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dawn-moths · 2 months ago

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“Seasalt, Sun, and Someone You Love”

Dabi/Touya x Female Reader

word count: 5,000+

(You and Touya enjoy a little weekend getaway at the beach.)

tags: 18+ content! minors dni! Celebrating the 3 year anniversary of my “A Storm Pairs Well With A Cerulean Gaze” series, soft touya, reader is fed, slight finger sucking, size difference, smut at the end, showering together/shower sex, aftercare.

*ao3 mirror*

***

The water lapped, slow and gentle, along the shore, clustered constellations of shells scattered across wet sand, gulls cawing as they soared over the horizon in search of their next opportunity to feast. It was the perfect day for the beach, an azure sky painted with fluffy white clouds far off in the distance to border the sea, the ocean’s breeze kissing your warm skin as you lay beneath the afternoon sun.

Touya was perched under the umbrella, choosing to bask in its shade while lounging back in one of the chairs you two had carried over from the quaint little Airbnb you’d rented for the weekend, the bungalow sitting just one block off the shore.

You’d tried to coax him into the sun a couple of times but he’d just tugged down his shades, looking at you with all that bright sapphire blue, and said something about how the UV index this time of year wasn’t good for his tattoos. You’d actually been surprised with how serious he’d been about applying sunscreen beforehand, though with all the pale skin that hosted the inky artistry, you figured he had a couple reasons to want to stay protected.

And, truthfully, Touya had never been an avid beach-goer. To him, big bodies of water were really only good for one thing, and he’d left that singular, dark purpose back in his old life— in Dabi’s life. The one he swore he’d walk away from for good once he’d gotten a chance to escape it with you.

You’d practically had to beg him to take you down to the shore, or to tag along at all, since him and the height of summer didn’t often mix very well for several reasons. But you’d promised to make sure you guys would have an umbrella, and sunscreen, and that you didn’t have to stay for the entire day like most of the visiting tourists tended to do.

“Plus…” you’d attempted to entice him, “I just bought a new bikini and I really wanna wear it before the summer’s over…” It was baby blue, and if you knew one thing about Touya, it was that seeing you wearing his favorite color undeniably did something for him.

You’d been laying out on your beach towel for a while, napping under the sun, turning over every so often and peeking your eyes open to catch Touya staring at you in that cute new bathing suit.

Sometimes he’d try and act like he hadn’t been looking, quickly flicking his gaze to the rolling waves and taking another sip of his beer, maybe turning the page of the beat up old paperback he’d brought along with him for good measure. Other times he’d hold your gaze as it peered over your heart-shaped shades, one corner of his lips quirking up into a smirk that told you he was wishing you two weren’t out in public right now for reasons you were far too familiar with.

“Babe, c’mon,” he eventually beckoned you. “You’ve been out there for like an hour now. Why don’t you come and get something to eat? Cool off a bit?” Slowly, and only slightly reluctantly, you obeyed, pushing up from your soft resting place among the sand to saunter under the umbrella and join him in the shade.

“Here—” He reached into the little pull-along cooler you’d carted down the block and grabbed a bottle of water for you, handing over the ice cold beverage before urging you to take a seat on the towel spread out on the sand in front of his chair. You got down two big gulps of the water, refreshed by its chill and the veil of shade you now sat under, before you heard the telltale popping of the cap on a tube of sunscreen.

“Sit still,” Touya muttered as you glanced over your shoulder at him, a dollop of the lotion already in his palm. He began to rub the sunscreen into your back, massaging it into your shoulders and spreading it down your arms, slipping his long, warm fingers beneath the dainty strings of your bathing suit to make sure not a single inch of your precious flesh was missed.

“I already put some on before we left this morning,” you reminded him through a bit of a whine, about halfway done with your water now and starting to feel your stomach rumble, needing something more substantial to make up for all the energy the sun had stolen from you.

“Yeah, but that was this morning,” he grumbled, his touch making you flinch slightly as he reached your lower back, one of his hands hosting cold fingers from where it had been gripping his drink. “Trust me, babe. You’ll thank me tomorrow when you don’t wake up feeling like your skin is sandpaper from the burn.”

You sat patiently until Touya finished applying your sunscreen, having also finished the last of your water bottle by the time he was done, and then returned to the beach chair next to him as you’d originally planned.

You unzipped the lunch pack and pulled out two sandwiches, passing one to Touya, the one doused in extra-spicy hot sauce (you didn’t even have to guess which one was which despite them being almost exactly the same as his was a vibrant orange color around the edges where the hot sauce had soaked into the crust of the bread), as well as a container with the honeyed peaches you’d prepared the night before. You both kept your meals close to your chests as you ate, already feeling the eager gaze of hungry seagulls locking in on your food as they began to circle overhead.

“Ah, man…” you eventually whined after digging through the additional contents of the lunch bag again. “I think I forgot the napkins…” Now, once you ate the peaches (because you’d also somehow forgotten the forks, too) your hands would end up all sticky and slippery, collecting grains of sand that felt impossible to get rid of no matter how many times you brushed your hands together or wiped them on one of the towels.

“Guess you could go rinse ‘em off in the ocean,” Touya suggested. But then, as you continued to pout, staring down at your share of the fruit as if wishing you could will it to float into your mouth on its own accord, Touya wiped his spicy fingers off on the cleanest-looking edge of one of the towels and plucked up the container of peaches from your lap. Your mouth was already halfway to asking what he was doing before he held a glistening amber sliver between his thumb and forefinger and urged you to open your mouth for him.

As you let him feed you, lowering your head a fraction to where his hand was offering the morsel as his elbow rested on the arm of the chair, you looked up at him through your lashes, savoring the way the salt of his skin mingled with the sweetness of the peaches as you took both into your mouth, even going so far as to shyly, teasingly, suck the sugary juices from his fingers on the last bite.

You didn’t miss the way he was clenching his jaw, clearing his throat to suppress a moan as the sight of you, at the way your tongue felt curling around his long, slender digits, making them even wetter and stickier than before.

You flashed him a coy little grin before leaning over to place a peck to his cheek, knowing full well how much you’d gotten him worked up from that little stunt alone. That was ok though. He’d get you back later tonight once you two found yourselves in the comfort of your private little bungalow.

Touya narrowed his eyes at you playfully and said under his breath, in a voice low enough to be a whisper, “You are so…” but didn’t seem intent on finishing that sentence when you slid your shades back onto your nose and grabbed his hand, clasping your fingers with his, and casting him a mischievous side glance as you leaned back in your chair and pretended you were in the mood for another catnap.

Touya flipped up the armrests on the chairs that were in between you two, leaving no barrier and allowing him to sling his arm around your shoulders and tug you closer to his side, your chairs so close together they practically became a bench.

Now you really could fall asleep again, lulled by a satisfyingly full stomach and all the warmth that enveloped you, the natural scent of Touya’s skin mixed with sunscreen and seasalt and spices left over from lunch all mixing in the air around you.

Another peaceful hour passed, you resting comfortably against Touya while he read a few more chapters of his book, just listening to the rolling ocean waves and the steady beating of his heart, soothed by the slow rise and fall of his chest.

But Touya knew it was only a matter of time until you wanted another change of pace. You had yet to go into the ocean and he knew there was no way he was letting you wade in alone, inevitably dragged in after you to make sure you didn’t wander too deep and get swept away by any strong current, as well as to make sure every set of eyes that landed on you and your cute little bathing suit knew that you were taken— you were his— so they better not get any ideas about approaching and attempting to make any flirtatious smalltalk.

When you began to stir and asked him with a tinge of sleepiness to your tone, “Wanna go for a walk?” Touya was just relieved he still had a little more time before he had to face the sea.

“You wanna go for a walk?” he asked you in return, as if he wasn’t sure he’d heard you right, and once you gave him a cute little smile and a nod he marked his page, closed his book, and stood to help you to your feet where you stumbled a little as the sand shifted beneath your step.

Before you could fully lure him out into the sun, he jabbed a thumb over his shoulder at your various backpacks and bags and asked, “Is our stuff gonna be ok just left unattended like that?”

You told him it would be fine, that there were plenty of other people around to look out for it, and plus, you hadn’t brought anything too valuable along anyway. Even so, Touya hesitated. He’d lived so long in the worst parts of town, used to the fact that if anything even remotely worth stealing or selling was left just laying around it would be swiped within five minutes and gone for good. Sometimes he had to remind himself (or, more often than not, you had to remind him) that he didn’t live like that anymore.

Not only did you two now live in a safe, clean part of the city, but here, now, on this vacation, it wasn’t likely very many desperate criminals were skulking around looking for trouble. Not in the height of the season with crowds so dense it sometimes became hard to maneuver through them.

“C’mon,” you beckoned him, reaching for his hand and feeling a little lighter once he took it, allowing you to begin leading him away from his post of guarding your belongings. “We don’t have to go very far. There’s just a nice breeze right now and I wanna take a closer look at the water.”

As you strolled along you tried to tune out the excited screams of playing children and instead focus on the tranquil lull of the waves, pointing out sea shells that had washed ashore that you liked and gasping when you turned around one time only to see Touya holding up the abandoned, prehistoric husk of a horseshoe crab, every stretch of sand breaking way to a new bout of nature’s treasures.

Before he even had time to realize it, Dabi had found himself wading into the ocean up to his knees, you having lured him towards the water’s edge. You’d said you didn’t want to go in too far, the fear of possibly encountering a shark or any other sea creatures too scary to even consider, but against Touya’s initial feelings on the matter, he ended up scooping you up and running out further into the deep with you. Far enough away to grant the two of you a little bit of privacy from the other sea-going strangers, at least.

“Touya, no!” you shrieked once your body was nearly fully submerged, squeezing your eyes shut as if not seeing all that shimmering blue would make your fear less intense, you and him some of the few brave enough to venture this far out. Though, seeing as you’d been the one dragged out into the swaying, salty waves after all, you could hardly consider yourself brave in this instance…

“It’s ok, baby,” Touya said, and you could hear the way he was smirking in his tone, confidence and mischief colliding. Your grip around him tightened, hands clasped behind his neck as you tried to press yourself closer to his body as if allowing any room between the two of you would result in being whisked away by a rip current. “I got’cha.”

Finally, once you’d gained enough courage to open your eyes, Touya felt you relax a little. Glancing behind you at the shore, you could still see the amalgamation of people going about their business— children chasing each other and building sand castles while their parents tried to lounge under candy-striped umbrellas, a group of high schoolers playing volleyball further back on the sand, a man pulling along a cooler on wheels and shouting about ice cream, his enthusiastic calls just barely reaching your ears this far out.

“See?” he said, nudging his nose against your cheek. “Not so scary, is it?”

You shot him a look that you meant to be unamused, but he only took as adorable, letting out a light chuckle as he pressed a gentle kiss to your warm, damp forehead, readjusting his grip under your thighs to make sure he could still hold you securely as your feet likely wouldn’t reach the bottom if he let you go.

The two of you took a moment to stare out at the open water stretching on towards the glittering horizon for a bit, the chaos of the shore fading away in your soundscape until it felt like it was just you and Touya and the entire ocean to yourselves.

You could feel the vastness, like liquid infinity. You could feel the steady drumming of Touya’s heart as your sun-kissed skin turned cool under the water against his chest. But Touya’s hands, even beneath the salty waves, remained warm, or at least warmer than your skin felt where they touched you. Those hands were your own little piece of eternal summer.

After a while, the lifeguard with the glossy blonde waves blew his whistle, calling both of your attention and forcing you back to shore as he waved you towards the beach. When the water reached your waist Touya let you walk on your own, though kept his fingers intertwined with yours all the way back to where your towels and chairs awaited your return beneath the shifting shade of the umbrella.

Touya went to check your things, make sure everything was still there, and you resisted the urge to tell him you told him so once he’d confirmed that everything was, in fact, just as you’d left it.

Sunset was only a couple hours away now and, while you would’ve stayed there with him until dark, until the moonlight turned the waves from clear aquamarine to shining silver, the fact that dinner time was quickly approaching and you two were out of the food you’d packed, you figured it was probably time to call it a day and head back to the bungalow to shower off and get cozy before prepping the night’s meal together.

Touya did most of the heavy lifting when it came to carrying your things, but you tried your best to do your part too. Luckily the Airbnb wasn’t far, and as you two laughed about the flock of seagulls you’d seen swarm a group of teenagers on your way off the beach it helped pass the time it took to walk back even faster.

“If I were the kid with the freckles,” you said through a giggle, “I would’ve thrown that sandwich as far away from me as I could. The birds can have it!”

“Yeah, well, I think he tried that,” Touya recalled, also laughing a bit, “but it hit his friend with the spiky blonde hair in the face and then they all started swarming him instead.”

“Oh, yeah!” you said, bursting out in a fit of laughter again just by reimagining it. “Oh my god, he was so mad! He started screaming so loud at his friend we could practically hear him all the way down the block!”

You were laughing so hard you nearly dropped the backpack cooler you had slung over one shoulder, its weight pitching you forward a little and almost causing you to fall, but Touya quickly threw one of his lanky arms around your waist to help right your stance, readjusting the backpack over your shoulder before you continued on.

“Anyway,” you told him, wearing one of those bright smiles that filled him with more love and warmth than any summer day, “thanks for coming here with me. I had a lot of fun!”

Touya smiled, soft and genuine, and replied, “Of course, baby. I had fun, too.”

Once you two reached the bungalow you were relieved to unload all the supplies you were carrying, letting out a sigh of exhaustion now that you both felt significantly lighter.

“I call the shower first!” you declared, but Touya caught your wrist before you could take even another step closer to the bathroom. Confused, you looked up at him and started to say, “What’s wrong?” but only got about half of the first word out before his mouth found yours and his tongue was coaxing your lips apart for him to get a better taste of you, the dam that had been holding back all his desire for you today reaching its breaking point.

Melting into his kiss, you felt Touya’s grasp on your wrist loosen, though only long enough for him to tug you in closer by your hips.

Once he broke away, leaving you breathless, the glowing sapphire in his gaze had been reduced to thin rings encircling his dilated pupils, so much wanting flowing through them like a flood. Then he murmured, low and sultry, “What? You mean you don’t want me to join you?”

You felt that familiar jolt of warmth roll over inside of you, causing your next shallow breath to catch before you swallowed hard and agreed, “Ok… Yeah… Together then…”

Touya led you by the hand into the bathroom, testing the temperature of the water until it felt just right, then stepped into the shower so he could help you in after him. He let the water run over you both, drenching you from head to toe, chasing away the sand and the salt, before pressing your back against the cold tile running up the wall, causing you to gasp and flinch as he leaned in for another kiss, this one a little rougher than the last.

His hands began their careful, meticulous charting of your body, playing with the thin strings of your bikini bottoms before tugging the bows loose and letting the soggy spandex fall to the floor, kicking it towards the back of the shower as his fingers began their slow journey down the planes of your figure, gliding over the curve of your tummy, traveling lower, and beginning to tease at your slick folds, sliding two fingers between the petals of you and pulling a breathy moan from your lungs as the rough pads of them ghosted over your sensitive, needy little bundle of nerves.

Your hips tried to rock and buck into his hand, chasing the promise of pleasure you knew those fingers could give you with only a little more pressure, but Touya pulled away just enough to tease you as he gave a sinisterly playful little taunt of, “Ah-ah-ah. Patience, baby. Promise I’ll make it worth the wait.”

“Promise?” you pressed, the word coming out as a pathetic little whine.

“Of course…” he assured you, once again continuing his slow and steady ministrations, his lips now leaving a trail of kisses down your neck and shoulder. As he slipped one long, slender finger into your fluttering little hole, he murmured in your ear, “Don’t I always?”

Your answer to that question came out as a high, clipped moan, your silky walls attempting to pull his finger in even deeper, craving something bigger and longer to fill you up. One finger became two, Touya skillfully massaging your insides and curling against that spot deep inside of you that had your stomach clenching and your legs starting to shake, making you fear you’d soon be in need of assistance when it came to supporting your own weight.

“Touya—!” you gasped, clutching his shoulders. With just his fingers alone he could torture you in the most delicious, addicting ways. It was so easy to forget these were once the hands of a criminal, the hands of an arsonist, the hands of a killer. The way you bent and arched under his touch, the beautiful sounds he pulled from your pretty little mouth, every time he touched you like this it felt like Touya was proving to himself over and over again that he’d changed. That he’d been able to leave the past behind.

Because how long had it been now since he’d tasted bitter ash and the metallic tang of someone else’s blood on his tongue, smelled death wafting through the air as his silhouette was framed against the roaring flames he’d conjured with the strike of a match and the absence of remorse?

Long enough that it almost felt like a different lifetime.

Long enough that he didn’t miss that side of himself anymore.

Because why did he need to rely on Dabi to bring him some sense of sick satisfaction when he had you, his sweet, perfect little angel who’d pulled him from so much fear and hurt and darkness?

“Please, Touya—” you continued to beg as he watched you with that half-lidded gaze. Enraptured. Entranced. In complete control. “I need—” You bit your lip as you felt his hard length pressing up against your hip through the thin material of his swim trunks, Touya rutting up against you as some threads of that control frayed and began to unravel.

“Yeah?” he baited, voice low and even as his fingers continued their overstimulation of your slick sex. “You need what?” His breathing was starting to come out in uneven puffs, exhales stuttering as he grinded his clothed cock harder against you, a dull imitation of pleasure that could never even come close to what your cunt would grant him.

He loved to do this to you. Make you say it. Loved to hear the way your voice broke with humiliation and desperation as you told him just how badly you needed his cock inside of you like those were the only words you knew, the only words that mattered to you.

And it would only be after you spoke those words that he’d give you what he already knew you so desperately wanted.

You knew the rules of the game just as well as he did. Sometimes you’d try and cheat. You’d try and find some loophole or blindspot even though Touya almost always ended up three steps ahead of you. Today though…

Today you were only interested in doing whatever it took for you to win.

“I need your cock, Touya— I need—” But he was already acting before you’d even finished telling him exactly what he wanted to hear, grabbing the back of your thigh, hitching your leg up over his hip, you trying your best to hook your knee around him to gain any sense of purchase, but you needn’t have worried. Just like carrying your things back from the beach, Touya would lend you the extra strength that you lacked if you started to struggle.

Pulling down his swim trunks and tossing them towards the back of the shower to join your bathing suit bottoms, Touya slid his velvety cock between your silky folds, biting his bottom lip as he groaned out a clipped, “Oh, god, baby— Feels so good—” your sweet moans harmonizing with the rough edges of his voice.

You could already feel your legs shaking, your grip on him slipping a little as the warm water continued to wash over your bodies. Hitching your leg up a little higher, Touya lined himself up with your tight little entrance, nudging the tip in and feeling himself flood with that familiar euphoria that only you could give him. Your little nails were digging into his back, fighting the urge to writhe as he slid further in, inch by inch, his free hand lending support against your lower back as he helped keep you upright, able to move and position you in any which way he pleased.

Once he was fully inside he took a moment to let you adjust to the sweet sting of the stretch, his lips pressing tender kisses to your neck and the underside of your jaw, his body caging yours, radiating heat, a stark contrast against the cool tiles your back was pressed against. Right before he prepared to start moving, he reached the hand at your back upwards and tugged at the strings of your top, leaving you both vulnerable and bare to each other, all the different pieces tangled together in a pile of blue now.

His hips began to roll, slow and controlled, his grip on your thigh and back becoming harsher the quicker his pace grew, likely leaving bruises there in the shape of his fingertips, periwinkles and lilacs and navies, so many shades of blue, as if trying to brand the color into the very fiber of your being.

“Touya—” you gasped, feeling yourself getting close, fearing you’d soon lose the rest of your dwindling ability to stand. “‘M gonna—!”

But then you were coming undone, holding onto him for dear life, the anchor that made sure you wouldn’t drift too far out to sea, Touya’s hold on you a sure, steady thing as he gave the next few thrusts he needed to meet you at your peak, biting back his own whines and moans until he just couldn’t contain them any longer, throwing his head back as he filled you with more of his sticky, molten warmth.

Slowly, carefully, after he pulled out of you, he helped lower you down to the shower floor along with him, keeping you as close as he could, letting you lean back to rest against his chest as you both caught your breath, his fingers tracing light, abstract patterns on your hip as you felt the rhythm of his heart against your back, your head resting in the crook of his neck, feeling like you could close your eyes and just float away.

But once Touya was able to regain some of his senses he knew he still had to make sure you both got clean, so he helped you back to your feet once you felt like you could stand and washed your hair for you. He lightly scrubbed all the salt and sand from your body, his hands never more gentle than when his intention was to care for you, his most precious girl in the entire world. Your little hands helped work shampoo into his own inky locks as he bowed his head to you, the usually gravity defying spikes now sticking flat against his forehead and the back of his neck, a silent reminder that only you got to see him like this.

Once the two of you were clean and wrapped up in fluffy towels, Touya insisting on drying you off once you stepped out of the steamy room, helping you change into your comfy clothes, which consisted of your favorite cotton sleep shorts and one of his big t-shirts that was branded with a metal band he liked, the soft fabric smelling of him, the two of you headed back out into the kitchen to begin prepping dinner.

You’d been teaching Touya more recipes lately and it was fun to cook together. It was becoming a part of your normal daily routines. While you waited, you sat out on the back deck together, the mouth watering aromas drifting out through the crack you’d left open in the sliding glass doors, and you watched as the sun set on yet another day you’d been lucky enough to spend together.

“Oh, I almost forgot…” Touya suddenly said, reaching into the pocket of his pullover hoodie and holding something in the palm of his closed fist. You leaned closer to him, curious, and he opened his hand to show you what he had. “When I saw this on the beach earlier it made me think of you, so I grabbed it.”

Touya placed a piece of sea-glass, turquoise and vaguely heart-shaped, into your little palm, your fingers loosely closing around its water-smoothed edges.

“Thank you, Touya,” you cooed, leaning over to press another gentle peck to his cheek. “I love it.” But no matter how many little treasures or trinkets Touya could collect, the fact that you got to share moments like this was the thing you cherished most of all.

***

(Hello and thank you so much for reading! The three year anniversary of the original series in which this fic is set is today and just last week was three years since I began writing and sharing my fanfics, so I want to take this time to give everyone who’s read and supported my work a huge thank you!! Your nice comments really mean a lot to me and if you regularly like things on tumblr or leave comments on ao3 know I notice you in my notifications and it makes me very happy when I see your usernames <3

Anyway, this was just a short lil something but I have a couple more little date fic ideas for this AU that will be coming in the future. I’m actually going to be getting really busy this year with a lot of new life changes, so while the frequency at which I post fics might be a little bit less for a while, please be patient with me while I catch my bearings lol.

I love writing in the fanfic community. I love reading in the fanfic community. I love all the fic writers and fic readers and being a part of all of this has brought me joys that I can’t even begin to accurately articulate. So, again, I just wanted to give another big thank you for all the support over these last three years. Here’s to many more! <3)

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melanieph321 · 5 months ago

Note

Hi there,

I'm a long time reader here and i really like all of your fics. I don't know if you're taking requests or not but if you do, could you perhaps make a fic based on this :

https://www.tumblr.com/youandiwerealive/748931841255522304/httpswwwtumblrcomyouandiwerealive74892968529?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/youandiwerealive/748933629341761536/flight-attendant-ruben-ok-but-how-about?source=share

Idk why but these brainrots really intrigued me and i think you have the capabilities to turn them into a fic

I understand if you don't take request. Anyway, have a good day ❤

I AM SCREAMING!!!!

Like no. I saw @youandiwerealive and anon, whom assume is you, talk about this. And I found it so hilarious and relatable. Ruben as a flight attendant 🤣🤣

Of course I will write this request. Even better. Imma make it a 3 parts series 🤪!

Ruben Dias x Reader - Flight Hours Part 1/3

Part 2 Part 3

Ruben and Reader are flight attendants on their way to Portugal. Although they are off to a bad start, the two end up finding common ground.

Enjoy!

Back to back flights were such a nightmare. But when you as a flight attendant complained to your bosses about it, they would hit you with the usual "It's holiday season, it will blow over" bull crap.

You made sure to arrive at your gate early. Earlier than the rest of your cabin crew members. It was a fancy plane this one, where passengers in first class could take a shower if they wished to. Since you weren't given a chance to do so this morning flying from Frankfurt to Dubai, taking a shower is exactly what you were going to do now. It wasn't exactly protocol of you to use the passengers' accommodation, though, especially not the first class ones. But since the airline had such high demand on personal hygiene and frankly a quite misogynistic beauty standard amongst it's employee. You saw it fitting for you to at least clean yourself ahead of your flight.

"Excuse me, is somebody in there?"

"No, wait!"

However, just as you were rinsing out your hair, someone unlocked the doors, exposing you mid shower.

"Puta." The man said, or more so gasp. His eyes shamelessly traveled down your naked body, eyeing you like some kind of prey.

"Shut the fucking door!" You shouted, however the man remained in the doorway, causing a draft. He was another flight attendant, you were sure of it. You could tell just by the way that this sort of situation failed to startle him.

"You must be Frankfurt?"

"Pardon?" Your hands left your hair, a sudden urge to cover yourself. However, the man had already seen it all.

"You came in this morning, no? From Frankfurt Airport?"

"Right."

"I'm Ruben Dias, I'll be flying with you from Dubai to Lisbon."

The man was such a dickhead, having audacity to offer you to shake his hand, with a large grin on his face. Mind you that you stood before him in a shower, butt-naked.

"I'm Y/N." You shook his hand just to end the conversation and for him to go away.

"Nice to meet you, Frankfurt. And what a lovely tattoo."

"You fucking...."

Ruben shut the door in your face, his laughter trailing down all the way to the cockpit where he probably ran to tell the captains about your encounter. Your hand went to the butterfly tattoo on your hip, awfully close to your....you know what. If Ruben had spotted it, he would have also seen your newly waxed kitty cat on full display.

"What a fucking nightmare of a flight this is gonna be."

Based on how it started you expected the worse, however, things turned out pretty quiet on your side. Luckily for you the two male flight attendants were assigned to first class, while you and another female flight attendant stayed back in economy. It was the first time sexism worked in your favor. However, you ran into Ruben every now and then when the two of you were either on a break or topping up your snack and beverage carts.

"Frankfurt? What a pleasure meeting you here."

You rolled your eyes, having heard Ruben coming from a mile away. He always seemed to leave first class with a trail of giggling women. It wasn't uncommon for flight attendants to be charming, but to flirt with passengers was simply unprofessional.

"My name is Y/N, not Frankfurt."

"It doesn't matter up here." Ruben said, reaching for something in the cabin above your head. The smell of him invaded your nostrils without consent, the worst part being that he smelled amazing.

"What do you mean?" You asked.

Ruben had gone to grab himself a can of coke and two plastic cups. Your name doesn't matter up here in the sky." He explained. "It's no mans' land. Up here, we only care about where you came from and where you're going. Up here, you're Frankfurt, and I'm Portugal."

"Well, that's stupid." You muttered.

Ruben chuckled and poured the can of coke into the plastic cups. "Here." He said, offering you one.

You only accepted because you were thristy, not because of the way Ruben was staring at you as your hands touched when he handed you the cup. Nor because of the way that the soft lights hit his face as he leaned back against the wall, regarding you even more seductively.

"So..." He sighed, after finishing his cup of coke, waiting for you to do the same.

"So." You smiled, perhaps your first time doing so, at least in front of Ruben.

"Are you member of the Mile High Club?"

You should have known that only something stupid would come out of that pretty little mouth of his.

"Wait, wait. I'm just kidding." Ruben said, grabbing your wrist as you turned your back on him. "Jesus Frankfurt, is it that hard for you take a joke?"

"For your information, nothing of what you say is funny to me. And to answer your question, no, I've never fucked in a airplane bathroom. As a flight attendant yourself you should know how disgusting and unhygienic that would be."

Ruben regarded you with interest, shrugging his shoulders. "It doesn't have to be in a bathroom, could also be in a shower."

"Fuck you."

The last thing you saw was Ruben's large grin. You left him on your way back to economy, where you planned to spend the rest of your flight, avoiding Ruben at all cost. It was incredible, though, how handsome he was. How the stewards uniform suited him as if it was tailor-made. It outlined his braud shoulders and swollen biceps. If it wasn't for his big mouth, you wouldn't hesitate to go for a man like him. And, no, it wasn't unusual for flight stewards to have affairs with each other, certainly not when the airline was paying for your hotel rooms. However, once you landed in Lisbon, all you wanted to do in your hotel room was to sleep.

Part 2 Part 3

#fanfiction #football imagine #footballer x reader #footballer imagine #ruben dias #man city #football angst #manchester city #ruben dias x reader #ruben dias imagine

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moonlightspencie · 1 year ago

Note

hiiii! :3 would you mind write a quick fic with ted or aaron where the reader is a cart girl at a golf course. they meet while the men are golfing and flirting ensues? just smut or fluff or whatever! anything works <3

those tg golf pics came to mind and i can’t help but think of all of the dbf and bfd!hotch fics so…. aaron hotchner it is!!!

pairing: aaron hotchner x reader

warnings: fliiiirting, everyone thinks reader is mad hot & hotch is all googly-eyed

Aaron whistled, looking over the lay of the land for their next hole.

“You’re close, but I’ve still got the lead,” he noted in good humor. “Good luck on this hole.”

Rossi scoffed. “You just wait for next week.”

Aaron laughed, watching as Rossi’s friend Mark teed up. He heard the beverage cart rolling up behind them as Mark stood, ready to swing. All three turned around, the current swing forgotten.

“I could use a drink,” Rossi noted, starting to walk closer as the cart drew nearer. Then, he paused. “I wouldn’t mind a fourth wife, either, now that I think about it.”

Mark walked near them. “I can’t say I disagree.”

Aaron laughed, though he couldn’t pretend he wasn’t seeing the same thing they were. The beverage cart girl was wildly attractive. He swallowed as she pulled up next to them, a dazzling smile on her face.

“You boys looking for a drink?” she asked, her voice like honey.

“Yes, ma’am,” Rossi replied, walking up to introduce himself as she climbed out of the cart. “I’m Dave.”

Aaron’s eyes were glued to her. Her tennis skirt showed off a pair of legs that had him very distracted. Not to mention the tight top that accompanied it. He stared her down, hardly realizing she’d already helped the other two men and was waiting on his drink of choice. There was a glimmer in her eye and a knowing smirk on her face when he finally noticed she was looking right back at him.

“Uh, just a water for me, thanks,” he said curtly, slowly walking closer.

She smiled again, grabbing a water bottle from the cooler and handing it over. Rossi paid up for all three drinks, insisting that they’d just have to make it up next time. Both Aaron and Mark knew they’d never really have to repay him for it.

Mark started walking towards his tee again with one last lingering look at her. Rossi debated staying, but after noting how she looked at his colleague he decided Mark’s swing would be more appropriate to linger around.

“Um, I— My name’s Aaron,” he said, reaching out a hand.

She took it, and he realized the handshake was a mistake on his part. Her hand was soft and pretty-looking in his own, and he was sure all of his feelings were apparent on his face. She’d already clocked him once.

She introduced herself, giving him yet another smile that had him feeling weak in the knees.

“You must be new,” he stated. “I haven’t seen you around here before.”

“And you’re so sure you’d remember the beverage girl, huh?” she joked.

He smiled softly. “I’d definitely remember you.”

Now, he reveled in the fact that there was a bit of a nervous smile on her face rather than his. She nodded slowly, looking at him through her lashes.

“Fair enough, Aaron,” she said in reply at last. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

‘So many things’ he thought to himself.

He looked towards the other two men who waited on him. He then reached into his coat pocket.

“I don’t think so, but,” he started, pulling out his card. “If you ever need me to solve a crime or… To buy you dinner—”

“Solve a crime,” she asked with a laugh, taking the card. She looked at it, then back at him with a new, mischievous look on her face. “I see. I might just call you up sometime, G-man.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” he said with a wink, gaining confidence at last.

She smiled once more, then got back into her cart and drove off towards the next group of golfers.

He strode towards Rossi, a new pep in his step.

“And I thought I was the flirt,” Rossi said with a smile.

“Maybe I’m just spending too much time around you,” Aaron replied.

His smile was stuck in place as he hit his ball, all the way through until that night when an unknown number came calling. After that, it lasted all week long.

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x female reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner fanfiction

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gracev0609 · 6 months ago

Text

Between the Two of You - Pt. 2

Jake X Chris X Reader

A @lipstickitty / gracev0609 collaboration.

WC: 4k+

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI, Explicit Sex, Slash, M/M, M/F, Threesome

A few of you asked for a part 2, and after seeing Mirador in person we couldn't get them out of our heads. Chris and Jake are an incredible team, it's safe to say we're cake lane❤️

Jake and Chris were sitting in one of their dressing rooms after another amazing Mirador set, basking in the afterglow of their performance when they heard both of their phones buzzing from the table. Their eyes met and their cheeks pinkened a little bit, knowing that it was Y/N texting their group chat. One of the upcoming shows was going to be nearby where she was staying and they’d decided to invite her out to a show, let her see them both perform now that they’ve got their stage presence perfected.

Jake giggled softly as he grabbed both of the devices, handing Chris’s off to him before sitting back down with his own in hand. “I’ll be there! But only if I get a backstage pass ;)”, both boys read her flirty reply, sending back their own words of encouragement and assuring her that they couldn’t wait to see her again. There had been plenty of flirty texts and pictures exchanged in that group chat over the weeks since the three of them had last been together and the anticipation was building up for each of them.

Their phones buzzed again and both men looked at the incoming message, it was a photo of her in bed in a short sexy nightgown with text reading,” Gotta get plenty of rest, I can't wait to see you boys tomorrow ❤️”

Jake feels his cheeks pinken,” She really is something else isn't she.”

Chris chuckles setting his phone down on the table top,” She sure is a spitfire. I'm sure that's how she can handle us both, isn't it babe.”

“Hey now! I have to go back out there and face thousands, I can't walk out with a situation in my pants.”

Chris smirks, grabbing his phone, walking over to the beverage cart,” Sure you could.”

⚔️⚔️

The following evening in yet another city they emerged from the stage to be met with their good friend Y/N waiting for them in the wings.

“Guys! That was incredible! Holy shit, call me Mirador’s number one fan oh my god!”

Chris embraces her first, giving her a tight hug and a soft kiss on the mouth,” So glad you liked it sweetie.”

Jake grasps her tightly kissing the side of her head,” I hope you're our number one fan, we're going back to your hotel room after this.”

Playfully she rolls her eyes, “such a flirt Jakey.”

As the evening progresses her and Chris watch the Greta set from the wings of Jake's side of the stage cheering loudly for their friend. About two hours later a sweaty exhilarated Jake emerges from the stage,” Give me 15 minutes to get cleaned up and then we're out of here.”

She giggles to Chris grabbing him by the hand following Jake to his dressing room. As soon as the dressing room door slams behind them Jake is kicking his boots off, throwing his sweaty jacket to the floor, unbuckling his belt and undoing his pants while he makes his way to the shower.

“Yeah baby, take it off!” Y/N giggles, crossing the room to playfully swat at his ass. Jake turns and gives Chris a pointed look before turning back towards the shower, as if to say, ‘Well? Are you coming?’

“You want to shower together, Jake?” Chris teases with a smirk.

“Saves water and time, does it not?” Jake gives a shit eating grin right back before stripping himself completely. He turns the faucet as hot as he can stand it and steps under the stream, letting the scalding water relax his body. “I’m waiting…” Jake sing-songs, faking a yawn while Chris and Y/N are busy ogling him.

With that Chris starts kicking his shoes off and throws his shirt off over his head, but Y/N’s hands stop his own on their way to his belt buckle. “Let me.” She whispers, kissing his jaw before sinking to her knees. She wastes no time undoing his belt and pants before yanking them down his thighs along with his boxers, letting him step out of them. Once he’s fully bare in front of her, she takes a moment to admire him in all his glory.

His hands gently cup her face, “You’re a fucking vision, sweetheart. Look at you, on your knees for us.” He grasps her hands and tugs her back up to crash their lips together roughly making her gasp. It doesn’t last long before she’s pulling back, giving Chris a slap on his ass to urge him into the shower with Jake. She claps her hands together once both men are in the shower, watching them leave little kisses and touches on each other’s skin as they got cleaned up.

“I’m going to the bathroom really quick, you boys be good.” She giggles, leaving them each with a quick kiss on their damp cheeks.

“You know we can’t promise that, love.” Chris chuckles, pressing his lips to Jake’s and pulling him closer, pressing their bodies together under the spray of the water. She practically sprints to the bathroom and back, taking care of business as fast as she possibly could, to get back to the two beautiful men waiting for her.

When she walks back into the dressing room, she instantly feels her panties get wetter, seeing Jake and Chris still pressed against each other, mouths devouring each other while their hips are grinding together. She hears them letting out little gasps and moans when their hardening lengths brush together. She can't help but oggle Chris's bare ass as it jiggles while he thrusts,” So we made it to the couch I see.”

Approaching them slowly her eyes hone in on their hardened cocks, lengths brushing against one another leaving little pearlescent puddles of precum on their thighs. Her breath catches in her throat when Chris's middle and ring finger swipe through Jake's mess and bring them to his lips silently asking him to suck.

“That's my good boy.”

Her thighs clench, desperately trying to relieve the ache,” God you two are so hot.”

Chris grasps,” How does it taste? Tell me, my slutty little boy, I wanna hear all about it.”

In between kisses to Chris's glistening fingers Jake replies,” It's so good Chris, you're gonna love it. Try it baby.”

Chris goes to move his hand and Jake stops him, taking his own fingers and scooping up the new puddle of precum before presenting them to Chris to suck.

“You were right… fucking delicious.”

Her voice shakes as she speaks up,” Can we go to the hotel now? I'm so fucking horny.”

Both men nod reluctantly and begin to get dressed. Once presentable they begin walking down the hallways of the venue, Chris and Jake on either side of her. They pass Josh with his bags slung over his shoulder ready to leave the venue as well, his laugh echoing off the cement hallway,” Have fun!”

She turns to face him shooting finger guns making him laugh harder,” Be careful now!”

Firing back,” It's not my first rodeo Josh!”

Sending her a wink he teases,” Go easy on ‘em babe, I'm gonna need ‘em back for the rest of the shows!”

Throwing her head back she cackles before speeding up to catch back up with her friends.

On the way back to the hotel, everyone is talking and laughing, talking about that night’s show as well as anything else that comes to mind. Y/N can’t keep her eyes off of Jake and Chris no matter how hard she tries. Josh, of course, takes notice and blows her a kiss with a wink. She quickly turns her head, trying to hide her blush and Josh just smirks at her.

Once the bus is parked everyone piles out, no one seeming to be able to climb off the bus fast enough.

“Have fun! Be careful!” Josh giggles as Chris, Y/N and Jake jog past him towards the building. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” His voice raises just enough to make sure he’s heard over all the chatter. Jake flips him off over his shoulder, not even bothering to turn around and face him, before taking Chris and Y/N’s hands, impatiently leading them to the elevator. They’re the first ones to reach the elevator thanks to Jake’s rushing, and as soon as the three of them have stepped inside, Jake pushes the ‘close door’ button, giving everyone else a cheeky wave.

“You fucker!” Josh shouts as the doors close, laughing breathlessly, having sprinted trying to catch up with his twin.

“Sorry, Joshy!” Y/N giggles. “Gotta catch the next one!”

“Don’t wait up!” Jake yells over the elevator noise as they start the climb up to their floor.

Chris’s hands start roaming Jake’s body outside the hotel room door, making Jake’s search for the room key infinitely more challenging. “Where the fuck is your key?” Chris groans between kisses over Jake’s neck.

“Pockets…” Jake whines, unable to think clearly with the arousal clouding his brain. Chris sneaks both of his hands into the back pockets of Jake’s jeans, giving his ass cheeks a firm squeeze before removing his hands from Jake’s pockets, key in hand.

As soon as the door swings open, the three of them rush inside and Y/N slams the door shut behind them. “Strip and lay down on the bed, pretty baby.” Chris instructs Jake, palming him over the fabric of his jeans. Jake hurriedly obeys, shedding every layer of clothing until he’s fully exposed, knees bent and legs spread apart on the bed where he waits for them.

Chris gets to work slowly undressing Y/N and himself, putting on a little show for his bandmate. He presses gentle kisses all over her neck and chest before sucking one of her nipples into his mouth. She moans softly, turning into a little hiss when she feels his teeth graze her sensitive skin. Then he pulls back and takes her hand, leading her over to the bed.

Jake is a sight to see, face flushed, eyes almost black with lust. “You look so beautiful all spread out like this, Jakey. Gonna let me have another taste? I can’t get enough of you.” Chris groans, kneeling on the bed next to Jake and taking his throbbing length in his hand. He nods enthusiastically and Chris wastes no time trailing his tongue up the underside of Jake’s cock, swirling it around his tip before taking it between his lips, loving the feel and weight of it resting on his tongue.

Chris pulls back for a second, “Kiss him, will you, love?” directed at Y/N before swallowing Jake back down. She captures Jake’s lips with her own, his moans and whimpers being muffled into her mouth. When he has to pull away for air, he buries his face in the crook of her neck, trailing little kisses and nips all over while Chris spoils him with his mouth. He pulls back on him, his tongue swirling around his tip, gently working against his leaking slit. Jake cries into her neck as pleasure floods his brain and he feels himself getting closer,”I could cum from this, kinda wanna.”

She kisses Jake's forehead softly cooing,” Kinda want to? Can you cum twice for us Jakey? We have plenty more to do tonight.”

He gulps harshly, his face still hidden in her neck,” Yeah, I can. I can cum twice for you.”

Chris plants kisses up Jake's heated skin, his overly hard cock pulsing,” Go ahead, let go for me.”

He reattaches his lips to Jake's pink swollen tip, sucking hard.

“Fuck!”

Jake's back arches off the mattress and the knot in his stomach snaps and he's releasing into his band mates mouth. He leans up, mouth still full. Y/N quickly switches positions with him, grabbing Jake's still hard cock lining it up with her entrance before sinking down on him. She smirks as Jake gasps, and she pulls Chris close opening her mouth and sticking out her tongue. Chris grants her her request and spits some of Jake's load into her mouth before swallowing his half. Tangling her hands into Chris's blonde locks she pulls his face to hers kissing him harshly. He kisses down her body, before flicking his tongue across her hard sensitive nipples making her clench around Jake making him cry out.

Jake trashes his head against the pillow,” Feels so fuckin good, god I love being buried in your perfect pussy.”

She smiles as he twitches uncontrollably within her,” Calm down baby.’

Jake bites his lip whining as she continues to clench around him gasping out,” I can't, feels so good- too much”

Chris lays his palm flat on Jake's chest rubbing soothing circles on his skin attempting to ground Jake,” Just breathe honey, you're doing so well. Just calm down Jake, just feel her.”

“Breathe, baby. Deep breaths, you’re okay, we have you. Just let yourself feel it, feel me wrapped around you, feel Chris’s hands on your body.” She soothes, just warming his cock for a minute, letting him pull himself together. Both of Chris’s hands are still on Jake, one resting on his chest feeling his heartbeat try to go back to normal, the other gently brushing his brown locks off of his sweaty forehead and cheeks.

Finally, they feel the tension melt away from Jake’s body. His thighs unclench, his eyes flutter open from where he’d had them squeezed shut. He nuzzles his head into Chris’s soothing touch, much like a cat would lean into a pet from its owner. “There he is, that’s my good boy.” Chris whispers, leaning down to give him a kiss before motioning to Y/N to keep moving.

“Fuck, she’s so tight and warm.” Jake groans, his fingers pressing into her hips while she bounces on his cock. He meets Chris’s gaze, big brown eyes pleading, “Let me touch you? Please?” He lets one hand wander to his bandmate’s chest, dull nails clawing at his skin, just wanting to feel him.

Chris cups Jake’s face in his hands, “What do you want, baby? Use your words.”

“I want you in my mouth.” He sighs out dreamily.

“That’s not how you ask for what you want, Jakey.” Chris gives him a warning glance.

“I want- I need you in my mouth. Please, sir.” He pleads, moans and whimpers leaving his lips when Y/N stops bouncing on him and starts grinding her hips into his instead.

“Good boy. How do you want me, sweet boy?”

Jake pats his chest, making grabby hands towards Chris. “C’mere?” He pouts, puppy dog eyes making an appearance yet again. Chris straddles his chest, lovingly stroking his thumbs over Jake’s cheeks. He takes his own cock in his hand, bringing the tip to Jake’s lips and letting him swirl his tongue around. Jake groans at the taste of Chris’s arousal on his tongue, savoring it while he wraps his lips around his tip and starts to gently suck.

“He’s so big, fuck. I’m so full, he feels incredible.” She moans, resting her head against Chris’s back while he slowly fucks in and out of Jake’s warm mouth.

“Yeah? Let me hear it, sweetheart. Tell me.” Chris grunts, chest starting to heave a little with exertion.

“Feels so fucking good, oh my god.” She whines, eyes squeezing shut. “I’m getting so close, please make me cum!” She begs, desperately trying to keep her rhythm on Jake’s pulsing cock. He can feel her walls clenching around him, every little noise he makes sending delicious vibrations through Chris’s body making him shudder.

Chris knows his words of encouragement will only bring her closer to the edge, “You gonna cum for us, love? C’mon, let us have it. You look like such an angel bouncing on his pretty cock.”

Jake lets out a pathetic sounding whimper around Chris’s length. “You wanna be told you’re pretty too, Jakey? You are. You look so beautiful taking me like this. Like it’s all you’re good for.”

As she falls apart around him Jake's whimpers increase in volume until he quickly pulls off him, “Stop stop! Fuck I can't - I'm too close.”

She immediately stills, slumping forward into Chris's back as she lets Jake calm down again. Pressing small gentle kisses to his back as she fully comes back down. Following Chris's lead she climbs off of Jake and into his lap. Her lips trailing up his chest, up his neck stopping right below his ear,” I need you to rail me into the mattress, think you can do that?”

He gasps as she sinks her teeth into the sensitive skin under his ear. His eyes darken with lust, manhandling her from her position on his lap to being on all fours. His large palm connects with her back in between her shoulder blades pushing her down to press against the mattress,”This okay baby? This what you wanted?”

She feels herself get even wetter as he glides his swollen head through her slick, a breathy yes falls from her lips. He takes that as a go ahead and pushes into her fully in one harsh thrust, setting a punishing pace. Her mind blanks as he hits every single sweet spot inside her, gasps and whines are the only things leaving her lips. Her eyes flutter closed as she feels him fully abusing her insides, the coil quickly tightening within her stomach. His hips smack against her skin harshly as he keeps her pinned against the bed, moans flowing freely from her mouth. Her brain explodes in mind numbing pleasure, she can't even tell him she's cumming.

His voice rasps low,” Fuck! Yeah that's it baby, good girl, fuckin squirt all over my cock.”

His hips slow slightly as she melts into the mattress dazed from the powerful orgasm she just had. Chris's large calloused hands massage the muscles in her back easing her back to him,” Did that feel good honey? Came so pretty for me, you're so beautiful.”

He keeps his thrusts steady gently easing her closer to her next orgasm,” Ya think you can give me another one sweetheart? I think you can.”

Jake slides in next to her, roughly kissing her lips, his tongue hungrily invading her mouth as his hand snakes down to rub against her clit. Instantly she clenches around Chris's length making him moan out into the otherwise quiet hotel room.

Jake coos,” D’ya think you can use your pretty mouth on me again? We can fill you up from both ends.”

Her eyes find his, soft and innocent looking even though he knows she's far from pure. He kneels in front of her fisting his cock in his hand, tracing his messy tip against her pouty lips like a sinful lipstick. He pets her hair back away from her face, sighing out a breath,” Go easy on me now, honey.”

She opens her mouth allowing him inside, softly swirling her tongue around him before taking him all the way down, her nose buried in the patch of pubic hair at his base. Jake's head dips back as he groans,” Fuuuuck honey, that's not going easy.”

Chris picks up his pace thrusting harshly into her, moving her further down Jake's cock, causing her to suppress a gag,” Ah ah, c’mon sweetheart, be a good girl and give him a chance.”

She eases off Jake's length as her friends cock punishes her cervix, the painful pleasure spreading throughout her body leaving her as nothing but a place for Jake to warm his cock. Jake squeezes his eyes shut tight, using the few seconds reprieve from the overwhelming pleasure to collect himself once again. One of his hands continues rubbing tight circles around her swollen clit, the other holds her hair back off her face for her while Chris pounds into her from behind.

“I can feel you clenching, sweetheart. Such a good girl, one more for me, yeah?” Chris grunts, hips stuttering slightly in their rhythm as he gets closer to coming undone. All at once, it’s too much- Chris brutally thrusting his hips into her, Jake’s skilled fingers on her overly sensitive clit, and the downright sinful noises coming from the three of them. She can hear and feel Chris’s hips hitting the backs of her thighs, the wet sounds coming from between her legs that she might be embarrassed by under any other circumstance, and the delicious moans spilling from both their lips.

“Oh fuck, I’m-“ is all she can manage before her orgasm rips through her once more, gushing all over Chris’s length for the second time that evening. Jake pulls himself from her mouth with a whimper, smoothing her hair back while she catches her breath.

“You did so well for us, baby.” Chris soothes once he’s also pulled out of her, pressing kisses to her heated skin anywhere that his mouth could reach.

“Mmm. ‘M tired.” She groans, rolling to her back and making herself comfy on the ruined sheets.

Both men gently kiss her lips, “Just lay back honey, we’ll put on a show just for you, alright?” Jake says sweetly, rising from the bed and gesturing to the chair in the corner of the room. Chris catches his eye and winks, crossing the room to settle into the chair, both arms on the armrests. He crooks a finger at Jake, beckoning him closer.

Slowly, Jake struts over to him, Y/N admiring his bare ass as he goes.

Once Jake comes to a stop in front of the chair, Chris’s arms wrap around his waist and pull him down to straddle his lap, chest to chest. “Hi.” Jake giggles, arms winding around Chris’s neck as he crashes their lips together. Chris uses his grip on Jake’s hips to pull him down, grinding their cocks together with a breathy moan. Jake pulls back from his lips and whines, “don’t stop. Fuck, don’t stop, please I’m so close.”

“Shut up, I’m not stopping. C’mere.” Chris kisses him again, swallowing down every little noise his bandmate makes. He finds a rhythm, strong arms pushing and pulling Jake’s hips against his own while he also bucks up into Jake for extra friction. It’s messy, both of them leaving little pools of precum in each other’s laps, making their cocks glide together smoothly. Chris scoops up a little of their mess on his first two fingers, savoring the taste of them together on his tongue.

They’re both so worked up it doesn’t take either of them long, the feeling of their cocks twitching only spurring them on more as they pant into each other’s mouths. Jake bites down hard on Chris’s bottom lip, a little drop of blood hitting his tongue and then he’s reaching a hand between both of their bodies, wrapping his fist loosely around both of them.

“I wanna be the one to make you cum this time.” He presses their foreheads together, whole body shaking, the only sounds leaving their lips being raspy moans and broken curses.

Jake lets go first, his hot release spilling over his fingers and both of their stomachs. Watching and feeling Jake fall apart has Chris ready to fall over the edge. Jake swipes up his own mess from their laps and uses it as extra lubricant for his hand to glide over Chris’s pulsing cock.

Chris groans, “yeah, that’s so good baby.” He shudders, eyes rolling back and a groan ripping from deep in his chest as he covers them both in his cum, only adding to the sticky mess accumulated between them.

“Fuck…” Jake breathes out, body still shaking as his chest heaves. Chris is in a similar state, hands gently stroking over Jake’s back as they both come down from their intense highs. Barely even conscious, the two men make their way back over to the bed before flopping down onto it, bodies nearly limp.

Chris lays on his back, his hand resting on his stomach. “Fuck, I’m all… sticky.” He grumbles, but makes no effort to get up.

“Yeah. Me too.” Jake yawns, nuzzling his face into Chris’s neck.

“Useless. You’re both useless.” Y/N playfully huffs, retrieving a warm wet washcloth from the bathroom to gently clean them both up.

“You’re a lifesaver, honey.” Jake giggles once they’re no longer covered in their sticky mess.

“Yeah, yeah. You’re lucky I love you both.” She teases, leaving soft kisses on both their foreheads before curling up on the bed with her best friends. It’s silent for a few minutes and she assumes the boys are falling fast asleep, then Jake mumbles, “yep, I was right.”

Chris and Y/N both giggle. “Oh yeah, Jakey? About what?” Y/N laughs, limbs tangled with her two favorite boys.

“This was just as much fun the second time around.”

⚔️⚔️⚔️⚔️⚔️

Taglist ❤️ @myownparadise96 @skywaydrifter @piratejakesgf @its-interesting-van-kleep

#jake kiska fic #jake kiskza smut #jake kiszka fanfic #jake gvf #jake kiszka #chris turpin fanfic #chris turpin smut #chris turpin #gvf #gvf smut #gvf fanfiction

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soilaluna · 1 year ago

Text

how jjk men propose (out of the blue) gojo & toji x f!reader extreme fluffiness 1.6k w

gojo loathes routine. the only thing he's willing to drown in is crowded parties, one-night stands, and unlimited beverages. but not routine —nuh-uh (never). he can think of a thousand reasons why engaging in the same activities with monotonous regularity is unhealthy, crazy, and out of the question for him.

but then you introduce yourself. and you sweep him off his feet in a matter of weeks. then, in just in a couple of months, you drag him into your silly, meticulous routine and he thinks: there's no way he's going to pull through that relationship. he gives the two of you a couple of more weeks, at the most —if he survives dinner at 7 o'clock, if he can endure cleaning the house religiously on sundays, if he can keep taking the dog out for a walk every damn night before going to sleep.

but slowly, very surely, he has a change of heart. and suddenly he finds himself asking you to go out for a jog as soon as the sun comes out. and it's him who starts cooking at 5:45 pm so the dinner is ready just on time before you leave work. and grocery shopping —he loves those. he loves them with you. he adores the little rituals now his just as yours. and he wants them for much longer —forever if it's possible.

he realizes so while both of you are in the supermarket.

you're asking him something about some vegetables. he's clutching a plant of lettuce in his hand when he spits out, "i want this."

you tilt your head. you obviously have no clue what he's referring to cause you inquire, "you want... what? rocket or chicory? cause i find chicory disgustingly bitter."

and so, satoru chuckles, shakes his head, and adds, "no, not that, dummy. this. doing stuff. with you —for the rest of my life. our life, if you let me."

to his heartfelt confession, you answer with silence. it's just a few seconds of disquiet, but for satoru they go by like centuries. people walk around you, and there's too much noise (someone even asked him at one point to move his cart out of the way) but he's solely focused on your narrowed eyes and oh, no.

he royally fucked up.

he acted on impulse and didn't stop to think once about everything else: your own wishes, the proposal —because who the fuck proposes in a supermarket? (someone who doesn't want to hear a yes, obviously).

so, naturally, he panics. he opens and closes his mouth like a fish. he knows what he wants to say —we can wait, we don't have to marry at all, please don't panic, runaway and leave me— yet he can't word a single thought. he hadn't even properly asked! what reaction was he expecting from you?

but then (so merciful) you speak —not quite literally. you just wrap your arms around his neck and smash your lips against his. and oh, no kiss from you has ever felt sweeter. you mouth no words but the message is clear as water and it's so perfect. his hasty decision makes sense, by then. you never asked for anything more than an honest love.

he presses the palms of his hands against your back and hugs you tight against him. seconds go by, minutes —one, three, five. he doesn't count, he doesn't care.

it's not until someone passes by him and coughs that he puts his feet back on the ground. he's about to whine about the devastating interruption but adoration gleams in your toothy smile and wide, bright eyes and there is no way he can waste his attention on anyone else.

"so," you tease, "does this mean we have to plan a fancier dinner?"

(satoru rolls his eyes and then he goes for another kiss).

the upper floor is all chatter and laughter while toji's downstairs, in the kitchen, chopping meat for lunch.

he peeps the clock: you've officially been kidnapped by tsumiki and megumi for over an hour. he doesn't know what they're up to but he wouldn't dare stick his head up the stairs —not again, at least. he had already asked once if he could join them and megumi—with his usual, amusing blank stare—practically slammed the door in his face (tsumiki added a scream in the background, go away, dad!). and so, he was relegated to fulfilling the mere role of a chef while wondering just what the hell his kids were doing with his girlfriend.

a few more minutes pass before tsumiki finally speaks to him again.

"dad!"

toji covers the simmering pot before he turns around, "what?"

his daughter pokes her head between the stair railings. "c'mere" once toji gets closer, she adds, hushed, "i just wanna say that this is my idea and my idea only. she didn't want to do it 'cause she thought you'd get mad so please, please, pleaaaaase don't get mad."

toji raises an eyebrow —now he's really intrigued about what they'd been up to. tsumiki always behaved. she knows where the lines are drawn and never bothers to cross them. so whatever they've done, whatever had his daughter worried enough to apologize in advance, must be serious.

"ok?" he falters.

tsumiki whips her head to her right and calls out, "all good!"

megumi instantly appears and positions himself at the top of the stairs. he coughs a couple of times and not a second later, the most out-of-tune version of 'here comes the bride' comes out of his mouth.

slowly, you appear in the line of toji's vision. you respect the typical rhythm of a bride's entrance. one step —pause. another step —pause. one step —pause.

toji's eyes glimmer as he takes you in: your dress is made up of one of the kids' bedsheets, it hugs you loosely over your chest. the silver plastic crown you're wearing —he remembers buying it for tsumiki at a carnival fair not long ago. your holding an improvised bouquet of fresh flowers, so fresh he can see the roots from where he stands (he bets megumi has ripped them out from miss ayumi's garden) (he'd make sure his son apologized later). and the makeup —geez. he'd never seen you wear so much blush and red lipstick. you looked like one of those vintage porcelain dolls but —oh.

if only you knew how exquisite you looked.

you were pouring light everywhere. even if you felt uncomfortable, even if you felt insecure (toji could read you like an open book by now).

"what's the matter, doll?" he inquires.

your eyes bounce between the stairs, the walls, the kids. everywhere else but him.

"tsumiki wanted to play, i told her that it could be —y'know... "

too much? yeah. maybe some time ago.

(he could see why you were freaking out).

the first time you tip-toed around the idea of marriage—a little over a year after you had started dating—was the last time you ever did. it was just a silly comment you had made while you were watching a travel tv show —the couple on-screen was on their honeymoon. you asked him then what his ideal honeymoon location would be.

"for what? 's not like i intend to have one again".

and you never brought up the conversation ever again.

he knew his response had been blunt and unfair. but he'd thought—thanks to his brutish lack of understanding—that it was better to be straightforward and not misleading. the least he wanted was to fuck up what you both had.

(but he did fuck up. greatly).

and only now he had realized it.

there was no one else but you. he already had been gifted a second chance (with you, with love) —and life was often too callous to gift third opportunities. he didn't consider himself a smart man, but he'd be the stupidest human on earth if he wasted another second.

he wanted to marry you (and if he was lucky enough, you'd still want to marry him too, after all).

toji meets you halfway up the stairs. he leaves a couple of steps in between, just enough for him to kneel on one knee.

you look at him with a bent brow, your head is tilted but still, you manage to grin as you ask, "what are you doing?"

"what does it look like?" he questions back, "marry me".

you let out a nervous chuckle, clearly not believing what is happening. "what?"

"what you just heard. marry me, baby. for real." tsumiki immediately lets out a shrill and starts clapping and jumping. "i don't —i don't have a ring right now but i'll get one for ya. and we'll get you a real dress. and the kids will be dressed up all nice and pretty. just the four of us... what do ya think?"

toji waits, in dreadful silence. the second thoughts arrive in a second. maybe he should've prepared everything better. maybe you wanted something special. maybe he had let you down—once again— and suddenly this impulsive decision felt idiotic and absurd. of course, you deserved better. of course, you knew this and he wouldn't blame you if you said—

"yes".

yes.

he thinks he's daydreaming for a second but then—as if you could sense his dubiety—you repeat, louder. "yes!"

yes, yes, yes. you said yes.

your eyes are crystalline, filled to the brim with tears. your smile is as wide and beautiful as ever.

he leaps to his feet and reaches out to you. he clasps his hands around your cheeks and kisses you. tender and passionate. full of endless longing and eternal promises.

the kids are quick to join (megumi hugs you from your side, shedding tears of happiness) (tsumiki jumps to toji's arms, giggling).

(he's never been happier).

"i love you, wife" he utters.

"and i love you, husband."

#v.writes #jjk x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro fluff #toji fushiguro imagine #toji fushiguro x yn #toji fushiguro x you #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo x y/n #satoru gojo fluff #satoru gojo imagine #jjk fluff #jujustu kaisen #jjk x you #jjk x y/n

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cinewhore · 8 months ago

Text

Til Death Do Us Part

Pairing: Dave York x fem!reader (Mr & Mrs Smith AU) Rating: General Warnings: none? Word Count: 620 A/N: first thing I wrote in like a year. So do what you will with that. Was inspired by the new amazon series, go watch if you haven't already!! Will there be more? Maybe. Maybe not. Enjoy! Credits to the gif makers.

Dave forgot just how much he loathed flying.

Not that he was afraid of heights or anything, it was a simple matter of not being in control. Should anything go to shit, there was nothing he could really do to stop it. You’re more likely to die in a car accident compared to a plane but if he was required to take down an enemy on a flight and things got choppy? He was useless. Unless he learned how to fly a plane. Surely, that wouldn’t be expected of him, would it? He wasn’t entirely positive about that.

Dave glances out of the window once more, admiring the cloudless sky. It looked like he felt, bare.

He had survived the accident, the fall and decided that instead of putting the girls and Carol through all that hell, he remained dead. They would receive his pension, life insurance and be set for life. That was the one thing he was proud of outside of everything else. He didn’t want to hurt or kill Mac but that was the name of the game. Mac was once his friend. He realized that this life wasn’t for making friends, though. The lonelier, the better.

A stewardess arrives in the main cabin, rolling out a small beverage cart.

“Good evening! We are about to begin our descent so I wanted to grant any last minute refreshment requests.”

Dave admired her pretty teeth for a second too long before answering. “I’m fine, thank you.”

She nods and turns to her cart to grab a tiny silver platter. Placing it delicately on the table in front of him, she folds her gloved hands together.

“Thank you for flying with us this evening, we hoped you enjoyed your trip. The plane will land at approximately 6:37 pm, Central European Standard Time. You will find a wardrobe through those doors,” she gestures towards the back of the plane. “The event is a black tie affair, so please dress accordingly. Welcome to Paris, Mr. Smith.”

Oh.

Right.

He wasn’t Dave York anymore, he was now John Smith.

John opens the silver platter carefully only to find a folded paper underneath. His instructions were clear.

Find Jane.

#dave york x you #dave york x reader #dave york x female reader #dave york fanfiction #Dave york fanfic #Dave york x fem!reader

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ghoststyles · 1 year ago

Text

Fairway to Heaven - Part 5

WC: 6.3K

______________________________________________________________

“No, you’ve gotta keep this arm completely straight when you go into your backswing.”

Briar pouts and rolls her eyes at her boyfriend. This is the second time she’s joined him for 9 holes; the first session ending in a spat, since Harry is so anal and Briar never listens to anyone’s advice.

While their relationship is stronger than ever, the pair quickly learn each other’s quirks now that they spend most of their time together.

Briar finds that Harry is ALWAYS on his phone. Though he doesn’t have social media, he spends a majority of his day responding to emails and taking client calls. There have been numerous nights where Harry creeps out of bed to make a call, or is nodding along as Briar tells a story, only half listening.

Weeks before, Briar planned a small weekend getaway for the two of them; nothing big, just some quality time away from the toxicity of the club. The two of them are sat at Harry’s kitchen island, Briar on her laptop and Harry on his phone.

“I have us booked for 3 nights at the Ocean Suites,” Briar says. “Do you want to do any excursions while we’re there?”

Harry is typing furiously on his phone, “Whatever you want, baby.”

“Ok, I’ll sign us up for jet skis. And then I’m gonna go on a date with Pedro Pascal. I hope he bends me over the kitchen counter,” Briar smirks, knowing Harry isn’t listening to her.

“Mmm, that’s nice,” Harry hums. A beat passes, “Can I ride on the back of Pedro’s jet ski?”

“You are such a dick,” she laughs.

Briar returns to the cart, opting to be the passenger princess for the rest of their outing.

“You gotta keep your arm straight in the backswing. Meh meh meh meh meh,” Briar mocks him as she sits down.

“What was that, Birdie?”

“Nothing, let’s keep going,” she flashes him a sweet smile.

“That’s what I thought,” his tone is clipping. “We can go home whenever you’re ready, my love.”

“No, you can finish,” Briar insists. Harry stares at her, opting to take a deep breath instead of making a smart remark. He wonders if she’s getting her period soon. He wouldn’t dare ask, knowing the consequences having asked his sister once when they were growing up.

Harry joins her on the cart, stretching one arm behind her back and using his other hand to steer. As they start moving, he lightly pets at her shoulder, to which she leans away from.

Harry slams on the brake, whipping around to face her, his jaw locking.

“Is something bothering you?”

“No, Harry. C’mon, finish your last hole.”

He takes another deep breath, his knuckles now white on the steering wheel. They continue on. On the other side of the path, the course’s beverage cart girl is approaching them.

Harry politely flags her down, pulling off to the side. Briar scowls, unsure why they’re stopping. Harry gets out of the cart, walking over to her cart. He leans on it, placing his hands on the top, just like he does to Briar’s. A fire lights inside of her as she watches the encounter unfold.

“Hi, love, could I grab two bottles of water from you?”

“Of course! Do you have an account here?” she smiles up at him sweetly as she hands him the bottles. He transfers them both into the same hand as he grabs his wallet.

“No, just visitors for the day. Been busy for you?”

The girl, probably the same age as Briar, takes the $20 Harry hands her, nodding to answer his question. She attempts to give him his change, to which he waves her off.

“Thanks, love. Cheers.”

He saunters over to Briar in their cart, uncapping the bottle before handing it to her. She gives him a tight lipped smile. Harry pulls the cart back on the path silently.

“Ready to trade me in already?” she cocks her head at him. He blows a puff of air out of his nostrils.

“Drink your water, Briar, I think you’re having a heat stroke,” Harry responds, not giving into her jab. She’s poking a bear and doesn’t realize.

“I bet she’d call you Daddy. Or maybe she likes sir,” she smirks to herself.

“That’s it. We’re leaving,” Harry presses the gas, blowing past the last hole. When they get to the cart return, Harry hastily grabs his golf bag and her hand, dragging her back to the parking lot. Harry is seething, trying not to rip her skirt off and spank the shit out of her in front of the whole course.

He throws his bag in the back, leaving Briar to fend for herself and open her own door. She scoffs.

Harry doesn’t even wait for her to put on her seatbelt before he’s reversing out of the parking lot, his arm stretched out behind her head rest. She loves when he does that, but she has to uphold her stance. She’s already committed to getting a punishment when they’re home.

He doesn’t say a word to her the whole ride, not even linking their pinkies like he normally would. She stares out the window, wondering what he’ll do with her.

He pulls into the garage, again, not even attempting to open Briar’s door. He heads inside, ignoring Gus who greets them at the door. Briar silently slips off her shoes, preparing to make a run for it upstairs. She needs a shower, anyway.

Harry watches her bolt up the stairs, releasing a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

Briar takes her time in the shower, deep conditioning her hair and shaving her legs and cunt. She hums to herself as she towels off. Opening the door to Harry’s room, she’s met with Harry sitting calmly on the edge of the bed, his golf outfit still on, surrounded by an assortment of… items.

He beckons her over to stand between his legs. She slowly approaches, fiddling with the hem of the towel. He grabs her hands, kissing above her thumbs.

“I’m going to give you a chance to apologize to me,” Harry says gently, staring up at her. “How you spoke to me today made me very upset.”

Briar looks past him to take note of the various gags, plugs, paddles and ropes. Her spine shivers, bringing her attention back to him.

She says nothing.

Silence.

Harry is stunned.

He shrugs, rising to tower over her. He rips her towel from her body, holding back a groan. She made her choice.

“On your knees, head down. I don’t want to see your face or hear that fucking mouth again. Not a word.”

He grabs a ball gag from his supplies, and wordlessly places it in her mouth, tying it off behind her head. She hates gags; they make her feel claustrophobic.

He unbuckles his pants and removes his briefs, kneeing on the bed to settle behind her. He spits, watching the liquid drip onto her cunt. She squirms at the sensation.

Briar whines; clenching around nothing. Harry still hasn’t touched her. He spits on his hand, grabbing his prick and pumping it a few times. He lines himself up, pushing in slow and steady. He exhales, almost purring.

“Gonna fuck this little cunt. Don’t really care if you come or not,” Harry says blankly. He snaps his hips forward, a guttural moan coming from Briar.

He thrusts harder, knowing he’s completely filling her up. He reaches beside her head to grab the tiny paddle. He winds his arm up, delivering a sharp smack to the side of her ass. The skin reddens deliciously, and Harry is already holding on by a thread.

He gives her two more smacks back to back, tears now leaking from her eyes. He spits on her once more, this time, over her asshole. He massages his middle finger around the tiny hole, making Briar squeak and writhe away. Harry grabs her arms, holding them behind her back. He presses his middle finger in slowly, feeling her clench around his digit. He times the thrusts of his cock to be opposite of his finger, making sure one hole is filled at a time. He feels her cum, but she remains quiet.

“Such a fucking brat today,” he says, in between grunts. “Running your mouth so much, it’s like you want to be punished.”

She keens, arching her back even more. Harry wishes he had his phone within reach to take a picture of the site in front of him.

On his final thrust, he buries his finger and cock in her at the same time, releasing into her, his thighs quaking. He pulls out, watching his come drip out of her. He scoops some up with his finger, smearing it around her abused pussy.

“Fucking wrecked. You’re a proper mess for Daddy, Birdie.”

Harry moves from the bed to his ensuite, washing his hands and grabbing a towel. Briar collapsed onto the bed like a rag doll, her eyes closed. He unties the gag, making her tongue fall out of her mouth after it. She opens her mouth, unlocking her sore jaw.

Harry tends to her, cleaning her up with the damp towel. She whines from sensitivity. He jumps back on the bed, lying behind her with his arms wrapped around her.

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” Briar says faintly.

“I know y’are, Birdie. Don’t you know you’re my best girl? Couldn’t ever dream of losing you,” he whispers in her ear, breath tickling her neck.

Briar rotates, burying her face in Harry’s chest. She feels embarrassed. Harry’s never given her any reason to doubt their relationship.

“I was cranky before we even left this morning,” she murmurs, her lips on his shoulder. “And I think I’m getting my period soon.”

Harry smiles into her hair, knowing he was right.

“That’s okay, Birdie, just let me know next time when you wake up guns a-blazing, mkay?”

They’re quiet, and Harry starts to doze off a bit.

“Your finger felt so good in my butt.”

Harry cackles at her bluntness, “Thanks for the feedback.”

Briar’s first day back at Wynnewood came too fast. She got used to being doted on by Harry and coddled by her uncle.

She’s preparing her cart for the day when she hears Cam come up behind her.

“Hey, B, how you holding up?”

“Hey, Cam, I’m doing better! Just lucky something worse-off didn’t happen.”

Cam hugs her, rubbing her back gently, “All the members have been asking how you’re doing.”

Briar’s heart swells at that. She truly loves most of the people she serves.

“A few of us are going out tonight if you want to join! Might be nice to get out. You’re more than welcome to bring Harry. I don’t think anyone will pay it any mind.”

Briar is silent, not sure how to answer.

“I gotta go back inside, but text me if you want to come.”

“I will, thanks,” she smiles earnestly.

She returns to tending to her cart, wincing as she squats down to clean off the wheels. Harry spent the morning inserting an anal plug in her for the first time.

There were some tears, but she took it like a champ. Harry took his time preparing her for it, mentally and physically. Her phone chimes as she stands back up.

🦊: How’s your 🍑?

She laughs at his emoji. At least he’s learning.

🐥: It wants your 🍆

🦊: Be good.

She sticks her phone back in her skort pocket. She’d love to bring Harry out for a staff outing, but what if someone snitches on them? She doesn’t know many of the other staff members well since she’s out on the course by herself most days.

She’ll bring it up to him, but she’s not sure how he’ll react.

“Hey, Birdie, how was your day?” Harry asks as Briar walks through his mudroom with Gus.

“It was good. Went by quickly,” she yawns. “Hey, so, Cam told me a bunch of them are going out tonight. She said you’re more than welcome to join.”

Harry moves his lips to one side, processing what she said.

“What do you think? I’m happy to do whatever you’re comfortable with. Do you know everyone that’s going?”

“That’s the thing. I’d only know Cam and Isaiah, maybe a few bar backs. Not sure if people that’ll be there are likely to snitch on us.”

“Do you…want to invite them over here, instead? It’s supposed to be a nice night. I can go to the store for some alcohol. We can order in for some food, too. Might incentivize the people who don’t know about us to keep it to themselves.”

“Hm, I like that idea,” she smiles, moving to stand in between his legs. “That’s really thoughtful, Daddy. Thank you.”

Briar texts Cam, and the plan is on. It’ll be about 15 of Briar’s co-workers. Many of them she’s seen around, but just hasn’t gotten to know. When Harry gets the OK, he sets off in search of seltzers, beer and some liquor. Briar spends the afternoon making sure everything is tidy.

Harry is extremely clean, so she mostly cleans up her own mess. She also turns one of Harry’s guest bedrooms into Gus’s oasis, complete with a sound machine to drown out any noise that could upset him. Harry arrives back home around 7, and immediately sets up his outdoor kitchen, stocking the cooler with ice and drinks.

Briar plates the food they ordered from the local sports bar down the street, being sure to write out little signs for each item. Harry lights a fire and turns on the string lights that surround the patio. They stand back and admire their work.

“Our first time hosting a party, Birdie!” he high-fives her.

Her co-workers start rolling in, Cam being the first, luckily. She stands post at the door, greeting them as they walk-in, being sure to introduce them to Briar.

It’s not as awkward as Briar thought; many of them seem super cool. Harry bonds with a few of the bar backs and bartenders around the practice putting green, while Briar hangs with the girls inside.

“Briar, your boyfriend is so nice!” a server, Lydia, beams. “Thanks so much for inviting us. Let us know if we can pitch in for food or drinks.”

“Yeah, he’s great,” she smiles shyly. The other girls disperse amongst Harry’s living room and patio. “And don’t worry about it, we’re happy to host.”

Lydia leans in, “Don't stress about Harry. I’m dating someone from the club, too. No one really cares.”

Briar is relieved, but now she’s curious who she’s dating.

When they all get outside is when the drinking games and shenanigans start. Harry can hang for the most part, but he definitely doesn’t miss being a 22 year old shithead like these guys.

They’re quickly running through the beer and seltzers, turning to taking shots of straight liquor. Briar’s head is cloudy, her eyes a bit droopy. Harry smiles, not ever really seeing her drunk before.

She’s loudly telling stories, yelling over the music bumping from the speaker. Harry nudges Briar discreetly, hoping she’ll talk quieter. The last thing he needs is Maureen popping over to see him hanging with people half his age.

She’s in the middle of her story when she spots Caroline walking through the door. “Caroline!” she shrieks, almost tackling her. Harry smiles, rising to his feet to give her a hug.

“Hi, Harry, thanks for inviting me,” Caroline says, surveying the rest of the group. Some are dancing, and a few are just standing by the fire.

“Feel free to spend the night if you don’t want to drive home. Briar told me you don’t really live close by anymore,” Harry says.

“Thanks, I appreciate that,” she smiles, waving him off as she grabs a drink.

The night goes on and everyone is having a blast. A few have gone home, leaving an even mix of girls and guys. Harry makes sure to survey everyone and assess if they’re okay to drive.

Briar pulls Harry inside to his living room, only to find Caroline making out with Max, one of the bartenders.

“Caro! What the fuck are you doing?”

Her eyes widen, darting back and forth between the guy and Briar. She stands up slowly with her hands up. “Briar, it’s okay. Asher and I broke up about two weeks ago.”

She looks down, unable to process this. She rushes over to Caroline, effectively pushing the bartender away. He looks at Harry, and Harry gives him a shrug in return.

“Why didn’t you tell me? I would’ve been right over there…”

Harry backs out of the kitchen, heading upstairs to check on Gus.

“You’re so happy, Bri, I couldn’t bog you down with my shit. You were right all along. That relationship was out of comfort, not love. I think he was even relieved.”

Briar hugs her, “You’re never a bother. You’re my sister, and I should’ve been there.”

“It’s alright. I promise, I’m okay.”

“Okay,” Briar says, shaking her shoulders. “As you were.”

Max reenters the living room, so Briar shouts, “She’s all yours!”

Briar heads upstairs, assuming that’s where Harry went. She finds him laying on the guest bed next to Gus, watching My Strange Addiction.

“Gus likes TLC shows,” Briar laughs. Her phone flashes that it’s 12:47 AM.

“Say the word and I’ll send everyone home,” she says, leaning down to run her face through Gus’s fur.

“I’m good if you’re good, baby.”

She stands there for a minute, before grabbing Harry’s hand to show him she still has her plug in. At this point, it’s become part of her.

“Dirty Birdie,” he chuckles softly as he fiddles with it. She leans in to give him a kiss.

“Okay, come down soon, alright?”

“Mmhm,” he says, closing his eyes lightly.

Briar smiles, closing the door gently, knowing he’ll probably fall asleep up there.

Back downstairs, Caroline is still cozied up with Max, and the rest of them are out by the fire. Cam yawns, stretching her arms over head.

“I think we’ll all get going, Briar.”

“Aw, thanks so much for doing this, guys. Harry and I just aren’t ready to put ourselves out in the open.”

Isaiah hugs Briar from the side, “No worries. Your secret is safe with us.”

Briar walks them all out, making sure they get into their Ubers and cars for the sober ones. She’s starts to clean up, Caroline still lingering in the living room.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

“It’s okay. As long as you’re okay,” she smiles, picking up empty cans and cups.

“I think Harry is gonna shack up in the guest room with Gus, if you want to sleep in his bed with me,” Briar laughs.

“Sleepover!”

Briar peaks her head in the guest room, summoning Gus to go out to the bathroom one more time before bed. Harry is half on the bed, half off, his party outfit still on. She tries to lift his long legs, but they’re basically deadweight.

She gives up, taking Gus downstairs, finishing the ‘closing duties’, as she and Harry call them. She locks all the doors and shuts off the lights, opting to leave the cleaning for tomorrow.

She’s still tipsy, so she grabs two slices of pizza for herself and Caroline. Caroline found Briar’s drawer, snagging a pair of pajamas. She squeals when she sees the pizza in Briar’s hand.

“Oooo! And this bed is so fucking comfortable. I won’t wanna wake up tomorrow.”

“I know. Sometimes he has to drag me out of here,” she hiccups, taking a bite of the pizza with her eyes basically closed. They throw their half-eaten slices on the side table and slide under the covers.

Gus lays comfortably at their feet. Caroline speaks up, “These are clean sheets, right?”

“Ugh! Of course they are! We’re kinky, not unhygienic.”

“Just wanted to check!”

Around 5:10 AM, Harry jolts awake, confused why he’s in his guest room. Gus is nowhere to be found, so he stands, internally screaming at the pain his back is in.

He tip toes to his room, only to find Briar, Caroline and Gus cuddled up together. He smiles, not minding at all. He grabs the half-eaten pizza slices next to them and heads for the stairs. He hates being up this early, but he’s not sure he’ll be able to fall back asleep.

Hobbling down the steps, he groans at the mess left behind. He loves entertaining, but hates the aftermath. He empties the trash and recycling, grabbing a fresh bag to go around collecting the scattered cans and bottles outside. He spots a few cars still parked out front, relieved most of them got Ubers.

He hears the slider door open gently, and looks over to see Gus running out. Briar shuffles after him, her hair every which way and yawning hard.

“Morning, Birdie,” he says, kissing her gently. “Sorry I was a bad host at the end.”

“It’s okay. When I came to check on you and Gus, I knew you were a goner. I thought you were about to start snoring with your eyes open,” she laughs, wrapping her arms around him. “Caroline and I had a sleepover in your bed.”

“Did you now?” He smiles, knowing already.

“Yeah, she’s a better cuddler,” she teases.

He squints at her, swiftly lifting her up and throwing her over his shoulder.

She squeals, “No, no I’m gonna yak!”

Harry chuckles, lowering her to the ground. They head inside to finish cleaning the kitchen, listening to some slow classic rock songs.

Harry can get used to Sunday mornings like this.

Caroline leaves, letting them know she’ll be seeing Max again. Then, it’s just the two of them.

Harry reached around, pressing on Briar’s plug. She mewls, lowering her head to his chest.

“Just gonna leave this in all the time now, Birdie? So I can see that pretty little hole all the time and use it how I like?”

“Yes, Daddy. All yours,” she starts to scratch down his chest over his shirt. “I want you to fuck my holes.”

Harry groans, throwing his head back. His cock begins to chub up, pressed against her thigh. He hoists her above his shoulder and carries her to his room. Caroline kindly made the bed they’re about to wreck.

Briar gets on the bed, quickly ridding herself of her clothes.

“How do you want me, Daddy?”

Harry is unbuckling his pants from the other side of the room.

“Mm, I think I want Hole #1 first.”

She cocks her head. Her mouth, she guesses?

She kneels, waiting for him to approach her. He stands at the foot of the bed, so she readjusts so she’s laying down, giving him a perfect view of her plug from his vantage point. She waits for his approval to start. The vein on the ridge of his cock looks enticing.

With her palms flat on the bed, Briar extends her neck to gently swirl her tongue at the tip of his cock. Closing her eyes at the taste, she welcomes him in half way, giving her mouth a delicious stretch. Harry places his hand on the back of her neck and snaps his hips forward, sending his cock straight down her throat.

Muffled, she screams, contracting her throat around him. He completes three more thrusts before pulling out of her, a string of her saliva connecting her lip and his tip. She peers up at him, her eyes landing on his dimpled smirk.

“Being such a good girl f’me.”

He pushes her head down his cock once more, gathering her hair into one hand. He uses his other hand to hold her head against him, brushing her nose against his pubic bone. He feels that familiar rumbling in his lower abdomen, so he pulls her off by her hair.

She sputters, looking up at him again. She doesn’t wipe her mouth of spit, because she knows he likes too see her fucked out at the end.

Harry joins her on the bed, laying his head right at the headboard.

“Come have a seat, lovie.”

Briar’s pussy twitches in excitement. She climbs on him, lowering herself on his mouth gently. He wastes no time diving in, making Briar clamp her legs around him in her crouched position. Harry opens her legs wide, and bends his knees, so she puts her hands behind her to rest on them like she’s in a crab position.

She’s already sopping wet. All Harry has to do is touch her for 30 more seconds and she’ll be begging to come. Paired with his intense licks and intrusions to her quivering hole, Harry reaches underneath to play with her plug. He slowly pulls it in and out of her. Her eyes roll back in her head.

He sticks his middle and ring finger into her cunt, feverishly thrusting them in and out. Paired with the plug going in and out, she’s a goner. But it isn’t a regular orgasm she’s feeling; it feels far more intense. She and Harry make eye contact, and he smiles, leaning his head back slightly with his mouth open.

Briar starts howling, and before she knows it, a rush of liquid shoots out of her, directly onto Harry’s whole face.

“Oh my god, Daddy!”

Harry returns to her cunt, lapping up the liquid, determined to make her do it again. He starts up the same process, this time quickening his pace. She reaches that feeling again, this time somehow more intense than the last.

“Again, baby. I want it.”

With a pathetic whimper, she releases again, this time mostly on Harry’s chest. He hasn’t shaved his chest hair in a bit, so the liquid pools deliciously in between his pecs.

(adding pic for science ....)

“Daddy,” Briar whines. “I can’t hold myself up anymore.”

“Okay, Birdie. Turn around for me. You’re gonna ride me facing the other way so I can see that little plug.”

Briar musters up the strength to turn around. She lines herself up over his cock, sinking down slowly. The plug slightly wiggles out of her as she moves, so Harry grabs it and pushes it back in.

She starts bouncing and swinging her hips around, trying to find that spot. She has a feeling Harry isn’t going to help her.

Though he loves looking at her ass, he wishes he could see her tits bouncing in front of his face.

“Baby, grab y’tits for Daddy. Want you to touch yourself how I do.”

Briar grips her tits; she’s not the most well-endowed in that department, but she has a solid handful. She lowers her neck to try and lick at her own nipple. She hums, swirling her tongue around the sensitive bud.

She ceases bouncing, sinking all the way down onto his cock. Harry reaches around to press on her lower belly, feeling himself inside her.

“So good, baby. Your cunt was made for me. Who’s cunt is that?”

“Yours, Daddy! Don’t want anyone but you,” she cries.

Harry groans, finally thrusting into her. He feels her clench before releasing again. A little liquid seeps out, but not nearly as much as the last two. His girl is proper worn out.

Briar is drooling; her mouth hanging wide open from pleasure.

“Stick your thumb in your mouth, baby. Know you feel empty.”

She does it, suckling immediately. She doesn’t know how he reads her so well. She’d prefer his thumb, but this will do.

“Daddy, pleathe,” she whimpers.

“F-fuck yesssss,” Harry hisses, finally feeling like he’s about to come. “He we go, baby. Take my cock. Take my load.”

“I want it, I want, I want it!”

With that, Harry releases, draining everything he’s got in him. He feels like a hollow shell of a man. Briar drops down, her sweaty forehead resting on Harry’s shins. She clumsily turns around, his cock still lodged in her. She lays with her head on his chest, a little grossed out by the dampness.

“Daddy?” She says softly.

“Hm?” He asks, eyes closed.

“I thought you were gonna fuck my… my ass,” she trails off.

He scratches her back, “still think you need time, baby. How’s Daddy gonna fit in that tiny little hole?”

She laughs, clearly still feeling floaty. He zeros in on the stickiness surrounding them, so he encourages Briar to pull off of him, despite her protest.

“I know, baby. Let’s go get you cleaned up.”

To get away from prying eyes, Harry invites Briar to one of his other country clubs, Ashmont. She’s not familiar with this club, or any of the members or employees. For once, they can be themselves in public.

For dinner, they’re in their nicest clothes. For Briar, a fitted, black dress and strapped heels; for Harry, an all black suit with yellow tinted sunglasses. He looks delicious, and Briar is struggling to sit still.

They talk about her MBA program, and some of the things she’s learning. Harry listens intently, asking follow up questions. Harry tells her about new investments and how Niall made a fool of himself in their last meeting by calling the CEO the wrong name several times.

The couple are sat at a lounge-style table, away from view of the rest of the patio. They’re pressed together, enjoying their wine and appetizers. Briar is feeling bold; clearly having learned nothing from her punishment earlier in the week.

She starts to move her hand up Harry’s thigh, moving dangerously close to his crotch. Harry clears his throat, grabbing his wine glass and taking a large sip.

“Birdie,” he begins. “What’re you doing?”

“Nothing, Daddy,” she says softly.

“If you don’t stop moving that little hand, it’s gonna be tied up for a long, long time.”

“Is that a threat?” She looks at him, gingerly sipping her wine. “Will you excuse me? I think I have to run to the ladies room. These panties feel too tight.”

Harry has an iron grip on his wine glass as he watches his girl go to the bathroom to taunt him. He counts to 25 before standing up and following her to the loo.

The bathroom area is ritzy; a large chandelier hanging over the waiting area. He cautiously opens the ladies’ room door, finding the hand washing area empty. He looks behind him before stepping inside and locking the door behind him. These country club biddies can wait.

He looks under the stalls, spotting Briar’s strappy black heels. He walks over slowly, dress shoes clicking on the floor. He lightly knocks on the stall door.

“Occupied!”

“This door will be off it’s hinges in a moment if you don’t open it.”

“Daddy? Is that you?” Briar says with fake surprise as she slowly opens the stall.

He stares at her, his jaw locked, “Whatcha doing in here, Birdie?”

Briar bites her lip. “Nothing?”

“Mhm. What do you have on under your dress?”

“Nothing?”

Harry reaches for the hem of her dress, pulling it back before letting out a groan. Her perfect bare pussy absolutely dripping.

“Daddy, can you touch me? Then I’ll be good throughout dinner?”

He nods, rolling his eyes. Upon making contact with her clit, Briar’s eyes close, her head rolling to her shoulder. Harry kisses down her exposed neck, holding back from marking her. He rubs around her clit, paying more attention to the left side than the right. She keens at the sensitivity.

Briar begins panting, and puts her hands on his shoulder, “I’m close, Daddy,” she chokes out.

He circles the nerve endings a bit more, before they hear a knock on the door. The sudden attention to the door and Harry’s sloppy rubbing of her clit make her cum instantly.

Harry smirks, kissing her neck. “I think someone wants to be caught one of these days.”

She rolls her eyes, smoothing out her dress. She opens the stall while Harry stands on the toilet seat so no one can see his shoes.

She hustles to the door, unlocking to find an older woman, her frown lines prominent.

“Sorry about that, not sure how that got locked.”

The woman continues past her, entering the stall next to Harry’s.

Briar sticks her hand under the hand dryer, eliciting a loud noise throughout the bathroom, giving Harry the opportunity to jump off the toilet seat and make a run for it.

They leave the restroom hand in hand, giggling the whole way back to their table.

They’re about halfway through their second bottle of 1982 Gaja Barbaresco, when another couple stops at their table. The man reaches out to shake Harry’s hand, and Harry rises to meet him.

“Harry! How are you? It’s been ages since we’ve seen you here,” he bellows.

“Jonathan, so good to see you,” he shakes his hand before turning his attention to the woman. “Annalise, I hope you’re well,” he gives her a kiss on her cheek.

Harry turns to introduce Briar. “This is my girlfriend, Briar,” he smiles. Briar smiles at the couple, extending her hand to both of them. Her stomach starts to swirl at the word ‘girlfriend’, still not used to the term to the people outside their bubble.

The men begin to chat, Briar tuning them out until her ears perk up at the next words out of Jonathan’s mouth.

“I thought you swore off Wynnewood after Camille called off the wedding? What brought you back there?” Jonathan asks.

Harry’s eyes widen, not daring to look in Briar’s direction. He hadn’t yet divulged that part of his life to her. He presses his fingernails into his palms to self regulate.

She’s not naïve; Harry is 41. He’s bound to have had serious relationships in the past, but an engagement? She feels he should have shared that with her by now. She’s successfully tuned out the rest of the conversation, opting to look at the floor.

Jonathan rambles on for 10 more minutes, Harry anxiously nodding to everything he's saying. He lets up when the hostess interrupts to let them know their table is ready.

Harry sends the couple off, before aggressively dragging his chair to be directly next to hers, their knees touching. He places a gentle touch on her thigh.

“Baby, this is not at all the place I ever wanted to have this discussion,” he says quietly, a subtle shake in his voice.

Briar is silent, unsure what to even say. They’d spent hours talking about any subject; sharing each other’s deepest secrets, or so she thought. They spent hours in his hammock planning her future animal sanctuary and retiring together in Jackson Hole, Wyoming. No where in that time was a fiancée mentioned.

To have the best evening and months spent together come crashing down in a matter of seconds; Briar can’t stomach it.

He is unsettled by her silence. His spunky, firecracker of a girl who always has something to say, is silent. He takes out his wallet, hands shaking and leaves $600 to cover the bottles of wine and the appetizers that have gone uneaten. He firmly guides her out of the restaurant to his car by her elbow, scared that if he lets go, she'll bolt.

He’s taking huge strides in the parking lot, before Briar drops his hand and begins falling behind. He feels a twinge in his heart.

“I don’t know if I can go with you right now,” she says quietly.

“Baby, I— I need to get this out in the open. Tell you everything. Absolutely everything,” he pleads, his voice cracking. He places his hands on his head to ground himself. “Please, come with me. Let’s go home.”

Tears are threatening to fall from his eyes, his breathing getting more labored. There is more to the story than Jonathan revealed.

She silently agrees, slowly walking to the passenger side door. She opens it and slowly sits down, leaning her head on the window sadly after she shuts the door.

Harry’s knuckles are white as he grips the steering wheel, feeling like he can throw up at any time. He gets them to the house in record time, jumping out of the car to help her out. She welcomes his assistance to step out, but doesn’t take his hand when he offers.

They go inside to his big comfy couch, the scene of their first connection. They sit adjacent to one another, a full foot of space between them. They haven’t been this far apart in ages.

After a few excruciating minutes of silence, Harry speaks up, “Do—do you want me to tell you everything, or would you like to ask me questions?”

She ponders, staring at her finger nails. “Questions,” she whispers.

He nods, staring at her intently. She can take as long as she’d like.

She swallows thickly, “Tell me about her.”

“S-sure. Camille was the first woman I dated after college. We were introduced by mutual friends from when I studied abroad in France,” he begins, his voice wavering. Briar’s expression is blank, waiting for him to continue. “She’s a model and an editorial writer for a magazine there.”

“How long were you together?”

“We were together about nine years. Things got very serious, very fast. After a year of long distance, she moved to the US, since I finally got my green card through work,” Harry clears his throat.

“We lived in several cities around the country, but spent most of our time in New York. We moved back to this area to be able to have a home and be close to friends,” he inhales.

“I proposed to her when we closed on our house. This was about 8 years ago, around the time I joined the club. We planned the entire wedding at Wynnewood, and three days before, I found a letter on our bed with the ring sitting beside it,” Harry sniffles, not wanting to cry.

“It said she was pregnant, but just couldn’t see herself raising the baby with me — or in the US. She moved back to France, and I’ve barely heard from her since.”

Briar's eyes close at the word pregnant. She reopens them, willing herself not to cry.

“I just know I have a son and that he’s 7 years old,” Harry exhales, staring sadly into Briar’s eyes. Her heart sinks below her feet. “I wanted to tell you so many times. I promise, I did.”

Briar’s heart breaks into a million pieces as the man she thought she knew falls apart in front of her.

—————————

IM SORRY IM SOSORRY SORRY OK.. TALK TO ME AFTER U READ OK

Tags:

@daphnesutton @pandeebearstyles @anxiouswaterss @gem1712 @stylesfever @awesomenavy @crazygirlinthisworld @butdaddyilovehim-hs @luxiorchive @alchemxx @narry-heart

#harry styles fanfic #fairway to heaven #harry styles smut #dom!harry #harry styles fanfiction #daddy!harry #oh my god #older!harry #harry styles imagine #harry styles #daddy!h

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lilacmingi · 1 year ago

Text

HOUSEGUEST

My works are 14+ ONLY. If you’re under 14 DO NOT interact with me or any of my works

Pairing: Vampire!Chan & Vampire!Hyunjin x fem reader

Word count: 4,522

Note: First imagine on this account aaaaa I’m so excited! This was one of the first imagines I started working on for this account all the way back in September 2021. It’s inspired by Red Lights (obviously) and my love for vampires. I hope you all enjoy <3

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The black vehicle you were in rolled to a stop in front of a lofty mansion surrounded by trees that had shed their leaves, their scraggly branches looking like bony, needlelike fingers reaching out in different directions. The whole place had such an eerie feel to it you wondered if the driver had taken you to the wrong place by accident. You were scheduled to have dinner at a mansion with some businessmen, but you weren't quite sure this was the right one.

"It looks abandoned." You analyzed aloud after stepping out of the vehicle. "I don't think anyone lives here."

You turned around only to find that the car had pulled away and was already at the end of the driveway. Your mouth dropped open in disbelief. Seeing as you had no way to get back, you decided to at least knock on the door and see if anyone happened to occupy the home.

The place looked uninhabited and dilapidated. The wooden siding appeared weathered and worn and vines had wound their way up the front of the home. The boards on the porch groaned under your feet as you advanced towards to the front door, giving it a few knocks.

You waited for an answer, but didn't get one, so you knocked once more. Still no answer.

Why would you be scheduled to have dinner at an abandoned house? Could there have been a mistake?

You were fully preparing to walk away when the door slowly creaked open, a middle-aged man sticking his head out.

"Oh. Hello, I'm-"

"Y/n L/n." The man cut you off. "They've been expecting you. Please, come in."

The man, who you assume was a butler, pulled open the door, allowing you to walk in. He then led you into a dining room.

Like the rest of the house, the dining area was dimly lit. The table was draped in a red cloth and decorated with black candles, pearls and vases. Something that caught your attention was that there were only three chairs at the table; one on either end and one sitting in the middle.

"Please, have a seat." The butler pulled out a chair for you.

You thanked him, taking your place at the table. Your eyes wandered around the room, taking in the gothic-style decor, noting how some items looked straight out of the 1800s.

Two men emerged from the entryway and into the dining room. One was tall, slim, and had long, dark hair. The other had a strong build, a slim waist, and blonde hair.

Their appearances threw you off, as they both looked young. You wondered if these two were the people you were supposed to be meeting with. You watched as they each took a seat at either end of the table, the blonde on your left, the dark-haired one on your right.

"Hello. You must be Y/n." The taller one smiled softly.

"Yes." You nodded. "I am."

"It's nice to meet you. I'm Hyunjin."

"We've been looking forward to this meeting." The blonde spoke up, his Australian accent prominent. "I'm Chan."

"It's a pleasure to meet you both."

"It certainly is." Hyunjin grinned.

"Let's get this dinner started, shall we? How about we bring in the appetizers?" Chan suggested.

"That sounds good."

He snapped his fingers and called for who you assume was the butler. Sure enough, the older man who answered the door minutes earlier came in with a rolling cart carrying three plates and two bottles of alcohol.

"Serve the lady first." Chan instructed.

The food and beverage cart came to a stop beside you and a plate was placed before you.

"Wine or champagne?" The butler questioned.

"Champagne please."

"Excellent choice, madam." He grabbed one of the bottles, popping the cork before pouring some into a glass.

He made his way around the table and served the two men of the house before exiting the room leaving the three of you alone.

The atmosphere was uncomfortably awkward. Just who were these guys? They were quite young and appeared to be in their twenties you assumed, maybe they're the business owner's sons. They had to be. That would be the only reasonable explanation.

Picking up your fork, you took a bite of the food that was served, letting out a quiet hum of satisfaction.

"So, Y/n, your family has done a lot for the business." Chan spoke up, cutting through the deafening silence that was hanging in the air.

"Thank you."

"We're both wondering, what are your future plans?"

"Well, I'm not too sure at the moment. My father has been giving me small tasks for the business, but I'm not so sure I want to take over."

"That's understandable." Chan nodded. "It's nice to have options."

"What about marriage?" Hyunjin inquired.

You were caught off guard by his question.

"Marriage?" You choked out.

You missed the way Chan glared at Hyunjin from across the table.

"Of course. An heiress to a large family business should be looking for a husband, no?" He raised a brow, taking a sip of wine.

"Well, as I said, I'm not sure if I want to take over the business." You decided to gloss over the marriage part, hoping he would drop it.

"And marriage?" He inquired. "A young woman your age should be thinking about settling down."

"That's a bit old-fashioned, is it not?" You countered.

"It is." Chan cut in rather firmly. "It's very old-fashioned."

Hyunjin glared sharply at the blonde across the table, the eldest's eyes narrowing in warning.

"You have a beautiful home." You spoke up, hoping to steer the subject away from marriage as well as loosen some of the tension that seemed to be looming in the air. "It's really nice. Though, it seems like a lot of space for just two people."

"Yes, it often feels empty here." Chan commented somberly. "All this space and no one to share it with."

"Perhaps I could give you a tour." Hyunjin offered with a charming grin, but Chan knew he had an ulterior motive.

"Perhaps after dinner we can both give you a tour." He cut in.

Hyunjin gripped the base of his wine glass in agitation, his patience being tested and pushed to its limits by his older counterpart.

"I would love that." You smiled, completely oblivious to what was going on.

"I should have said this earlier, but you look ravishing." Chan complimented, trying to keep the atmosphere amicable. "That color suits you very well."

"Oh." You brushed your hair back. "Thank you."

Chan swallowed at the sight of your exposed neck, his fingers curling as he gripped his knee in an attempt to ground himself. Hyunjin seemed to be in the same boat, looking as if he could pounce at any moment. Of course, Chan wouldn't let that happen.

"I apologize for being so awkward." You spoke up, shifting in your seat. "I wasn't expecting to be having dinner with the sons of the company owners."

Chan let out a short chuckle of amusement.

"We are the owners, love." Hyunjin answered.

Your eyes winded as a wave of embarrassment hit you. "Oh. I'm so sorry. You're both so young, I just assumed-"

"It's a common misconception." Chan cut in calmly. "It's no problem at all."

Though slightly embarrassed, Chan made you feel better, his tone holding no malice whatsoever. Reaching for your flute of champagne, you took a sip, your mind running through topics to talk about in hopes to fill the eerie silence that seemed to keep settling over the vast dining room.

Hyunjin's dark eyes were trained on you as you took a sipped your champagne, his tongue darting out to lick his lips as he imagined what it would be like to sink his fangs into your flesh, his thirst starting to override his conscience.

Chan leered across the table at his housemate with a stern expression on his face, silently telling the younger vampire to behave. They'd discussed this prior to the meeting, yet Hyunjin was going against everything they talked about. He could see the temptation on the younger man's face and the way he was slowly breaking down, succumbing to his thirst.

Hyunjin glanced over as Chan shook his head.

"Don't even think about it." He whispered under his breath just loud enough for his friend to hear.

Hyunjin merely rolled his eyes. He was always bad at following rules and even worse at controlling his thirst.

Chan observed his younger comrade, watching the way his jaw clenched, his nails digging into the wood of the dining table, Chan could hear the timber cracking under the inhuman grip of Hyunjin.

The eldest cleared his throat, grabbing the attention of the dark-haired man and momentarily snapping him out of whatever daze he was falling into.

As dinner progressed, there was little talk of the business and what the future held for it.

Once dessert was served, Hyunjin's self-control was hanging by a thread and Chan was very much aware of that, you on the other hand were oblivious to quite literally everything. That's why when Hyunjin's brown irises started swirling with that all too familiar red hue that Chan decided to do something.

"Excuse me for a moment." Chan slowly pushed himself up from the table, giving a tight smile. "Hyunjin, may I speak to you alone for a moment?"

"What ever for?"

Chan's hand came down hard on Hyunjin's shoulder, clutching the fabric of his jacket.

"I think you know."

The younger male pushed himself up from the table reluctantly following his housemate out of the dining room, leaving you alone to wonder what sort of disagreement the two might be having. The entire time you'd been there the atmosphere was less than amicable, a tenseness accompanying the false friendliness.

"I have to have her." Hyunjin all but growled under his breath once the two males were well out of earshot.

"You can't. We talked about this beforehand."

"I just want a taste." He took a step forward only to be stopped by Chan's body.

"I won't let you."

"You want her too." He pointed out. "I can see it on your face."

Chan's jaw clenched in response. "That may be true, but unlike you I know how to control myself."

"Come on, Chan. I know you can smell her from here."

Hyunjin was provoking him and Chan knew that, but it wouldn't work.

"I'm going back out there and you can't stop me. So don't get in my way."

At that, Chan grabbed Hyunjin's collar, roughly jerking him forward

"I'm much stronger than you. I could easily take you. Remember that." Chan reminded lowly in Hyunjin's ear, though it sounded more like a threat.

The youngest's tongue poked the inside of his cheek in agitation as his eyes glared sharply at Chan who was really testing his patience.

"I said don't get in my way." He hissed, baring his fangs.

"Very well, then. You know what has to happen." Chan told him, his voice eerily calm but almost patronizing at the same time.

"Don't you dare."

"It's for her safety."

Chan stood over Hyunjin, chains in his hands, watching as his friend struggled under the restraints that had been wrapped around him.

"I hate you." Hyunjin spat.

Chan wasn't phased in the slightest by the harsh words spilling from the younger's lips only tightening the chains in response.

Hyunjin writhed under the shackles, his fangs bared as he tried to free himself.

"Better not let Y/n see you like this." Chan taunted with a smirk. "She'll think you're a monster."

"I'm gonna kill you."

"I'd like to see you try."

Hyunjin jerked on the chains once more, trying to sit up, only to be held back. He let out a low growl, annoyed at his confinement.

"This for your own good, Hyunjin. I can't have you hurting our guest."

"You just want her all to yourself."

"Maybe, but I also don't want her drained dry by you. She came here for a business dinner, not to be our dinner."

With Hyunjin confined to the bed and the threat now taken care of, Chan slipped out of the room and returned to the dining area where you sat.

"Sorry about that."

"Where's Hyunjin?"

Chan let out a regretful sigh. "There's something I need to tell you about him."

"What is it?"

"He's very dangerous. You shouldn't be around him."

"He is?" You asked, softly.

"Yes. You'd better stay close to me."

"Where is he?"

"Don't worry about that. He's not nearby, which is all that matters." He told you. "Now, how about that tour? I would love to show you around."

You momentarily wondered what was so dangerous about Hyunjin and considered excusing yourself, but Chan had such a comforting and welcoming energy you couldn't possibly say no to him.

"Okay."

"Wonderful." He smiled, offering you his hand. "Shall we begin?"

You took his hand and allowed him to lead you out of the dining room and into the massive living room, the couch and chairs made of maroon velvet. Upon closer inspection you were able to see intricate swirls and curls that were carved into the dark cherry wood lining the top of the backrest. A dust-free coffee table sat in front of the couch, a modern abstract art sculpture placed in the middle.

"The furniture is beautiful." You complimented. "Thank you. It was passed down to Hyunjin and I."

"You're lucky to have such beautiful furniture. These pieces are like something straight out of a castle."

"Ah, well, we like the gothic, vintage aesthetic."

Chan continued on, leading you to a study, then an art studio which he said belonged to Hyunjin. Some of his works were hung on the walls, most of them depicting landscapes and other scenery painted with watercolor or oil paints while others were sketched with pencil.

You walked in step with Chan as he strode down the massive corridor lined with vintage paintings and vases on pedestals. You came to a stop, taking a moment to admire the plants.

"Beautiful flowers." You commented, gazing at the vase full of crimson blooms.

"Do you know what the meaning of red roses are, Y/n?" Chan inquired.

You shook your head. "I don't."

"They symbolize passion, romance... desire." His gaze trailed over, eyeing you up and making you shy away from him.

"I see." You murmured, feeling your cheeks burn. "I need to use the lady's room, if you don't mind. Where can I find it?"

"Ah, of course. It's just down the hall. Turn the corner and keep going until you reach the door with the purple flowers beside it."

You responded with a quiet thank you before scurrying off. You didn't actually have to use the restroom, you just needed to go somewhere private to collect yourself. Both Chan and Hyunjin have been extremely charming and flirtatious since you arrived at the manor, this attention being something you weren't used to and it left you feeling a bit overwhelmed.

The hallways in the mansion were like a maze. Each door looked the same, making it harder to keep track. Even with Chan's instructions you weren't sure where the restroom was.

The door with the purple flowers. You repeated mentally, looking at each vase that lined the hall, stopping when you spotted the violet-hued blooms, the only problem was the flowers sat between two doors.

Maybe it's this one.

You reached out and twisted the knob, pushing the door on the left open, but it wasn't the restroom you found.

To your surprise, Hyunjin was splayed out on the bed, his lithe body wrapped in chains. He jerked on the metal restraints, growling as he tried and failed to escape.

When you entered the room, his head lifted, his crimson irises boring into you. You stepped back, startled by the unnatural and unsettling sight.

"Hyunjin?"

His eyes gleamed at the sight of you.

"Y/n." He purred. "There you are."

"I was just looking for the restroom." You squeaked out. "I got lost."

"Seems you have."

The way he was looking at you made you feel as if you were a piece of meat, prey that was seconds from being devoured. Before you could even try leaving, Hyunjin spoke up.

"Come closer." He said, his voice silken and sultry.

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why?"

"Chan says I need to stay away from you."

"Well, Chan's a liar. He's even more dangerous than me."

"What do you mean?"

"Come closer and I'll tell you."

You looked at him warily.

"Come on, Y/n. I won't bite."

Your foot moved forward as you took a step towards the bed, your heart pounding in your chest, hammering against your rig cage. Hyunjin could hear it loud and clear, his mouth watering as he thought about the delicious blood your racing heart was pumping through your body.

Everything in you screamed at you to turn around and leave, but something about Hyunjin drew you to him and you couldn't seem to stop yourself. You came to a stop beside the bed, making sure to keep your distance as you took in his restrained form.

"Come a little closer." He breathed.

"Why are you chained up?" You asked, ignoring his request.

"Lean down and I'll whisper it to you."

Slowly you began to lean down closer to Hyunjin, his sanguine irises seeming to glow as the space between the both of you diminished, then just before you could get too close, a hand reached out to grab hold of your arm and jerk you back away from the dark-haired male. You bumped into a firm chest, causing a grunt to slip from you.

"What are you doing in here?" Chan asked.

It was then that you realized it was him who had grabbed you.

When did he get in here?

"I'm sorry. I went in the wrong room." You apologized.

"You need to get out." He told you sternly, leading you towards the bedroom's entrance.

"I knew I should have locked the door." He grumbled under his breath.

"Y/n, don't let him take you." Hyunjin called from the bed.

You turned to Chan. "What's he talking about?"

"Nothing. He's not in his right mind."

"He's a wolf in sheep's clothing." Hyunjin continued.

He was lying through his teeth. Chan was responsible and fully capable of controlling his bloodthirsty tendencies, but Hyunjin wanted you so badly he was willing to say whatever to get you to trust him.

Chan was quick to push you behind him.

"Leave." He demanded.

You took a hesitant step back, watching the way his eyes never left Hyunjin's, the two glaring at each other with such anger, it permeated the air. In that moment, you could have sworn you saw Chan's eyes flash the same crimson hue as Hyunjin's.

You slowly started backing towards the door, the animosity so palpable it was nearly suffocating you. Your hand reached for the doorknob.

"Don't leave."

It was Hyunjin that spoke.

"Stay and watch the show."

You turned to see a dark and amused smirk on his face. Chan grabbed him by the collar, the chains jingling in response to his harsh actions.

"I can't believe you." He growled. "This was supposed to be a civil dinner and you can't go five minutes without thinking about feeding."

Feeding?

"You wouldn't have to worry about that if you just let me do what I wanted. You're always getting in the way!" Hyunjin hissed, two sharp fangs on display making you gasp, your back hitting the door as you stepped further away from the two.

"Well, when letting you do what you want could cause harm to our dinner guest, I have to step in and intervene."

"I wasn't going to kill her. I just wanted a taste."

"What's going on?" You finally asked, having had enough of this odd behavior.

There was something that you didn't know and you hated that they were arguing as if you weren't standing right there in the room. Not only that, but you were starting to get scared and wondered if you were in danger.

"I didn't want it to come to this." Chan sighed, turning towards you, his irises matching Hyunjin's. "Unfortunately, you've walked into a house of vampires."

Your body went cold, limbs going numb as you felt the blood drain from your face.

Vampires.

As outlandish and impossible as it sounded, it made sense. The eerie vibe that seemed to loom over the mansion, the antique decor inside, Hyunjin's glowing red eyes, and both boys' odd behavior. It all added up. You knew the truth, but you couldn't seem to process it.

"Look, you've scared her." Hyunjin remarked from his restrained position.

"You're the one who scared her." Chan snapped, agitated at his younger housemate for ruining the evening.

Out of all the questions and phrases swarming around your jumbled and confused mind, the words that came out were, "I need to leave."

Before you could even reach for the doorknob, Chan was standing before you, stopping you from doing anything.

"Not so fast."

You stiffened, fearing the thought of what he might do to you and what he was capable of.

"You can't leave without letting me explain."

"Then explain."

Chan gave a glance to Hyunjin before pulling you out of the room, ignoring the younger vampire's protests as he did so.

"I'm sorry you had to see that." He apologized once you were standing out in the hallway.

You didn't respond, instead taking a step away from Chan in hopes to put a little distance between the both of you.

"Despite what you saw, Hyunjin knows how to control himself. However, some days are a struggle—especially today. I had to chain him up in order to keep him from doing something stupid. Our plan was to have a nice meal with you and discuss business."

"You didn't exactly do that."

"No, and I blame Hyunjin for that. He was getting way off topic earlier."

Though Chan seemed to be the most level-headed between the two, you didn't want to let your guard down completely. After all, these are vampires you're dealing with. If there was some truth in those not-so-fictitious stories, then Chan and Hyunjin's kind were very persuasive.

"You're not going to hurt me, are you?"

It was a stupid question to ask. He could very easily lie and say he would never lay a finger on you.

Chan seemed taken aback at your inquiry, his expression showing the slight offense he had taken due to the query. "No. Of course not."

You studied his features, gazing warily into his crimson irises. He could sense your unease and was quick to return to his normal appearance, not wanting to make you any more uncomfortable than you already were.

"I promise. You have my word, Y/n."

A beat passed before you nodded. "Alright."

You hoped you wouldn't regret that.

He took a single step forward and it took everything in you not to back away.

"I didn't even ask if you were okay." He tilted his head to the side, one of his hands coming up to cup your cheek as he scanned your face, concern etched onto his alluringly handsome features.

You had to admit, despite knowing Chan and Hyunjin were both vampires, you couldn't deny the fact that they were both incredibly good-looking and charming.

They could drain you dry in less than a minute. A voice in your head reminded you.

But the way Chan's thumb dragged along your bottom lip so delicately was making you think differently.

Hyunjin, who was just on the other side of the door, could hear how fast your heart was beating. He jerked on the chains in another failed attempt to break or loosen them, growling in agitation when they didn't budge, only rattling due to his abrupt movements.

"I know what you're doing!" He yelled from inside. "You want her all to yourself!"

"I would suggest continuing the tour of the mansion, but I think it's best we send you home." Chan mentioned, dropping his hand from your face, choosing to ignore his younger counterpart's comments from inside the room.

Home. You liked the sound of that.

This day had been far too strange for your liking.

"What about him?" You asked.

"I'll deal with him later. A blood bag is all he needs to calm him down."

The mention of the bodily fluid made the corner of your mouth twitch downward in distaste. He spoke about it so casually as if it was a normal thing—well, for them it was.

"Follow me." Chan extended his hand, but you didn't take it.

He slowly retracted his outstretched palm, resting his hands behind his back and striding down the hallway.

Back in the living room, Chan offered you a seat on the sofa. You obliged, keeping your hands folded in your lap and your eyes fixed on the floor. The feeling of the couch cushion sinking next to you grabbed your attention. Sitting right beside you on the sofa was Chan, his deep brown eyes gazing at you, scanning over your features.

He brought his hand up to your face, his thumb caressing your cheek, a gentle smile on his full lips, which you noticed were incredibly pretty.

"I'm glad you're okay, my sweet."

The term of endearment made your heart flip despite being on edge around him.

Your gaze stayed locked on Chan as he leaned in and pressed a delicate kiss just underneath your ear, hesitant in his actions as if to test the waters. Your mind screamed danger but you couldn't seem to move away. You wondered if he was capable of compelling people like the movies depict or if he was just that charming.

His kisses moved further down your neck, nearing your carotid artery. Your breath hitched in response, worried of what his true intentions were.

"I won't hurt you." He assured gently, pressing another kiss to your skin.

The sound of a car horn outside made Chan pull away. He got to his feet and moved over to see who it was.

"Oh." Chan peered out the window. "Looks like your ride is here."

Though he proved to not be a threat, you couldn't help but feel a sense of relief.

"I should go, then." You responded, keeping your voice even so as not to give away how eager you were to leave the mansion.

Despite your efforts to appear calm, Chan could hear how rapidly your heart was racing and he knew it wasn't from the kiss.

He led you over to the front entrance and allowed you to step outside where you muttered a goodbye over your shoulder and got inside the car, not closing the door just yet.

"Come back soon, yeah?" Chan grinned, waving at you from the doorway.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Masterlist ᝰ — enjoyed this imagine? reblogs & comments are very much appreciated!

DO NOT steal, plagiarize, copy, repost, alter, or translate my works in any way

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

#hyunjin #bang chan #hyunjin x reader #bang chan x reader #stray kids #stray kids vampire au #stray kids imagines #stray kids oneshot #kpop imagines #kpop oneshots #hyunjin x you #hyunjin x y/n #chan x reader #bang chan x you #bang chan x y/n #chan x you #chan x y/n

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gretavanlace · 2 years ago

Text

Here, have a fluffy little Josh blurb inspired by those adorable grocery store pics. No warnings needed. Mini-fluff by gretavanlace?! This may never happen again. Back to our regularly scheduled smut programming later on tonight 💖

“Do you think they have one of those lobster tanks here?” Josh asks, scanning the items lining the shelves as he strolls by. “You know, the ones where they’re alive and you pick the one you want?”

“I don’t know,” you shrug, plucking up a bottle of soy sauce. “Why?”

He scrunches his nose, openly disgusted with your choice. “Don’t get that kind.” He shakes his head and replaces the bottle in the cart with the most expensive offered, instead. “Fuckin’ store brands…”

“You’re a food and beverage snob.” You sigh, more than used to his antics by now. “But, back to before.”

“Hmm?”

He’s moved onto something new in his scattered head, so you steer him back on course gently. “The lobsters?”

“Oh,” recollection illuminates his face, raising his eyebrows adorably. “I just thought we could buy them all. You know, set them free.”

His shoulders rise and fall with a little shrug, cheeks coloring pink when he decides it’s a dumb idea after all. “Where though?” He asks himself aloud. “Not an ocean in sight.”

“We could drive.” You offer with a soft hand on his back, both of you ambling towards the bakery in search of bagels. “Get a cooler. Fill it with water to keep them comfy along the way. Give them names. Toss them into the sea and wave them off. Little rescue mission.”

“Make love in the sand after, to celebrate their freedom.” He adds, bumping his hip against your own.

“Josh!” You hiss playfully, glancing around to see if anyone has overheard.

“What?” He questions a bit louder, pretending to misunderstand. “Did you not hear me?” Louder still. “I said we could roll around in the sand and fu—“

You twist a swift pinch into his stomach through the soft cotton of his shirt. “Joshua Michael, I will leave you in this grocery store. I swear to god, I will.”

Your favorite little giggle is his only response as he tosses a bag of blueberry bagels in next to his uppity soy sauce.

“Do we have cream cheese?” Your gaze flutters towards the ceiling, trying to conjure up the contents of your fridge.

“Just get some.” He’s pushing on now, oblivious to the squeaking, wobbling, mess of a wheel that has been grating on your nerves since he yanked the cart free of its brothers near the entrance. “‘Cause if you don’t, and we’re out, you’ll pout.”

You lose yourselves in the tea aisle for a long stretch. Pointing out different flavors and blends, laughing when he gets animatedly excited by a brand that offers its tea in pyramid-shaped bags rather than the traditional square.

Box after box is added to your spoils until you both begin to wonder where the hell you’re going to store it all.

“We need a bigger place.” He quips, off-handedly. “When we buy a house, I want one of those enormous walk-in pantries.”

Suddenly, and unexpectedly, tears are threatening to spill over your cheeks. He notices right away and stops in his tracks. “What’s wrong, baby? Don’t cry.” His fingers circle around your wrist warmly to tug your hand to his chest. “What is it?”

“Nothing. It’s just…” you duck your head to avoid any prying eyes and brush the tears away. “You think about things like that? With me?”

He tilts his head in confusion, “Like what? Buying a house?”

“Yeah.” You nod, feeling incredibly on display.

“Yeah.” He parrots. “I do. I think about all of those things with you. A house, getting married, babies…don’t you?”

“Yeah.” There’s that word again. You could swear you were both more eloquent at the beginning of this shopping excursion. “Yeah, I think about those things.”

“Things like having a big ass pantry?” He grins, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear.

The gesture, so mundane and small, makes your heart flutter right there next to an end cap display of tortilla chips. How domestic and strange.

It seems like it should feel absurd, but that couldn’t be further from the truth.

You feel safe. Intimately warm and protected…like the two of you are all alone even whilst standing in this crowded building filled with strangers milling about.

“And a fireplace?” You smile back, toying shyly with the beads resting around his neck.

“And a fireplace.” He agrees.

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muzzlemouths · 2 years ago

Note

Prompt: unsteady on feet

👀

Moon centric // Wordcount: 4001

CW for accidental drugging. (You take the equivalent of too many moondrops, nothing serious) -

You are a daycare assistant. You pick up toys, clean up messes, and organize boxes of craft supplies. That’s the job you signed up for and, presumably, the one you’re being paid for. It’s a simple enough concept. An understood agreement between you and management.

So why, pray tell, are you always doing everything else around here?

That’s the only question on your mind as you’re paving through the storage halls that sit beneath the atrium, lugging box after box of inventory into a cart and marking it away on your stupid check sheet all the while grumbling under your breath about the task at hand.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if you weren’t already in a bad mood. As it stands, however, you’re a day late and a dollar short in the good-natured employee department because your sleep debt has amassed to something of an eviction situation. That is, your soul was just going to pack up and go if you didn’t get some good shut-eye here soon.

It’s that very exhaustion which leads you to your latest lapse in judgement.

In between dusty boxes of Glamrock merch and old mapbot parts is where you find it; a crate, splintering at the edges, quarter-filled with inventory which at first glance looks older than your career. Packs of soda, to be specific.

To your utmost surprise, they have nothing at all to do with the Glamrocks or company as a whole but, rather, they appear to be styled after your very own coworkers - the daycare attendants. They’re nothing you’ve ever seen before, inside the daycare or otherwise.

You abandon your current task in favor of investigating these exciting new beverages, reaching for the brighter of the two, first, a can with orange and yellow wrapping. Your bring it up to your face and bat away the dust, attempting to get a better look at the details but finding nothing of note. Unfortunately, time has had their toll on the cans. You can make out the daycare’s emblem as well as a cartoonized decal of Sundrop to the side, the words ‘caffeinated beverage’ just barely visible, and the flavors ‘lemon, green tea and grapefruit’ directly next to that.

Your face scrunches. As enticing as that caffeine sounds right now, those flavors aren’t your favorite, and you’re not about to risk drinking mystery fizzyfaz just for a little more pep in your step. You aren’t that desperate.

Out of curiosity, you reach for the darker of the two - Moon’s, presumably - next. It’s blue and purple with an equally cute decal of Moon (the cutest you’ve ever seen, frankly, you can’t imagine yourself ever seeing him make that kind of an expression in person), and the flavors ‘black cherry and goji berry’ just beside it. Now that was more your flavor profile.

It’s still not enough to convince you. After all, these drinks are dusty and peeling at the label, you would need to be more than desperate to give them a shot - you’d have to be outright crazy!

…Or severely sleep deprived.

The can weighs heavily in your palm for a minute longer, the gears (slow with exhaustion as they may be) are rolling through your head like loose marbles, treading a path towards an awfully irresponsible decision.

Setting the clipboard down, then doing a quick check on either side of you to ensure no one is around to watch your next move, your fingernail pries the cap forward with a satisfying click-shhh, the sound of bubbly carbon dioxide hitting your ears soon after. The noise brings some semblance of relief with the knowledge that the cans aren’t as old as you originally assumed. After all, how long do sealed cans stay carbonated for? A few days? A week? Certainly not longer than that.

You take a little sniff, smelling the black cherry first, and then you shrug. A single gulp washes over your tongue. It tastes a little off, not quite stale, but maybe a little flat. Otherwise, all you’re getting is berry and the sweet fizz of sugar. You take another swallow.

The pizzaplex won’t notice one can missing and, the way you see it, you’ve worked enough hours to take that entire crate home if you so desired. Just the one can should do, though. You aren’t looking for anything special, just a pick-me-up, something to get your feet moving a little faster until you can get some proper coffee in your system. You aren’t sure if this flavor even has the same amount of caffeine in it as Sun’s - you didn’t bother checking - and if it didn’t, so what? Your shift ended in fifteen minutes, anyway, you could just toss out whatever you didn’t finish and call it a failed experiment. No harm done.

Your hands reach for the clipboard again and you get back to work, the process becoming mindless. Unload a box, mark it off your paperwork, take a sip. Load a new box into the cart, mark it down, take a sip, on and on and on.

By the time you’re back upstairs again the can is empty and crushed, tossed haphazardly into the now-empty cart, and you’re feeling…less than optimal.

Nothing serious. Your stomach isn’t twisting itself in the nauseous knots of food poisoning yet, and that’s a good sign if nothing else. Your brain, on the other hand, feels like scrambled eggs. Maybe it’s your exhaustion finally catching up with you, but your ability to process simple thoughts is quickly becoming something of a struggle.

Which is a long way of saying it takes you an embarrassing amount of time to remember where the carts go, and an even longer time trying to figure out if you did your final once-over of the Daycare already. You wind up before its large exit doors in the blink of an eye either way. Better double-check before you clock out for the night, just to be safe.

The doors are heavier than usual as you force them open. Or maybe you’re just weaker that night. Is it still night? You aren’t sure. The Daycare is totally dark when you step inside, which answers that question pretty quick, at least. You have to stop yourself from subconsciously reaching for the lightswitch so you can see better. Moon would never forgive you for that.

Speaking of, where is he?

You reach for your flashlight, then raise the can of fizzyfaz (still in your other hand, for some reason) and blindly chuck it behind the desk, where it hits the edge of the trash bin there and lands against the floor with a disappointing clatter. You sigh, feeling your entire body slouch with the weight of your defeat, and do the walk of shame to go pick it up.

Crouching just beside it, you retrieve the can and deposit it (successfully this time) into the trash, then stand to your feet again, subconsciously acknowledging the glaring red light that illuminates your back.

“Hey, Moon,” you mumble around a yawn, turning to face him - flashlight still in hand - it shines directly onto his performed stance, the trademark ‘I’m gonna getcha’ slouch.

He immediately drops the position in favor of scrambling back a foot and shoving both hands over his eyes, hissing and wailing and going on with the dramatics. When he’s settled down - after you remember to lower your flashlight, that is - he meets you with a narrow-eyed glare. “If you knew I was here,” he growls, “why in the fazfuck did you turn that thing on me!”

“Oh…” You stare down at the flashlight in your hand, blinking a few times, as if the thought hadn’t really occurred to you. “Habit, I guess,” you finally answer him with a shrug, “I didn’t really sink about it.”

Now the glower drops, and he fits you with a strange look, instead. “What was that?”

“I didn’t–” your tongue feels like cotton, fat and heavy, it sits awkwardly in your mouth like you’ve had one too many drinks, “I didn’t think about it,” you correct after a moment, “sorry, I’m supposed to be out already.” You blink, eyelids drooping. He continues to stare you down and then takes a notable step closer. “Clocked out, I mean. Not ‘out’ like passed out, or the dead kind of ‘out’, I js’ meant–”

“You’re rambling,” he notes, tone rhetorical, his eyes look you up and down. He’s closer now.

“Am I?”

“Mhm.” Another step, and you’re forced to look up at him, now, his chest sharing the space with yours, “Your numbers look fine…” he mumbles after a beat - evidently having done a quick scan without your consent, “but something is wrong, isn’t it?”

Yeah, something is wrong. Your head feels like it weighs the entire earth’s gravity, and something tells you that you’re supposed to be on the floor, but instead you’re perfectly vertical - a little wobbly - but standing all the same. Trying to formulate a smart response doesn’t come as easy as you’d like. In fact, your thoughts feel sparse at best. Something is very, very wrong.

But you aren’t going to tell him that. After all, you’re still chalking this up to sleep deprivation. And if there’s one thing Moon will get all up in your business about, it’s sleep deprivation. Your lips are sealed.

Not that it matters. You don’t answer him immediately, but instead betray yourself in taking a short and suspicious glance towards the trashcan. His eyes are quick to follow.

“What is that?”

“Just some fizthy-faz.” Choosing to ignore the way your tongue slurs into a knot, you nod towards the trash, seeing no reason to lie. It’s just soda, after all.

Moon is already reaching for it before he answers again, and when he does speak up it’s with thinly veiled disbelief, “Fizzyfaz? I don’t remember this flav–” His voice stills in its box, eyes narrowing, then blowing wide, the aluminum is forcibly smoothed out to better read the label and just as soon, he’s giving you that look. You know, the ‘you fucked up big time’ look.

“Starlight.”

“Mm?”

“Where did you get this?”

“Oh, uh,” you scratch the roof of your head, suddenly realizing that most of your night has become a sleepy blur, “down with the inventory, I think,” your palms raise to force crust away from your eyes, “I just needed some cathene - caffeine. Why?“ Hands falling back to your sides, now, you try to turn the interrogation around on him by putting a big, sloppy smirk on your face, and batting your heavy, heavy eyelashes, ”You aren’t gonna tell, are you?“

“There’s no caffeine in this.“ He answers you flatly.

“There’s not?”

No smile, no returned sass, and he’s ignoring your question entirely. That’s enough to unsettle you into behaving. Especially when he answers you with a slow and serious shake of his head.

“These were discontinued,” he says, “Did you drink the whole thing?”

“Uh,” you awkwardly nod towards the crushed can in his hands, “obviously.”

The way he sighs and crushes the can a little further makes you rethink every decision that brought you to this point. You’re feeling real weird, now. There’s a heaviness settling in your joints and a headache quickly forming, and your legs feel like they might give out.

You work your way through the ailments with the confidence of a drunken horse. “Is that…” sheepishly, your eyes move from the can to his face, “…is that a problem?”

The aluminum curls in his hand, wrenching itself into the shape of a jagged, steel ball. A noise like metal on metal comes against his faceplate like he’s grinding his teeth in place, smile wound tight.

He lets the can (or what he’s made of it) fall from his hand a beat later and instead reaches into his baggy pants and, from it, he retrieves a single moondrop candy.

You don’t like him with this expression. You aren’t used to him looking so incredibly serious.

“Star, listen closely. This is important.” He raises the candy to your face, “These candies have exactly one milligram of melatonin in them, yes? 1mg exactly.”

“Right…” You’re not sure where this is going.

He digs again into his pocket and drags two more candies from it, pooling them together in the palm of his hand, “Legally, we aren’t allowed to give the kids more than three.”

“Okay?”

“Most supplements - teas, sleep aid medications, whatever - that’s all they have in them. Three milligram of melatonin.”

“Sure.”

“You just took twenty-five.”

...

He says nothing after this, evidently waiting for the realization to hit you.

And it sure does fucking hit you. Like a sledgehammer directly to your skull, his words rattle against your fog-addled brain over and over and over. Twenty-five milligrams.

“I–” The panic comes slow, then all at once, “I have to go. Fuck, I-I have to get home.”

You brush past him with a quickness, stumbling as you go, and hardly reach the door before his hand finds the back of your shirt collar and drags you back into place.

“Not so fast,” his voice arrives at your ear as a whisper, too sweet for the expression he’s just given you, too patient for how fast your mind is trying to race, “you’re going to get yourself in a wreck that way. You won’t make it home.”

“I have to try,” you swivel to face him. Too quick. A wave of nausea washes through your system, then comes the shaking, anxiety taking its hold on you, “What other choice do I have, Moon? I can’t stay here!”

His expression doesn’t change. It’s flat, practically unreadable, yet his voice remains smooth as silk. “Well, that’s a shame,” humming, his other hand grabs for your waist, “but Sun will be awfully upset if the daycare’s assistant gets replaced this soon, so, I’m afraid you aren’t getting a choice.”

And suddenly you’re being hoisted up and into a bridal position, your legs swept out from under you and body forced horizontal at a pace that makes you dizzy. It’s not enough to keep you from fighting him.

“Moon!” Your hand grabs for purchase, first, fingers scrambling at the fabric ruffles around his neck until your head stops spinning. Just as soon you’re using that same hand to bash at his chestplate - fruitless as always - and he pays it no mind either way. Your legs feel too heavy to do any of your usual kicking, and your arm is quick to grow sore and tired.

You’re feeling halfway ready to give in by the time he reaches the ballpit and you hear a thin, familiar sound. The whir of a cord.

Working through another wave of nausea, you force your eyes open again, your struggling already reaching its second wind as the realization of what is about to happen dawns on you. “Don’t–” You land one, small hit to the chin of his faceplate, and with it, you finally regain his attention. Crimson eyes stare you down with barely contained annoyance, but you hold your ground. “D-Don’t you dare.”

There comes a moment where you wonder if you’ve pushed him too far. The arguments are normal - frequent between the two of you - all part of the game, even. He’s familiar with your thrashing and temper tantrums in the same way that you’re used to his lapses of aggression. But your fist had collided with an untrained weight to it this time, the force of it enough to see the red in his eyes flicker with static, and you think, briefly, that it could be the last time you cross him that way.

Especially when his voice challenges back.

“You’re acting recklessly,” he tells you around a snarl, “I’m trying to help, comet. I’m being kind. I could be kinder if you would stop fighting.”

Your fingers tighten around his collar. “I don’t feel right,” you remind him, “I-I’m going to die.”

“You aren’t going to die.”

Exasperated, he looks towards the cord as it lands soundlessly behind him and locks with fluid ease. There comes a new sound shortly after, an unfamiliar clink, clink, clink, unmistakably metallic, and a minute later you feel him readjusting you in his arms.

“Let me go,” you whine against his chest in vain and weakly continue to beat against it, little more than a feeble thump, now, “I don’t want you to carry me” thump “I’m fine,” thump, thump, “Don’t do this,” thump–

Your fist stills. Smooth, nimble fingers wrap delicately at your wrists and keep both in place. “Enough,” he tells you, and his voice has already remembered its patience, his frustration forcibly pushed into the corners. “Let me help.”

It takes you too long to notice that both of his arms still remain in their place at your back and behind your calves. Longer, still, to acknowledge the fourth arm that gives his wire a gentle tug.

“H-Hey,” your head turns, heavy like a boulder, to get a better look and confirm that you aren’t just hallucinating it, “since when can you do th–”

You’re plucked from the ground with nothing more than a small jostle as the wire does its job and lifts you feet above. It’s a well enough distraction, startling you from your questions, and you find yourself once again wrapping your arms around his shoulders - this is twice, now, you dully note - and clinging tight.

“Easy,” he smiles, “I’ve got you.”

This would be more embarrassing if you had half a brain left. As it stands, his chuckle is much too sweet to be read as anything more than endearing to your drug-boggled head, and you slowly allow yourself to relax in his hold.

Once at the top he settles against the balcony floor one foot at a time. The wire loosens, then falls away entirely, and it’s only when he steps further into the darkened space that you realize; you’ve never seen it before.

Their room, that is.

Sure, you’ve watched them disappear into it plenty of times from the ground, but it’s a topic that never really came up - and when it did, the subject was quickly changed. They’ve never once bothered to invite you inside. And now you can see why.

Even through the haze drowning out your senses you can tell just how…dreary, it is. A tiny, shadowed room with lackluster furnishings, cobwebs strung at the corners, and entire sections of inventory scattered throughout, you get the feeling it’s used more for storage than for living in.

Sure, there are a few things that make it appear somewhat more homey - children’s artwork taped to the walls like a refrigerator gallery, for example - but their bed (or the lack thereof) confirms your suspicions. It’s a compiled heap of blankets and pillows stolen from the daycare, and it looks downright pitiful in comparison to the Glamrocks’ lavish dressing rooms.

Your neck heavily lolls to the side in an attempt to find his eyes, but he won’t look at you, and he doesn’t look like he has any intention to.

“Don’t stare,” he mumbles, voice thin with a tension you can’t fully place. “I’ll drop you into the ballpit instead if you prefer.”

Squinting, now, you weigh your options - that is, whether or not to pry further - until your sleep deprived (and melatonin drowned) mind decides the risk is worth it. “Is this really where you guys stay when the daycare isn’t open?”

He pauses at the foot of the blanket pile. For a quick moment, all he does is stare, not quite looking you in the eye, but no longer avoiding your gaze, either, and you think he might be worried about the answer.

“No jusment - judgement,” you’re quick to add - that is, quick as your mind can process the words and get them out between your teeth, “I’m just curious.”

He doesn’t look like he believes you. Honestly, you wouldn’t either.

Rather than answer you immediately, Moon lowers himself to his knees and carefully rests you against the pile. It’s comfier than you imagined - or maybe that’s just the drink coming to full effect. “I–” his voice is too loud in the gaping silence of the daycare after hours. It starts, then quiets again. He reaches for a blanket to the side of the pile and gently begins tucking you in without finishing.

You don’t resist it, either. You don’t really have the strength to. Everything moves slow, and now even your own words come out as a slurry of incoherent mumbles. “You d’nt have to answer,” you tell him, “if it’s too hard…” a few blinks pass, and you yawn, feeling your body become one with the nest beneath you with the sensation of falling through quicksand. Your hand struggles to lift but eventually reaches his cheek, where it rests without expectation. “…if it hurts.”

Silence answers you. He says nothing while continuing to tuck the blanket until you’re thoroughly bundled, and when he feels you - the warmth of your palm at his jaw - he pauses, and then settles on his heels. “Sun finds things to do,” he speaks softly, “makes himself busy downstairs when he can. He hates the way the room makes him feel. But I–” the edges of his faceplate twist with the beginnings of a weak smile, meant to reassure you, “I don’t mind it so much.”

It doesn’t reach his eyes. Moon is, and always has been, a liar.

“Are you sure?” Your head swims through layers of thick molasses, each word like breeching the surface only to be dragged under again. It takes all of your energy to keep going but, persistently, you do. Your thumb brushes against his faceplate with the intention of soothing the truth out of him. “Aren’t you lonely?”

Hesitantly, Moon’s third hand comes to rest on top of your own, “Not right now,” he whispers, and this time his smile reaches both sides, “not when you’re here with me.”

“You big sap,” A snort escapes, sleepy laughter that makes both of you relax a little more. You return his smile, too, unsure if the warm feeling which pools in your chest is the melatonin, or the butterflies he’s created, “Will you stay with me?”

“Of course,” comes your answer, immediate and without hesitation. His face turns against your palm and presses against it, a silent kiss against your skin, “I’m not going anywhere, starlight.” Then his eyes find you, again, soft with care, “Sleep, now. You’ll feel better in the morning.”

You give him a nod, and little more than that. It’s all you can spare at first. Your hand falls back to the nest, warm with his kiss, and yet it’s not enough. You’re exhausted. You’re fuzzy in the brain, lacking proper judgement, and Moon has always offered himself as a resting place before. It feels unfair not to ask for it now, when you feel you need it most.

And so, against every fiber in your being reminding you how awkward this will be, you find yourself raising both arms and grasping for him. “Come lay wi’s me,” you manage. Only after a moment of silence on his end do you remember your manners. “Please?”

He responds with a change of expression, a flicker of something tender in his eyes. Nothing immediately comes of it. Your disappointment must be palpable, however, because after another solid beat you watch him sigh, then his shoulders are bouncing with a chuckle, sweet as saccharine, and he’s taking the edge of your blanket in one hand again and crawling between it.

He is so, so very warm. A stark contrast to the usual coolness of his silicone skin, you think it must be programmed, a heater stuffed somewhere between the gears and wiring inside his chestplate and left forgotten except for moments like this.

Once at your side he readjusts the covers to ensure you’re still well and truly snug within them. You’re engulfed by him entirely, a small and fragile body against his towering steel frame, and yet, it’s here where you feel safest. Even now, when your body sways with the motions of an experiment gone wrong.

When his arms - all four, you catch with a smile - gather around you, it feels as though he’ll never let you go.

“Better, star?” He asks against your forehead.

With a nod, your fingers tighten around his collar one final time as a sense of calm washes over you.

As the last notes of fleeting consciousness take over you feel yourself pulled taut against him, and you decide that here is right where you want to be.

#i wrote this with a hugeass headache so sorry if its uhhhh not my best work #just happy to get Anything out at this point #moondrop #moon fnaf #moon x reader #drugs cw #tttttechnically #drabbles

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melodygatesauthor · 2 years ago

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The Best Barista in the First Order

Kylo Ren X f!Reader

Part 8 of 28 in the February Fluff and Fuck 2023 Challenge

Day 8 Prompt - Coffee Shop AU (not an AU, takes place in SW universe)

Summary: The Supreme Leader is very particular about many things, and his morning coffee is no exception. Even more, he is very particular about the barista who brings him his coffee every morning, and isn't happy when he hears she is transferred to a different position on his ship.

Tags/Warnings: SFW, soft!Kylo, no smut, fluff, Kylo is protective, Kylo Ren in love, cute, sweet, coffee shop is more like a kitchen on the Finalizer and Reader works in it making coffee in the morning.

Word Count: 2.7k

You were standing in front of the doors to the command center. No matter how many times you’d brought the breakfast orders to the First Order elites, including Supreme Leader Kylo Ren, your nerves never ceased to force your body to tremble.

You walked in through the double doors when they opened, rolling your cart containing drink orders along with various pastries and muffins. You moved slowly, careful not to spill anything, and parked your cart to the side. You picked up the tray containing mugs filled with specific and preferred morning beverages. General Enrich Pryde was there, awaiting his tea. You brought it over and handed it to him. Most of the time they all pretended that you didn’t exist, and that was the way you liked it. You were a lowly kitchen worker, only there to deliver their food and drink, and then be on your way.

You walked over to your cart once again, grabbing the Supreme Leader’s cup. You’d already made a mistake, not bringing his order to him first, but that didn’t seem to be a problem. At least, no one said anything. As long as you didn’t bring attention to yourself, you would remain invisible.

You wouldn’t be invisible today though, today you were going to make a scene. Today you were going to be noticed, and grab the attention of everyone in the room. There was no telling what you tripped over. It wasn’t a shoelace, your shoe didn’t even have laces. It wasn’t your pant leg, and the floor was flat as could be. It was simply the wonderful grace of the Maker, forcing you to fall forward, flinging the Supreme Leader’s coffee hurdling at the floor in front of his feet.

The one thing you could be grateful for, was that it didn’t land anywhere on him. If it had burned him, you knew he would’ve removed your head where you lay on the floor. Panic ran through you. The only thing you could think to do was rush over on all fours and beg for forgiveness. You scurried, slamming your palms into the ground and nearly bruising your knees with how quickly you moved to him.

“Supreme Leader, sir, I am so sorry.” You said, keeping your eyes on the floor at the coffee you’d spilled there. “It was an accident I-”

“Look at me.” He demanded, surprising you.

You raised your head, meeting your gaze to the void of the mask where you knew his eyes were. He tilted his head to the side slightly. His shoulders rose and fell with each breath. He was much bigger from the floor than he seemed normally. You felt your breathing stop, and the entire room seemed to go silent. You were sure they were all waiting for you to lose your head right there in the command center.

“What is your name?” He asked.

“...” You told him.

He stood up, increasing his height over you tenfold. He held out a hand and Forced you to your feet. You clasped your fingers together nervously when he released you. You let out a breath you’d been holding in for a while. A stray tear found its way down your cheek and you felt frustrated by it. You weren’t brave in the slightest, and you wished you could be.

“Someone get the cleaners in here. You…” He pointed at you, “bring me another cup.”

You nodded, grateful to be walking away with your life, “yes, Supreme Leader.”

You didn’t waste any time rushing out of the room to comply with his demand. A very small part of you considered leaving the First Order, afraid that maybe Kylo Ren would reconsider letting you live and behead you when he next saw you, but you knew that would be a mistake in itself. The entire trip down in the elevator was spent focusing on normalizing your breathing. You’d never been that close to death before.

It wasn’t the first slip up you’d made, but it was the first time you’d done it right in front of Kylo Ren, and so noticeably. After the long trip back to the kitchen, your boss was busy working on prepping lunch already.

Being a kitchen worker on board the Finalizer was difficult. You were busy from the moment you woke, to the moment you turned in for bed, and there was little time for leisure. Everything was on a strict schedule. Coffees went up in the morning, along with a cart with food. Then you prepped for lunch, and later you would bring the lunch orders and clean up the breakfast. Spilling the coffee really hindered the schedule, and you hoped your boss wouldn’t be too angry to see you making the Supreme Leader’s order once again.

Your hope fell flat as he approached you, stern-faced, “what are you doing?”

“Um, I spilled the Supreme Leader’s coffee.” You explained, starting to brew a new cup.

“You what?” He asked harshly.

You felt your cheeks heat from embarrassment.

“It was an accident.” You explained through your shaking voice.

“Enough.” He said, pulling the bag of coffee beans from your hands. “You’re done.”

“Excuse me?” You asked, feeling yourself becoming emotional. “I can’t be done, this is my job!” You shouldn’t have been raising your voice, but you couldn’t help yourself.

“This is not your first time slipping up like that, and this time you spilled the Supreme Leader’s coffee?” He scoffed, “you’re lucky to still be alive! No, we can’t have that. Maybe you can polish helmets or iron clothes.” He waved you off, “best of luck.”

Your mouth was stuck agape while you looked at him. You couldn’t believe that you were losing the position you’d had over the last three years on the Finalizer, all for spilling a single coffee. What was worse, was that it wasn’t even up for debate. You couldn’t try and negotiate, or say anything that would change his mind, you were just done.

“Fine.” You pulled your apron over your head, threw it on the floor and walked out.

Crying was pointless, it wasn’t going to get you your job back, but you did it anyway. You knew you could find something else to do. Your friend was head of one of the cleaning departments and she would, no doubt, be able to find you a job there, they were always looking for new people. It didn’t change the fact that you would rather work in the kitchen though.

There was something about waking up every morning, brewing coffee to the exact specifications of each person, and then having the honor of delivering their drinks. Even if they didn’t always show their appreciation, you knew even the most stern elites, like General Pryde, felt a little bit better when he had a nice, warm cup of tea in his hands, and it was all thanks to you.

You waited outside of your friend’s room for her shift to be over and for her to come back and see you. She was surprised to find you standing there, but when she saw your clearly distraught face, she wasted no time hugging you tightly.

“Hey Kass.” You said, crossing your arms over your chest.

“What happened?” She asked, furrowing her brow.

You shrugged, “spilled a little coffee next to Kylo Ren and my boss wasn’t a fan I guess. I mean, it’s not like I did it on purpose.” You sighed. “It just sucks, I liked working in the kitchen.”

“Well, you can always come work for me, you know that.” She patted your back.

“Yeah, I mean, if I don’t find something to do they’ll deem me worthless, which…” Your eyes went wide, “I don’t want to know what happens to those people.”

The people deemed worthless in the First Order often disappeared. If you stopped working, then you couldn’t contribute to the greater good, and therefore you needed to be disposed of. You couldn’t let that happen.

“Yeah, don’t worry about it, I’ll set you up tomorrow.” She hugged you again. “Why don’t you get some rest, meet at the utility room 0101-B, first thing and I’ll get you started.”

“Alright, thanks Kass.” You said, leaving her and heading to your own room.

Sleep didn’t come easily. You kept thinking about how mad the Supreme Leader must’ve been. You were glad he always wore a mask, afraid to think about what his face must’ve looked like when you spilled the coffee. One thing about the interaction with him stood out to you though…he’d asked you for your name. The more you considered it, the more you realized how strange it was that he would even ask you that. He had never asked you before, and he didn’t seem to care about most of the lowly employees of the Finalizer.

Those thoughts, and the nerves surrounding what your new job would be like in the morning, filled your mind and made it hard to finally doze off.

When you woke up, you felt as uneasy as you had when you’d gone to bed the night before. Already you were thinking about how lucky you were to escape death the day before, and how little you knew about being a cleaner.

After washing yourself and getting dressed, you finally left your room. When you made it to utility room 0101-B, Kass was already there, smiling when you walked through the door.

“Hey girlfriend, ready for your first day?” She asked, all too bubbly for your taste.

Kass had always been such a peppy type of person, and while you tried to be that way, it didn’t come easy to you. You often had to try hard to put on an excited face around others. Social situations weren’t your strong suit.

“Yeah, ready as I’ll ever be.” You sighed.

“So, you’re not going to like this, but apparently the Supreme Leader is in a…well he’s in a mood, and he broke something in the command center and you gotta go clean it up.” She motioned to the cart by the door. “That’s your cart.”

“What? Shouldn’t someone who’s been doing this longer be the one cleaning up after him?” You asked, feeling suddenly even more anxious than before.

You really might die now. You were certain that he never would want to see you again, not after you spilled his coffee the day prior.

“Part of being new is getting to do the jobs that no one else wants to do, I’m sorry.” She shrugged.

“No one’s going to show me what to do? No training?” You asked, trudging over to your cart.

“For cleaning? I know for a fact they teach you how to clean in the kitchens. Go on, you’ll be fine!” She insisted, ushering you out the door. “You get a one hour break at noon, and then you’re finished at five.”

You groaned and thanked her again for at least giving you a job. There was a chance you wouldn’t even run into the Supreme Leader. He was a busy man and couldn’t possibly spend his entire day in the command center. Surely he might be doing something else at that time. Afterall, you’d brought him his coffee on several occasions and in several different rooms. One time you even were summoned to his bedroom to put some food and drink by his bedside.

You wouldn’t be so lucky today though, he was there, and his back was to you while he spoke to the crew, voice booming through the room. He didn’t even turn while you started cleaning up the broken bits of electrical equipment scattered on the floor. You imagined that cleaning up after Kylo Ren’s tantrums must get exhausting to do day in and day out. The person who was new before you must’ve been relieved when they heard they were getting a break today.

“Sir, we will be approaching Jakku soon.” One of the pilots said at the control panel.

“Good. Ready my-”

You were so focused on cleaning you didn’t realize that the room had gone silent right away. Eventually you looked up, meeting the void of the black mask that had the Supreme Leader behind it. You gulped, feeling uneasy and wondering if he was going to kill you this time. You wondered if he had regretted not doing it yesterday while you were kneeling at his feet.

“You.” He pointed at you.

There were peering eyes all through the room, and they were all on you. Not a single breath was made from anyone. You wondered if someone would be thrusting your dead body into space in a few short moments.

“M-me, sir?” You said, damning your bottom lip for quaking.

“If the rest of you have no further work to do then I can see to it that replacements are found.” He looked around the room and immediately the prying eyes went back to their jobs.

One heavy stomp at a time, he stalked over to you. Not knowing what else to do, you once again found yourself kneeling at his feet. You would’ve kissed his boot if he had commanded you to. You were so afraid of what he was going to do next. You heard the signature hiss of his mask coming undone, and you were more confused than ever. Of all the things you’d expected him to do, that was next to last on the list.

“Look at me.” He demanded softly.

Slowly, you trailed your eyes up from his boot, over his leather pants, across his coat and finally met with his brilliant eyes. Your breath hitched in your throat. You felt your palms beginning to sweat and the heat was boiling in your cheeks.

“Pretty.” He said, an undeniable smirk played at his lips, meanwhile you were dumbfounded and completely confused.

“I-I’m sorry?” You felt like you were suffocating.

“Where were you yesterday?” He asked, moving on from his previous statement. “I am positive I asked for you specifically to bring me a new cup.”

“I, um, I was told I couldn’t work in the kitchen after I spilled your coffee Supreme Leader, sir.” You gulped, looking back down at the floor.

“Keep your eyes on me.” He demanded once again.

You did as you were told, still not sure why he was playing with you that way. If he was going to kill you, you wished he would just do it already.

“I’m not going to kill you.” You sometimes forgot that he could see into people’s minds. “Your prior boss on the other hand…will be taken care of immediately.”

You knew what that meant. There was no stopping him, so you didn’t even try, but you wondered what you’d done to receive that type of treatment. You wondered why Kylo Ren, the Supreme Leader of the galaxy, was interested in murdering your boss for dismissing you from your post.

“You are clumsy, foolish, and downright unfit to work even in a kitchen.” He said insultingly.

If he wasn’t your Supreme Leader, and your life wasn’t at risk in that very moment, you would’ve slapped him for saying such a thing. It was unbelievably rude, and hurtful.

“You make the best cup of coffee I’ve ever tasted, despite your inability to serve it to me properly.” His fingers moved, beckoning you to stand, and so you did.

He was so tall, so frightening to stand next to.

“Thank you, sir.” You said finally, remembering that you should speak when spoken to.

“Since you’re so unfit to work in the kitchen, I think it’s best I am the one to find the position that would suit you best.” He put a gloved finger under your chin and tipped your face up to meet his eyes once again. “Don’t you?”

AO3 LINK

Tag List: (please let me know if you would like to be added or removed): @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction, @my-secret-shame, @thatmomwitchfriend, @alexxavicry

#kylo ren #kylo ren fanfic #kylo ren x reader #one shot #kylo ren one shot #kylo #ren #star wars #star wars fanfic #kylo ren headcanon #star wars headcanon #kylo fanfic #kylo x you #kylo x reader #kylo ren fluff #fluff #fluff no smut #kylo fluff #star wars fluff

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the-blind-assassin-12 · 1 year ago

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Ready To Hope

1200 Words for 1200 Followers #2

A/N: Hi friends! Welcome to the 12-A-Palooza! This event is my way of saying thank you for sticking with me. Your support and kindness toward me and my writing is out of this world and I’m grateful for every last one of you! Rolling right along with the second piece - which is set in the same AU as Every Color Illuminates. This “color soulmates” trope has been really fun to play with, so it might be pretty easy to convince me to write more for them ;)

Warnings: Talk of past relationships, Teresa makes a tiny cameo

Requested by: @alraedesigns - Song: Shake It Out - Character Choice: Marcus Pike (Thank you so much for sending this, Alex! I know you love this sweet cinnamon roll man, so I hope you enjoy the continuation of this AU! 💚)

Summary: When Marcus contacts a renowned Art Gallery in hopes that a Color Ambassador can help him with some details for a case, he’s reminded of the fact that asking for help to see color hasn’t always worked out for him in the past. This time, though, things will be different.

“This might be a shot in the dark, but-” Marcus clamped his phone between his ear and shoulder so that he had both hands free to pay the coffee vendor. Mouthing a ‘thank you’ to the man, he took his beverage, dropping his change in the tip jar. “You don’t have a Graysight CA who can walk me through the exhibit, do you?”

He held his breath and readjusted the phone, gripping it with his right hand. I hope she says y-

“We do.” Michelle, the director of the National Gallery of Art responded. “Actually, our best Color Ambassador sees in Graysight. And you’re in luck, Agent Pike, because she’s here today.”

Marcus released his held breath in a relieved sigh, lips lifting into a smile. Amazing. “That’s great.”

Admitting that he - the regional head of the FBI’s Art Crimes division - needed a CA always gave Marcus a hint of anxiety. It wasn’t because he was embarrassed that he hadn’t found his match yet. It was because he knew that people made assumptions about him based on his position, and that sometimes when they found out that he couldn’t see in color, their assumptions turned to doubt in his ability to do his job. But here was a fellow professional within the art community telling him that the best person for the task at hand was someone just like him.

Clearing his throat, Marcus tilted his left hand, careful not to spill his coffee, so he could read the time on his wristwatch. It was just after 11. No time like the present, right? “Would it be too much trouble to meet with them this morning? I can be there in half an hour.”

“Of course not, Agent, anything we can do to help. There’s a group tour finishing with that section of the Gallery now, but once they’re done I’ll rope off the wing so that you won’t be disturbed while you’re here.”

She excused herself then, telling him that she needed to go speak with the CA who would be guiding him. Marcus thanked her and hung up the phone, sliding it into his jacket pocket. He let out another sigh, this one heftier and more satisfying as it left his lungs.

Finally, a break in this case that goes my way.

Heading away from the coffee cart and toward where his car was parked, he tried to keep the next thought from materializing. He failed.

It’s not just this case that I haven’t caught a break in. It’s been… everything.

Though it had been nearly eight months since he’d left Texas, the way things ended between him and Teresa still stung when he thought about it. The sting was made worse by the fact that if their roles were swapped, she wouldn’t need a CA to assist on the case, because she had matched and had lived with color for years.

Jane had been the one to let the spectrum into her life. It had given Marcus pause at first, when she told him. But Teresa had insisted that it was simply because they were such good friends - that they connected on a level that was purely platonic. Hers hadn’t been one of those sudden, blinding explosions of color that some people experienced, but a steady glow as she got to know the man. That, along with the fact that Jane had been able to see color before meeting Teresa - his match had been his first wife - had been enough to convince Marcus that a serious relationship with her was possible.

Not everyone matched with their partner. He knew that. It didn’t mean a relationship was doomed.

There were other signs though. He frowned as he sipped his coffee. Other things I ignored.

Like the time he asked Teresa to describe the colors of a sunset they watched together . “I don’t know, Marcus.” She looked at him as if he’d asked her to solve a complex mathematical equation instead of helping him to understand the world around him. “It’s orange.”

“Yeah,” he’d said, one arm wrapped around her to bring her closer to his side, his lips landing near her temple. “But what does that mean? What does it make you feel?”

She’d only stared at him, shaking her head. “Warm, I guess? I don’t know, I can’t explain it. Hopefully someday you’ll be able to see for yourself.”

That had been the end of that conversation. Marcus never tried to get her to describe colors to him again. He told himself that he didn’t want to put her on the spot. But if he was being honest, it was because he didn’t want to think about what it meant that she wasn’t even willing to try.

But I can’t think about that right now. I need to… Need to think about this case. And I need to let go of what happened in Texas if I want to have any hope of finding something real.

Reaching his car, he got in and entered the address of the Gallery into his GPS. The automated voice and the gray arrow on the screen helped him concentrate, and before long he was pulling into the visitor parking lot.

Alright, Pike. He took a long swig of his coffee to drain it, setting the empty cup - one that he was told was brown with green stripes but only saw as light gray with darker gray lines - into the holder in the center console. Time to focus.

As promised, Michelle had roped off the Rothko exhibit, a security guard leading him there after Marcus showed the man his badge. As he waited in the room, he walked around and looked closely at the various color-blocked paintings on display - squares and lines and rectangles that all appeared to be in grayscale.

I can’t even imagine what it would be like to see these. Really see them.

Before he could get too lost in his fantasy, he heard a pair of footsteps getting closer. Turning, he saw you and began closing the distance.

“Agent Marcus Pike,” he introduced himself, holding his hand out to you with a smile.

You returned the smile and the introduction, fingers wrapping around his hand to bring your palms together. The moment you did, the room erupted in hues he didn’t have names for. The paintings that surrounded him seemed to glow, their colors radiating from the frames to shine directly on you. He sucked in a breath, a rush of emotion coursing through his chest.

I… I can see. It’s her.

He hadn’t taken his eyes off of you. Not even to glance around at the heavily saturated works he was there to study.

“Marcus?” Your voice came out as a whisper, and he saw the wonder in your expression, noticed the way that your breath came quickly and unevenly. He noticed the way that he felt relaxed and calm as blue and green shimmered in the corners of his vision and a soft tingle spread along his spine. “I… I don’t think you need me to-”

“No. I do.” He said your name again, smiling around it, letting it roll off his tongue. “I definitely do.”

Thank you for reading! If you’d like to be added to or removed from the tag list, please feel free to let me know. You can also fill out the form on my Masterlist! :)

Tags: @something-tofightfor @littlemisspascal @mishasminion360 @nyctophiliiiiaaa @alraedesigns @practicalghost @tanzthompson @amb11 @haylzcyon @harriedandharassed @woodlandmouth @swtaura @thescarletfang @trickstersp8 @princessxkenobi @imtryingmybeskar @wildmoonflower @mswarriorbabe80 @theredwritingwitch @silverstarsandsuns @pedro-pedrito-pascalito @jedi-in-crocs @hannahkatharinee

#12 a palooza!#1200 followers 1200 words #marcus pike x f!reader #marcus pike x female reader #pedrostories #marcus pike x you #soulmate au #marcus pike the mentalist #marcus pike fic #pedro pascal character #ready to hope

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the-eyes-of-andyserkis · 1 year ago

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Think I Need a Devil to Help Me Get Things Right

Fandom: MCU - Age of Ultron, Black Panther Pairing: Ulysses Klaue x F Reader/Flight attendant Chapters: 1 of 1 Word count: 4.7K Rating: Explicit

Summary: After a particularly rough flight you're suddenly having anxiety for the first time in all of your years in the air, buyou end up finding help in an unexpected place when an enigmatic passenger offers you a distraction.

Warnings: Explicit Rating, Alcohol, Hurt/Comfort, Mild Age Difference, Reader is Late 30s, But no specific identifiers, Description of Anxiety, Panic Attack, Mild PTSD, Fear of Flying, Pet Names, PWP, One-Shot, Semi-public Sex, You Have to Be Quiet, Bathroom Sex, Mile High Club, Dirty Talk, Light Praise Kink, Vaginal Fingering, Mirror Sex, Unprotected PIV, Creampie, Multiple Orgasms

A/N: Well, this was supposed to be a quick little smutty thing that ended up getting away from me! But it was fun, and a nice exercise to work on outside of my series. And even with not being able to write at all for a good few days of it, two and half weeks for over 4.5k+ words (from scratch!) is definitely a record for me!

I have to give a shout-out to the many thots that come from the Andy Discord, and @tarrenterror for this one specifically. 😉 I hope you enjoy this little drabble that ended up turning into way more than that! 💕

Title is from "Learn To Fly" by the Foo Fighters

AO3 Link

Run and tell all of the angels This could take all night Think I need a devil to help me get things right

Yesterday’s flight from Lisbon to Johannesburg had been a long and turbulent one with a very rough landing, much rougher than you’re used to even after three years as a flight attendant.

The storms had kept you circling in the sky waiting for a break that refused to come, and after a long-haul flight the fuel was getting low so the pilot didn’t have a choice but to land. The plane hadn’t ended up going off of the rain-slicked runway but it was damned close, and you've been on edge ever since.

Even the tedious interview with the SACA Authority wasn't annoying enough to distract you for long, and neither last night’s patchy sleep, nor the mini-bar Red Bull are helping the persistent shake in your hands, but you have a fifteen hour flight to Corfu leaving today so you get yourself moving, hoping that a shower and some food will clear your head.

It doesn’t.

You’re not able to eat very much either, but mercifully last night’s storms have cleared and takeoff into a cloudless blue sky is smooth and uneventful, although your stomach is still acting like the toast you had managed to eat was an affront to your body.

You've never been airsick and you'd really prefer not to break your streak, not least because of the razzing you’ll get if you do, so you’re grateful when the plane finally levels off so that you can find your equilibrium again, and once the “Seatbelt” sign goes dark you're grateful for the distraction as you start rolling the beverage cart down the aisle.

Working on autopilot you don’t realize how completely you’ve zoned out until fingers are closing over yours as you hand a passenger his drink, barely catching his question.

“Are you alright, love?”

Nudged out of your daze you finally look down at the man you’re serving.

He’s wearing dark jeans with heavy boots and a black button-up, the collar open to expose black ink across his chest and collarbones, sleeves rolled up to expose more tattoos on his forearms - or forearm, rather. Your brain tries to parse why his one arm looks not-quite-right until you realize it’s a prosthesis, although it's far more realistic than any you've ever seen apart from the distinct seams running through it.

When you finally meet his you're quickly drawn in by bright blue eyes contrasted with tanned skin and dark salt and pepper curls, and while his hair is a bit shaggy you can faintly see another tattoo arcing beneath it.

It feels like your brain is on a delay, caught off guard by a combination of the inquiry and his striking features, and after several moments of your confused stare his eyes flick to where your hands are still connected. Suddenly you’re aware that inside the calm pressure of his fingers, yours are trembling, and it clicks that he must have seen the liquid shaking in the glass when you handed it to him.

"Oh. I'm ok,” You finally respond, giving your head a quick shake. “There was just a lot of turbulence on my flight coming in yesterday, and then we almost went off the runway, so..I guess I’m still a bit shaky, that's all.”

You’re surprised that you answer him honestly but something about the way that he focuses on you, his eyes sharply observant, has you dropping the professional guard that you normally keep airtight with passengers.

“Ah, that was you,” he says, finally releasing your hand and taking the proffered glass. “I heard about that. And you’re still back on a plane, today? That’s impressive.”

His words are earnest as he tips his drink at you, and you find yourself fighting the flush that warms your skin at his praise.

“Well, it is my job," you reply, trying to keep your shrug nonchalant. "But thank you for your concern, sir.” Trying to brush off the brief flash in his eyes you work to settle your polite customer service mask back into place.

“Well, it sounds like you can handle it. But if you need a distraction,” the man takes a sip of his drink, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial timbre, “I might be able to help with that.”

Meeting his eyes with a start you definitely see a dark glint in them now, the casual certainty in his tone that making it difficult to mistake his meaning.

It’s not the first time you’ve been propositioned - in fact it’s pretty par for the course in this world - and normally your reply would be quick and trite, saccharin words shutting down the standard attempts at flirting with a captive audience that you’re used to dealing with. But the teasing lilt of his words and the way the colour of his eyes deepens as they flick over your body sends an unexpected thrum of heat between your legs.

You're still trying to work out a reply when an annoyed voice cuts through the tension.

“Uh, miss? Maybe someone else could get a drink over here, today?"

“Of course. I’ll be right there,” you reply quickly, plastering an apologetic smile on your face, unsure whether you feel relieved or frustrated by the interruption.

Relieved, you tell yourself. You're relieved.

You manage not to look at the man again while you finish serving the rest of the food and drinks, but on your way back up the aisle when you finally allow yourself a glance as you pass his seat he calmly meets your eyes, making no attempt to hide that he was watching you.

You thought that you were going to make it the rest of the flight without incident, but in the early morning dark just a few hours before landing the plane hit a patch of turbulence, and even though it was barely a shake you had jolted awake instantly.

Now, while the rest of the plane slumbers on you’re tucked in the alcove back by the washrooms with your eyes squeezed shut, jacket and scarf discarded at your feet as your heart does its best to escape through your chest wall. Even though the plane is perfectly smooth now your nerves have returned in full force, fingers tingling as you try to will the cold, hollow feeling in your gut away from spreading into your limbs.

You feel a presence enter your personal space at the same time that you see the shadow fall over you through closed eyelids, and the voice you hear is low and calm, sliding its way into your consciousness between panicked breaths.

“Take a deep breath, love.”

Forcing your eyes open, you see the tattooed passenger from earlier standing in front of you.

“I don’t know what’s- I’ve never been like this before on a flight,” you feel compelled to explain as tears of frustration prick at your eyes. “I just can’t catch my-” you gasp, trying to keep your voice down so you don't disturb the sleeping passengers.

He glances over his shoulder briefly and then back at you, pausing for a moment as he seems to consider something, and then his arm is around your waist and he’s quickly guiding you into an unoccupied washroom, following closely and locking the door behind you.

Taking your hands in his, he moves them so that your palms are pressed flat against his chest, and when he speaks his words are steady but firm.

“Now, take a deep breath for me."

As he draws a slow, deep breath himself it dawns on you that he wants you to mimic him, so on his next inhale you match it by taking a shaky gulp of air into your lungs, and when he holds his breath at the top of it for a few seconds you do the same. Letting your eyelids slip closed you find that you’re able to focus on the rhythm of your breathing, on the feeling of warm fabric over firm muscle, on the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath your hands.

You’re not sure how long you stay like this but steadily your nerves begin to settle, every breath calmer than the last.

As your senses start to slide back into place you become aware of calloused palms covering yours, of your breath mixing in the shared space between you, and when you open your eyes again you’re greeted by the sight of both of your hands framing his chest beneath the open collar of his shirt.

“How are you feeling now?” The soft gravel of his voice draws your attention upward, appraising eyes meeting yours.

“Better. I…thank you. Really.” You reply truthfully, feeling better than you have in the past forty-eight hours.

Logically you know that you should end this now, that you need to pull away and return to the rest of the plane to prepare for the approaching dawn, but instead you feel frozen in place beneath his gaze.

“Good,” he says, making no a move to pull away, either.

Maybe it’s the adrenaline still working its way out of your system, or the way that his hands sliding up your forearms makes you shiver, or the heady musk of sweat and cologne mixing with the warmth of your bodies in the close space, but when you do move it’s not to pull away. Instead you tighten your fists in the fabric of his shirt and when you tug he immediately responds, crowding closer until your back is flush against the wall behind you.

Keeping his eyes on yours his hands drop to your waist before sliding slowly around the curve of your hips, and when he tugs you against him you gasp when you feel the stiffening curve of his erection pressing into your abdomen.

He leans in close enough that his lips brush the crest of your ear, and though his breath is hot on your skin his words raise goosebumps along your neck.

“Would you like your distraction now?”

You can hear the smile curling around the sweet tease of his words, and you hum an affirmation, unable to help the roll your hips against his arousal.

“What was that?”

There’s a sharper edge to his voice when he prompts you again.

“Yes,” you say more firmly, startled by how he’s managed to drop your guard and stoke your need so quickly, the warm ache between your thighs swelling from his proximity and a few simple words.

Pulling back, a hand moves to cup your cheek as you look at him through hooded eyes, a thumb sliding under your chin to tilt your face up and then his mouth is closing over yours, full lips surprisingly soft as they drag across yours in a teasing slide, and just when you feel the faint flick of his tongue and you part your lips to deepen the kiss, he pulls away.

For a long moment time seems to hang suspended in the sharp blue of his eyes, and then as if drawn by a magnet it’s you that’s moving and your mouth is on his again, your own tongue flicking against the seam of his lips and you sigh when he parts them.

The kiss quickly deepens as you run your hands over the broad muscle of his shoulders, wrapping your arms around his neck as his tongue swirls against yours, licking deeper and growling into your mouth when your hips start to roll against him more urgently. It’s not long before your touch grows frantic, both of you seeking more, fingers blindly grasping at fabric and tugging at buttons until his shirt hangs open, forgoing yours entirely as he tugs it up over your head before pulling you back against him, a hand sliding beneath your bra to cup your breast as he kisses you breathless in a growing fervor of tongues and teeth,

When you try to lift your leg but your skirt stops you he tugs at the hem, pulling it up until it’s bunched around your middle and when you hitch your leg around his waist he grabs your hips in his hands, your cunt throbbing as he grinds you against the rough denim covering the now very prominent ridge of his cock.

Then suddenly his tattooed hand is finding its way between your bodies and sliding down to find the juncture of your legs, your mouth dropping open with a helpless moan when his fingers press the damp fabric against your sex.

“How are you feeling now, love?” He pants against your lips, his teasing words now rough with lust “Dis-distracted.” You huff a breathless laugh.

"That’s good,” he hums. “But you’re going to have to be quieter than that. You wouldn’t want to wake the other passengers, now, would you?”

His fingers press more firmly now, the friction of the slick fabric against your clit has you biting back a moan as you buck into his touch.

Taking a steadying breath you glance at the door before flicking your eyes back to his and shaking your head, No.

With a pleased look his fingers slip beneath the waistband of your panties, keeping his eyes fixed on yours as his fingers part you, sliding through your already damp folds and down to your entrance and you bite your lip as just the tip of his finger presses into you, gathering your arousal before sliding back up to nudge against your clit.

Then he does it again, fingers only swirling against the sensitive bud for a few seconds before dipping back down to find more of your slick, tracing and re-tracing the path along your sex until you’re trembling, and maybe it’s the altitude but you’re startled by how quickly you feel your orgasm building just from his teasing touch.

“Oh my god, I-” You whimper.

“What, love?” He asks, a teasing lilt to his words, but he must take pity on your desperation because his focus is only on your clit now, pressing firmly and quickly picking up on your needy rhythm as you rock against his hand, a shaky whisper squeaking from your throat.

“So close, oh my god oh-”

One of your hands flies up to your mouth to stifle the moans you can no longer hold back, faintly aware of rough words whispered into the space where you hover between anticipation and ecstasy, Let go, just like that. And then all of your thoughts are wiped away, eyes squeezing shut as your body tenses in bliss and you come hard, swells of pleasure surging out from the point where his fingers firmly coax your writhing hips to take what you need.

His hand stays pressed against you even as the waves start to soften, feeling the aftershocks that continue to ripple through your cunt as your body relaxes and you drift back to awareness, and only when you go limp, your hand dropping from your mouth with a sigh does he release your thigh and remove his hand from between your legs.

Though you’re still unfocused and trying to catch your breath, when his hands move to his belt your eyes follow, watching as he unbuckles it and then lowers the zipper, pushing his underwear and jeans down together until his cock bobs free, thick and glossy with precum at the tip. You lick your lips at the sight and he smirks at your greedy stare, stroking himself lazily a few times, smearing you along his length with the hand that was just between your legs.

Then without warning he grabs your waist, turning and pushing you forward and you have to quickly brace yourself against the wall as rough hands push your panties down around your thighs, and you hear a hitch in his breathing behind you as he grips your ass, slowly massaging and spreading you open.

“I’m going to fuck you now, alright love?”

It’s a question that’s not really a question at all, but his rumbled words have you instinctively arching yourself into his hands and when you look back over your shoulder you go breathless, the blue of his eyes ocean deep and rough at the edges as he takes in the sight of your exposed sex.

“Can see how wet you are,” he murmurs, seemingly to himself as he finds your soaked entrance again, and you barely manage to hold back a moan when he slowly slides a thick finger into your tight heat.

“Yes, you certainly seemed to like that, didn’t you?”

His words are maddening but you’re unable to help the shuddering gasp when he adds a second finger, continuing to pump deep into you until his hand is shining with you.

“Shhh, listen," he hushes, and you bite your lip as he continues to fuck you with his fingers, the soft wet sounds of the slide and suck of them every time they sink into you obscene in the small space. “Already so messy, but I want to know how much more of a mess you’ll make when I’m fucking you on my cock.”

You whine at the loss as he withdraws his fingers from you, using them again to slick himself with your arousal before pressing forward, and you tremble with anticipation when you feel the thick head slide through your folds to line up with your entrance.

The grip of his prosthetic hand on your hip is strong as he holds you in place, the thought fighting it’s way through the lust that it’s more than just what it seems - and that you should probably be concerned by that - but you can’t seem to find the will to care when his cock starts slowly sinking into you.

Your eyelids flutter and you have no control over the gritted moan that escapes from your throat as he stretches you open, and he quickly moves his other hand to cover your mouth.

“I’d love nothing more than to make you cry out til you’re hoarse,” he growls between clenched teeth. “To find out what pretty sounds you make when you’re desperate. But right now I need you to be good for me and stay quiet. Can you do that, love?”

You’re not actually sure if you can, but the only clear thought in your mind is that you need him to keep going, so you nod against the resistance of his hand.

Feeling your agreement he releases your mouth and moves both hands back to your hips, continuing the slow slide of his cock into you. Just barely managing to tamp down the sounds he’s drawing from your throat you once again focus on taking deep, shaky breaths as your fingers grasp at nothing on the wall, and even though the aching stretch of him is almost too much all you can think is that you want more.

Laying your palms flat you brace yourself against the wall and push back, rocking your hips to encourage him deeper, but he’s thick and even with your effort there's not enough leverage in this position to take him as deep as you want to.

However that doesn’t seem to stop him from letting you try.

"You can do better than that, can't you?” His words are an infuriating tease. “Don't you want to take all of it?"

You know he can sense how frustrated you’re getting as you continue to move, but he's still keeping himself just far enough back that you struggle to take him deeper.

“Don’t you want to make me?” You grit back, startled by the low heat of your words.

“Careful, love. I’m not sure that you want me to ‘make you’.”

His words are black as pitch as fingers dig roughly into the flesh of your hips, your cunt fluttering around his cock at the warning in his voice.

“Ohhh, but look at that.” he sighs, suddenly. ”Aren’t you a sight.”

Your movements falter, confusion interrupting your frustration until a hand grips your chin and turns your head toward the far wall so that your eyes fall on your disheveled reflections in the small mirror there, gasping as you take in the image of yourself, glassy-eyed and panting and still desperately trying to fuck yourself back onto his cock.

When you meet his eyes through the mirror a slow grin spreads across his lips, and then his hand moves to cover your mouth again.

Your brows knit in confusion since you thought that you had managed to keep mostly quiet, but you only have a second to wonder what he's doing when without warning he thrusts hard, pulling you roughly back onto his cock at the same time and stifling your cry of surprise behind his hand as he finally buries himself all the way to the hilt.

"I know, shhh, it's alright, love,” he pants against your cheek. “Wanted me to make you, yeah?”

A muffled moan is your only response as he uses the hand that’s over your mouth to keep your head pressed back against his shoulder, then just barely pulling out of you he grips your hip tight with his prosthetic hand and thrusts back into you.

“Christ you feel so fucking good.” he grits out, rutting into you harder, and the fact that you can tell he's fighting to keep his own groans under control makes the bloom of pleasure in your cunt deepen as he fills you again and again, unable to hold back the whining pant in your throat at every jolt of his hips against your ass.

You try to brace your hands more firmly against the wall but your elbows buckle as he leans into you, thrusting hard, and you hold yourself on your forearms instead, hearing a delicious grunt in your ear every time he bottoms out. The muscles of your cunt begin to tighten, the angle and the deep friction of his cock grinding against the sensitive spot behind your clit sending white hot sparks beneath your eyelids, and you feel like if you could just get your fingers on your clit you’d be there.

You manage to steady yourself on one arm as the other hand reaches desperately down between your legs, the brush of your fingers over your clit rough and unsteady as he continues to fuck you but it doesn’t matter, it only takes a few circling swipes and every sense is tightening its focus on his cock and your fingers.

“Are you going to come for me again?” His growled whisper stutters with the rhythm of his thrusts.

But even if his hand wasn’t over your mouth you couldn’t have responded, your only thought the breathless pressure of your climax rising higher and higher, blinding you to anything else as your vision goes grey at the edges and your body spasms around and against him, a desperate moan shuddering through your chest as your orgasm finally overtakes you.

Not letting up he continues to fuck you through it, every stroke of his cock achingly deep, but it’s not long before you feel his rhythm start to falter and with a final few thrusts he stills, the tight grip of his fingers digging into your jaw until you feel the throb of his cock as he comes, shaking against you and biting back a guttural sound as he spends himself deep in your cunt. The last waves of your climax have you still clenching around him, and while the movement of his hips slows he keeps himself buried in you as deep as possible so that you can do nothing but take every last drop.

You gasp to catch your breath when he releases your mouth and finally collapses against you. Pressing you into the wall he pants into your hair, the weight of him almost helping to keep you upright while your body is still shaky and unsteady.

After a few long moments like this you eventually feel him shift and pull back, both of you biting back one last moan as he slowly slides out of you, finding yourself aching at the loss.

“You go out first,” you say, still slightly breathless. “I'm..I need a second to clean up.”

“No, you don’t.”

His tone is casual, and you don't really understand.

“Um, after that? Yeah, I do.” You laugh a little, assuming that he’s joking.

“No. You don't.” He repeats firmly and turns to face you, a glint of gold flashing through his grin as he finishes buttoning his shirt. “Because that wasn’t your distraction.”

“It’s...what?” You stammer, still trying to figure out what he’s getting at.

“Your distraction,” he continues, stepping back into your space “will be feeling my cum leaking out of you for the rest of the flight.”

Your eyes widen and your mouth drops open in shock.

“Maybe it’ll soak through your panties. Start dripping down your legs as you walk around serving coffee, and you’ll have to act like I didn’t fill your needy little cunt.”

“Jesus Christ,” you pant. “What...who the hell are you?” It’s all you manage to get out as your mind swirls at his words.

He doesn’t answer your question, but when his expression darkens you can almost hear the words he doesn’t say: Maybe it’s best you don’t know, love.

“You should get dressed.” His eyes flick pointedly to where your panties are still down around your thighs, your skin flushing with embarrassed heat as he patiently watches you finally absorb his meaning, but something in his smirk has a swell of defiance surging through you, and perhaps there’s another kind of heat there as well.

Doing your best to fix a neutral expression on your face you keep your eyes on his as you slowly pull the garment back up before tugging your skirt down from where it’s bunched around your waist. Finally you pull your shirt back on, straightening and smoothing everything back into place as best you can before quickly fixing your hair.

Once you’ve tucked your flyaways behind your ears you meet his eyes again with an expectant arch of your brow.

“Ladies first,” he says with a sly grin and gestures towards the door.

* * * * * * * * * *

He was right, and you’re not sure how you feel about it.

There was more turbulence just before landing prep but you don’t feel the spike of adrenaline that you had before, as if the circuit of anxiety had been interrupted. Instead all you can think about is the slick warmth growing between your thighs with every step you take, and every time you glance at him he’s watching you, a persistent thrum of heat low in your belly at the knowing smile that curls the corner of his lips

About two months later, on the same long-haul flight from Johannesburg to Corfu, you’ve started walking the drink cart down the aisle when you catch a glimpse of a tattooed arm leaning on the armrest.

It could be anyone, you reason. Lots of people have tattoos.

You pretend that you’re not eager to reach the seat, but as you approach your breath quickens when the distinct arc of ink running up his neck and beneath a fresh undercut comes into view.

“Hello, love,” he greets you with a familiar grin.

Heat slides through your core when you hear the voice that’s haunted your dreams for weeks, and you try to keep your words steady as you repeat the practiced refrain.

“What can I get for you today, sir?”

“I have something for you, actually,” he replies, reaching a hand into his pocket and withdrawing a folded slip of paper, holding it up for you to take.

After a beat you pluck it from between his fingers, opening it to see an address that you recognize as a hotel not far from the airport. And a name.

Ulysses Klaue.

Somehow unsurprised that he would have a name like that, you meet his eyes as you tuck the paper into the pocket of your jacket.

“Your drink order, then..Mr. Klaue?”

“Whiskey, please. And call me Ulysses, love.”

You bite back a smile as you move to serve the next passenger, wondering if you’ll have to wait the full fifteen hour flight to feel his hand between your legs again.

But judging by the glint in his eyes when you look back at him, you having a feeling that you won’t.

A/N: As always, thank you so very much for reading, and I hope that you enjoyed reader's smutty little adventure in the sky. 😉

#ulysses klaue #ulysses klaue smut #ulysses klaue x f reader #ulysses klaue x reader #ulysses klaue x flight attendant #mcu fanfiction #this was an accident #i blame discord #fanficiton #think i need a devil to help me get things right

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