time you got out, stepping on the fuzzy bath mat and drying yourself off with a towel. you had tried not to get your hair wet but it proved useless, your relaxed body sinking further and further down until nearly your whole head was wet.

you stretch your arms above your head as you let out a content groan, feeling the best you’ve felt in three days and ready to take a nap.

but it’s at that moment, looking around the large steaming bathroom, that you realized you didn’t bring a change of clothes in. meaning you’ll know have to walk done the hall and into eunbi’s room in just a towel.

it’s fairly late, almost 11:30, so you’re hoping that her parents are in their rooms and fast asleep by now.

you peak your head out, feeling like a spy in a cheesy action movie as you look up and down the hall. you turn off the light once the coast is clear, walking quietly but quickly down to eunbi’s room - or wing, as it could be considered

you’re almost out of the gate, just a few more steps until you round the corner down eunbi’s hallway, when seonghwa’s tall figure is coming right up the stairs.

his head is down as he looks at his phone, still in his dress shirt and tie from his long day at work. you noticed that after the holidays, he’s been around the house less - working from home when he can but also needing to go into the office more often than not.

he’s at the top of the stairs when he finally notices your figure watching him, wrapped in a towel with a flush on your cheeks and your wet hair dripping on the floor.

it seems to be the thing to break him right now, not able to tear his eyes away or think of any fun, flirty comments to keep you from suppressing the need to roll your eyes.

because his days have been long and stressful and the only thing he needs right now is to just get off - and then there you are like something his prayers have answered, standing there quiet and awestruck at the sight of his loose tie and messy black hair he’s been running his hands through all day.

“h-hi, mr. park,” your quiet voice says, sweet and soft-spoken and utterly apologetic, like you’re embarrassed to be caught in just your towel - and he supposes that would make sense, to feel embarrassed about getting caught like this your friend’s father.

but he can’t find it in himself to care right now, two seconds away from dragging you down to his office so he can finally fuck you over his desk - but he knows that would be the worst decision in the world, for countless reasons.

“hi, y/n,” he grumbles back just as low, leant against the railing with a voice that sounds defeated and gruff.

“are you okay?” you ask, something about his voice and demeanor off.

he has to hold back a strangled laugh, his lips quirking up before he bites down on his lip.

“i’m... i’m fine, thanks. work’s just busy,” he says, a certain part of his chest warming at the fact you even asked - he knows his wife won’t when he walks in their bedroom in a few minutes.

“oh, okay,” you respond, twirling with the end of your towel nervously. “well... i’m sorry to hear that.”

he allows himself to let out a chuckle this time, shaking his head as he looks over your bare, wet face; you’re too pretty for your own good, he’s not even sure you realize just how pretty you are.

just how much he really wants you and just how much he’s coming to like seeing you in his house everyday.

“it’s alright, that’s why you gotta do something you love, right?” he quips, his long fingers up to recreate a camera, pressing down as if to snap a photo.

it cause you to let out a soft, genuine giggle, nodding your head and easing the slight embarrassment of him catching you in a towel.

“right,” you say with a smile, shy smiles and gazes shared until you finally look away in fear of your cheeks warming again.

but it doesn’t stop him from admiring the view of you, your bare face and exposed chest before the towel covers up all the parts he wants to so desperately explore.

he pictures dropping your towel and hearing it fall to the floor with a plop, take in the sight of your perky boobs and hard nipples in the air.

drop his mouth just a little bit to your neck, pressing small kisses against your skin as his fingers knead your nipples, all the quiet moans and breaths to make sure you two don’t get caught shooting right to his cock.

he probably wouldn’t be able to control himself, sliding a finger into you right then and there in the middle of the hallway, pressing your back against the wall to have you trapped against his larger body.

he’d pump his finger in and out of you slowly and tauntingly, hearing how wet you are and feeling how tight you are. it’d be similiar to how this past month has just been both of you taunting and teasing and beating around the bush, occasionally letting his fingers curl to his your g-spot or graze your sensitive clit.

and then he’d drop to his knees to taste you. make sure he sucks and licks and takes your clit in his warm mouth that you’re-

“i should get back to eunbi,” you finally say, breaking the silence and ripping him from his dirty, hidden fantasies. you can’t take the lust and desire in his eyes that you see when he looks at you, an painful ache building between your legs more and more.

“goodnight, mr. park.”

you nearly run into eunbi’s room and slam the door had you not seen her sleeping form, passed out right there in the middle of her bed wearing a baby pink robe.

you look beside her to see an extra one laid out, a silky lilac one that causes a small smile to cross your face.

you’ve never felt material like this on your skin, basking in the feeling of the smooth, silky material as you clean up her room quietly - both to tidy up and distract you from the ache in your legs and last encounter with her father.

for eunbi growing up with housekeepers and nannies her whole life, it always surprised you how clean and tidy your roommate was; the sink was never full of dishes and you alternated vacuuming the living room carpet.

but it’s obvious all of that is a facade because since the moment she got home, her messy ways have shown through - you find it endearing, though, and it’s all very eunbi: a homey, lived in mess of luxurious items and articles of clothing worth more than your childhood home.

the girl in question had moved to the right side in her sleep as you cleaned, a quiet chuckle leaving your mouth. you look to see both your water bottles are empty, deciding on the brave decision to go downstairs to grab two new ones.

the last time you’d done that, you thought for sure mr. park was gonna jump your bones - and you know you were gonna let him.

your mind is littered with memories of that night as you make your way through the dark house of twists and turns, carefully going down the stairs as you walk toward the kitchen.

there’s a room with beautiful double doors on your left, a room you’ve walked past hundreds of times throughout your stay here. eunbi told you it was her dad’s first floor office, where he usually worked and had his meetings from home.

the first thing you notice from down the hall is that the door is slightly cracked open, a peak in from the dimly lit kitchen showcasing some fancy decor of a globe.

as you make your way closer and closer, your ears are met with a quiet, strangled groan that causes you to stop in your tracks; your mind begins to race with a million different scenarios of what you could be walking past right now.

your first thought is that you’re about to see mr. and mrs. park in a very compromising position over his desk - and, as sick as it sounds, as delusional and crazy and absurd as it sounds, that prospect makes your stomach sink and twist painfully.

but that would be normal, you suppose; they’re a fucking married couple after all and seonghwa had seemed stressed from work. obviously he was gonna ask his wife to help calm him down and relax him.

get all of his stress out in the form of-

you shake your head before you can even think about it, forcing your feet to move past the office doors.

and it’s like you can’t even stop yourself from peeking in, confirming to see if your thoughts are correct and you’re about to be gutted, when you take in the sight before you.

seonghwa still in his loose tie and white dress shirt, pants around his ankles and his head thrown back in his office chair as his own hand jerks his cock off.

everything about it is dirty and wrong and you know you shouldn’t be looking in but you can’t stop.

you can’t stop watching the way his hand works around his cock expertly, long and thick and so fucking nice it nearly makes you drool. the thought of you on your knees before him, taking him in your mouth and licking and sucking around the tip, making you bite back a moan.

you can’t stop your eyes from looking at his face, his head thrown back and eyes squeezed shut with his neck on display - perfect for you to bite and give hickies, if you were on top straddling him.

you can’t stop the painful ache and wetness seeping in your thong as you watch him get off, his groans and grunts and heavy breaths making you wanna whine out in arousal.

and it’s that suppression right there, getting so worked up and horny over the sight of your peeping tina activities, that cause you to pull yourself away.

because as much as you don’t want to and as much as you wanna help him, you can’t.

you can only scramble into the kitchen and get water as fast and quiet as humanly possible, scurrying past the office and up the stairs with the stealthiness of a lion.

you can only lay in bed with the thoughts of your roommate’s father and the noises he makes, the sight of his cock and the hand movements replaying over and over in your mind.

and you realize that night, with only a few more days until you both have to leave for the spring semester, you can only hope to never see mr. park again.

let this flirtation and fascination and utterly screwed up infatuation with your roommate’s dad be nothing but a dirty memory you’ll keep to yourself for the rest of your life.

because if it’s not, if you have to see him again and have him in your daily life again, you won’t be able to hold yourself back.

your lust will turn deeper and you’ll find yourself in a much bigger issue than damp underwear and secret, forbidden moments with mr. park seonghwa.

you should’ve known with only two days left of your stay that eunbi was gonna let the news slip.

you were at least grateful for the fact that mrs. park had a charity ball with her clan of “botox getting, bitchy sounding gold diggers who need to desperately get laid,” successfully riding her of your last friday night dinner.

“so you girls don’t want a new apartment then?” seonghwa asked, glass of wine in his hand as he looks at the two of you questioningly. “that building’s looking for a new owner, eunbi, i think it’d be perfect for you both.”

“dad don’t be ridiculous, we can’t own the building!” eunbi says, swatting her dad playfully as she shovels a piece of food in her mouth. she’s casual and comfortable without her mom’s prying eyes and biting tone, her foot resting on the white fabric beneath her.

“and besides, i might be alone in there soon. we still don’t know if y/n is gonna be starting her-”

you kick the girl under the table roughly, her face pulling into a wince as a cry leaves her mouth.

“ow, y/n! what the he-”

but it’s upon seeing your white face and annoyed expression that she realizes what she said, her mouth falling open and silent as she looks at you apologetically.

“oh shit...”

you can only shoot her a pained, sarcastic smile, daringly looking at seonghwa who’s watching the two of you with a curious expression.

“what do you mean?”

silence hangs in the air, you and eunbi sharing side eyes and dejected looks with her dad before he cocks an eyebrow at the both of you.

“girls... what do you mean?” he asks, his voice deeper and more serious, taking on a dad-like tone eunbi isn’t used to hearing from her relaxed, playful father.

and that’s when, before eunbi can open her big mouth any further, you calmly and regretfully explain the situation with your scholarship.

how you got an e-mail a few months ago about alternate funding for the art department and that you were one of the many students who, while keeping up your end of requirements, could not be awarded money.

“it’s awful that they can do that,” seonghwa says, his eyes full of the same sympathy and outrage eunbi’s held - except he knows that this happens all the time. that it’s unfair and sick and a big ploy in the education system that needs incredible reform.

especially when it hurts students like you.

“yeah but it is what it is,” you say, trying your hardest to steer the conversation to literally anything but this (in fear that you’ll scream or start crying or have yet another anxiety attack).

“i can just finish up in the fall, it’s no big deal,” you lie through our teeth, a sad smile on your face as you look at eunbi. “i’m just sorry it messes up our combined graduation party.”

a frown crosses eunbi’s face as she smacks you in the arm, pulling you closer to her just so she could cuddle herself into your arm.

“i will wait for you,” she proclaims dramatically, a pout on her lips and starry-eyed look in her gaze. “i will wait as long as i have to. if they delay it any further, father, you will simply have to sue the school.”

“father, huh?” seonghwa hums lowly, his lips quirking into a smirk.

father is the term eunbi uses when she wants to use him and his money, whether it be blackmailing unfair teachers or shitty students or calling for him when her and her mom are fighting.

“yes, father,” she says, looking to you with a sweet, apologetic smile on her face.

“i’m serious, y/n. we got your back,” she quips with a wink, a pained smile on your face that she knows means you can’t wait to let her have it when you two are alone.

“you had one job, eunbi, and you were doing so good,” you say in her room later that night, pacing back and forth as she sits on her bed like a scolded child. “literally two nights left and you let it slip out!”

“i’m sorry, okay!” she whines for the ninth time, a pout on her face as she plays with fingers; you wanna roll your eyes seeing it, knowing for a fact that’s something she does when she’s in trouble with jiwoon.

“i didn’t mean to, it just slipped out!” she begins to defend, “and it was only my dad! he wouldn’t dare say a bad word about you, y/n, he loves you.”

you ignore the twinge in your chest when you hear her say those words, feeling a tad guilty at the bodily reaction you have about her own father. how much you’re hiding from her and that you have these suppressed feelings and secret moments in the first place.

“loves me or not, bad word or not, it’s still embarrassing, eunbi,” you say, a frown on your lips as you start to hear the situation aloud. 

“i still can’t pay for my tuition and have to wait almost a whole year to take a degree in fucking photography. like how embarrassing is that, all of this just for me never find a job and live in a box.”

you’ve only seen a flash of anger on eunbi’s face a few times in your life, the incident with the dorm girls and her dad and when a sorority girl tried to kiss jiwoon at the bar.

and you see it right now, her small but mighty frame jumping off the bed and lunging toward you quickly.

“are you kidding me!” she squeals, smacking you in the arm and pushing you down on the bed.

“what the hell do you mean a degree in fucking photography? or living in a box? you’re gonna be the best photographer in the world and shoot every event in my life and charge me quadruple the amount!”

a smile pulls at your lips as you hear her go on and on, hype you up and build up your confidence and tell you to never talk that way about yourself again. how there’s nothing embarrassing about not being able to afford thousands of dollars when you were alerted about the expense on such short notice.

“okay, okay, i know that,” you eventually give in, letting out a sigh as you flop down on her bed. “it’s just.... stressful. i can’t move back home but i also need to get like, a real job. a job that’s gonna pay well so i can save up as much as possible.”

“and we’ll find you that when we get back,” she says, assuring with a confident look in her eye and her hands in yours. “i can promise you, with or without my father’s connections, we’re getting you a job.”

her words prove to reassure you for the remainder of the night, when, after she kisses your ass a little more, asks if she can go to jiwoon’s for a little.

you spent that time in her room looking at nearby job offerings and building up your resume and cover letters, working well into the night hours with a text from jiwoon that she fell asleep and will be back in the morning.

you stretch your arms above your head with a quiet groan, noting it’s almost one o’clock and you’re fucking parched yet again.

it’s no surprise to you when the lights in the kitchen are on, dimly light and no noise around as you pad your way to the fridge.

you almost expect the footsteps that come in a few moments later, when you take a sip from your water and close the fridge without hesitation.

“have you told your parents about tuition?”

you’re confused by the statement that leaves seonghwa’s mouth, brows pulled together and a sinking feeling in your stomach at this conversation again - because as if tuition wasn’t enough, he just had to bring up your parents.

but you don’t wanna beat around the bush any longer; you two seem to do that enough.

“me and my parents don’t talk,” you say, straight forward and quiet as you look right at him.

it’s the first time he sees you look a little broken and defeated, a certain kind of sadness shining behind your eyes that makes him wanna pull him into you. it feels like a protective instinct he’s used to, caring for the people in his life and not wanting to see them struggle.

“they wouldn’t help me anyway.”

this protective instinct feels a little different in this moment, something else tugging in his chest that he hasn’t felt in a very long time - not until he started seeing you more.

“but it’d be a shame if you didn’t finish, y/n. you got so far and you’ve done so well for yourself.”

you smile a little at the praise, tongue rolling over your lips in a way he certainly doesn’t miss - but this moment isn’t about that. it’s not something he cares even a little bit about right now.

“thank you, mr. park, but i am gonna finish,” you say with finality, the confident and sure tone making a strange sort of pride swell inside of him.

“i just have to save up money and i’ll start in the fall. it’s really not that big of a deal,” you tell him with a smile, taking a few steps back so you don’t feel too crowded by him.

“eunbi’s gonna help me look for jobs when i get back,” you say, a teasing smile pulling at your lips as you look at him. “a big girl job. something real and hard, that’s gonna make me super stressed and agitated.”

so much so that i have to get off at the thought of you.

a deep chuckle bubbles out of him that you match with ease, the two of you sharing small smiles and quiet giggles in the middle of this spotless, white kitchen.

“can’t do what you love quite yet, i guess,” seonghwa says, his eyes roaming your face so slowly and carefully, it makes you a tad bit nervous.

you hadn’t realized how natural and easy this conversation was between you two, like you were talking to someone you’d known your whole life opposed to someone you’ve barely known for four years.

his hand itches to reach up and touch your hair, tuck the soft, silky looking strand behind your ear and watch your cheeks heat up when your skin touches; but instead, he smiles down at you, inching closer until he’s just looming over you and staring down at you with a soft, undetectable look in his eye.

“but it’ll be worth it in the end, i think. it’s just gonna... take some time.”

you lick over our lips, throat and mouth suddenly so incredibly dry, as you nod your head.

“yeah, i think so, too,” you say, your lips smushing together nervously before you open your mouth to speak again - this could be one of the last times you’re alone with him.

“thank you for letting me stay with you guys, mr. park. it’s been... really nice spending time with people for the holidays.”

he feels his heart twinge in his chest again, his eyes falling down to your lips and swearing he’s never wanted to kiss someone so bad in his life.  

“of course, y/n, it’s been a pleasure,” he says, a smile quirking at his lips with a hint of something you just can’t quite make out. “maybe we’ll see each other again soon.”

it was five days before classes started that you got the confirmation e-mail - a message confirming your tuition for the spring semester was paid in full and your current balance was $0.

you had to look over the message for three whole hours making sure you had read the e-mail correctly, even going as far to call the bursar office to make sure they had the correct address.

but they had confirmed with surety that your balance was paid off, urging you to quickly sign up for the classes you need before the day was over.

“okay, you will never believe what interview i was able to score for you,” eunbi says the moment she walks in the apartment, shopping bags up her arm and gucci sunglasses perched atop her head.

“i’ll admit, the vibe was a little off with the coworkers but i think it’d be a great opportunity to-” her eyes catch your laptop screen on the school website, a list of classes and times on your screen that causes her eyes to widen.

“oh?” she squeals, running over and throwing herself down on the couch beside you. “what the heck are you doing? are you... did you...?”

the lie came way too quick and easy to you, excitedly blabbering out that there was a change in the system and your scholarship was approved - “i think they felt bad that i was a graduating senior,” you said, eunbi’s face pulled into the happiest smile you’ve ever seen.

she clapped and danced and bounced around in excitement, proclaiming you guys just had to go out and get drinks to celebrate the fact that your surprise party was back on.

but you could only sit there with your thoughts and suspicions and this overwhelming feeling deep within your stomach that, while eunbi definitely doesn’t know, her father might’ve just paid your college tuition in full.

(part 2)

tag list: @mochibabycakes @atinyarmyx1 @middle-of-a-wonshua-sandwich @baekhvuns @marksflvr @bunbaebae @markleeyeosang @inkigayeo @nlost21 @hyunjeansuniverse @cherryeonii @songsoomin @reeateez @biaswreckingfics @yunhoiseyecandy @sophrosyneeeee @uglychildd @happycandynoelle @seolarjk @liqhtiny @maedesculpaeusoubi @revehosh @svt-mangos @hcwurld @ateezappreciation @sanisms​ @khjssss​ @yixing-jaehyun​ @yeosangs-left-ass-cheek​

couldn’t tag: @ateez-after-dark @arkive78 

[strawbxrryneptune]

Breathe, baby

Personal trainer!Southern!Bakugou

Porn with plot, unprotected sex, creampie, exhibitionism??, praise ig, implied pining, my shitty endings

Masterlist

♡♡

You loved the gym.

Not because you liked working out .

It was a pain when you woke up sore, or when you got sticky with sweat, even though the high of a workout is always worth it, and it meant you could finally fit into that tiny skirt from the mall you saw last week.

What you loved was how your undeniable attraction towards your new personal trainer made for good entertainment.

Katsuki Bakugou.

He was beautiful, new in your city, came from some place down south, and you're sure he knew every time he saw you how much you wanted him.

You couldn't stop gawking, always looking at his ass when he showed you how to do the squats, doing over his pure strength when he did pull ups.

You had arrived right on time, stretching before hand and making sure you looked good.

You strolled into your training room, already hearing some upbeat music and seeing Bakugou doing pull ups, grunting and muscles shaking from the slight strain.

You stand in the doorway, watching sweat trickle down his neck, into the wide neckline of his cami, which clung to his body, nipples peaking through the shirt.

His jaw was clenched, little huffs leaving him as he brought himself up again. The veins on his arms popped against his complexion, and you startled when you realized you were drooling.

You gave a soft cough, alerting him of your presence and watching as he hopped down, red eyes locking onto yours as his chest heaved, cheeks pink and eyes low. The headband holding his hair out of his eyes was slipping, so you went into action.

You dropped your bag on the ground, making your way towards him quickly. When you reached your hand out to touch him, he narrowed his eyes at you and stepped back, cheeks darkening further.

"Somethin' the matter, miss?"

You smile, body flushing at the way he draws out the formality.

"Oh, I just saw your headband was a little crooked. Wanted to fix it, was all."

He nods, giving you a once over before pushing it back up his forehead, turning to get a mat out.

"Oh I already did some workouts before I got here. Unless you wanna stretch me out some more. "

The wicked smile on your face doesn't go past Bakugou, his vermilion eyes widening as he steps back, grumbling under his breath as he turns back around, setting down two mats and sitting on one.

"We're doin' yoga. Noticed how yer' body was shakin' las' time so we're takin it easy t'day."

You give his strong back a dreamy smile.

Fuck, he's hot, healthy, and attentive? You could feels yourself start to swoon.

You make your way over to the other mat, sitting on your knees.

"M' gonna guide you through each pose, then we'll do em together, yeah?"

You let out a breathy "yeah" in response and watch as he rises to his feet, towering over you, before positioning himself behind you.

"Gonna touch you now."

Shit.

You feel a big, heavy hand gently land on the middle of your back, pushing you to rest on your elbows.

"Stand up, but keep yer' arms down f'me"

You raise your lower half into a standing position, arching your back forward. Bakugou goes to your front and squats, taking your hands and placing them in front of you so you're in downward dog position.

"Hold it there for 15 seconds."

You close your eyes and breath in, shuddering when you get a whiff of his musk, smoky and sweet.

"One"

"Two"

You peek open your eyes, looking up slightly to see him looking at his watch, counting the seconds down.

"Six"

"Seven"

You take the time to really admire him, his strong thighs, the way you can see freckles dotting the exposed skin, the way his shorts hug his waist, his top riding up on his abs and showing off a patch of hair trailing down..

"Thirteen"

"Fourteen"

You close your eyes at fifteen, pretending like you weren't just imagining ripping his shorts off with your teeth and running eager fingers through his blonde happy trail.

You're so caught up in your thoughts that you almost miss the way he runs his hand back down your spine, easing you down and murmuring a raspy,

"Good girl."

Before straightening up and walking over to the speakers.

Dazed, you watch as he puts on more relaxing music, walking back over to you.

"M' gonna try somethin' a little more difficult, kay? Let me know if ya start to ache."

Oh, you're already aching.

Aching for that di-

"Okay, I'll let you know."

He grunts in approval, twirling his finger for you to stand up.

He comes to your side this time, placing his hand back in the middle of your spine and bending you backwards slowly, humming when you reach your hands to brace yourself.

"Doin' such a good job fer me, yeah? Think ya can be a good girl and hold it fer 30 seconds?"

You almost audibly whimper.

"Mhm, I'll be so good Bakugou."

He starts counting, a deepness to his voice that wasn't there before, and you can feel your thighs begin to shake.

Bakugou can't take his eyes off of you, the way you bend so easily, taking his every word so nicely, eyes hazy and dazed and so so pretty.

The way your thighs shake makes him want to drop to his knees and sink his teeth into them. He wants to mark you up, leave bruises on your pretty ass and then kiss them better, eat out your sweet cunt and stuff you with his fingers when you get too loud.

He was raised with manners, though, and before he does any of that has taking your fine ass on a date.

"Thirty."

You breath out a shaky sigh, letting his hand guide you back down to the floor.

You look at the time, almost jumping in excitement when you realize your session is almost over. You need to get home now. Your panties are aboslutely drenched and you don't know how long you can go without saying something too bold.

Bakugou notices your excitement, raising a brow as he situates himself on his mat.

"Got smwhere to be, Miss?"

You flush, images of you with your hands between your legs and a certain blonde on your mind flashing through your head.

"Nope. Just wanna shower and eat my loneliness away."

He chuckles at that, sitting in lotus position.

"You have any plans?"

He looks up at you, studying your face for a bit, lips turning up slightly when you squirm.

"Nah. I got nuthin'."

You gulp, copying his position and fiddling with your fingers

"Well, uh. Do you wanna maybe.."

"Spit it out, angel, times runnin' out."

You bite your lip, the way he rasped the pet name had your head spinning.

"We could maybe get something to eat,, together? I can cook for you,, Like a date."

You're met with silence, and you feel embarrassment wash over you for a split second before you see a rough, veiny hand on front of you, then feel a warm palm on your face.

You look up and meet red eyes in searing eye contact, his lips curled in a smirk and cheeks dusted pink.

"A date, hm? I'd fuckin' love to Darlin'."

You squeal internally, missing his warmth when he pulls away to count to 30 once again.

♡♡

After stuffing yourself and Bakugou with some curry chicken, you invited him onto the balcony, sitting next to him on the swing seat.

You couldn't take your eyes off him the entire night. He was wearing a simple shirt and joggers, but the top hugged him so well and his sweats were low, riding up everytime he lifted something from the top shelf for you.

There a was a thick tension in the air. You wanted so badly to lean over and grab his jaw, to kiss him and make him groan, make him breathless with pleasure-

"Hey, ya listenin'? I asked ya a question."

You stratle, realizing you were staring at his face for too long.

"Sorry. I just wanted to kiss you- I mean,, fuck-"

Yeah, you shouldn't have drinking so much wine.

Bakugou’s eyebrows raise almost comically, eyes wide and lips pulling back in a grin, his handsome face inching closer to you until you can almost taste him.

"Ya wanna kiss me? Go 'head, I ain't stoppin' ya."

You immediately crash your lips against him, wasting no time in bringing your hand up to cradle his jaw, moaning when his big hand curls around your throat.

He tilts your head back, licking into your mouth and grabbing a thigh with his free hand, dragging you onto his lap. You roll your hips slowly, relishing in the groan it pulls from him.

He pulls away momentarily to suck at your bottom lip, biting down on it before kissing the stinging flesh.

He fiddles with the hem of your sun dress, gaze burning into you.

"Can I take this off, Darlin'?"

You pant above him, shivering at how sexy he sounded.

Damn, consent was hot.

"I don't know, can you?"

Your giggle is cut off by a moan when he flicks at your nipple through the dress, nipping at your collarbone.

"May I take this off, Brat?"

You whimper and nod, earning you another searing kiss before he pulls your dress up, watching your tits bounce out, taking a nopple into his mouth as his hand slides down.

He squeezes your doughy thighs in his hands, fingers pinching and kneading until he reaches your cunt.

You pray that he doesn't tease, you've been worked up for so long, and thankfully, he doesn't, slipping a finger into you and rubbing gently at your clit, picking up pace gradually and adding a second finger as you arch your back.

You pant and lean forward, hands lacing into his hair and hips grinding down onto his fingers. He groans into your nipple, moaning "harder" against you.

You comply, and he shudders, hips canting up to meet the downward roll of yours.

You feel your high creeping up on you, but you wanna feel him so bad, so you sluggishly push him away, earning you a confused grunt.

"Wanna cum on your cock."

Bakugou growls at that, lifting you up with one hand on your hip while the other pushes his sweats and boxers down, his thick cock springing free. You gape down at it, fat and veiny, flushed and dripping with pre as it twitches under your gaze.

His balls are fat too, heavy and round amd you just wanna take one in your mouth and suck till he creams from how good it feels.

Bakugou interrupts your staring with tap to your hips, slowly easing his way into you.

His thick mushrooms head pops in, and it burns so good. You feel like he's in your throat by the time he's all the way in, veins pulsing and dragging along your gooey walls. He leans his head back agasint the swing, mouth opening to pant as he move, feet digging into the ground and hips thrusting harshly into you.

His face is a dusty pink, eyes going crossed and drool starting to slide out of his mouth as he moans, hips picking up speed and fingers rubbing into your clit so good you almost collapse.

"Hah, yer so good, Darlin', fuck squeezin' me so good, gnna make me bussst"

"S'so close-"

"Mmh fuck, me too Angel. You wanna cum on my cock, Darlin? Cream all over me, make a mess of my balls and this cute little swing fuck fuck fuck- gnna bust baby, fill you up so fckin good."

You give a silent scream, arching your back and cumming hard, Bakugou following as he shoots thick ropes of cum into you, sliding down his base and pooling at his fat ball, still twitching.

"This is gnna be a bitch to clean up ain't it?"

@miggiisdumb @lady-bakuhoe

[scuttling]

If I Should Linger

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 6,979 (what is wrong with me??) Tags: 18+, NSFW, Best Friend's Dad Hotch, Confident reader, Flirting, Oral sex, Protected sex, Dirty talk, A little angst with a happy ending Summary: Your best friend stands you up at the bar, but it actually turns into the best night you've had in a long time—maybe the best night of your life. Unfortunately, things don't stay uncomplicated for long... *Requested by @hotforhotchner11 Link to A03 or read below! “I can’t believe you stood me up to have sex with a frat boy,” you hiss into your phone from your seat at the bar. Your best friend Julie—better known as Jay—is on the other end, and she’s completely ruining your plans for the evening at later than the last minute. She’s never on time for anything.

“He’s not a frat boy… yet. He’s rushing.” You pick up your gin and tonic to take a sip, but her comment makes you pause.

“He’s rushing? How old is he?” The breath she blows out before she answers tells you everything you need to know. Goddamn cradle robber.

“Twenty? Or, almost twenty.”

“Oh, you nasty girl. He’s nearly ten years younger than us.” At 28, you literally could not imagine being interested in a 20 year old. Anyone under 25 is practically an infant; what would you talk about?

“The pussy wants what it wants, babe. It’s more fun when they barely know what they’re doing.” Then again, you figure, she isn’t exactly doing much talking.

“That’s gross, Jay.”

“Is it any grosser than your thing for older guys? You’d fuck my dad if I let you anywhere near him, which is exactly why I don’t.”

“I would not fuck your dad—actually, what does he look like?” She groans down the line and you laugh. “I’m kidding. I’m trying to fuck someone’s dad tonight, but not yours.” You hear a choked laugh from beside you and you glance over at, objectively, one of the most attractive men you’ve ever seen: he’s Black, bald, muscular, with a neatly trimmed goatee and a killer smile, and apparently your thirst for older men amuses him. You smile back. “Jay, I have to go; I’m embarrassing myself in public.”

“Okay, and what else is new? Bye!” When she hangs up, you lock your phone and turn to face the man at the bar.

“Sorry about that. Sometimes I forget people are actually listening in places like these; there’s so much talking it’s all kind of white noise to me.”

“It’s kind of my job to listen to what no one else does, but I forget to turn it off sometimes,” he says, and no, that’s not intriguing or anything. “So you’re into older guys?” he asks with a raised eyebrow, and you lean in with your chin in your hand, elbow on the bar.

“Almost exclusively. You don’t look old enough to be someone’s dad, but I’d probably make an exception.” He laughs again; he doesn’t have a drink, so maybe he’s waiting for the bartender, but you sip yours.

“I’m flattered, but taken. I have a friend who’s probably your type; he doesn’t do one night stands, though. He doesn’t really do anything. We’re trying to loosen him up.” You hum thoughtfully, take a cursory glance around the room.

“I happen to be great at loosening older men up. Is he here?” He shoots you a smile, looks at you like you kind of amaze him.

“You don’t beat around the bush, do you?” You raise an eyebrow.

“Would you, if you weren’t taken?” He nods a little, like you’ve got a good point, and you both laugh. “Yeah, it’s a double standard. If you can walk up to a woman and ask her if it hurt when she fell from heaven, why can’t I walk up to an older man and ask if he believes in love at first sight, or if I should walk by again?”

“That tired line would not work on my friend,” he says, and you grin.

“I think you’d be surprised. But, you know him better, so why don’t you just invite me back to your table, since I got stood up by my friend and I’m all alone, and let me do my thing?” You swirl your straw in your drink, try to look flirty, and he leans in on his elbow like you did before.

“You know what? What the hell. If nothing else, he gets some attention from a pretty girl and maybe it boosts his confidence.” You smile—you like this guy already.

“Aw, you think I’m pretty?” He rolls his eyes, and then the bartender presents him with his drinks. You take two—one is a neat bourbon, that has to belong to the older man friend—and follow him to his table while he just shakes his head.

“Looks like you brought back more than drinks,” a pale woman with dark hair and bangs says with a smile when the two of you approach the table. He hands her one of the beers, takes the cocktail from your hand and gives it to a petite blonde with fair skin.

“Her friend bailed on her and we got talking at the bar, so I invited her to come sit with us.” You introduce yourself to the group, and the friend Derek mentioned might be your type? Egregious understatement.

He’s everything you like in an older man: polite, well-spoken, handsome, clean shaven, with a great head of thick, dark hair—he’s wearing an expensive watch, a goddamn suit, a tailored suit that fits him perfectly, and if Jay were here, you’d be catching her attention and panting like a dog, with your hands up near your face.

To someone without your more refined palate for older gentlemen, he may look like an average white guy in his early fifties, but you have to look down to make sure your panties haven’t dropped involuntarily. Just in case.

“Is this seat taken?” you ask, gesturing to the one next to him, and he shakes his head, pulls it out for you before he sits back down—yes, he stood when you approached the table. Manners, check. You’re trying not to drool.

You smooth out your skirt before you take your seat—you always dress for the man you want to attract, and tonight is no exception, so you’re wearing a black lace dress and nude heels; the dress is fitted, but not clingy, and not too short, and you know the right kind of man will find it appealing. So far, your handsome potential love interest Aaron seems to be looking respectfully; that may change, but you’re happy to see it, for now.

“So Derek mentioned you’re all in the FBI; are you the boss? You look like the boss,” you say with a playful smile, and Aaron looks a little nervous when he nods, makes eye contact.

“Until someone decides to overthrow me,” he jokes, deadpan, and your smile gets brighter. Dry sense of humor, check.

“I’d like to see them try; I definitely sense that you can handle your own.” Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Derek hiding a smile behind his hand. He knows you’re flirting, even if no one else does, and another reason you hope to take Aaron home is so you can wipe that smile off his face—but mostly because Aaron’s gorgeous, and you know it would be a very good time for the both of you.

“Let’s play darts,” Derek says to the other people at the table—you can’t remember their names at the moment, all your attention focused on Aaron—and they get up and walk over to the board, so it’s just the two of you.

Aaron clears his throat. “Thank you. What do you do for work?”

“I’m in publishing; a copy editor. Mostly Tom Clancy type action novels, and romance novels. Lots of heaving bosoms and cries of overwhelming pleasure, you know?” You take a sip of your drink through the straw, looking over at him as innocently as you can. He’s a little flushed; you’re a huge fan of that look on a man. “Do you ever read romance novels?”

“Uh, no. Not my genre.” He takes a sip of his drink, and you watch his mouth while he does.

“Not mine either. When you edit enough of them, they become wholly unsexy… and they never compare to real life.” You flick your eyes over his body, briefly but not subtly, and he gives you a glance back. Your heart beats a little faster in your chest. “So what do you like to read? Wait, may I guess?” you ask, setting a hand on his arm. He nods, and you carry on, leaning just a little closer. “So I’m going to guess you’re a fan of the classics, novels you’ve read a hundred times. I think you would tell me your favorite is To Kill a Mockingbird,” you say, tapping against his sleeve, “and maybe intellectually it is, but you actually feel more when you read Moby Dick. I bet your heart yearns for adventure—not that life as a crime solving FBI agent is boring, but it's all too real. Moby Dick is the perfect blend of adventure and fantasy for a man like you.”

“You’ve known me for all of ten minutes,” he says with a raised eyebrow, and you shrug and take a drink.

“True. But am I right? Or close?” He smiles, the first full, unguarded expression he’s given tonight, and you feel awesome for making that happen.

“My favorite book is Moby Dick. I make a point to read it at least twice a year. You’re good.”

“Thank you.” You pull back, take your hand off of his arm; you’ve laid the groundwork for touching, and he’ll have to make a move if he wants more. “People often tell you a lot they don’t intend to, and books are my thing, so it’s easy for me to connect the dots. I recommend books to people as a kind of party trick.” You stir your drink, and he shifts a little, sitting closer.

“Have you disappointed many people with your recommendations?”

“Oh, I make it a personal mission to never leave anyone disappointed,” you say, your voice low and sweet like honey. His eyes move to your mouth. You sweep your tongue over your bottom lip. “Derek said your friends are trying to get you to loosen up; can I ask why?” He flicks his eyes up to yours, frowns a little, like he’s not sure that’s something he’s ready to tell you; ultimately, he just sighs.

“I’ve been divorced for five years, alone for five years. They think it’s time I…” He trails off, shrugs.

“Get back in the saddle?” you offer, and he laughs lightly, agrees. “Is that something you’re interested in? You shouldn’t feel pressured into it if you’re not ready.” You might want to sleep with him so badly it’s sickening, but not at the expense of his well-being.

He exhales deeply and lifts his arm to rest it on the back of your chair; you want to smile, but the conversation doesn’t call for it, so you hold off.

“I think I’m ready, but how do you really know?” You turn toward him a little more, lean against his arm; it feels easy, comfortable, almost like a real date and not you flirting like your life depends on it and hoping to get a bite.

“I think you should wait to meet someone who makes you feel a spark, and then explore it. Maybe it burns hot, but doesn’t last. Maybe it’s a slow burn. Maybe it’s a bit of both. I think when you’re really ready to put yourself out there, you’ll know.” He holds your gaze, wets his lips, takes a breath.

“You’ve been flirting with me.” You do smile a little, then.

“Yes, Aaron, I have.”

“Did Derek put you up to it?”

“Absolutely not.” You touch his arm again, gentle, lean in close. “I’m genuinely interested in you. You’re everything I’m attracted to in a man.” His smile doesn’t touch his eyes.

“Old and uptight?”

“Older, and kind, and capable of having a conversation about more than just sports and money, and handsome. Very handsome.” You lift your fingers from his arm, brush them through his hair over his temple. “I feel a spark. Do you?”

“Yes,” he breathes, and when you set your hand on the table, he covers it carefully with his. His hand is big, warm, softer than you’d expected, and you’re met with the sudden urge to feel it all over your body. “I feel a spark.”

“Good. Do you want to come home with me tonight? No strings attached—just to get you back in the saddle,” you say with a tilt of your head, and he nods.

“I want to.” You’re certain that the smile that crosses your face is softer, inviting, but you get the feeling he won’t kiss you while his friends could be watching. You’re actually surprised he’s touching you so openly.

“Okay, so why don’t you give me a ride home? I was going to have to call an Uber, since my friend didn’t show up, but you’re a gentleman, aren’t you? You wouldn’t let me do that.” He catches on to what you’re saying, the excuse you’re giving him to give his friends, makes a noise of understanding.

“Of course. I wouldn’t rest not knowing you made it home safely.”

“I’m not sure how much rest you’ll be getting tonight,” you murmur, and you rest your free hand on his thigh under the table, squeeze a little. He’s very firm, and you kind of melt. “But that’s a very sweet sentiment, Aaron. Are you committed to staying here much longer?”

“Not at all. Would you like to leave now?” You hold his gaze for a moment, want to be really sure about this; you’re no expert on body language, but you’ve been here before, and he really does look less tense than when you first showed up, more comfortable and open. All really good signs.

“Yes, please.” He squeezes your hand, then stands, smooths out his jacket, and tells you he’ll be right back while he goes to say goodbye to his friends. You stand too, finish what’s left of your drink, and pull out your phone to text Jay.

Taking home the most incredible man. Guess I don’t need my wingwoman after all.

J: Tell grandpa I said he better treat you right.

Please. He’s not that old. If anything, you can call him daddy. :P

J: You can call him daddy. Have fun ;) The ride to your apartment starts out quiet, but you try to fill it by asking Aaron more about himself. You keep your hands on him while you chat, leaning as close to him as you can while wearing your seatbelt, running your hand up and down his leg, over his arm while he shifts gears. You know it’s turning you on, and you’re fairly certain it’s turning him on as well.

You learn more about his job, that he basically solves crimes by judging people, which is kind of funny; before that, he was a lawyer, which you can definitely see. He has one child, a daughter who’s upset with him because of the divorce (someone’s dad, check), and a brother who lives in New York, no living parents. It’s more information than you usually get out of someone you plan to sleep with, but you really do like him, and since he’s not the one night stand type, you think more conversation is the right way to go.

He asks about you too, about your family and your job and your lame friend who bailed on you, and when he arrives outside your building, parks in the lot, you unbuckle your seatbelt and lean in closer, smoothing a hand over his waist.

“I’m really glad I met you tonight,” you breathe, looking up at him, and he puts his hand on your cheek and you meet for a slow, easy kiss. “Hmm. I knew you’d be good at that.”

“I knew you’d be good at that, too. You have the most beautiful lips.” He brushes his fingers over them, and you take his hand, bring two of them into your mouth to suck softly. His breath hitches, and you feel your panties getting damp. God, he’s gorgeous. “Let’s go inside,” he whispers, and you slip his fingers out, drop a hand to his lap where he’s—oh, so perfectly hard it’s unreal.

“We could get started out here, have a little adventure,” you say playfully, fully prepared for him to say he’d rather not, but he just licks his lips and looks at you like you’re going to be the death of him, but at least he’ll die happily. That’s another look you’re a huge fan of on an older man.

You undo his belt, his button and his zipper, pull his cock out of his pants; he’s of average length, thick, makes your mouth water, and you lean in to use that to your advantage, getting him wet with your saliva and then stroking him in your hand. You look up at his face, and he’s got his eyes closed, head back against the headrest—so fucking sexy. You reach your free hand under his shirt, where he’s hairy, strong, but a little soft, just the way you like it, and he opens his eyes and pulls you close for a kiss that’s a bit harder than the last.

“You’re absolutely perfect,” he sighs against your lips, and you press closer for another kiss. You almost regret the adventure comment now, because you want to undress him, and touch him, feel him all over, but you’ll just have to be patient. (That’s never been your strong suit.)

“Are you kidding? You are… everything. If I could build a dream man, he would literally be a copy of you.” He makes a sharp, self-deprecating sound, and you lean down to get him wetter, move your hand a little faster. “I’m completely serious. I’m a little upset I’ve been going to that bar for so long and our paths never crossed.” One of his hands moves to your hair, and he pulls you close for a kiss; he’s ready to come, you can tell, and you want him to more than anything, so you cover his hand with yours and dip your head, sucking his dick like you’re desperate for it. When it comes to Aaron, you’re kind of desperate for everything.

“Oh, god. That feels so good, baby.” You moan at the pet name—is there anything better in the world than an older man calling you baby? Maybe just Aaron specifically calling you baby—and he tightens his fingers in your hair while you glide over him, tight and wet, until he comes in your mouth.

You swallow it down, pull off breathless, and then swipe your tongue over him so he’s clean enough that you can tuck him back into his pants. You look up at him from his lap, and he’s panting too, rubs his fingers over your lips, your chin, down your throat. You’re desperately horny now, soaking wet, and when you shift to sit up, he catches you for a deep, steamy kiss, and that does nothing to help your situation.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, and ugh, your heart flutters. Seriously, who created this man? He’s incredible. “Now let’s go inside so I can make you come, too.”

“Definitely,” you agree with a nod, and you kiss him once more before pulling back and climbing out of the car, straightening yourself up. He does the same, then walks over to you, takes your hand, and follows you into your apartment.

Sex with Aaron is… talk about adventure. He fucks like—well, like he hasn’t done it in over five years. As soon as you get inside the door, he gets on his knees, pulls your panties down, lifts your skirt up, and eats your pussy with such enthusiasm you come with your hands in his hair, rocking against his face, in less than three minutes. Seeing him down on the ground in the full suit, just going to town on you, is not an image you’ll soon forget, that’s for sure.

After that, the two of you stumble to your bedroom, hands all over each other, tugging at zippers and discarding clothes—he has you keep your shoes on, and that makes you feel slutty like a porn star, and super hot—and you kiss, touch, moving your hands all over each other's bodies until he’s hard again. You stay in missionary, and after he slips on a condom from your bedside table, he slides into you, kisses your lips and your neck and your shoulders while he rolls his hips against yours.

It’s slow and sensual at first, and you drag your nails lightly across his back, tilt your head when he nips at your throat.

“Aaron, oh. You feel so good,” you breathe, scraping your fingers through his hair, and his thrusts get a little deeper, his kisses a little rougher.

“You’re incredible. So gorgeous.” He moves a hand to your breast, massages it while your bodies work; you hitch your legs up higher, moan, and pull him closer, your hands on his body, and he fucks into you more frantically, humping against you hard, wildly. You’ve never really gotten fuck you like an animal, but that’s kind of what he’s doing, and you’re into it, clinging to him, pushing into his thrusts like it’s possible to take him deeper than you are now.

God, he’s going to spoil you, ruin you for all other men. You’re going to have your best sex at 28 and then be chasing this feeling the rest of your goddamn life. It’s both amazing and horribly unfair.

“Yes, Aaron, yeah. Fuck me hard, fuck me deep.” He groans, pounds inside you, moves his hand from your breast to the back of your neck and stares down into your eyes while he absolutely destroys you. You come clenching around him, pulling his hair and digging your nails into his shoulder, and his mouth comes crashing down for a kiss while he thrusts through it and then stutters, his orgasm right behind yours.

You sag against the pillow behind your head, and he puts his weight on you, hand still clamped around the nape of your neck, and breathes hot against your throat.

You stare up at the ceiling, catching your breath, and thank fucking god Jay stood you up tonight. Aaron is very sweet, kissing you and holding you, murmuring against your skin, and the two of you go to the bathroom, get cleaned up, and then raid your kitchen for snacks, talking easily and laughing. He doesn’t look like he’s about to bolt, which you’d been a little worried about; in fact, he actually suggests taking your snacks back to bed, jokes about not getting any crumbs on your white sheets. Never one to kick a man out abruptly after sex, and especially not a man like Aaron, you agree, and you end up in bed again, which means…

Another frantically torn condom wrapper later, and you’re on your stomach, your nipples rubbing against the sheets. Aaron’s hands are on your ass while you work yourself on his cock, rolling your body, moaning desperately like you aren’t already two orgasms deep; his dick hits just right, and between that and the nipple stimulation you’re coming fast, bucking hard against him so he’ll follow.

“Fuck, baby, coming already?” He tightens his grip, slams inside you, plants one hand on the bed to change his angle a bit. “Let’s try for another; your body is so perfect, built for sex, built for me.” You groan, roll your eyes back because his dirty talk is hitting the spot, and the two of you fuck together, noisy and eager and hot, until he shudders, squeezes your ass hard and starts to come.

You’re so close, right on the edge, and you sound wild because of it, your moans high, whimpering, your fingers digging into the sheets.

“Yes, yes, don’t stop, please don’t stop,” you beg, grinding against him, and he puts both hands hard on your hips, rails you into the bed.

“I’m not stopping until you come for me. Come for me,” he murmurs, and he wraps one hand around the front of your body, rubs your clit, and you climax, squeezing your eyes shut, seeing stars. You moan his name, drop your hand to cover his where it rests against your pussy, and this time when his body drapes across your back like a weighted blanket, you sigh and close your eyes.

He kisses your back and shoulders, runs his big hands over your hips and ass, then slides off and guides you to the edge of the bed, lifts you up and carries you to the bathroom. You think absently that you could get used to being treated this well, and you must say it, because he presses a kiss to your lips and whispers, “I will if you let me.”

There’s a little talk in bed, after you’re cleaned up and cozy beneath the comforter, about going on a real date; Aaron seems nervous, like he thinks you won’t go for it, that all you wanted was this night of sex. And yes, while that’s typically your MO, something about Aaron is different. He makes you want more, things like dates and picnics and sweet lovemaking at night and kisses—all the kisses, everywhere, all the time.

You ask him to stay, and he promises he will, and you fall asleep in his arms. It’s the best you’ve felt in a really long time.

You wake up to Aaron’s sleepy, handsome face, and you kiss and smile into each other’s lips, because last night was great, but this is even greater. Your plan is to take a shower together and then go out for breakfast, but there’s a knock at your door just as you’re planning to step in.

“You go ahead, I’ll catch up,” you tell him with a kiss, and you pull on your robe and peer through the peephole, then pull the door open. “Well, well; now you decide to show up.”

Jay steps in with a box of doughnuts and two cups of coffee, looking properly shamed.

“I know, I’m a horrible friend. I broke the slut code: stay slutty, but never at the expense of your best girl.” You crack a smile, because you could never really be mad at her, but especially not after last night. You’re about to say that, but she looks over your shoulder at the clothes still strewn about your living room and grins. “Holy shit. Is your old man still here?”

“He’s not an old man, and yes, he’s in the shower, so shut up.” She shoves the doughnuts and coffee carrier into your hands and brushes past you, toward your bedroom, and you groan. “Jay, no, come on.”

“I just want to get a glimpse of him,” she says, peeking her head into your room. She sees more clothes, and the condom wrappers, looks back at you with a cocked eyebrow. “Okay, someone had a good time last night.”

“Yes, it was fucking incredible. He’s a sex god, I’m not even kidding. He ate my pussy like he hasn’t had a meal in months, then fucked me twice, so hard and sexy, and then he asked me if he could take me on a date, Jay.” You smile wide, can’t help it. “I really like him, so I actually owe you for not coming out last night.” She smiles back, pulls you close for a hug, and you step back with your hands on her shoulders. “So thank you, and thanks for coming to apologize, but can you please leave? I really don’t want to miss out on some potential good morning shower sex.”

She rolls her eyes, but it’s all from a place of love, and she turns to head out of your room.

“Okay, but only because cockblocking you would mean breaking the slut code again, and I can’t have my membership card revoked. I have a date with the almost frat boy again tonight.” She grins, and you shake your head, pull off your robe when you hear the door shut and head for the shower.

Good morning shower sex has never been so good. One month and twelve dates later, and you’re head over heels for Aaron. He is so sweet, and smart, and secretly funny, the perfect gentleman when you’re in public and an absolute manic in private, and you seriously could not have imagined a more perfect man.

Jay is maybe a little tired of hearing you talk about him.

You’re out for breakfast on a Saturday morning—Aaron is on a case in Indiana, or you’d probably be with him—and she sighs around a bite of french toast.

“I get it, he’s the best lay you’ve ever had in your life. He makes your pussy wet and your heart horny, or whatever. When do I get to meet the old man who’s got you wrapped around his big sexy fingers?”

“He’s supposed to be home tonight, maybe I’ll see if he’s feeling up to drinks?” Sometimes he’s really worn out after these cases, and you don’t blame him, but occasionally they must touch him in a way that makes him want to enjoy life, because you’ve had some nice dates the same day he gets back. You’ll ask, and if he’s not up for it, you’ll reschedule.

“Ooh, yes. I can’t wait to finally get a good look at the hunk who turned my maneater best friend into a monogamous whore.” You gasp, affronted, and she cackles, takes a sip of her iced coffee. Sometimes you can’t even remember why you’re friends—but she never fails to do something completely unexpected and sweet that reminds you eventually. “Hey, maybe now that you’re obsessed with this guy, you can finally meet my dad, since I don’t have to worry about you trying to suck his dick at first sight.”

You know that Jay’s relationship with her dad has been a little rough since her parents split up, and you’ve always thought that maybe you could get her to open up to him, to talk to him, if you could get to know him, but her fears about your taste for older men have always been hilariously real. As if you can’t control yourself; as if you’d ever actually date her dad.

“Well I’ll have to ask my old man; maybe he’s down for a threesome?” It’s her turn to act offended, and you laugh and send Aaron a text about this evening before you forget.

Can’t wait to meet the infamous Jay, he replies, and you won’t lie, you’re feeling really good about your two favorite people finally getting to know each other.

That night, you and Aaron beat Jay to the bar, because of course you do—that bitch is never on time for anything.

You’re feeling cute in a sexy turtleneck dress (the neck of which Aaron tugged down to place a hickey under when you rode him on the couch before coming here) and a set of earrings he bought you—you’re wearing a set of lingerie he bought you, too for later—and he looks gorgeous in a dark blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up.

You can barely keep your hands off of him, squeezing his thigh, kissing his neck; you only give him an inch of space when he gets up to run to the restroom, and even then, the way he smiles and presses his lips to yours before he goes makes you want to cancel drinks and take him home so you can be alone.

But Jay asked to meet him, and you have been a little obsessed lately, so you want to do this and make her happy.

You look down at your phone, ready to hit her with some inflammatory where the fuck are you??? texts, when she drops into the seat Aaron had just vacated, breathless.

“Sorry, sorry. Traffic was really bad, and I got into this huge fight with my mom on the phone...” She pulls off her jacket, drapes it over the back of the seat.

“Is everything okay?” you ask, concerned. The two of them usually get along pretty well.

“Yeah, she’s just pissed because my dad has a new girlfriend—which is stupid, because she’s the one who wanted to divorce him, so why does she care? But anyway, I told her I’d meet her and be nice to her, because it’s important to him, and she expects me to take her side or something. I don’t know. Let’s just say I’m really glad I’m out for drinks with you and your old man so I can forget about my problems for a while.” She takes a deep breath for practically the first time since she started talking, then looks around, realizes it’s just the two of you. “Hey, where is he, anyway?”

“Restroom,” you say with a smile, but something more must creep onto your face, because she rolls her eyes playfully.

“And you didn’t follow him in there for a little stall action?”

“Ew, no. That’s more your speed than mine; we had sex before we came, anyway, look at this hickey.” You pull the neck of your dress down and she whistles, impressed.

“Congrats on having such good pussy, babe. I know you’re sickeningly obsessed with him, but it looks to me like he’s got it bad for you too.” You grin, instinctively want to gush over him, but you see him walking over out of the corner of your eye, so you hold off.

He’s frowning, though, and you’re not sure why.

“Julie?” Jay whips her head around at the sound of Aaron’s voice, and her eyes get wide.

“Dad? What are you…” You stand up abruptly, looking up at Aaron, and Jay stands too, looking between you, confused. “What are you doing here?”

“I… We…” He swallows, looks at you like you’ve both made a terrible mistake. You’re surprised how much that look hurts, but you know you have to take care of Jay before you can feel sorry for yourself.

“Jay, listen to me, okay? I swear to god I didn’t know.” You’re begging, pleading with your eyes, your hands on her shoulders. “I did not know.” She shakes her head like it’s not making sense, but when she lets herself connect the dots, she brings up a hand to cover her mouth.

“Oh my god. Are you fucking kidding me?” She pulls away from you, looking at you like you punched her in the face. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Jay, I didn’t—”

“Julie,” Aaron says, reaching for her, but she steps back, palms up.

“I seriously can’t believe this. You two… After every joke we made about me keeping you away from him?” She looks at you like you betrayed her, and you exhale, shrug sadly.

“It’s not like I went looking for him, Jay. We just… found each other.” You don’t look at Aaron, because if the last month hasn’t meant the same things to him, you’ll have to be okay with that. “I know it’s shocking, and I’m sorry. I can’t imagine what it feels like to find this out, this way.”

“You’re right, you can’t imagine. I just fought with my mom about my dad’s new girlfriend, and it’s-it’s you.” She laughs, humorless.

“You fought with your mom? When?” Aaron asks, crossing his arms, and it’s so clear how much he cares about Jay. Her eyes fly to his.

“On the fucking way here. She told me about your new slut girlfriend, and I was defending you! I told her I’d meet her if you asked me to, that I’d be nice because I know she’s important to you! And it’s you,” she practically spits, turning to you. “Such a whore that you’ll fuck anyone over forty who can still get it up, including my fucking father.” Her tone stings, and people are looking at the three of you, but you take a breath, remind yourself that she’s just angry right now, and she loves you, doesn’t mean that.

“Julie, that's enough. I’m taking you home and we can talk about this there.” Aaron steps past her, picks up her jacket, and glances over at you, but you’re collecting your things and and pulling up a rideshare app to get yourself the fuck out of there.

You head for the bathroom to wait it out until your ride comes, and you definitely don’t cry because the two people who bring you the most happiness in the world are gone and they barely even looked back. It’s five days before Jay shows up at your door with apology doughnuts and a bottle of rosé. You eat and drink and cry on each other, and then laugh at each other, and your heart feels a little healed by the end of it.

“I’m sorry I called you a whore. It’s just… what are the odds, after everything we said, that you would actually hook up with my fucking dad.” You laugh and take the last bite of your doughnut.

“You don’t think I was a little startled by that turn of events? I was as shocked as you. I knew he had a daughter around my age, but that’s not really what we talked about, you know?” She shoves half a doughnut in her mouth and cackles.

“You don’t talk a whole lot, from what I’ve gathered.”

“Didn’t,” you say, and your whole mood shifts. She looks confused. “We didn’t talk a whole lot. He hasn’t spoken to me since the night you found out.” She pulls out her phone, starts texting.

“Okay, I told him I was okay with you guys like, two days ago, so this probably means he’s spiraling. He tends to do that—get in his own head and beat himself up for things that aren’t his fault.” She looks up from her phone, gives you a soft smile. “Will you forgive me if I tell you he’s moping at home right now, and that I know he’ll be happy to see you?” You roll your eyes a little.

“I already forgive you, Jay, but if he hasn’t called me, maybe there’s a reason. Maybe he was looking for an out, and I gave him one, or maybe he can’t feel the same way I do because he knows we’re friends.”

“He told my mom about you, remember? He wouldn’t have done that if he wasn’t serious about you, and I don’t think he’d be acting this emo if he didn’t have feelings for you.” She reaches out, covers your hands with hers. “I’m really, really sorry I fucked this up for you guys. Weirdness aside, I know what good people you both are, and I hate that you were happy and I took that from you guys. I’m 100% supportive of you being my future step-mom,” she says with a grin, and you roll your eyes again and give her a hug and then jump up to get a shower.

You’re going to go get your old man.

When you knock on Aaron’s door an hour later, he looks surprised to see you.

“I thought you’d be Julie,” he says softly, and you sigh.

“I know. She sent me. She wants us to get our heads out of our asses, but I told her I don’t know where your head is, because we haven’t spoken.” Seeing him makes you feel a little better, because he does look like he may have been moping the last few days, so that must mean the spark is still there, right? “If you want me to leave, just tell me, and I’ll go; I’ll get out of your life and you can pretend it was just a casual thing, if that’s what you want.” Your heart aches at the thought, but you’d understand, if being his daughter’s best friend is an obstacle he can’t overcome.

“I don’t want you to leave,” he says after a long, painfully drawn out moment. “I don’t want you to ever leave. And I could never pretend this was casual.” He steps forward—so handsome in a t-shirt and jeans it makes you long to press kisses all over his face, to hold him and be held by him—and his eyes are trained on yours. “I know nothing about us is conventional, but it doesn’t matter to me if it doesn’t matter to you. I want to be with you.”

You take a deep, calming breath, exhale and nod. Your hands ache to reach out and touch him.

“I want to be with you, but only if you can promise that if something comes up with Jay—Julie—we can figure it out together. I don’t ever want to feel the way I felt the other night, and while I get that you had to take care of your daughter, and I’m glad you two talked things out, I can’t just be abandoned if things get weird.” You approach him, wrap your arms around him, and sigh. He hugs you so tightly, rests his cheek against the top of your head.

“I promise. I know I could have handled that better, but the situation was just so...”

“I know, that’s okay. Family comes first—but just so you know, she gave me her full support to campaign to become her new step-mom,” you say, pulling back with a teasing smile, and he shakes his head and grins. “So, one last question: Are you ready to get back in the saddle, Aaron?” He leans in and kisses you so hard you’re breathless, weaves his fingers into your hair.

“Sounds like my kind of adventure.” Message sent with high importance: Do not disturb! Your dad’s indecent.

J: Gross. Thanks for the warning, mom.

That’s step-mom, to you. Taglist ❤️: @thaddeusly @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal @g-l-pierce @my-rosegold-soul @ssamorganhotchner @heliotropehotch @angelhotchner @qtip-blog @gspenc @wishuhadstayed

[seiyasabi]

Bulls in the Bronx

(So…. long story short, I’m now a hucow simp. Thanks a lot @/biskywrites and @/dark-side-blog2 for making me this way (ﾉД`) lol, all jokes aside, I wanna suck some tiddy milk from a buff man ;)) Anyways, this is Yandere Hucow(Hubull?) Bokuto x Fem Reader ;0 This fic allows me to flex my farming knowledge lol, bc my grandparents owned ponies and dogs. 

TW: !Noncon!, !dubcon!, creampie!, he hits you twice!, somnophilia!, predator vs prey?, manipulation!, cumflation!, breeding kink!, size kink!, ur a farmhand!, lactation!, tiddie sucking!, Asshole farmer Ushi, etc.. 

Please don’t proceed if any of the above are triggering! Also, sorry if Bokuto is too OOC lol) 

“Bokuto got into the lackweed again,” You can’t suppress the laugh that explodes from your mouth. The idea of the biggest hucow (hubull??) on the ranch freaking out (again), because he’s now dripping milk is hilarious. 

“Where on Earth does he keep finding those damn weeds?” The other farmhand laughs as well, stooping down to fill two buckets with water. 

“I think those grass seeds were cross contaminated, the other hucows also started to lactate a lot more than usual. But, it’s kinda funny that our best breeder is dripping like a heifer,” Chuckling in acknowledgement, you can’t help but feel a pang of pity. Poor Bo, he’s probably really self conscious at the moment. 

“Maybe I should go check on him-” Your coworker almost drops the bucket she’s filling, looking up at you as if you just grew three heads. 

“Why would you do that? Did you forget that he’s going in rut soon?” Frowning, you glance down at the floor in mild shame. 

“Well, yes, but he isn’t supposed to start until next week! Plus, I’m not ovulating right now, so I won’t trigger him,” The other girl thinks for a moment, before nodding slowly. 

“I suppose it’d be fine. If anything, he may calm down if his favourite handler is there,” Nodding, you grab two buckets from the shelf beside you. Squatting down next to your coworker, you place a bucket underneath a faucet, turning the circular handle to the left. A gush of cool water rushes out, quickly filling the plastic pail. Quickly switching it out for the empty one, you wait a few more moments, before turning off the rushing water. Grabbing the handles of the buckets, you lift them whilst standing to your feet, using your legs instead of your back. 

Nodding towards the other girl, you bid her farewell. Turning on your heel, you tromp towards the bull pens. The large red barn is quite a far distance from the shed you were once in, causing you to break out in a light sweat. It doesn’t help that it’s mid spring, causing the farm to be quite warm. 

Setting the buckets down on the dirt ground, you wipe your brow with the back of your hand. Huffing out a deep breath, you quickly move the concrete slab keeping the barn closed away from the sliding door, before shoving it open. The sound of the cowbell on the red and white door handle on the inside clinks noisily, queuing a symphony of deep ‘moos.’ 

Picking up the buckets with bent knees, you hurry inside, relishing the feeling of the barn’s fans on your sweaty skin, “Hey guys, is the barn cool enough for you?” Grumbles and shifting of large bodies are all you get in response, causing you to laugh, “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Gunning it for a certain grey haired bull’s stall, a bright smile makes its way onto your face, “Hey, Koutarou, how’re you feeling?” 

He’s currently laying on his bed of compact hay, tears sliding down his handsome face. His cute ears are droopy, his bell earring not jingling with life like normal. His tears drip between his septum piercing, and drop onto his well defined abdomen, “Not good, (Your Name).” 

With a small gasp, you set down the pails rather harshly, some of the cool liquid sloshing onto the wooden floor. Hurrying towards him, you sit on the prickly ‘mattress,’ “What’s wrong? I heard that you’re lac-” A small sob leaves his lips at your words, causing you to grab his hand reassuringly, “Are the other guys making fun of you? I can go yell at them if you’d like!” 

The buff bull-man sits up, one arm covering his chest self-consciously, “No! They’re not being mean,” He grips your hand almost to the point that it’s painful, “I-it’s just… my chest hurts, real bad.”

Nodding in understanding, you motion towards his covered pecs, “Let me see, Bubs. I’ll see what I can do.”

His face flushes bright red, “But it’s embarrassing!” You shush him sweetly, releasing his hand to coax his arm away from his chest. 

“It’s okay, I won’t make fun of you! I just wanna help you,” After a moment of hesitance, he obeys, revealing his swollen, red nipples. 

The area around his nipples is raised as well, showing just how much his milk is backed up. 

Eyes softening even more, you delicately rub both pecs, “You’re alright, Bubs. This happens to the cows sometimes when we don’t milk them as much as we need to. If you’d like, I can go find a pump!”

“No! I don’t wanna pump!” You jump slightly, and move away from him, only for his hands to trap your own to his chest. More tears gather in his eyes, as he becomes distraught, “I don’t want my milk to go to waste!” 

Taken aback, you nod, although you don’t understand his reasoning, “Kou, why’re you acting like this? You know we don’t get rid of milk, we sell your guys’ milk at the market.” 

He shakes his head, “I don’t want you to sell it. I want you to drink it,” The look of shock on your face is mistaken as disgust, causing him to cry even more, “Do you think I’m weird? Why do you look like that?” Seeing the bull act so sensitive is adorable, but you feel as though you have to comfort him.

“No, no, it’s okay! I’m not weirded out, I’m just surprised. I’ll go get a bucket-”

“No bucket!” Sighing at his weird behaviour, you cock an eyebrow at him. 

“Then how am I supposed to collect it?” A big grin crosses his teary face. 

“Drink from me! I promise I’ll be good!” Shifting in discomfort, an anxious sweat starts to form on your brow. 

“Ahaha, that’s funny, Kou. You know I can’t do that,” More tears well up in his eyes, squeezing your heart painfully, “Don’t look at me like that, Bubs. I don’t think your owner would like me getting so close-” 

“I don’t mind,” Ushijima’s voice booms throughout the barn, scaring the living daylights out of you. Whipping your head around, you make eye contact with the large male, an uncharacteristic smirk on his face, “As long as my star bull is happy, I’m happy.”

Kou releases your hands, only to grab your face, forcing you to look at him, “See! He doesn’t care! Please, (Nickname), please help me! My udders hurt so bad!” 

With Ushijima’s eyes on you, and Koutarou’s sad and pain filled face, you finally relent, “Okay, okay! Don’t freak out, Bubs, I’ll help. You just gotta let me go.” 

He releases you quickly, before shoving your head towards his chest. The jingling of his earring is heard, telling you that his ears are no longer pressed down on the top of his head. You hear heavy footsteps walk away from his stall, probably gathering the bulls to let them graze outside. 

You try to push away from where your head is being smushed, but the bull gives you no leeway, “Why aren’t you drinking?” The male practically whines, as you whack his shoulder lightly. 

“I’m being smothered in between your tiddies, Kou,” You chuckle in slight discomfort, but he finally allows you up. Moving towards his most swollen nipple (the left one), you pinch it between your thumb and forefinger, causing a small stream of milk to come streaming out. 

A small moan leaves the large man’s lips, as he shoves you once again face first into his chest, “Don’t tease, (Nickname), I feel like I’m dying!” A flash of empathy goes through your heart. 

Removing your hand from his nipple, you take a deep breath, and latch yourself onto him.Your chapstick covered lips are soft against his sensitive skin, causing him to keen. When you suckle, a tidal wave of milk bursts into your mouth. Luckily, it doesn’t taste very bad; his milk tastes like vanilla, causing you start to slurp it up like a babe. 

Your one hand kneads his other pec to soothe him, “Fu-fuck, you’re making me feel so good!” You don’t bother trying to say anything, instead, you just suck harder. Your unoccupied hand squeezes his tit that you’re currently nursing on, causing him to pump out more of his yummy milk. 

After a few long moments, you release his nipple. A drop of milk trickles down your chin, which the large bull laughs at. A thick finger wipes off the excess, pushing itself into your mouth. A tender look is in the grey haired man’s eyes, as he kisses your forehead. 

“Thank you, pretty girl. Can you do the other one, please?” Now that he’s no longer in a painfilled state, he’s back to his normal, boyish self. Nodding, you lick your lips, before latching on to his other nipple. He barely chokes back a moan, his hand gripping the back of your head. 

You suck as hard as you can without hurting him, pretending his nipple was a straw to a thick ass milkshake. Between your massaging and sucking, his teat no longer feels as painful as it once did. 

Pulling away, you give him a wry smile, “There, all better. Well, I should pour your water into your trough now,” Standing up with wobbly legs, you move towards the filled buckets. Picking them up one by one, you pour it in with unsteady hands. Why are you so shaky right now? “Well, I should get going now. I hope you feel better later,” You try to walk out of his stall, only to be yanked back into Bokuto’s lap. Both empty pails fall to the ground unceremoniously, clattering loudly through the empty barn. 

“Don’t leave me, Lovely, I need you,” His warm skin against yours feels nice, and you suddenly feel sleepy. 

“Kou, I’m tired. I think-I think I’m gonna take a nap,” He runs his fingers (through your hair/over your scalp), tantalising you into drifting off. 

“That’s alright, (Nickname), I’ll watch after you,” With a muffled ‘Mhm,’ you fall into a deep slumber. 

-

When you awoke, you woke to your body shaking. Brow furrowing, you blearily open your eyes, only to see a tuft of grey hair in between your bent, spread legs. 

His long tongue is currently fucking in and out of your dripping cunt, his thumb rubbing against your clit. 

“Ku-Kou? Wha-“ He looks up immediately, a look of shock on his strong features. 

“I-It’s Not what it looks like! I-I just wanted a taste!” You groggily push at his head, catching his ears slightly, causing a small jingling to sound throughout the empty barn. 

“You didn’t ask, why, why are you-“ He grabs your hand, kissing each knuckle with a slobbering kiss. 

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Let me make you feel good! You taste so good,” You yank your hand back, trying to kick off the hand that currently wrapped around your right thigh. 

“Get off of me! Bokuto, you-you’re doing this without my consent! I thought we were friends!” You shout, pushing at his face harshly. He grabs one of your hands, trying to kiss it, only for your other to clap him upside the face harshly, “Don’t! You’ve already done enough.” 

Kicking him away (even though he’s much larger and stronger than you, meaning he just moved away), you stand to your feet, pulling back up your halfway down jeans and panties. 

Snatching up the buckets previously discarded, you don’t even shoot the crying bull a glance, just turning on your heel, and stomping away. 

Tears of your own drip down your face, humiliation and betrayal weighing down your aching heart. 

Forcefully sliding open the barn doors, you run from it, catching the eye of a certain green haired farmer. 

It seems Bokuto fucked up. 

But that’s okay, when he goes into rut, there’ll be nothing keeping him from breeding you full of his massive calves. 

-

You avoided the bull barn like the plague for the next week. The hucows are very pleasant company. They treat you as if you’re their young, making you feel well loved. 

That is, until Hachi asked you why you’ve been avoiding Bokuto. She’d told you that he hasn’t acted the same, in fact, he’s acted depressed and withdrawn. 

Since then, you’ve stuck with aquatic life. The fish, swans, and ducks don’t give you that much trouble. 

But, when you come back from the pond and fish pools, the farm is ensued with panic. Apparently, Bokuto’s finally gone into rut. 

And, unfortunately for you, he’s on the prowl for you. 

So, when your coworker runs up to you, begging for you to calm him, you turn on your heel, and start walking back towards the pond. They can figure this out themselves, you’re not going to sacrifice yourself to someone who tried to take advantage of you. 

Sadly, that doesn’t work out. 

You’re immediately stopped by Ushijima, his broad form blocking you from advancing forward, “Where do you think you’re going?” His arms are crossed, an angry scowl on his usually handsome features. 

“I forgot something at the pond,” You lie, smoothly, “I’m going to go grab it real quick-” 

“You’ll do nothing of the sort,” His strong voice booms, “What you’re going to do, is march yourself into the barn, and make my prized bull happy.” 

Your own scowl forms on your pretty face, “I will do nothing of the sort. Interspecies sex is illegal! You can fire me for all I care, I’m not going in there!” You try to move around his large form, only to be manhandled into a chokehold.

His left arm is wrapped around your neck, your back to his chest, and your face being held in a large hand, “Interspecies sex is legal when a human and hybrid are mates,” He hisses through gritted teeth, and you struggle in his hold, “If you don’t go in there, I’ll drag you in.” 

“Fuck you,” You spit, “I’ll fucking castrate you!” You kick backwards, landing a solid hit on the large man’s groin. With a loud yell, you’re let go, allowing you to run towards the farm’s parking area. Pulling your truck’s keys from your pocket, you haul ass, not bothering to look behind you. 

The barns and sheds fly past you, as you run through the open field leading to the car park. You suddenly hear loud footsteps follow after you, and you assume that it’s Ushijima, that is, until you hear them, “(Nickname)! (Nickname), where are you going? Why are you running away from me?” Bokuto’s voice rings out at top volume, hurting your ears. His voice a lot more gravely than before, and without looking at him, you know that he most likely looks crazed. 

You don’t respond, trying to pick up the pace. You click the unlock button one time, only unlocking the driver’s side door. Because you had a head start, you cleared the field in less than three seconds, allowing you to hop into your truck, and lock the doors. Shoving the key into the ignition, all whilst buckling your seatbelt, you press on the brake, and turn it, only to hear the spluttering of your failing ignition, “Come on! Don’t do this-” Bokuto slams into the driver’s side door at top speed, rocking your large vehicle harshly. His hands and face are pressed against the window, his expression looking like that of a kicked puppy. You then notice the fact that the buff male is completely naked, his impossibly large cock bobbing against his toned stomach. 

“Why are you trying to leave? I need you so badly, pretty-pretty. Why don’t you open the door, and we can figure this out? I promise I’ll make you feel good, after all, us bulls pride ourselves in taking care of our mates,” You cringe in disgust, not bothering to answer him. Instead, you continue to fiddle with your ignition, muttering expletives under your breath. His large hands start to beat on your driver-side window, trying to gain your attention, “(Nickname), come out already! Ushi already cut your fuel line, so you’re not going anywhere! Come on, I just wanna make you feel good-”

It was your turn to cut him off, “Shut up! We aren’t friends anymore, Bokuto, much less lovers! Just leave me the fuck alone! I’m sure many of the cows would love to help you through your rut, why can’t you just ask them?” Tears of frustration dot your eyelashes, as you pop open your glove box and search for your phone. Catching sight of the black cased (phone type), you snatch it from its confines with a loud ‘Aha,’ “Don’t make me call the Farmer’s Union, Bokuto. I’ll report you and Ushijima for-”

“You won’t! You love me too much!” His frantic words raise in volume, as he hit the glass even harder than before, “You wouldn’t put me down! Come on, (Nickname), why won’t you call me ‘Bubs’ anymore? I love you!” You swipe open your phone, and go to the contacts. Pulling up the Farmer’s Union phone number, you go to press ‘call,’ only for the shattering of glass to halt you. 

You scream in both fear and shock, throwing up your hands to protect your face. This, in turn, causes you to drop your phone. In this time, Bokuto is able to grab you by your arms, and drag you towards the broken window. Your seatbelt keeps you in place, causing him to pull you even harder, and making you scream in pain. 

You use your arm to whack his against the broken glass on your truck’s window area. He releases you in a moment of pain, allowing you to unbuckle yourself, and throw yourself to the passenger side. Once there, you unlock the door, and bolt towards the road. 

“(Your Name), come back here! Stop being so difficult!” You pay him no mind, a few meters away from the busy road. Noticing a car speeding towards the area you’re running to, you push yourself even harder, trying to throw yourself into the road. Unfortunately, you’re grabbed by two buff arms that encircle your waist. They use all of their strength to smash you into their chest from behind, knocking the air from your lungs, “Are you crazy? You could’ve been hurt!” You thrash and try to bite at him, causing Bokuto to backhand you across the face, “Now look what you made me do! If you’d been good, I wouldn’t have had to do that!”

To be completely honest, you’re in shock. Bokuto has never raised a hand at you, and that slap wasn’t a warning tap. No, that was him using a good majority of his strength, causing your cheek to throb painfully. 

You continue to thrash and curse after freezing for a moment, drawing the eyes of concerned coworkers, “Let go of me! What the fuck is wrong with you? Put me down!” You try to kick him in the junk, only to kick him on the inside of his thigh. In retaliation, he backhands you again, this time on the other cheek. Gasps and whispers are heard from those around you, drawing the large hucow’s eyes. 

“There’s nothing to see here, guys! Just my mate making a scene,” He shakes you a bit to shut you up, causing you to become disoriented. The farmhands and other hybrids look like they’re about to step in, only for Ushijima himself to show up. 

“What Bokuto said is correct,” His harsh gaze is on you, his hand gripping his dick, “She’s just making a scene. Let them through.”

They reluctantly go back to their business, as Koutarou guns it to the empty bull barn. Ushijima only watches as you’re dragged to the large building, as tears drip down your face in fear, and his fist at his side clenches in fury.

Stomping into the barn, Bokuto makes quick work of getting to his stall. Once inside, he tosses you on the hay mattress, and straddles your waist. With pawing hands, he rips your t-shirt and jeans off of you, leaving you in your bra and underwear, along with your boots and socks. Yanking off your boots, be tossed them out of his ‘room,’ as you try to throw punches at his muscular chest. He grunts, but doesn’t stop. 

With beefy fingers, he yanks off your bra, ripping it in two. Your tits jiggle at his harsh movements, making him lick his lips in enjoyment. He then rips off your cotton panties, exposing your cunny to his hungry eyes. 

“You’re beautiful, pretty-pretty. I can’t wait to see you stuffed with my calves,” You shake your head no rapidly, pushing his hands away from where they rest on your hips. 

“No! Stop it, Bokuto! I thought we were friends!” He tightens his grip on your pelvis, forcing your legs open. 

“That’s Not my name, (Nickname), you know that. Now, you know that I’m way more than just your friend-I’m your mate, and you know that I’ll provide for you and our calves,” With grubby fingers, he rubs at your clit, trying to draw a good reaction from you.

You squirm in response, trying to wriggle out of his one handed grip. You shove at his chest, but he remains unmoved, choosing to press down harder than before, “Stop it! Let me go!” 

He inserts his middle finger into your moist cunny, forcing it in and out. You try to kick him in the head only for him to catch your leg with the hand that previously held your hip, “If you wanted me to eat you out that bad, you should’ve just said so, pretty girl,” Before you can refuse, he throws your legs over his shoulders, and dives in. 

His long tongue fucks in and out of your hole, one of his thumbs rubbing your clit. A loud whine escapes your throat before you can stop it, making you feel a wave of disgust for yourself. Bokuto shouldn’t be making you feel good, he’s assaulting you, after all. 

But, when his tongue brushed against your g-spot, you can’t help but convulse in pleasure. Thighs quaking, you try to stop yourself from cumming. 

“St-stop! I’m, I’m gonna-“ He stops before you can cum, instead, pushing your hips down to where his cock lays against his abs. Forcing the bulbous head against your tiny hole, he pushes harshly, trying to fuck into you like an animal, “No! No! You’re too big! You’re going to tear my-“ With one powerful thrust, he forces his way inside, and you can’t help but scream. 

Tears drip down your face at the feeling, your pussy feeling like it’s been ripped open. Bokuto grabs your head, and forces it against his chest, practically making you take one of his pink nipples into your mouth. You’re immediately met with the taste of his vanilla milk, drinking it up as the hucow starts to buck into you at a lightning fast pace. 

Your teeth bite down on his nipple, but instead of being angry, he just moans in lust, “Yes! Yes, pretty girl, you’re taking me so well!” 

His hand that isn’t cradling your head goes to your tummy, feeling his huge length moving underneath your skin. He presses down a bit, causing another wanton moan to leave to both of you. With this thought in mind, he picks up the pace, practically fucking you into unconsciousness. 

Eyes rolling back, your ruined cunny gushed pathetically, coating you and the bull with your juices, “(Nickname), you’re so pretty when you cum,” He continues his breakneck pace, getting close to orgasm himself, “I’m gonna fill you up so good, that you’ll be dripping with my fun for days! Your little womb will be bloated with my fertile cum!” 

You try to speak, but you can’t, just continuing to suck his yummy milk from his teat. Walls fluttering with another orgasm, you feel yourself clamping down on his enormous cock. 

With one last mighty thrust, he seats himself fully inside of you, cumming directly against your unprotected cervix. A muffled scream erupts from your chest, as you feel your womb expand with copious amounts of beeile cum. Releasing his nipple, you throw your head back, a loud cry echoes throughout the barn, as you squirt once more around his cock. 

Now completely filled to the brim, you pass out from the trauma. Entirely exhausted, Koutarou grins down at your bloated form. He rubs your tummy like a Buddha statue, kissing it tenderly. 

“You’ll be a good Mommy, I’m sure of it,” he then trails his hand up your abdomen, groping your right tit, “You’ll look so pretty all milky and filled with my calves.” 

The sound of a throat clearing gains Bokuto’s attention, as he practically throws his naked body over yours. A loud ‘moo’ of warning escapes his chest, even when he notices that the person is just Ushijima. 

“I see that she mates with you well,” His eyes trail over your sleeping face, not straying downwards, “I hope this means that you’ll enter more shows.” 

Bo smiles, “Yes. Now I need to show off, so my mate thinks I’m an eligible male.” 

Nodding, Ushijima turns on his heal, making his way to leave the barn, “I hope your children take after you in strength. (Your Name) is a lot prettier than you are, so maybe they’ll be pleasing to the eye as well.” 

Snorting, the grey haired man’s ears twitch, jingling throughout the room, “You bet she is. She’s perfect.” 

[lubdubsworld]

Someone to Love.

Hello!!!

Here is my gift for 8k subscribers!!!

Alpha Jungkook x Omega OC Werewolf Au!

Genre ! : Fluff . Mild Angst. Mild Smut.

Work Count : 6k

Summary : Widowed Omega Aerin isn't really looking for love. But Jeon Jungkook the handsome alpha who gets washed over a waterfall, is willing to offer it to her anyway.

Complete!!!

The thing about living in a clan as small as ours, was that word always travelled fast.

We were a close knit pack, everyone knew everyone and more importantly, everyone was always in everyone’s business. Which is why, it was no surprise that, even before the Head Alpha could send word for me, I already knew about the young alpha who had , apparently, washed over the waterfall. The drop was a good twenty five feet and the bottom of the pool littered with sharp rocks. He was obviously injured.

As the healer, I would have to be there to examine him.

Nevertheless, I waited till Jinyoung came knocking on my door, sometime after the midday meal, his face urgent and voice a little shaky. I had just finished wrapping my daughter against my breast, tying the end of the flannel across my back and over my shoulder . I pulled on the ends, securing the wrap around my torso, and making sure her limbs were free to move about.

Sera giggled, chubby fists wet with drool as she shoved them into her mouth. She was teething and that meant excessive drooling and a penchant for biting everything I sight. But like this, she was usually well settled, the warmth of my body and my scent lulling her to a drwsy state. She would be asleep by the time we reached the injured wolf.

My son was still out playing with the other alpha pups in the woods. He wouldn’t be back till sundown. And even if he did, Joowon was almost nine winters old now. He could fend for himself in the hut till I got back.

I quickly grabbed my shawl, wrapping it over my shoulder, before moving to the door and opening it.

“Aerin? Alpha Kim sent for you, there’s an injured wolf you need to tend to.” He said urgently and I didn’t miss the four or five young omegas hovering behind him, giggling and coy. I shook my head. Apparently, even a half dead, injured alpha wasn’t safe from these younglings. I gave them a chiding smile but they merely laughed some more.

“Of course, Jinyoung . Let me just grab my bag.” I quickly picked the small carry-all tote I used for visits. It had almost all the tinctures, ointments and salves that I stocked in the apothecary attached to my hut, in smaller quantities. I also kept a polished set of needles and tools in case I had to extract stubborn splinters of jagged rock ends out of flesh. For being one of the strongest breed, it was ridiculous how often alphas got hurt doing the silliest things.

Like going over a waterfall.

As we began the short trek over to the Head alpha’s cabin, the throng of smitten omegas surrounded me, looking bright eyed.

“They say he’s very handsome, unnie. And young!” One of them laughed.

I hummed.

“Then one must hope the rocks in the pool didn’t leave too much of a mark .” I said casually.

“I wouldn’t mind a scar or two, as long as he has his…you know..” Another set of giggles.

I shook my head, laughing. The girls were incorrigible but that was their right. They were all young, barely twenty and unmated. They knew nothing about the marriage bed , nothing about the intimacy that came with it. The love the commitment. My heart ached.

Two years and still my heart ached something fierce .

“Just tell him he has to rest for a month at least, unnie. Tell him he can’t leave for a month and I’ll work my charm.” The Head Alpha’s daughter Jisoo gave me a sharp little smile and I shook my head.

“I’ll do no such thing. And I don’t appreciate you lusting after a man who may well be dying.” I said sternly and Jisoo had the good grace to blush.

“Unnie, its just that…. I’m bored of all these dumb alphas panting after me. They’re so…uncouth. I just want to meet someone new.” She pouted.

We reached the small hillock that would lead to the Head alpha’s house and I gave her a smile.

“Well, in that case, I’ll patch him up real good for you. But till then, you and your girls, why don’t you go occupy yourselves elsewhere.”

Jisoo wrinkled her nose but listened and I smiled at Jinyoung, hugging sera closer to my chest and making haste to the hut in front of us. Jinyoung led me to a side door and further into a room at the end of the narrow corridor.

“Aerin! Child… You’re here!” The Head alpha held his arms out and I embraced him quickly. The injured alpha was laid out in the middle of the room on a thick pallet of straw and blankets. They had stripped him of his wet clothes and he looked like he was sleeping. I stared at his face and felt my breath catch.

He was breathtakingly beautiful. I couldn’t look away. Right up , I could make out three flesh wounds, jagged and slightly deep : one across his brow, another across his shoulder and one right over his chest. Dark ink curled all over his torso and he looked young but also like a warrior.

“We just found out he’s from the Jeon clan. The head alpha’s son.” Yugyeom, knelt by his shoulders, pointing out the inked shoulder which marked him as the heir to the Jeon pack.

“We’ve already sent word. They’ll be here to fetch him in a day or so. We need only tend to him till then. Well. Give him all hospitality and treat him like a king. We need to remain in the Jeon’s good graces.” The Head alpha said sternly and all of them bowed.

I quickly, grabbed my bag, laying it out on the floor and crawling over to his side.

“Hot water and spirit , please.” I told the maid standing by but the Head alpha quickly held a hand up.

“Aerin ah? I have a meeting here with the Min and Jung clan leaders. The autumn festival is set to begin tonight. Its impossible for me to keep him here and all the other alphas are going to be busy too. I want him to get the best care possible and I can think of no one better than you, fort this task. Can we shift him to your hut?”

I swallowed nervously. I didn’t really entertain patients in my house. Especially not alphas. My son got jittery and my daughter was too used to my own scent.

“As a personal favor to your alpha?” He said insistently, eyes flashing red and I realized it wasn’t a request. Rather a command.

“I… Yes, alpha.” I said hesitantly. “ Can I just examine him now, make sure nothing’s broken, before we shift him?”

“Yes of course my dear.” The alpha bowed before stepping aside. I quickly glanced at everyone else.

“Please leave.” I said quickly and they flushed, bowing before moving out of the room.

“Should I stay , Aerin?” Jinyoung asked nervously and I shook my head. “ Just wait outside and close the door for me, Jin.”

Once the door shut, I quickly glanced down at Sera who had curled into my chest and fallen asleep. I brought a bit of the fabric by chest over her head, so she wouldn’t get too much of the alpha’s scent. Kneeling down, I went about peeling the blanket off him.

He was a beautiful man, I thought absently, long limbs and thick muscles all over and it was no doubt his strong, well kept body that had saved him.

Other than a few more surface wounds on his legs and a gash on his thigh, he seemed relatively unharmed. I did run my fingers over his joints and arms, carefully looking for any swelling or discoloration that would signify broken bones. I carefully gripped his shoulders, turning him over gently to examine his back. I made a mental note of all the cuts that looked like they would have to be sewn together, so I could prepare enough string for it. I leaned over to press my ears against his chest, noting the rise and fall of his lungs.

A hand brushed over the back of my head, gentle and soft.

I jumped, wrapping both hands around sera and scooting back in panic, eyes wide as I stared at the man on the floor, now blinking tiredly at me.

“I… I..” I couldn’t get my words out and he groaned .

“Am I dead? Are you an angel?” He whispered.

I blinked, blood rushing to my face as I tried to calm my breathing.

“Jinyoung!!!” I yelled sharply and the door opened, Jinyoung stepping in and staring wide eyed at the alpha on the pallet. He was struggling to sit up and I quickly pulled myself together.

“Alpha Jeon! Please… You must stay still. ” I said quickly, pushing my palms against his chest, helping him lay back down, trying to ignore how his eyes danced all over my face, nostrils flared .” I’m Aerin, the healer from the Kim pack. You remember what happened today?”

He groaned again, lifting a shaky hand to press against his head. I moved closer, gently reaching out to grab his wrist, pulling his fingers away from the still wet wound on his brow, and his eyes clashed against mine, wide and steady. He stared pointedly at where my fingers curled around his wrists and I let go quickly.

“Yes….. one of the pups almost went over the waterfall. I… I tried to get him out.” He said softly. He glanced at Jinyoung. The latter looked away, clearly nervous.

“Pup?” I asked, heart dropping and he gave me a small smile. I tried not to let my gaze linger on his lips as he chuckled lightly.

“Can you help me up, kid?” He asked softly and Jinyoung startled, glancing at me.

I shook my head. I turned to Jungkook, heart racing. He sighed, resting back against the bed.

“Don’t worry, angel. I managed to toss her back to her father just before I went over the edge. I’m certain that she’s perfectly alright.”

“well, that’s a relief.” I hesitated, feeling awkward. Sera stirred and Jungkook’s gaze went to her again.

“she’s yours?” He asked gently and I blinked, glancing at Jinyoung nervously. It seemed too personal but I couldn’t imagine not answering without seeming rude.

“Yes, sire.” I bowed politely, moving back a bit more as Jungkook inhaled and reached out again, this time gripping my wrist. He scented the air and I flinched , yanking my hand away and quickly standing up, uncomfortable. He was still staring at me, gaze steady.

“You… You can tell the others that he’s conscious. We can move-” I stopped when the alpha cut me off.

“You don’t smell mated. You haven’t been with a man in years.” He said quietly and now Jiyoung looked uncomfortable too.

“Alpha Jeon, I-”

“Jungkook. Call me Jungkook.”

My heart jumped at the thought of addressing him so intimately. I shook my head.

“I’m looking for a mate. Can I court you, angel?” He said suddenly and my jaw dropped.

“There’s… There’s a dozen unmated omegas outside.” I choked out. Was I dreaming ? This couldn’t be happening.

“That’s not what I asked. Whom must I speak with? To court you? Your Head alpha.” He turned to Jinyoung. “ Please send word to Alpha Kim that I require an audience with him. And that its very important that he come here as soon as possible.”

“Please don’t.” I said quietly, feeling my body tremble and he froze.

“What’s wrong?” He said quietly.

I shook my head.

“I have a son. I’m not… I have a son. He’s almost nine winters old. He still… He loves his father. The man who raised him… I can’t…. it would break him. Please, Alpha Jeon. You have power here and I have none. Your word is law and I’m bound to honor it but please, please consider. My son…”

Jungkook’s gaze softened incredibly at that.

“I have a ten year old brother.” He said gently. “ What you’re saying is that it isn’t the head alpha’s approval that I need. It is your son’s.”

I blinked, thrown.

“I…”

“Then you must promise me this. If your son…” He paused, “ What’s his name?”

“I… Joowon.”

“If Joowon tells you that he wouldn’t mind having me in his life….will you consider letting me court you.”

I could only stare. Jinyoung cleared his throat looking completely enthralled by the drama unfolding in front of him. I saw a glint of mischief in his gaze and felt my hackles rise.

“Alpha, there’s a festival in our clan. It lasts three weeks and is filled with festivities and joyous celebrations. I do believe the Kim pack would be honored to have you stay with us, enjoying our hospitality and the bountiful gifts of nature we here in the lowlands enjoy.”

I gaped at him in disbelief.

“I… “

“That’s settled then. I will send for my pack members as well. They would love to share this time with you.” He turned to me.

I exhaled, certain that he had hit his head on the way down the falls.

“You’re insane.” I said softly, shaking my head. “ You’re free to enjoy all that my clan has to offer…. But, I’m not on the menu, Alpha Jeon.”

I quickly stood up.

“Tell Alpha Kim that he can fend for himself in one of the huts we have for heats and ruts. I’ll send one of my apprentices to sew up his wounds and apply salve on him.”

“I’m afraid not, Aerin. You know what the chief said. It has to be you.” Jin grinned and I glared at him.

Jungkook was smiling too.

“Come now, angel. Just because you don’t like me ….yet… don’t shun your duties.”

Good Lord.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Fucking hell, what the actual fuck…” Jungkook swore and I glared at him, grabbing a strip of white linen and balling it up before pressing it into his mouth, gagging him.

He stared at me, eyes wide in surprise and mouth open around the fabric.

“Stop swearing in front of my son.” I snapped. Joowon laughed, carefully threading the twine through the eye of the cleaned needle. He dipped the twine and the needle into the warm water and the spirit again.

“Come now mother, you know I can say worse things.” He stuck his tongue out and I glared at him.

“Not in this house, you can’t. Also keep it down… I’ve just put Sera to bed.” I carefully pinched the skin over his chest together before reaching out and slipping the needle into his skin. I worked carefully and diligently, focused on the task and when I was finally done, I glanced up, only for my gaze to clash with Jungkook’s.

“I.. were you staring the whole time?” I asked, blushing. Jungkook spat the gag out and grinned, boyish and naughty.

“Can’t help it. The view is truly breathtaking.”

I rolled my eyes.

“I wasn’t kidding when I said that there are omegas here who would love to be courted by you. You haven’t met any of them yet and that is why you seem to be … so… “ I shook my head.

“Joowon ah… Who’s the most beautiful woman in this clan?” Jungkook asked firmly and my son hummed from next to me.

“Mother, of course.”

I gaped at the pair of them.

“See? I trust Joowon’s judgement implicitly. “ Jungkook shrugged.

Joowon laughed again and I didn’t miss the looks he kept tossing at the alpha. Curious but also laced with a lot of admiration. I wasn’t surprised. Joowon had never been suspicious or hesitant in offering his friendship to people. And Jungkook had regaled him with tales about hunts and fishing trips and kayak rides in rapids….. and the younger was now clearly intrigued and almost halfway to smitten with the man.

My own heart raced , pulse pounding in a way it hadn’t in years. And yet, I knew it was futile. Men like Jungkook…. They didn’t really fall in love with women like me. All these flowery words, all this flirting….it was for one thing only. And once he got it, he would leave. Of course he would.

But that was the problem. For the first time in two years, I considered it. Considered letting him have it….have me. But with it , came a nagging wish that he wasn’t joking. That perhaps, I wasn’t as….undesirable as my late husband had made me feel.

I shook my head to clear the haze of dreams, impossible girlish dreams that came with his scent and his proximity. I didn’t want to go down that road. I wasn’t… I may be younger than Jungkook but I was still too old to be courted and to start a new life with someone. Least of all someone like Jungkook.

I glanced back up at him as I carefully applied salve on the stitches, fingers light on dusky smooth skin. He was still staring at me, and as I bent in closer, his hair brushed my forehead. My eyes fell on his nipple and my mouth went dry. I breathed out and looked up at him, shaking my head and pulling away.

“You’re all done alpha.” I whispered.

His hand crept up to my knee, squeezing gently.

“I’m just getting started.” He whispered and I bit my lips, looking away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Father… you shouldn’t have come .” Jungkook was groaning and I could only stare in horror , trying to process the fact that both Alpha Jeon and his wife were now standing in my hut, fussing over their son and ruffling his hair like he was five years old.

“Nonsense !” Alpha Jeon thundered, making me jump. “ You went over the waterfall and you expect me to not be worried. I brought our healer but I see the Kim clan has an exceptionally talented young healer themselves. My son looks as good as new , dear girl.” He grinned at me and I smiled shakily.

“I’m going to court her, father.” Jungkook said without any preamble and my heart dropped to my knees. Lady Jeon’s gaze snapped to me and I retreated further, clutching Sera to my chest in panic.

“No.. I.. no he’s not. I’m sorry, Alpha, I… I should go…” I dived for Joowon’s wrist, yanking my son along and moving to the door.

“Wait, child.” Lady Jeon’s voice made me still and I bit my lips, squeezing my eyes shut in horror. Surely whatever was coming…it couldn’t be good… t would be the same thing I’d heard over the years, the same threats, the same insults…

“Let me look at you.” Lady Jeon said and I trembled a bit, turning to her nervously, prepared for rejection and annoyance.

I found none.

All I could see was genuine interest that morphed into pleasure as she took in my features.

“What a beautiful girl you are.” She whispered , “ You can do so much better than my savage son, who apparently doesn’t know his way up or down a waterfall.”

Jungkook growled from the bed.

“Mother.”

Lady Jeon gave him a look.

“I’m serious. The Kim clan , I’m sure must have several fine young men, all of them willing to court her. What makes you think they would hand her over to you, Jungkook.” He said regally and I hesitated.

“I… I’ve been mated before. These are my kids.” I said hesitantly.

Lady Jeon blinked.

“Does that make a difference?”

I couldn’t respond, mind in shambles.

“Unless …what we’ve heard about the Kim clan isn’t true? And they are archaic and small minded when it comes to their women?” She said sharply, turning around to glare at my Head Alpha who looked horrified as he bowed.

“of course not , my lady..we… We all treat Aerin with the utmost respect.. She is as our daughter.”

“That is not what I asked. Has she not been courted?” Alpha Jeon asked gruffly and Jungkook made a noise of impatience.

“I’m saying I’ll court her, why is everyone-“

“Quiet Jungkook. “ Lady Jeon said sharply before turning to me.

“Have you not been courted after your husband’s death. Its unheard of for a young wolf to remain without a mate. Did none of the men in your clan step up?”

I hesitated before deciding on the truth.

“Joowon-ah? Could you go play outside for a while?” I said softly and he hesitated before glancing at Jungkook and running off. Once I was sure he was out of earshot I turned to Lady Jeon.

“They only offered to take me on as a mistress.” I said honestly, staring at my feet. “ And … I have a son. Old enough to understand these things. He… He heard his friends talk about how I was … He asked me if what they said was true…. If I was just anyone’s to use or take, now that his father was dead. I…. I had to reassure him that it wasn’t the case…. That I wouldn’t… That I didn’t need to warm anyone’s bed to survive.”

“She’s coming with us tomorrow.” Jungkook growled from the bed and I glared at him.

“Please let me finish.” I snapped. “ And yes, there are men here who feel that way but Alpha Kim is right. They have for the most part, treated me with great respect and I … I enjoy my life here. I’m not lacking for anything..” Except someone to love, someone to hold through cold winter nights, someone to share bright spring sunshine with…someone to kiss in the rain… someone who would go to war for me…

“So? You don’t accept my son’s offer of courting? Is that what you’re saying?” Lady Jeon asked gently.

“Don’t answer that.” Jungkook’s voice came from my right and I stared at him.

“Alpha Jeon…”

“Could all of you give me a moment alone with her?” Jungkook said quietly and Alpha Kim bowed.

“Please let me show you to your resting quarters.” He said gently and Jungkook’s parents shot him one last look before leaving the cabin. I stayed still as everyone filed out, one after the other.

Once it was just him and I, Jungkook cleared his throat.

“Just three weeks.” He said softly, “ Give me three weeks. Three weeks and if at the end of it you tell me that you don’t want to leave your clan…I’ll accept it without argument. You’ll never see me again.”

I sighed in exhaustion.

“You’re going to be here for the three weeks of the festival anyway. My answer isn’t going to change. I’m not going to fall in love with you, alpha Jeon. ” I said quietly.

He grinned.

“I’m going to remind you of what you just said….six months from now…when you’re my wife.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jungkook was out and about three days later and to my utter horror, jealousy reared its head when I saw the extent to which he was popular with the other omegas. I stayed in the sidelines, holding sera and keeping an eye on Joowon, watching Jungkook get accosted at every turn.

But Jungkook it seemed, had no interest in wooing me.

He was wooing my son.

“These are delicious, Jungkook.” Joowon said excitedly, hands full of candied fruits and honey dipped grapes.

“Stop calling him that…” I hissed , but Joowon merely stuck his tongue out at me, stuck firmly to Jungkook’s side. Jungkook sat on the hard ground of the hut, surrounded by wooden strip and workmen tools, building a miniature windmill for Joowon who had never seen one before. The wind didn’t hit the lowlands much but Jungkook’s clan lived up hill and the windmills helped bring water to the canals.

He gave me a grin, his eyes trained on my lips as I sung gently to Sera, rocking her back and forth on my arms.

“You must give some of that honeyed fruit to your mother too, won-ah… perhaps she will have something sweet to say to me.” He grinned.

I rolled my eyes.

“I believe you’ve heard enough honey dipped words from the many omegas who can’t get enough of you.” I said impishly.

Jungkook laughed.

“ All I need is one word from you my lady….” He whispered and I flushed.

“ One word? No matter the question…? What word is that. ” I shook my head.

“Yes.” Jungkook smiled. “ Because it is that way with me. No matter the question , if you were the one asking, my answer would be yes.”

I stared at him, thrown by the magnitude of sincerity in his tone.

“Mother, ask him if he hates you…” Joowon giggled snapping me out of my thoughts.

I laughed and Jungkook glared.

“You’re supposed to be helping me brat.” He said with faux anger, eyes still excessively fond as he pulled my son into a playful headlock.

I watched them wrestle around Joowon smiling in a way that I had never seen him do in a long long time and my heart ached. Was it wrong… I wondered, to be this greedy? To want a lifetime of this….

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“ They say you never mourned him.” Jungkook sat on the rocking chair, shirt unbuttoned and Sera lying on his chest, the warmth of his body and the staccato of his heart lulling her to sleep . I sat on the floor, leaning back against the wall, Joowon was already asleep nect to me, head resting on my lap.

I watched him, watched the large, rugged hand, so gentle on my daughter’s back, stroking her gently, as he hummed sweetly.

“there was nothing to mourn.” I whispered bitterly, threading my fingers through my son’s hair, the silky strands falling through like water.

“He wasn’t a good man then.”

I shook my head.

“He married me when I was sixteen. And when I was old enough to see him for what he was, he didn’t want me anymore. And he died because he tried to rape the Head Alpha’s daughter.” I felt that familiar sickening feeling of disgust.

Jungkook didn’t say anything merely staring off into the fire blazing in the hearth.

“Is that why you think…you’re too old?” He asked gently and I flushed.

“It didn’t help with my self esteem.” I admitted.

“And is that why you..hesitate? To tell me how you truly feel.”

“It’s complicated. I … It s not easy baring my heart to you…” I looked away.

“You’re beautiful. I want you. Everyday I feel like I’m falling deeper.” Jungkook said quietly.

I stared at him, stunned.

He turned around and smiled at me.

“It’s not complicated for me. Its hard to watch you keep me at arm’s length. It’s hard to go to sleep on the floor, knowing your warm body is at touching distance. Its hard watching these omegas mistreat you because they’re jealous of the attention you get from me. And its hard….telling myself I can’t just pull you into my arms and kiss you in front of them all so they know . ” He smiled, “But telling you how I feel? It’s not hard at all.”

I felt my mouth go dry and stared at my knees.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Marry me.” Jaebum had cornered me by the apothecary and I stared at him in shock.

“What?” I snapped, “ What nonsense is this? Move out of my way.”

“Alpha Kim wants Jisoo to marry Jungkook. He has asked one of us to get you out of the picture. And no one else wants another man’s sloppy seconds. I’m the only one who agreed so you should be honored. Just say yes and come with me.”

He made to grab me and I stumbled back in terror only to crahs into a broiad back, right behind me. A familiar scent and strong arms coming around to hug me.

“Perhaps, Alpha Kim should reconsider his plans. Because I’m sure he doesn’t want the entire Jeon clan to come to war with him.”

Jaebum stepped back.

“you would start a war over some omega?” He scoffed.

Jungkook grinned shaking his head.

“No. But I would start a war over my woman.”

Jaebum scoffed again before spitting at his feet and walking away. Jungkook glared at him till he disappeared from view. My limbs started trembling the moment I realized what had just happened. After years of working for these people…healing them and mending their wounds….Was this how they saw me?

I went limp in his arms and he hugged me close.

“Angel….are you alright?” Jungkook whispered and I swallowed, turning around and staring at him.

“I… They… Why would he do that?” I whispered and Jungkook reached out cupping my face gently.

“I don’t know. But he’s an idiot. As if I would let another man lay a finger on you…” He said softly and I laughed, shaking my head.

I looked back up at him, letting my gaze fall to his lips. As if on cue the heavens opened and it began to rain… Jungkook swore, moving to find shelter but I grabbed his arm, pulling him closer.

“Alpha Jeon…” I said quietly, water dripping down my face as the rain intensified . “ Will you kiss me?”

Jungkook’s eyes went comically wide. He was already dripping wet, hair falling in soaked strands into his eyes.

“Wh-What?”

“I’ve waited for many years for this kiss. A kiss in the rain. With a man who would go to war for me.”

Jungkook laughed at that and I stared as he leaned down, gently pressing his lips to my forehead. Tears sprung at the tender gesture and I gripped the fabric of his tunic hard. Laughing I buried my face into his chest, as he pressed a multitude of kisses on top of my head.

“Angel. When I kiss you for the first time…it’s not going to stop with a kiss.” He winked.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Leaving my clan was easier, when I reminded myself of what they had done. But I did my duty, offering my greetings and farewell to all the elders, before moving to link my fingers with Jungkook , who held Sera in his arms.

“ I owe you my gratitude. Because you’ve kept her safe all these years. But from now she holds no ties to your clan.” Jungkook said firmly, and I stepped closer to him.

I watched as Jungkook’s father shared a ceremonial glass of wine with the head alpha.

And just like that, I was no longer a Kim.

I was a Jeon.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Mother…” I whispered , mortified , watching Lady Jeon, wrap my daughter in her baby clothes, Packing her clothes and Joowon’s clothes as well. “ Please it isn’t necessary.”

“Nonsense. Jungkook and you need to spend time together. Alone. And I need to spend time with my grandchildren. I’ve already missed out on nine years of Joowon’s life , I refuse to miss out on another second. Besides, he has never seen a windmill he says? My husband has made arrangements for us to pitch our tents right next to one.”

I could only smile and watch as my excitable son practically bounced off the wall, eager to go on a trip with halmeoni and harabeoji.

Jungkook stood next to me, wrapping both arms around me.

“Say the word and We’ll leave in a hour right behind them.” He said gently and I smiled, shaking my head.

“No… your parents want this. I can tell. Let them enjoy some time with their grandkids.”

“Excellent.” Jungkook gripped my shoulders and turned me around.

“I’m in the mood for some honeyed words.” I said quietly.

“Jeon Aerin. My angel. Mine and Mine forever.” He said softly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Six months later :

Jungkook pressed kisses down my back and I grinned into the sheets, watching the springtime sun spill into our room, soaking the sheets in warmth . I stretched as he gently turned me over, feather light kisses on my belly, now slightly curved . He pressed his ears to the taut skin, listening.

“What is that, pup? Oh…yes.. yes yes… You’re right . Absolutely right.” He pulled away and climbed top of me, gently parting my thighs before slotiing himself in between. I sighed as he pressed against me, gently pushing in till he was buried to the hilt inside me.

“God, that feels good…” I whispered and Jungkook hummed, pressing a kiss to my ear before biting the lobe between his teeth.

“Know what our pup just told me , wife? “ He whispered and I looked at him, curious.

“What?”

“Well, he told me that I should remind you that you were so sure you would never fall in love with me.”

I shrugged.

“I’m sure you were once, pretty sure that you would never get washed over the waterfall.”

Jungkook laughed.

“Touché. So we both admit we’re wrong ?”

“The perfect marriage.”

Jungkook kissed me nose before beginning to move gently inside me again and I closed my eyes in bliss.

Someone to hold during cold winter nights.

Someone to kiss in the rain.

Someone to love in the springtime sun…

Someone like Jeon Jungkook, the perfect alpha.

AUTHOR'S NOTE : I LOVE ALL OF YOU. THANK YOU FOR 8K.