#she's so polite and warm and friendly but then you piss her off and it's all +

[express-archives]

thinkign about faye

[cetaitlaverite]

Anything to Anywhere

Masters of the Air - Bucky Egan x OC

sorry for the delay but we're baaaack!! hope you love <3 masterlist is here

12. A Bad Answer

“Fucking Freddie Leroy,” Alice grumbled as she stomped across the grass to where Stella was sitting.

Glancing up at her, Stella quirked an eyebrow. “What did she do?”

Alice paid Stella’s question no attention as she focused on ensuring no beer slopped out of either of the pint glasses in her hands, but when she handed one off to Stella and then sat down in the grass with her, she took one long sip and said once more, “Fucking Freddie Leroy,” with a rueful twist to her mouth and a shake of her head. 

Again, Stella asked, “What did she do?”

“Rosie’s in there making eyes at her,” Alice replied, frowning into her beer. “She’s back from leave for all of a day and she’s got all the other wireless ops calling her a war hero and Rosie Rosenthal buying her pissing lemonade and making eyes at her. Do you know how hard I worked to get Rosie to make eyes at me?”

“He’s a tough nut to crack,” Stella agreed solemnly. She’d witnessed Alice’s attempts at flirting with Rosenthal on several occasions by now and he had always simply smiled politely and nodded along to whatever she was saying. As far as Stella knew they’d danced together only once and it was kept strictly friendly - other than that, Alice had made no progress whatsoever. 

“Not for Princess Freddie in there,” Alice huffed in reply, tipping her head back and downing half of her pint of beer in one go. “I want to hate her so much but she didn’t even have to try. I know because I was talking to Rosie when she walked in with her pals. The wireless ops came into the club making all this noise, their arms slung around darling Miss Leroy, and Rosie looked over because everyone looked over and I swear to you his eyes turned into hearts. He didn’t look away from her for the next five minutes. Then she kept complaining that her friends wanted to buy her beer and she wanted to drink lemonade, so he bought her a lemonade and then I had to stand there and watch him fall in love while she talked about her pissing dogs. Fucking Freddie Leroy.”

Stella was laughing softly by the end of Alice’s story. “Maybe they’ll be good together,” she offered, even knowing it was the opposite of what Alice wanted to hear. “Freddie’s a sweetie and I get the impression Rosie kind of is, too. And there’s something about her which makes me think she needs protecting. Rosie’ll protect her.”

“The entire time she’s worked here she has rejected every single man who has ever tried it on with her, but the one man she gives the time of day has to be my man. Mine! He was mine first, Fin!”

“He wasn’t yours, Alice,” Stella said, laughing. “Let Freddie have him. If he was really right for you his head wouldn’t have been turned.”

“You’re just sweet on Freddie,” Alice accused with narrowed eyes. 

Stella laughed once more. “I’m sweet on no one. I just think there are better men for you.”

Alice stared at her silently. Still, her eyes were narrowed. The sunset was vivid, lighting the both of them up in a warm array of colours, and as such there was nowhere for Stella to hide her blush when Alice mimicked her, “‘I’m sweet on no one.’ Major Egan would disagree.”

Startled, Stella sputtered a cough. “No he wouldn’t. And I’m not sweet on him. He’s just my friend, same as you’re my friend.”

Alice rolled her eyes. “You and I are not friends the way you and Egan are friends, Fin.” That said, she took a final long sip of her beer until it was all gone. “Next round?” she asked.

Stella raised both eyebrows at her. “I’ve only just started this one.”

“Drink up, then!” Alice ordered, setting her empty glass down in the grass and clapping her hands together as though to speed up the process. “I’m not spending the rest of the night sober and single.”

Stella laughed but did as she said and then, before she knew it, Alice was reemerging from the club with two more beers and two shots along with them. Before Stella could ask, Alice explained, “Atley said the shots are on the house.”

Stella smiled smugly. “If anyone’s sweet on anyone, Atley’s sweet on you.”

Alice only shrugged and tipped back her shot and then gulped her beer right after.

The two of them kept drinking at a much faster rate than they normally would have until everything was funny and the world tilted dramatically around them whenever they moved their heads. They joked about things which had happened years before, made stupid puns, and fantasised about what they’d be doing right now if the war had never happened.

By the time the two of them pushed back into the officers’ club, Stella to use the bathroom and Alice to get them another refill, everything was fuzzy and warm and blurry. Stella didn’t make a habit of getting this drunk - really, she couldn’t remember the last time she had - but as she was washing her hands in the bathroom she realised she really should do this more often. She felt like she had so many worries all the time and right now she couldn’t remember what any of them were.

As such, she forgot entirely why she’d been avoiding going into the main room of the club and pranced in quite readily like she’d never even left. It was still packed, late into the night though it was, and still loud. She picked her way gracelessly over to the bar and leaned on it heavily, smiling dopily to herself about nothing in particular as she nodded along to the beat of the music.

Her eyes scanned the rest of the bar and the patrons leaning up against it - she spied Rosie but no Freddie, which made her furrow her brows. Then Stella took to scanning the room for Freddie and found her sitting underneath a table with her best friend Millie Harlow and the dog one of the Americans had brought here with him. Meatball, Stella thought he was called.

Scattered across the room were other people Stella knew - some of the other ATA pilots were huddled in a group in the corner, many of the American airmen had commandeered dance partners and were filling the dance floor - but her eyes lit up when they landed on John and Buck, leaning against the far wall of the club.

“John!” Stella exclaimed, even though she was outside of his range of hearing. She pushed herself up resolutely from the bar and began to make her way over to him.

John and Buck looked like they were discussing something serious, something sombre - their heads were ducked together, their eyebrows bowed low over their eyes, their voices clearly kept low and private - but she paid this no mind. “John!” Stella went on exclaiming as she stumbled across the room to him. “John!”

When John heard her, his head whipped in her direction immediately, his mouth still open and words still tumbling out as she caught him mid-sentence. “Stels?” he asked when he spotted her.

She was grinning and all but skipping over by now, delighted to have finally caught his attention. “John!” she cheered one final time, ambling to a stop before him and Buck. “Hi! Buck! Hi!”

“Hi,” John greeted back. A slow grin was starting to spread across his face. “You alright?”

Stella shrugged. “Been drinking.”

Buck hid his smile behind a sip from his drink.

John let his wide grin show freely on his face. “I see that,” he acknowledged.

“Getting drunk is more fun than I remember,” Stella said next. “I feel like everything is just happy. When does the world ever feel like this apart from when you’re drunk?”

“Beats me,” John said, raising his glass to her before taking a long sip. ��Where’s Alice?”

“Getting more drinks,” Stella said. “She was sad earlier because Lieutenant Rosenthal likes Freddie Leroy.”

John waved this away. “Freddie left Rosie at the bar to go and sit with Meatball, tell Alice not to worry.”

“But don’t you think Freddie Leroy is just so pretty?” Stella gushed by way of reply. “I don’t think Rosie will be deterred, to tell you the truth. Besides, I think we should set Alice up with someone else. I think Atley the barman kind of fancies her but she won’t listen to me when I tell her so. Have you ever fancied her, John? She’s not looking for commitment so maybe you two would be good together. But I think that would make me sad.”

John’s eyebrows were furrowed. “What would make you sad?”

“If you and Alice got together,” Stella replied simply, as though this should have been obvious.

Stella didn’t notice, but Buck gave John a pat on the shoulder and slipped away, heading over to chat to some of the men hanging around the bar.

John noticed, naturally, but he didn’t say anything. He didn’t even pay Buck a glance. His eyes were set firmly, resolutely, unwaveringly on Stella. “Why would that make you sad, Stels?” he asked softly.

Stella shrugged, turning her eyes on her shoes and watching as she toed at the floor. “Just would.”

“Why?”

“‘Cause I don’t want to be left behind.” She kept watching her feet for a moment and then she looked back up, all traces of vulnerability gone from her face, a goofy smile plastered across her lips instead. “Would you like to dance with me?”

John didn’t smile back at her, not just yet. “I’m not gonna leave you behind, Stels,” was all he said, staring at her hard. Then, wordlessly, he held out his hand for her to take and, once she had, led her over to the dance floor. He placed gentle hands in all the appropriate places and maintained a respectable distance, letting her decide how close they got.

Stella wanted to get close. When they started to dance to the slow song on the gramophone, she took a step closer and rested her cheek on his chest, shutting her eyes and humming along to the music. “I love this song,” she said idly, as though she didn’t really mind whether or not he heard her. Then she moved her hands out of their requisite dancing positions in favour of wrapping her arms around John’s waist, leaning her weight into him and sighing happily before resuming her humming.

John was looking down at the top of her head, startled, unsure what to make of all this. But he wrapped his arms around her all the same, helping to keep her close, and let only the tiniest of smiles tug at the corner of his lips.

He let them stay that way, swaying more than dancing and pressed together like lovers, for only a little while before he realised he was only going to end up getting hurt. So he dropped his arms to drape around her waist instead and started to sway more enthusiastically, a playful attempt at making her laugh. When she giggled and stood up straight, peering up into his face, he grinned down at her, victorious.

With a bright smile on her face, Stella extracted one of John’s hands from her waist and held it aloft, indicating that she wanted him to spin under their arms. When he did, even though he crouched, she laughed loudly as she had to jump to give him enough room to fit.

“Your turn,” he informed her when he was back facing her. He held their entwined hands up and Stella spun beneath them easily, still laughing all the while, then grasped his other hand and wrapped it back around her waist. She was gazing up into his face, smiling wildly, and he was smiling right back down at her. The way the warm lighting was spilling over him made his eyes shine, bright blue and endless. His smile seemed so much wider from up this close. She liked the way his eyes crinkled so much they almost closed, liked the way there always seemed to be humour in the creases in his cheeks even when he wasn’t laughing.

Everyone around them was dancing slowly, appropriately, to the delicate love song, but Stella and John didn’t notice. Wrapped up in their own little world, they grinned at each other and laughed at each other, tugged each other into the positions they wanted and danced like they were alone and the music was far jollier than it was.

When the song ended, Stella was breathing heavily and smiling wide.

John was smiling back at her, watching her closely, and as such he noticed the exact moment an idea hit her.

“Come,” she said, tugging on his hands and starting to walk backwards.

John was chuckling to himself. “Come where?”

“Got something to show you,” she said simply.

“Finally gonna get me alone to strangle me?” he teased as he started to follow her.

She turned but kept hold of his hand, leading him out of the club. “I would never strangle you,” she said over her shoulder, her smile audible in her voice. “I’d suffocate you, obviously. Strangling would take too long. Have you seen how big your neck is?”

“Thanks, I guess.”

“Not a compliment, really,” Stella replied breezily, brushing him aside. “But that’s okay. Your neck is three times wider than the standard person’s and mine is three times longer, so I suppose we match.”

Behind her, John was all but cackling.

“What?” Stella asked.

“Nothing,” John dismissed her. “Nothing at all, Stels. Nothing at all.”

“I’m just being honest,” she defended herself.

“No, you are,” he assured her. “And I love that about you. You’re perfect, don’t worry about it.”

Stella hummed her acceptance of this and kept on towing him behind her, ducking behind buildings and along the alleyways between them, until she presented a locked door to him. “Do you think you’re sober enough to drive?” she wondered curiously, wide-eyed and innocent as she gazed up into his face, like she was asking whether or not he would make her hot chocolate and wrap her in a blanket.

“No,” John said.

Stella frowned. “That’s a bad answer,” she said. “That is not the answer I was hoping for.”

“Okay, then yes,” John amended.

Stella scowled. “Don’t lie!”

“I was just trying to -”

“I know what you were trying to do! Stop it! I don’t like liars.”

John turned away so she wouldn’t catch him laughing, rubbing a hand over his mouth to hide his grin even as he turned it into the night sky.

“Do you think you can cycle?” Stella asked next.

“Maybe,” John said. “Why? Where we goin’ that we can’t just walk?”

“The airfield,” Stella answered easily. “I brought you here to get the keys to a jeep.”

Turning back to her, John raised his eyebrows. “I hate to break it to you, Stels, but I’ve seen the airfield.”

Stella stared at him blankly. “Ha-ha,” she replied in a deadpan. “Maybe I won’t show you after all.”

“Hey, no, I’m sorry, I was just kidding,” John hurried to reassure her. “But, hey, let’s just walk, alright? I don’t wanna be responsible if we crash and you get hurt.”

Stella shrugged. “I don’t care about that. I trust you.”

John was grinning. “Why don’t you wanna walk?”

“Tired.”

“I can carry you.”

“Piss off.”

John laughed. “Right.”

“Give me a piggyback,” Stella decided after a moment of silence. Her eyes were all lit up, her smile defiant. “I will accept a piggyback.”

“Piggyback it is,” John declared, turning and crouching down for her.

Stella studied the back of him for a moment, deciding what would be the most effective course of action, before she took a small run up and all but launched herself onto his back.

“Fucking christ, Stels!” John cried as he stumbled a few steps forward, hurrying to right himself. He wrapped both hands around her thighs, keeping her steady as he found his balance, and Stella couldn’t help but laugh.

“You’re tall!” she exclaimed. “I had to jump high.”

“Felt like you were trying to body slam me.” He was still hunched over, still stumbling just a little bit. “Fuck.”

Stella laughed, loud and bright, into the stars above her. “Maybe I was,” she said, still giggling. “Maybe I didn’t take you out here to strangle you or to suffocate you but to batter you to death instead.”

“Hate to tell you that it didn’t work,” John replied, smiling as he started in the direction of the airfield.

Stella hummed. “Oh well. The best laid plans and all that.” She moved her hands from where she’d been holding onto his shoulders to clasp them together in front of his chest, her thumbs occasionally brushing up against him with the rise and fall of his footsteps.

“Which direction am I going once we get to the airfield?” John asked idly once they got close.

“You’ll know,” Stella told him airily. “If you know me, you’ll know.”

He did know. And he grinned when he realised that he knew. Because parked in one of the bays on the hardstand, amidst the rows of B-17s, was a Hawker Hurricane.

“Ta-dah,” Stella sing-songed quietly, right into his ear, because she knew he knew. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

John smiled to himself. “Gorgeous,” he agreed.

“I’ve flown B-17s but you’ve never flown a Hurricane,” Stella said as John approached it. “So I thought you should see what all the fuss is about.”

John sputtered a scoff. “Stels, I ain’t gonna fly it -”

“Of course you’re not going to fly it!” Stella replied, laughing. “I’m just going to show it to you. It’s pretty inside, too.”

So, when they got there, John helped Stella down from his back and she opened the Hurricane’s glass canopy up for him, gesturing him in.

And it was… a plane. Just a fighter plane. It was claustrophobic, really, this single-seater fighter. After flying for so long in the school bus that was the Boeing B-17, the walls of the Hurricane felt too close. He was used to space, multiple bodies in one plane but not all of them in the same space, everyone with enough room to spread out. He was most certainly not used to having the walls on either side of him so close that he brushed against them with every movement, the canopy so low his hair brushed against it when he turned his head.

There was a lot of machinery around his feet, like treacherous weeds stopping him from wading too far into a pond, and so many dials shoved into one small control panel it was dizzying, and they weren’t even operational at the moment.

It was an ugly little thing, the inside of the Hawker Hurricane. But Stella Finley grinning at him from her perch on the wing was a beautiful thing, a stunning thing, a breathtaking thing, so John gave her a smile not half as pretty as hers and said, “It’s great, Stels.”

“Just great?” she teased, leaning towards him. “It’s spectacular! First time I flew one of these I felt like I’d found my purpose. The things I could do in this plane if they let me fly combat.” She gave a dreamy sigh. “If I have one true friend in this life, the Hawker Hurricane is it.”

John scoffed. “You’ve got multiple true friends, Stels.”

Stella’s smile turned sly. “You, you mean?”

“For one.”

She rolled her eyes jovially. “I’m gonna tell Buck that I’ve replaced him.”

“He’ll never believe you.”

Stella laughed. “He’d be silly if he did,” she acknowledged, “and Buck is not a silly man.” She turned her eyes back on the control panel and her smile turned wistful once more. “I love this plane,” she declared. “Love it. I can’t believe I ever went about my life not knowing what it was like to fly a Hurricane. Sometimes I think I don’t even want the war to end because I’d be so sad not to fly Hurricanes anymore.” 

She stared hard at the dials, at the yoke, at the gear stick. 

John watched in profile as her smile faded.

“Stupid thing to say,” she berated herself quietly after a moment’s silence. “People are dying in this war. People are losing everything to the Germans.”

John knew, then, without having to ask, that she’d lost something dear to her to the Germans. And he knew, suddenly, that the way she’d reacted after Curt had gone down was not solely about Curt.

“Who?” he asked softly, gently, watching the way the moonlight danced in the blue pools of her eyes even when they weren’t looking at him. “Who’d you lose, Stels?”

She didn’t say anything, but her bottom lip wobbled.

John had a good idea of who she’d lost.

“One of your brothers?” he asked gently.

She swallowed hard.

“Your favourite brother?” he asked next. His voice was so soft and earnest that if it had been a physical thing it would have been a worn out, well-loved childhood blanket, slept with every night since infancy. “Harry?”

Stella didn’t look at him but John saw the change in her all the same. Her jaw hardened and all of the emotion left her eyes in an instant. Her posture turned sharp.

She didn’t spare John a single glance as she hopped down from the wing of the plane and started off into the darkness. Her footsteps were rapid and stomping, loud even when he couldn’t see her anymore.

There was nothing for John to do but let her go. She’d closed herself off to him enough times by now that he knew there was no coming back from it tonight.

[erina-writes-headcanons]

hi! could i have crushing + general relationship hcs for india please? 💕

Neeraja Patel (India), Gupta Muhammad Hassan (Egypt), Wibawa Prayogo (Indonesia) General Dating Relationship Headcannons

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A/N: Hey @reeces-pieses! Thank you so much for the request and I hope you do not mind that I added Indonesia as well as Egypt for this headcannon. This is for relationship headcannons and soon after this would be done. I would make a Crushing headcanon!

Gender: Neutral. Warning: None

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Neeraja Patel - India

India is a positive give just like a Golden Retriever so it is expected that he would go far to make your dating experience great together with him.

It is not surprising because he is a friendly guy. He would make one of the great gentlemen. It is canon that India is polite and would tell everyone 'namaste' which means in India it means hello.

Would keep holding your hands when the two of you are in the crowd as he does not want to lose you because he's scared that there's a bad guy planning to hurt you.

Does not get angered easily and he has a high patience. The only thing that might piss him off if you are making fun of his culture since he's proud of it. He is generally a sweet guy so don't try to anger him.

If you love sweets? He would bring you to Indian markets that sell the best Kulfi (Pistachio Ice cream without eggs) or Jalebi ( A spiral-shaped sweet made out of sugar and saffron).

Also, he would also bring you to those markets that sell the best milk tea. After all, India is most known for their Milk Tea and many people love their tea.

Since I did mention he is a sweet guy. Sometimes, he would let you ride his elephant. He loves animals but he mostly loves his elephant so you are lucky if you never ride this animal. he would offer you to ride them with him behind you.

Don't bother trying to argue with him. He can be quite argumentative just because I told you he is sweet and polite. Which is sucks because when he is getting mouthy, he already had some resources to counter your argument.

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(Y/N) sat by the window, their/her/his heart racing with anticipation as (Y/N) waited for their/her/his boyfriend Neeraja to come home. The gentle lights coming from the sun shining and cascading onto (Y/N)'s skin provided soothing thoughts for you. As the minutes ticked by, your excitement grew, and (Y/N) found yourself constantly glancing at the clock.

From far far away, Neeraja guided the gentle giant back towards home. The sun was setting, casting a warm golden glow across the lands. Neeraja's heart skipped a beat when he spotted the certain person with (H/C) hair colour and (E/C) eye colour already waiting for him.

A smile spread across his face as he urged the elephant to slow down, and he waved his hand enthusiastically to catch (Y/N)'s attention. From the distance, their eyes locked, and a rush of happiness filled him. (Y/N)'s face lit up as they/she/he recognized Neeraja and the elephant, and they/she/he waved back with equal enthusiasm.

Neeraja gently directed the elephant to a halt as the two of them already reach his palace. Neeraja dismounted himself from the back of the gentle giant. Neeraja carefully slid down from the back of the elephant, and landed softly on the ground, his feet finding their footing with practised ease.

The slender man with dark brown hair's heart raced with excitement as he closed the distance between himself and (Y/N). A mixture of joy and longing was evident in his eyes. (Y/N) had to step out of the palace. (Y/N) descended the stairs, each step carrying a mix of excitement and love.

The door closed behind them with a soft click, leaving a momentary silence in its wake. Neeraja's eyes lit up with delight as he spotted (Y/N) walking down the street. Without a moment's hesitation, he broke into a joyful sprint, closing the distance between you and him in an instant.

He smoothly wrapped his arm around (Y/N)'s waist, pulling you into a warm and unexpected hug. (Y/N)'s cheeks flushed with a rosy hue as Neeraja's playful embrace took you by surprise. In a playful and lighthearted gesture, Neeraja twirled (Y/N) gently in his arms, prompting a delighted giggle to escape (Y/N)'s lips. "I miss you so much, dearie," he gently set you down on the ground.

With a mischievous glint in his eyes, Neeraja extended an inviting hand to (Y/N), a spontaneous idea forming in his mind. "How about we take a ride on my elephant together?" he suggested with a playful smile. (Y/N)'s eyes widened with a mixture of surprise and excitement, and a grin slowly spread across your face as you nodded in agreement.

Neeraja helped (Y/N) onto the elephant's back, ensuring their comfort and safety. Once settled, Neeraja mounted behind them, his arms encircling (Y/N) protectively as the elephant carefully and slowly stood up on its leg. The world seemed to take on a new perspective from up there.

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Gupta Muhammad Hassan - Egypt

Egypt can be blunt and tactless when speaking but that does not mean he is heartless. He's just introverted and observant but secretly he does have a soft spot for you.

Very protective of you and you know how hot it gets in the desert so if you are travelling around the Sahara desert with him. He will make you wear tons of clothes that cover you from the sun.

Also, let you ride on his camel when the two of you are travelling in the desert as he also already prepares many drinks when the two of you are going on travel since he did not you to be dehydrated.

Secretly is a tough guy so he would not even let any dangerous desert animals come close to you, especially the cobras, the scorpions or the Nile crocodiles.

Despite his cold exterior. Egypt actually can be quite cute. He's very easily blush if you give him affection like a simple kiss on the cheek already made his cheeks go pink.

He might not show it but secretly he does get jealous when you are around Turkey because he knows many women and men like Turkey so he would most likely watch over you when interacting with his friend.

If you ask about it. Not going to admit that he is jealous as he would just say "I do not understand what you mean. I'm sorry," and then walk away with you still confused.

If you are observant enough. His love language is actually the service of act and then quality time together with you. It's not really easy for him to show how much he loves you like how India did for his S/O.

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Muhammad Gupta stood before the mirror, his khaki uniform neatly worn, representing his country as Egypt. He reached for his white keffiyeh, carefully unfolding it before draping it over his shoulders. The soft fabric settled against his chest, a symbol of tradition and identity that connected him to his heritage.

(Y/N) (L/N) stood hidden behind the slightly ajar door, observing Muhammad Gupta with a mixture of curiosity and anxiety, worried if anything bad happen to him. Everyone knows the desert is not a friendly place for human beings, there are many deaths because of the heat and because of the dangerous animals in there.

A subtle intuition tingled at the back of Muhammad Gupta's mind, a feeling that he was not alone in the room. Slowly, he turned around, his gaze shifting from the mirror to see (Y/N) already standing there. The man with white keffiyeh could not help but sigh at (Y/N). "Is everything alright?" He asks (Y/N) who is still standing behind the door.

(Y/N)'s gaze met Muhammad Gupta's as you hesitated, then finally spoke up. "Hey, do you think I could join you on one of your desert trips sometime?" you asked with a hopeful smile. Muhammad's expression softened, and he took a moment before responding, his tone tinged with concern. "I appreciate your interest, but the desert can be quite challenging and unpredictable. It's not without risks, and I wouldn't want you to get hurt." His words carried a mixture of protective care and a desire to keep you safe.

A flicker of disappointment crossed (Y/N)'s expression. You took a moment to process his concern before mustering up the courage to respond. "I understand your worries, Gupta. But I promise to be careful and follow your guidance. I really want to see what the desert looks like as well as the pyramid. I promise I will be careful," (Y/N) is begging him to let her/him/them go with him.

Muhammad was a little bit hesitant, seeing the genuine desire in (Y/N)'s eyes. He couldn't resist the sight of (Y/N) pouting slightly, her/his/their bottom lip jutting out in an adorable manner. Another sigh escapes from his nostrils along his mouth, shaking his head slightly as he realizes that he just gave in because of the way you act. "Alright, "but you'll have to promise to follow my instructions and stay close," (Y/N) smile was glowing bright once you hear Gupta finally letting you go.

As (Y/N) relished in the triumphant moment of convincing Muhammad Gupta to let them join him in the desert, a gentle rustling drew their attention. Turning towards the sound, (Y/N) watched in astonishment as Muhammad reached into his wardrobe and pulled out another white keffiyeh. Without any words, the man with white keffiyeh steps closer and puts another white keffiyeh on top of your head.

Muhammad gently placed the white cloth over (Y/N)'s head, letting it settle atop your hair. Confusion mixed with surprise painted on your facial expression, and they blinked at him in disbelief. "What's this for?" (Y/N) asked, their voice a mixture of curiosity and amusement. Muhammad was silent for a moment before he spoke, It's to protect your hair from the sun. It's going to be very hot in there," he commented.

A soft blush crept onto (Y/N)'s cheeks as (Y/N) connected the dots. Gupta's caring gesture, his concern for their well-being, and the way he delicately placed the keffiyeh on their head all fell into place making you realize that he does not want you to get heated because of the sun from the desert. Your eyes looked up at him, their eyes reflecting a mixture of gratitude and affection. "Thank you," you whisper silently with a little smile on your face.

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Wibawa Prayogo - Indonesia

Almost like India, he doesn't get angry easily despite he often fights together with some ASEAN countries, especially Malaysia like siblings. Although, he has a little bit more temper than him and is a bit less polite.

Indonesia has a double side which is his bold side along with a shy side surprisingly. His bolder side is he is going to bring you around Jakarta on a motorcycle and just let you taste any delicious street food.

Would often fluster you with his little teasings. He can be a little bit of a prankster, sometimes would call you 'My dear, love, My sweet' and the cringiest is 'Ayang' which has the same meaning when you call people honey. He really loves to use those endearment pet names for you.

Also, going to bring you to his Komodo dragon island sometimes and let you interact with his Komodo dragon pet. Not only his Komodo dragon, but he would also let you interact with his bird of paradise (Cendrawasih bird).

The cute side of him when he is getting shy after he receives little kisses for you as he smiles goofily. Would look at the ground and then try to hide his red face.

He would also brag to Every ASEAN country about you, especially to Malaysia about him having a loving, cute and caring S/O. Also, even bragging about your achievement.

Just like India, he can be argumentative but India is still able to be polite about it or just plain Passive Aggressive. Whereas Indonesia would call out your every mistake and maybe even raise his voice.

Also, Indonesia can be even more stubborn than Indoa. If India is still able to forgive you when he is angry. Indonesia would give you silent treatment and sometimes does not even want to admit he is wrong.

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Seated on the comfortable couch in the living room, (Y/N) stared at the television screen with a hint of boredom etched on his face. The movie playing before them seemed to lack the spark that could capture their attention. The characters moved through predictable scenarios, and the dialogue felt flat.

Resting their/her/his chin on their/her/his hand, (Y/N) let out a quiet sigh, (Y/N) mind drifting away from the movie's storyline. The sound of the characters' voices became a distant murmur as they found themselves lost in their own thoughts, it's just the same for every romance highschool story of a girl crushing on a jock who has a girlfriend of a cheerleader and a popular girl and then the guy dumps the girl in the end to get the 'I'm not like other girl' MC character.

As the dull movie played on in the background, (Y/N) was jolted from the reverie by the distant rumble of a motorcycle engine. The sound grew louder, causing (Y/N) curiosity to pique. You instinctively got up from the couch, moving towards the window to investigate. Pulling the curtain aside, your eyes widened in surprise.

There, parked on the street, was (Y/N)'s boyfriend Wibawa Prayogo, sitting confidently on a sleek motorcycle that he always rides around the city. A smile broke across (Y/N)'s face as you took in the sight of Wibawa's helmeted head, his eyes hidden but the joy evident in the curve of his lips. "Baby!! I'm here, let's go out together and have some Fried Rice with Chicken Skewers! I know a great place that sells Fried Rice!" He shouted.

With a rush of excitement, (Y/N) wasted no time in stepping outside, the cool breeze hitting their/her/his face as they eagerly approached the waiting motorcycle. Wibawa's warm smile greeted you, and without hesitation, (Y/N) carefully mounted the motorcycle behind him, ensuring him with the grip.

Wibawa turned towards you, a grin hidden beneath his helmet as he handed over an extra helmet. (Y/N) accepted it with gratitude, securing it in place before giving Wibawa a reassuring nod. The motorcycle roared to life once he press his feet on the pedal, the engine vibrating beneath them and the tire starts to move once the engine starts.

As the wind rushed past them and the world blurred in their peripheral vision, (Y/N)'s heart swelled with happiness. You recalled the numerous times the two of you had ventured out together, exploring new culinary delights, savouring exotic flavours, and discovering hidden gems in the city's culinary scene.

After arriving at the festival of the Independence Day night markets. Amid the festive atmosphere of the Indonesia Independence Day celebration, Wibawa and (Y/N) found themselves immersed in a vibrant sea of colours, lights, and laughter. The night market was alive with energy.

(Y/N) couldn't help but feel a surge of gratitude for Wibawa's thoughtfulness in bringing them/her/him to the festival. With a tender smile, you leaned into his face to press a gentle kiss on his cheeks. "Happy Independence Day, Wibawa. Also, thank you for bringing me to this place," you whispered to his ears. Wibawa's cheeks flushed with a delightful mix of surprise and pleasure, his eyes widening in response to the unexpected display of affection.

Ⰶ║ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ║Ⰶ

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[boredright]

Rin Itoshi as a millionaire 🫣

Arranged marriage 🫠🫠 angst to fluff, Rin is an adult here.

5k words :)

Rin Itoshi was not pleased about the arrangement his parents had made for him.He hates when others make decisions for him. He was a successful businessman in Japan and anything that disrupted his carefully laid-out plans was a waste of time and energy. He fulfilled all the wishes that his parents had.

He had flown down to his hometown in Tokyo for the wedding, accompanied by his brother Sae Itoshi. Sae, on the other hand, was quite happy about the prospect of meeting Rin's bride-to-be. He had heard that the girl was beautiful, intelligent, and polite. "You got my blessings, man" Sae said with a small smile on his face."Look Sae I am already pissed off don't make it worst." Rin hissed. " It's going to be fine.You might even like her."Saying that Sae nudged Rin. Rin just rolled his eyes.

They soon arrived at the venue, where they were greeted by the bride’s family. They were directed to their rooms, where they were to rest before the wedding ceremony. Rin was still seething with anger about the situation he was in. How could his parents expect him to spend the rest of his life with a stranger? They did not even asked him for his opinion.Rin has never met the bride before.

His thoughts were interrupted by a knock on his door. He opened it to find the bride’s sister standing outside. She introduced herself as Martha and said she had come to check if he needed anything. Rin was not in the mood for idle chit-chat, but he did not want to be rude to his future sister-in-law.

He assured Martha that he was fine and went back to his bed. Rin laid in bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking about the terrible situation he was in. He was not prepared for the day ahead and needed rest badly.

The next morning, Rin woke up to the sound of music and laughter coming from the bride’s room. He got out of bed and walked over to his window, from where he could see the festivities which had begun. It was evident that his future wife was having a good time, but he was not in the mood to join in."How could you be so MUCH enjoying when you have never met me before. Lukewarm" Rin groaned.

His parents came to his room to check up on him. They could sense his unease and tried to pacify him, telling him that he would get used to his new wife and eventually fall in love with her. Rin was not convinced."I am rich,successful I have my own house I did everything you asked for. And then this is what you do to me." Rin said and it was visible he was mad .

As the day progressed, he met his future bride,Yn. She was indeed beautiful, as Sae had said, but Rin could not bring himself to be friendly towards her.Yn was friendly but Rin was still not ready for marriage.He was cold and distant, ignoring her attempts at making small talk.

The wedding ceremony was a blur of colors, music, all of which Rin just wanted to get over with as soon as possible. He went through the motions of the ceremony with a frown on his face, not sparing a single glance at Yn.

The wedding was finally over, and Rin and Yn were escorted to their room. Rin was in no mood for romance and went straight to bed, ignoring Yn’s slight smile. He just lay there, staring at the ceiling, wondering how he was going to get through the rest of his life."I know you don't like me and I don't ask you to like me.I am sorry for getting into your life." Yn mumbled. Rin simply ignored her and tried to get some rest.

Days passed, and Rin started to warm up to Yn. He had to admit that she was intelligent, kind and a good listener. She did not judge him and took care of him. Slowly, he started to see her as more than just his arranged bride."You know I don't want to force you to smile at me just because we are married. I want you to be comfortable in your own house."Rin gently said. "No it's fine. I naturally smile at you because I find you as a nice person." Yn said smiling.

Rin could feel this warm feeling which he would always get whenever he saw Yn smile. He was shocked to realise that he was in love to the woman who he thought was a lukewarm. Rin surely did fall in love quickly but he thought yn was not in love with him because their relationship is arranged marriage.

Yn could sense a change in him and was happy to see him open up to her. They spent countless hours talking about their lives and their dreams. "Yk Itoshi-" " Ah now don't call me by my family name call me Rin. Your are my wife." Hearing that Yn felt some kind of feeling in her stomach.

Years went by and both of them started getting closer."I love you ." Rin said between his kiss. And went back to kiss Yn. " I love you too" Yn said . " Let me show you how much ." Saying that Rin started sucking Yn's neck.

Years went by, and they both started their family together. Rin was happy to have Yn as his wife and the mother of his children. He could not have asked for something better in life. Looking back, he realized that the arranged marriage that he had so despised had led him to the greatest love of his life.

Through Yn, he learned that love takes time and patience to develop, but it is always worth the wait.

*Bonus*

After Yn send the boys to sleep, she slowing went to her bedroom. Only to find Rin lying on the bed without a shirt. He looked hot af with his abs flexing. "Hey-y babe you already ready to sleep..? I thought we d-o have dessert." Yn cleared her throat and shuttered."Yeah we will." Rin said getting up."Babe give me another child." Rin whined and whispered to Yn. At the very moment Yn understood the night is going to be LONG .

[honeybeezgobzzzzz]

𓅨 Your Fate is Sealed With Mine: Chapter Sixteen

Your Fate is Sealed With Mine: Y/N Burgess is the granddaughter of Alex and Paul, and after having spent so many summers at their manor and always wondering why she was forbidden from entering the basement, she descends the steps into the world of the Order. She broke out the being that had been trapped in that glass cage, but what does he want with her now that he is free?

Warnings: Language, Morpheus So Jelly That He Forgets That He Is Not Supposed To Indulge On His Desire For Reader, Morpheus Stakes His Claim (Once Again), Sexual Tension, Reader is Pissed Off (Once Again), It Get’s Steamy.

To Note: Morpheus/Dream x Female!GranddaughterReader, based on Netflix’s ‘The Sandman’, Reader now has long-ish hair for plot reasons (Just so Morpheus can tug on it later).

Word Count: ~3.2k

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Your shivering had subsided after spending only a meager five minutes in the bath. You had added a descent amount of bath oil and soap that smelled of flowers so a fair amount of bubbles had been produced and the scent filled your nose. The anger and rage you had felt coming from the other room was nearly nauseating, but the satisfaction of getting a hit in on something like Morpheus was more than enough for you to be pleased. He couldn’t get mad at you for kissing someone else and then turn around and act like you were a burden he was placed with. He couldn’t treat you like a prized possession no one else was allowed to touch and then act like you didn’t exist or had feelings. He couldn’t treat you as a toy. Either he wanted you, or he didn’t. He couldn’t play both fields. Not with you. You rested your head on the back of the tub and closed your eyes. Exhaustion quickly caught up with you.

The sun bearing down on you warmed your skin thoroughly until you felt like its rays were kissing your skin free of the cold. You were stretched across a lounge chair, your limbs splayed out like a cat sun bathing, both legs stretched out. You had one arm lightly resting on your stomach and the other hanging over the side of the lounge chair. Heaven, you felt like you were in heaven. Then a shadow blotted out the sun and its warming rays disappeared from your skin. Cracking your eyes open, you looked over the large sunglasses covering your eyes and saw that a woman was standing in front of you. 

“You’re blocking the sun,” You commented politely, holding your hand over your eyes and squinting at the woman.

“You have balls to talk to my brother like that.” The woman spoke, her voice floating down to your ears. You raised an eyebrow in confusion. 

“Sorry? Have we met?” 

“Oh yes, though I must admit you were quite sloshed after a night of tossing back liquor.” The woman said, finally moving to take a seat in the lounge chair beside you. “I’m Death, Dream’s older sister.”

You blinked at her, the sunglasses sliding down your nose as you stared. Death? Morpheus’s older sister? And you had talked after you had gotten drunk? You will presume it was during your trip to London to meet up with Jemima. Death gave you a friendly smile. 

“You won’t remember but you gave me quite the tongue lashing that night. Going off on me about not helping my brother and saying that I didn’t deserve him.” You said what now? To Death!?  The woman chuckled at you, so she must not be too terribly irate with you for yelling at her. “Never had a mortal yell at me like that, it was rather refreshing.” 

“Your… welcome?” You spoke hesitantly. She waved off your hesitation. 

“You don’t need to be nervous, I know I should’ve done something but I can’t change what I’ve done now.” Death spoke, maintaining her calm and down to earth demeanor. Reaching up, you pushed the sunglasses to the top of your head and lurched yourself into a better sitting angle to have a conversation with her. 

“I’m really confused right now,” Death smiled again. 

“I know, but I figured it would be easiest to talk to you without my brother meddling when you pulled yourself into a dream. We need to talk.” Talk. With Death. Well it wasn’t like you were going to have much of choice in the matter and perhaps it would be nice to talk to someone who understood him.

“Okay… so can you please start by explaining why you think I have balls?” Another laugh. She had a nice laugh. 

“No one, and I mean, no one, talks to my brother like the way you do. Let alone slam a door in his face. Last time anyone dared, he threw them into hell for eternity,” She chuckled and shook her head as if she still had a hard time believing it. You made a face. 

“I’m tired of him giving me mixed signals, okay? It’s bloody confusing and I’m not going to let myself be treated like a disposable toy. Even if he is an immortal being.”

“You’re far from disposable, Y/N,”

“Does he know that?” You spoke, enunciating your words. “One moment he’s going all he man ape shit over the fact that I want to kiss someone, then the next he’s distant, aloof, seems like I’m just another mortal to him. A stupid little toy. It’s like he can’t make up his own mind about what to do with me!” The last part was shouted and you bit your lip and looked away. “Does he, or does he not want me because what I’m seeing and what I’m hearing are two different things. It hurts.” 

Death leaned forwards and took your hand in hers with a frank look. 

“Y/N, my brother’s an idiot. Think’s he’s always right, a bit self centered, selfish, never asks for help and has a big habit of pushing away those that care about him. He hurts the one’s he loves because he’s got a misguided notion that he has to solve all his problems by himself.” You snorted at her words. Everything she said fit Morpheus to a T. “He’s probably pouting that he’s had his toys taken from him and the little games he likes to play are over. He’s unfairly taking it out on those around him. That’s you.”

“So he’s just acting like a spoiled brat?” Death cocked her head to the side, her lips twitching. 

“Kind of. My point, Y/N, is that Dream had a choice in who he bonded himself to within the Burgess lineage, and he chose you. He could have waited longer, but he didn’t. He wouldn’t have chosen you if he didn’t see something he liked. Now add his territorial yet distant treatment of you? I think he has no idea what to make of you and that scares him. Your souls are intertwined, no Endless has ever experienced that before.”

“What is there to be scared about being bonded to a menial human who apparently vexes him?” You pointed out. Death rolled her eyes and looked out to the ocean, eyes distant for a moment. 

“Plenty if you believe it, you two are stuck with each other for eternity.” Your heart seized in your chest. 

“I’m what?” Death’s eyebrows pinched together before she seemed to realize something. 

“Oh don’t tell me he hasn’t told you yet!?”

“Told me what?” You asked sharply. “I haven’t been told anything about being bonded to him and am figuring this out as I go!” 

“You are even bigger idiot then I thought Dream.” Death sighed out dramatically. “So here’s the basics, you and Dream are soul bound now, your fates are tied and there isn’t anything you can do about that. There will always be a part of you in each other. Nonnegotiable, that’s why you can pick up on each others emotions.”

“Morpheus has a lot of rage right now.” You commented, pleased that he was emotionally disturbed. You weren’t going to be the only one. 

“Yeah, well he’s been confined for a century and his bonded is giving him the worst case of blue balls I’ve ever seen and I’ve been around the block.” Death answered dryly. You blanched at her words. Worst case of blue balls? You were talking about the same man… right? She waved your expression off. “Never mind that, you’ll get there eventually… The biggest thing my little brother has failed to mention is that since your fates are intertwined, sealed, is that you’re gonna live as long as he does. Say goodbye to your mortal life and hello to immortality.” 

What. The. Fuck. Morpheus! 

Morpheus hadn’t said anything about that… how did he fail to mention that you weren’t going to age anymore? Or that you were going to be living forever, stuck at this age presumably? Death rocked back in her seat.

“Judging by your facial expression I’m gonna guess Dream has some explaining to do… but you can’t fault him for neglecting to tell you.”

“And why not?” You snipped out tersely.

“He’s been alone most of his life, sure he’s had a few flings, even got married for a period… but most of his relationships never lasted beyond a decade or two. This is new to him as well.” You drooped were you sat. So Morpheus was simply being an idiot because he didn’t know what to do with you or his feelings. Lovely. You were bound to an emotionally constipated Endless.

“So does he, or does he not want me?” Death gave you a chilling smile. 

“Y/N, my brother is starving and you are the only thing in this universe that will ever sate his appetite.”

Death had long since left you alone on the beach to simmer in what she had told you. You were slowly getting used to the idea of living as long as Morpheus... but it was still hard to compute that in all his rage, snippy words, and cold shoulders, you would be the only one he would ever want. He wanted you but was trying to keep you at arms length when he could. What an idiot. This was a clear case of his selfishness since he probably hadn’t ever considered how you felt. 

Softly groaning out and rubbing your aching shoulder which felt sunburnt, you rose from the lounge chair and looked in the distance for cover from the intense sunlight. You could see what looked like a cabana in the distance and immediately started heading that way. Your mind had taken you to a warm place but didn’t think to give you a bathing suit coverup to protect your skin from the sun. Jogging over to the covered cabana, you let out a sigh when the suns rays stopped beating down on your shoulders. Looking around the cabana, you trailed your fingers over the extra wide lounger which could probably fit three, maybe four people, as your eyes took in the view of the ocean. It was extraordinarily beautiful and you don’t think you’ve ever been to a beach as nice as this one. 

Climbing up onto the large lounge, you crawled to the top and laid down on your side, setting your eyes on the rhythmic crashing waves. You didn’t know why this dream felt particularly exhausting, perhaps it was because you had managed to finally get some answers about your predicament. You just were going to have to fight Morpheus until he stopped trying to push you away, however long that many be. You did have eons to sort this out, you just hoped this didn’t last that long. Your eyes drifted shut.

You were jarred awake not that much later by hands pressing your wrists flat against the lounge. Eyelashes fluttering as you opened your eyes, they went wide when you were greeted with the blazing gaze of a very unhappy Morpheus hovering over you. You went to squirm but found that Morpheus had an unbreakable lock on your wrists. Your legs flailed and he just pinned them down with his. Your eyes blazed, echoing his in both color and anger.

“Morpheus, what are you—“ You cut off when his face dipped down and his nose brushed yours. Lividity oozed from his black clothed body.

“Not. Another. Word.” He growled out, his lip curling at you. A traitorous shiver ran down your spine at his commanding tone, but you didn’t back down from his glare. No, you kept your features calm and collected, reversing your facial expressions for once. “Do you think this is a game?” 

“A game? Hardly,” You quipped back, the corner of your own mouth quirking with a biting smirk.  It probably was. “But if it was, we both know who’s winning.” 

You didn’t know it was possible to anger him any further, but Morpheus was rippling with untamed rage barely contained by his skin. Perhaps he would explode from his mortal form and rain his fury down on you cosmically. 

“Y/N,” He hissed, your name rolling off his tongue like it was poison… or ecstasy. You knew better now. You raised an eyebrow and echoed him, enjoying the way you could feel his emotions billow from him like thick smoke from a fire. 

“Morpheus,” You breathed back tauntingly, hoping, craving, the intimacy that you knew burned like wildfire between you and him. In his eyes, past all that fury and might, you saw want. He did want you. He wanted you so bad it might tear him apart, at this rate it would. Just a little taste of your lips, that’s all. A sample, something to tide you both over until you could finally have each others bodies. Just. One. Little. Taste. 

His patience broke. One moment you were staring into his pretty eyes flashing with all sorts of unbridled rage and anger, and the next his teeth were sinking into your neck. A ragged gasp tore it’s way from your parted lips and your body arched with grace, crashing into his harshly. Desire nipped, Dream bit. Heat flooded your sun kissed cheeks, seeping into every nook and cranny of your body, your soul. You felt that dreams ran through your veins, nightmares made your shadow, and what beat your chest was a ruby heart, glittering and gleaming with life. For a moment you thought that was the end of it, that Morpheus was just throwing a tantrum because Desire had marked up his toy. No, it became clear that he was only just getting started. 

Flopping back against the lounge when his teeth released your skin, you let out a moan from the sharp sting that now radiated from your neck. You had very little reprieve from his action. As your chin tilted inward and your hair fell to cover the mark, Morpheus released your right wrist and took a hold of your throat. He was then pushing his fingers upwards, brushing against your jaw while he curled them into your mess of hair. Your head was forced back to the side by the thumb still on your jaw, revealing the stretch of skin he had sunk his teeth into. You let out a soft grunt and wriggled your body, your now free hand sinking into his shoulder and pushing. Morpheus didn’t even move a millimeter. 

As you tried to push him back, black silky hair brushed across your jaw and lips pressed against the stinging marks. This time he was harshly pulling at the skin with an intention to leave more than teeth marks. Your struggles started up once more, body wriggling and writhing under his, trying to fight back the warmth that flooded sun kissed skin and the growing desire that simmered deep within your body. You wouldn’t give in to his intentions, whatever they may be. Trembling and gasping as lips dragged across tingling skin, you twisted your torso to try and get more control of your body. It didn’t work. Morpheus simply tightened his grip on your jaw and roughly brushed his lips up your neck until they skimmed your ear tauntingly. 

“Stay. Still.” He growled lowly, his voice a darker than you had ever heard. You froze in place, your back going ramrod straight and your chest heaving against his. Your eyes strained as they connected with his dark soaked ones. You could feel his powers wash over your body like a tidal wave, but they weren’t what had you freezing in place, spun up in his enchantment. It was his voice. His voice was going to be your downfall. Satisfied that you weren’t going to struggle anymore, Morpheus drew his lips back down your neck, igniting every nerve ending they passed over and drawing your mind and body up into a tizzy. Your breathing quickened, growing labored as you struggled against his demand. Morpheus took a moment to nuzzle the juncture where neck met shoulder, his lips pressing a gentle kiss against the skin. He could be soft if he wanted, when he wanted. Now wasn’t the time. You let out a small whimper and received a few more delicate kisses against your flesh.

But that softness was quick to end and he went right back to ravish his bite. Morpheus was far more greedier with your skin then Desire, licking and kissing it until blood vessels broke and color bloomed. His lips carved up your flesh like a hot brand until you were visibly shaking from your efforts not to start thrashing against his hold once more. You were over sensitized and ached for more everywhere. It wasn’t enough just to have his lips on your neck, you wanted them all over your body. You wanted them on your hips, on your thighs, on your wrists, on your chest, anywhere you could have them. But just as quick as his assault had started, it ended, leaving you sprawled on the lounge with labored breathing and a neck that felt like it was on fire. Hot and bothered. All alone…

“That dodgy, two faced—“ Your world shifted and turned in a jarring sensation. Seconds later you were sputtering on and spitting luke warm water out of your mouth. You were back in the hotel bathroom, your hair hanging around your body in a met mess from you slipping into the water while asleep. 

“Careful,” Morpheus’s overly smug voice was demure and gentle. Nothing like how he had just been in that dream. But you could pick up on that not so hidden smugness. What the hell was he doing in the bathroom? Your eyes blazed to life as you set them on him and you gave him a scowl that would have made any other man shrivel up. But not him. No, his smirk only widened. He knew he was getting to you. Your eye twitched. 

“What the bloody hell was that for you arse!?” You hissed at him, your neck aching. His eyebrow twitched as he grabbed a clean, dry towel hanging from the nearby rack. 

“Making myself clear, Y/N.” He stated. “You. Are. Mine. You keep forgetting that it seems.” 

You snorted in disbelief. 

“Are you serious!?” You exclaimed, your fingers gripping the edge of the tub in a white knuckle grip. 

“Quite,” He enunciated. 

“Well it is my understanding that if I am someones, than I get to give and receive love and affection,” You snapped at him. “And since it has been made quite clear that you don’t plan on giving me either, I may as well find it elsewhere!” 

That put a damper on his smirk and made his eyes glow silver. Checkmate. He was ever so easy to rile up now that you knew the truth… and to drive in the nail, you gripped the tub and pushed yourself to your feet, tugging the drain for the tub. Morpheus’s jaw clicked once more as you stepped out of the tub, showing off every inch of your body. He went ridged as you prowled right up to him and took the towel he had been holding. Morpheus didn’t even give you any resistance, letting the towel slip from his fingers. Shaking the towel out, you ever so slowly wrapped your body up. Hiding everything that he, only moments before, had been lustfully staring at. 

“It takes two to play this game, Morpheus,” You told him, staring at his black jacket before flickering your gaze up to his. “When are you going to stop trying to bend the rules in your favor and simply play?” 

You left Morpheus frozen, staring off into space in the bathroom, too dumbstruck to reply or even move. Moving about the hotel room, you changed into a spare set of clothes and sat at the table with the book. Matthew fluttered over. 

“What happened between you and Lord Morpheus, Ma’am? He looks like he’s had the rug swiped out from under him and you look bothpissed and smug. What did you do?” Matthew asked, cocking his head at you and blinking curiously. 

“Nothing he didn’t didn’t deserve, Matthew,” You stated crisply, licking your finger and changing the page you were on. 

Date Published: 10/7/22

Last Edit: 7/8/23

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[crystaldwightsworld]

"I'm definitely catching a cold..."

So, in the recent Game Informer footage of Resident Evil 4 remake, you can hear Ashley say "I'm definitely catching a cold!" after her and Leon have escaped from the Church. It's pouring rain, probably chilly. Now, I know it's myth that catching a cold from the weather isn't really a thing but what if they BOTH got sick during the trip from Spain, and being forced to stay in isolation together.

-They're both being held in isolation either way, Graham wanting to be absolutely certain that any traces or remnants of the Plaga had been eradicated. Leon agrees to it only under the circumstance that 1. he gets to eat, 2. he gets a shower and 3. someone needed to go to his apartment, grab him some clothes, his medication, his laptop and to check up on his cats. "Graham, Sir, if you're gong to keep me here, I need to be comfortable. Ashley too, she's gone longer without food than me!"

-Hunnigan's there on location and is entrusted with the task of retrieving Leon's things. Leon has to tell her exactly where everything is, embarrassing enough that she was going to have to pick out underwear for him. "I hope you're okay with cats. Oscar is friendly but Millie is skittish. Just, you know, make sure they have enough food and water."

-Ashley's pissed, absolutely having none of it. "This is how you treat the agent that saved your daughter's life! I'd be dead without him! And what about me?! My word isn't good enough for you?!"

-So many tests done, so... many... even blood drawn. Ashley nearly passes out during her draw while Leon showered. They have them in a custom built ICU, wanting to keep surveillance on the both of them for the next 24 hours, heart rates being monitored on the constant. They both have their own section of the room, a bed brought in for the both of them. Ashley politely requests a tv.

-Leon can already feel it after the shower, that icky, not so great feeling as he dried his hair. He mentions it to the doctors on site. Sure enough, a few hours later, he's developed a fever, sore throat and body aches that keep him up most of the night despite how tired he is. Graham grows very concerned but the medic assures him that this was nothing more than the common cold. "He could have already been carrying a virus when he arrived in Spain. Maybe caught something on the airplane, from one of the pilots or staff. Happens all the time."

-Leon is miserable. He wants nothing more than to go home, to the comfort of his own bed, cocoon himself in his blankets and sleep. At least the bed wasn't too uncomfortable, the coffee wasn't bad either. He's been awake for an hour, coughing his lungs out and working on the report he was going to need to turn in eventually. Ashley stirring awake catches his attention with the addition of her now starting to cough. "Sweetheart, no! Not you too!" It was bound to happen. They had spent a lot of time together after finding her in the Church. She gets clingy after that and Leon doesn't have it in him to tell her no when she wants to hang out next to him. She develops a fever as well which results in shivering and a constant feeling of being cold. Good thing Leon was a furnace, body heat radiating off his frame.

-"The cooks are gunna make us some soup." Ashley tells him with a raspy voice.

"Oh God, that sounds amazing!" Leon replies, relieved.

-They unfortunately are requested to be kept in isolation for another night, just to be sure that it really was just a common cold. Leon grows just as angry as Ashley was yet they both make the best of it, by living on soup, ginger ale, warm tea, Gatorade, way too many fruit pops for the vitamin c boost, Alka Seltzer and the finest late night trash television has to offer.

-Ashley ends up falling asleep next to Leon but he's too exhausted to rouse her, knowing full and well that she needed her rest too. He doesn't care what the doctors would have to say, nor what Graham would think. As long as she was comfortable, he didn't mind. He ends up falling asleep not soon after, his head lulled back and resting against Ashley's. They had been through too much to be shy around each other.

[wheretheharekissesthefox]

Deep like water: Chapter 3 – Impressing Mystra

(Trigger warnings: angst, life crisis, graphic description of evil magic that tries to consume the human body, shitty goddess behaviour)

Gale grew into a dashing young man with brown shoulder-length hair, intelligent eyes, and elegant hands. He was the spitting image of his mother – and he was proud of it. A single earring in the image of Mystra's symbol dangled from his lobe.

Men and women stumbled over their own feet when looking at him, contemplating if they should ask him out for a date. Gale didn't see any of it, he had only eyes for his goddess.

But for some reason, it was very difficult to make friends. Gale didn't understand why. He tried his damn best to be friendly, polite, and courteous. The problem wasn't his behaviour though, but rather his reputation. As a prodigy of the Goddess of Magic herself, the son of Morena Dekarios, and the pupil of Elminster Aumar, people had prejudices and they started to ostracise him. Gale became isolated on the academy's campus and his knack for the Weave pissed off other students and even professors more than once.

His only friends were Tara and the Weave. He didn't really see Mystra and Elminster as his friends, but rather as his teachers. And he wasn't sure what Monty was to him. Gale liked him a lot, but he didn't know what the tiefling thought of him and in a way, that scared him. They had stopped being intimate since Mystra had taken Gale as her lover, and Gale wasn't sure what that meant for their friendship. All he knew was that it was complicated now – and he hated the thought that he'd hurt Monty with his actions. But the tiefling never said anything, always smiled at him, and was as kind as ever.

Gale wanted to be liked desperately, he tried so hard to please others, but people still walked away from him. Sometimes, Gale felt cursed.

Gale began to earn money with the help of his magic. He helped out with wrecked ships in the harbour, magically secured the merchants’ carriages against theft, and offered his services for minor evils as well.

When Morena asked about his work, he explained: "I don't heal, I don't steal your customers. "

"Waterdeep’s big enough for both of us," his mother laughed. "Even if you'd heal people, there’d still be enough work for me. – Maybe, you should specialise in healing. There's plenty of work, and you could make a difference in the world. "

Gale shook his head.

"I'm not cut out for healing. "

Morena raised her brows, but said nothing. She was aware of how stubborn her son could be. After all, that's what he got from her.

After four years of hard work, Gale had enough savings to buy a tower house for himself and Tara, right at the harbour, overlooking the sea. He secretly revelled in the thought that he shared this similarity with the grand wizard Elminster now. He felt like he was one step closer to his goal of becoming the greatest wizard Faerûn had ever known.

Over time, it became easier to be alone. Gale spent his evenings in front of the fireplace with a good glass of wine and a reading or his notebook. Tara would lie next to him and accept cuddles. She especially liked it when he ventured into poetry and wrote about the beauty of nature.

Gale went on daily strolls through the bustling streets of Waterdeep with Tara riding his shoulders. Sometimes, just for shits and giggles, he polymorphed into different people, elves, tieflings, gnomes, dwarves, whatever took his fancy that day.

The first time, he'd turned himself into a woman and twirled around his own axis to proudly present himself to Tara, she'd purred: "Oh, dear, you look like a younger version of you mother."

Blushing, Gale brushed back his wavy hair that fell down to his slim waist.

"You think so?" he asked, insecurely. His voice was a warm contralto, just like Morena's.

"Oh, yes. You're rather beautiful as a woman," the tressym nodded. "And so are you as a man. And now, scratch my chin with those deftly fingers of yours, Miss Dekarios."

Gale burst into an uncontrollable giggle fit and complied to his friend's wish.

Nobody recognised him on the streets and a poor fisherman fell down the stairs because he got so distracted by Gale's appearance.

Mystra had become his teacher, muse, and lover. Gale wanted to prove to her that he was worthy of her love and approval. He was able to manipulate magic like a skilled virtuoso plays music, and sometimes, he feared this was the only reason why Mystra kept him around. Gale begged her to give him access to higher, forbidden, levels of magic to prove his capability, but she repeatedly refused and got angry at him.

"I've shared more secrets with you than any other being before. There's no need for you to know more."

"Why not?" Gale asked, upset. "Don't I, your prodigy and Chosen, deserve the privilege to know everything? How should I become the greatest wizard Faerûn has ever known if you deny me to reach my full potential?"

Mystra looked at him, stone-faced.

"Are you questioning my decisions?"

"Well... yes."

"You're getting too recalcitrantly, Gale of Waterdeep," the Goddess of Magic replied. "Think about your actions and don't ever challenge my deeds again!"

And with that Mystra snapped her fingers and banned Gale from the Outer Planes.

He was furious and heartbroken. He didn't understand why Mystra withheld knowledge from him. Wasn't he her Chosen? Didn't she deem him worthy?

Gale decided to prove himself to Mystra, thus, he started looking for other ways to show the extent of his powers and devotion to her.

That's where the 'tome of gateways' came into play.

According to his extensive research, the ancient book contained a portion of the Astral Plane, called the 'Netherese Weave', a scrap of forbidden magic of ancient Netheril. In old texts, it was described as "a fragment of primal Weave locked out of time". Gale wanted to reunite Mystra with her missing piece of magic from which she'd been separated. This way, he'd surely win back her favour. His plan seemed fool-proof – or so he thought.

Tara was the only one privy to his plan and she wasn't amused at all.

"This seems much too dangerous," she tried to tell him. "Primal magic's not to be trifled with, Mr. Dekarios. Don't bite off more than you can chew."

"You worry too much, Tara. I can handle it, I'm Mystra's Chosen after all."

The tressym gave him a disapproving look.

"Sometimes forewarned is forearmed. What would your mother say if she knew?"

"For that very reason, she doesn't know," Gale replied. "After all, she can't stand my muse anyway. And as soon as I get the book to Mystra, I'm going to tell mom. She'll be proud of me."

"Your muse is quite demanding, you know?" sighed Tara.

"Oh, come on. She only wants what's best for me. "

"If you say so, Gale."

Finding the tome wasn't easy. It was well-hidden between time and space, but Gale was able to obtain it. It took all his powers and knowledge to open a portal between the Astral Planes. The reached location lay in ruins, crumbling stones and withered trees everywhere, and Gale shuddered as he felt the corrupt magic reach out for him. The wizard ignored his fight and flight instinct in favour of finding the tome. It was perched on a stone pedestal, humming with dark energy. With shaking hands, Gale took it and forced his way into the Outer Planes where Mystra resided.

"What are you doing here?" the goddess demanded to know. "I locked you out. You disobeyed my order."

"Forgive me, Mystra," Gale spoke quickly, "but I retrieved the 'tome of gateways' for you. The fragment of primal Weave of the Netheril that was out of your reach. For you, my Goddess, my love. To prove myself worthy to you."

"You fool!" boomed the addressed. "I showed you the secrets between the veil: gossamer veils, delicate veils, different Astral Planes, even the Outer Planes, but you're curiosity's still not sated! And now, you brought that twisted, tainted filth into my realm? How dare you!"

"But you're the Goddess of Magic! You're powerful enough to absorb this corrupted piece of Weave, no doubt!"

As Gale shouted at her, the tome in his hands started to tremble. Suddenly, the locks snapped open, revealing a black, whirling mass of magic chaos inside, instead of pages.

"You're a fool, Gale of Waterdeep and you're no longer my Chosen!"

"What? No!" Gale cried out in utter terror. "Mystra, please!"

The book in his hands exploded, blinding him. The wizard screamed as a massive source of energy clawed its way into his chest, almost as if it wanted to dig itself into his soul. The corrupted piece of Weave tried to become a part of his very being, ever-hungry, and latched onto his powers like a leech. Gale screamed for his Goddess as the black mass of pure, untamed chaos tried to rip him apart and consume him. But Mystra didn't listen to his pleas.

[ihearthes]

Author: @ihearthes

Pairing: Harry x Reader Insert (2nd person)

Rating: Smut

Word Count: 3100

Originally written 2017 (revised 2023)

Saturday Night Live

When your best friend (and SNL hair stylist) Samantha called, she was frantic. “You’ve got to come do makeup this week! Trinity’s sick. We need your skills.” 

Anxious for the paycheck and hopeful for a regular spot on the team, you readily agreed. But after standing so closely to Harry throughout the show as you applied and reapplied his makeup for Saturday Night Live, you’re sweating at the end of the night. It’s warm backstage, but the heat you feel has nothing to do with the air conditioning and everything to do with the smoldering gaze of one Harry Styles. 

It is all business, right? 

So why do you have butterflies in the pit of your stomach every time he looks at you? You pretend to ignore how stunning and green his eyes are as you blend the foundation. And why is your mouth dry every time he invites you to stand in the vee created by his spread legs while you work on his eyebrows? 

Harry, arrogantly, is paying zero attention to you, talking to Samantha as she styles his hair. And when he places his hands on your hips, it’s only to steady you. All night, he’s barely said two words to you outside of a nod of recognition. 

He doesn’t treat anyone else with such disdain. Casting your mind backwards a couple of years, you attempt to dredge up a memory of what might have pissed him off to such an extent. With everyone else, he’s bubbly, friendly, funny, and droll. With you, he’s practically taciturn. 

So when the night is over after a smashing success with only a few flubbed lines, it’s time to get the hell out of Dodge. Politely declining the after party invite Samantha throws your way, you make an excuse. 

“I’ve got to take my makeup case home. Plus I’m all sweaty. By the time I get to my apartment and showered, it will be too late.”

Samantha snorts, “First of all, it will never be too late, honey. The SNL after party goes all night long. And secondly,” she laughs, “the party is at Rue 57.” She raises her eyebrow.

This news causes you to sag against your wheeled makeup case. Rue 57 is the French restaurant at the base of your apartment building. Dammit.

“Chop chop!” Sam prods you out of the stage door, steering past the fans lined up for cast autographs. 

It takes about ten minutes to walk to your apartment building, and the hair stylist is in a chatty mood. 

“Harry was so fun! I love it when he hosts. So easy to work with, and he doesn’t really care how awful his hair looks for the sketches or what wigs I put on him. Don’t you agree that he’s simply the most amiable host ever?” Your quick nod is meant to convey agreement, and it’s sufficient as Sam carries on her monologue as though she were the host. Your bestie waits downstairs as you take your case up in the elevator, wishing there was a way to beg off. On the flip side, this is the first SNL after party to which you’ve been invited despite filling in last minute several times over the past few years. You tell yourself that you may not even see Harry there. He’ll probably be chatting up the interns, cast members, and staff rather than bothering with the makeup artist he ignored all night. Plus, if it’s really miserable, you only have to take the elevator back upstairs to your cozy apartment. 

Stealing a few extra minutes, you refresh the makeup sweated off from your proximity to Harry and change your shirt to one that doesn’t have pit stains. 

Entering the Salon at Rue 57, you feel left out as Harry waves Sam to his side immediately, leaving you bereft and sad. Taking a glass of champagne from the server carrying a tray full of them, you stand and watch the man who had been ignoring you all night. He’s laughing with two of the crew members -- his face filled with joy, his mouth open, exposing his tongue and his chewing gum -- and you want to laugh too because the sound and sight are infectious. When he listens, he does so intently, leaning forward, asking questions. You desperately want that intensity turned in your direction. Quickly, you down the champagne, grabbing a second glass as a new server appears.

Turning away from where Harry is holding court, you engage in conversation with former cast member Leslie Jones and one of the cameramen. Grabbing some sushi from a passing tray, you are so engrossed in the conversation that you nearly forget about Harry until suddenly his deep, sexy voice whispers in your ear. 

“Too much mercury isn’t good for you,” his husky voice intones, and you freeze with the current piece of spicy tuna roll halfway to your mouth. You recognize his voice, but you cannot fathom why he is talking to you. 

“Harry!” Leslie cries out, reaching to hug him. He leans in to her, wrapping both of his arms around her waist, pulling her in more closely for the tightest hug you’ve ever witnessed. The jealousy that swells in the pit of your stomach has you turning away quickly, wistfully gazing in the direction of the exit. 

Casually taking a step backwards out of the circle with Leslie, Harry, and the cameraman, you unceremoniously bump into Lorne Michaels who is standing behind you. Horrified, you apologize profusely, which Mr. Michaels brushes off, asking if you enjoyed working the show tonight. And suddenly you’re trapped in a one on one dialogue with the producer of SNL with no means of escape. He’s asking you questions and telling you stories, and you try not to be too obvious about catching Sam’s attention so she can rescue you. 

But it’s Harry who liberates you, in the most unlikely of ways -- by spilling his red wine down the collar of your shirt from behind. Jumping away from him, you turn angrily, “What the hell?” Seeing it’s him, your anger leaves you as quickly as it had come, and you turn back to Mr. Michaels (“Call me Lorne, my girl.”), making your apologies in a calm voice. 

“I’m going to have to go change, Lorne. Thank you so much for allowing me to be part of this historic night.” You politely incline your head towards him as you pat yourself with napkins. Avoiding eye contact with Harry, you exit the restaurant quickly, relieved that you’ve had a reason to escape. 

It isn’t until you’re at your building’s secure door that you realize that Harry has followed you.

“Where are you off to, love?” he inquires, as you open the door without waiting for the doorman. 

Throwing your hands in the air, you stalk into the building, aware that he’s two steps behind you, unsure as to why he would accompany you other than to ask for forgiveness. 

“Just going to change my clothes.” You reply as pleasantly as you can, knowing that you’re planning to exchange the wine-stained shirt for a pair of pajamas. “And you’re forgiven, so no apology is needed.” 

When he steps onto the elevator behind you, you breathlessly turn to face him.

“Uh…..why are you following me? I already accepted your non-apology.” Pushing the button for your floor, you cross your arms defensively. Why is he there? Why isn’t he at the party? 

“Who says I’m following you?”

“Escorting me then,” you murmur, “I know how to change my clothes all by myself. Been doing it for a couple of decades.�� Your flippant side appears rather suddenly, probably as a result of anxiety. 

“Ah! There she is!” Harry crows, practically whooping.

Curiously, you gaze at him, “Who?”

“The cheeky girl I met the last time I needed makeup in New York.” Harry drawls.

As you stare at him with your mouth agape, the elevator stops. He nods towards the open doors. “Must be your floor.” 

But you don’t move from the doorway, holding the doors open so that the elevator doesn’t leave. “Mhm. Thanks for ushering me to my floor, Harry. See you later.” 

In one swift move, you step back just as the doors start closing, and you think he’s been trapped having to ride the lift back downstairs. But he’s agile, inserting his foot just as the door is nearly closed, and the electronic eye catches, opening it again, exposing you. 

In the hallway now, he’s crowding you, and you don’t know what to do about it. Ignore him? Kiss him? With few good choices, you stalk towards your door, facing Harry once you have the door open. “I’ll just be a minute,” you prompt, hoping he will leave from here.

Instead, he leans in, his arm reaching over yours to hold the door open. His eyes flicker to your lips, and your breath catches. Darting his gaze back to your eyes, he silently asks for permission to do what you’ve imagined over and over throughout the night.

With only a small nod of acquiescence, he captures your lips in a sweet, hot kiss that leaves you desperate for air. His lips are soft and velvety, and he tastes of peppermint. You lean into the kiss, desperate for this connection with him, wrapping your hand in the tangle of curls at his neck as you urge him to move closer. 

When he pulls away with a smirk, you glare at him, “What was that for? You’ve been ignoring me since the moment Sam reintroduced us.”

He waggles his eyebrows, “Because as soon as I saw you again, I knew I’d not be able to concentrate on my job tonight. And damn! You made it really challenging pushing your boobs in my face every time I needed a touch up. Been rock hard most of the night.”

At those words, he steps into you so that you can feel how the truth of his words. A moan escapes your lips as you feel his length. This is all news to you, as you’ve spent the entire show thinking he wanted nothing to do with you. 

“Not my fault, Harry. We could have taken care of this earlier if you’d only said something.” You retort arrogantly. 

He’s got this look on his face that reminds you of an eager puppy dog. “Really? You would have been on board earlier?”

When you nod with a naughty look on your face, Harry taunts, “Hmm...Suppose we get you out of that shirt?”

Agreeing fervently, you step into your tiny one bedroom apartment with its postage stamp sized kitchen and bedroom that barely fits your queen-sized bed. As soon as the door is closed, Harry clicks all three locks, including the security latch. You’re immediately nervous, clasping your hands behind your back and rocking back and forth. 

“So, uh…” you start, “What did you have in mind?”

“Well,” he stalks towards you, “I was just thinking we should start with that shirt. I’m sure you’ll need my help with those buttons since they’re probably wet.”

You nod and Harry reaches out with both hands, grabbing the fabric around the buttons. In one move, he rips open the shirt and buttons fly everywhere. 

“Oops,” he says with mock innocence, “Looks like I’m not very good at wet buttons either.” Peels the shirt off of your arms, he drops it on the floor near the abandoned buttons. You didn’t really like that shirt anyway, and the wine probably stained it beyond the point of repair, although right now you really don’t give a damn about the shirt.

Giggling, you draw in a breath when his large hands cover your breasts, still trapped in your bra. Harry moves his hands deftly behind your back, unhooking the offensive device with a smooth practiced flick of his fingers. 

Pulling the scrap of material away, Harry’s eyes glaze over as he views your mounds of flesh, pert, with nipples beaded and ready for his tongue. As he plays with your breasts, you tentatively reach out to touch his length through his trousers. Hissing in a breath, he pauses. 

“Yeah,” he sighs regretfully, “not going to be able to do this slowly.” He shifts backwards out of your reach so you are forced to remove your hand from the shape of his cock. 

Standing in your living room, shirtless, wearing only a skirt, stockings, and comfy work shoes, you shiver in anticipation. Without warning, Harry spins you around so that you are facing the window. You put your hands out to maintain your balance, landing with one hand on the glass pane while the other grips the windowsill. Harry’s hands reach around to your front, manipulating your nipples again as he whispers in your ear, tickling the skin there with his breath, “Are you wet for me, babe?’

To be quite honest, if you hadn’t previously been wet for him, you certainly are now with that sexy voice in your ear. And to be even more honest, even if only with yourself, you had been wet for him from the second Sam had revealed that it was his makeup you’d be applying. One hand on your left nipple, Harry slides his right hand under your skirt, stepping back completely, looking at you with what you can only assume is shock. 

“Holy fuck. Stockings, love?” His voice cracks on the word “stockings”, and you smile broadly, still pressed against the glass. No way in hell had you anticipated this moment; the fact that you’d chosen stockings tonight of all nights was indeed serendipitous. 

Approaching you again, he nudges your ankles apart with his foot, flipping your skirt over your backside and exposing your panties, snapping the garters holding up those stockings. Returning his left hand to your boob, Harry’s right hand traces your cleft from behind, sending you squirming and bent over more than previously. Focused on his left hand, you are more aroused when you spy the tattooed cross as he kneads your breast. 

Sliding one finger under the edge of your panties, Harry eases the cloth out of your slit, replacing the material with his thumb. “Oh, god. You’re so wet. Is that all for me?”

“Mhm,” you murmur, sliding your pussy up and down on his thumb until he removes it. 

“Want something a little bigger than my thumb?” With a jaunty lick followed by his teeth lightly scraping the bare skin of your shoulder, Harry manages to increase your desire for him.

At the sound of a zipper being lowered, you start to turn around, but Harry quickly puts his hand in the center of your back to hold you in position. “Oh, don’t move, love. I’m enjoying this view.”

Biting your lower lip, you swivel your hips. “This view, Harry?” you ask playfully. 

Harry groans, “That’s a pretty nice view.”

You hear a package being ripped open, and you know that he’s providing protection for you both. Disappointment rolls through you. Choosing to share that information with him may be a mistake, though, because when you purr, “Dammit. I wanted a taste,” Harry curses loudly. 

“Don’t say things like that,” he chides, “I’m so close to exploding already.”

“As long as you explode in me, Harry. Doesn’t matter if it’s in my mouth or my pussy.” Your voice sounds like honey oozing. 

“Fuck me,” Harry breathes out, ripping your panties in one quick move.

“Harry!” you whine, “Those were my favorite pair!”

“I’ll buy you a thousand new pairs,” he gasps, positioning himself behind you. 

When he starts to slide in, you cannot believe his size. With one hand, he guides himself into you while the other rests on your waist. Every time he feels like too much, you grip the hand on your waist and he pauses until the pressure eases, allowing him to glide further inside you. Before long, he’s fully seated. 

“You feel so good filling me up,” you sigh, “Now stay still.”

Harry’s voice is confused. “Stay still? This is typically when I move.” 

But when you slide yourself along his length, then push backwards to impale yourself again, he groans, and you know that he’s grasped the reason for the directive. He places both hands on your hips, probably to steady himself. You quicken the pace as you glide back and forth. 

The fast pace doesn’t quite hit the spot, so you attempt a slower pace, pulling yourself nearly fully off him before sinking backwards in one swift move. 

“My turn, babe,” he growls, pumping in and out of you as quickly as he can. Suddenly, he shifts positions, pulling your hair so that your back is arched, and holy shit! You can feel him hitting your g-spot as you start to tip over the edge, your walls convulsing. Reaching down, you massage your clit. 

Behind you, Harry is groaning too. “Fuck! Fuuuuuucccckkkkkkk!” as he speeds up, wrapping your hair more tightly in his fist as he pumps so quickly your brain can't comprehend, but your body knows what to do. Looking out the window, your left hand pressed to the glass, you see the tiny objects below, walking around, unaware that just two dozen floors above them a makeup artist is being fucked to an amazing orgasm following a month-long drought. 

When the stars shatter, you scream out his name multiple times until his pace becomes more frantic and less measured. When he tips into the abyss, his body collapses on your back, his weight resting on you while he’s still deeply embedded. 

As he withdraws and disposes of the condom, you flip your skirt back over your backside. Feeling exposed, you grab a cardigan from the back of the sofa, slipping it on, drawing the sides closed. After everything, you feel more naked now than while he was buried inside you. Harry is back in moments, his pants in place, his belt unbuckled. Yanking you to him with one hand around your waist, he kisses you, his tongue seeking entrance as you relax into him. 

“Next time, I need to stay in New York longer,” Harry teases, releasing you as he buttons his trousers and fastens his belt, “Now you need to find a new shirt so we can get back to the party. Skip the panties, though. I want to spend the rest of the party knowing that you’re wearing those stockings and nothing else.”

[just-jessie0]

Pip of a Raptor - The Death of the American Dream (Chapter 6)

Heather froze mid-stride, her muscles locking into place on their own accord as she spotted both boys and they spotted her in turn. They lingered in a moment of awkward silence before Jon muttered under his breath, “Found it.”

Heather wanted nothing more than to run off and hide, but she didn’t want to give them even more reason to think she was a freak, and she was sure mimicking the same move that the deer pulled on her earlier wouldn’t help that situation. She straitened her back and gripped at her pants for something to hold on to. 

Alfie’s eyebrows raised in surprise, and he gave her a polite smile. 

“Hi, Heather,” he said waving his hand halfheartedly. 

She nodded, avoiding eye contact with either of them. Although she recognized the need to reciprocate a greeting, she wasn’t used to having to use pleasantries and the pounding of her heart made it challenging to focus on conversation. Clenching her hands into fists, she felt the pressure of her short nails biting into her palm, a desperate attempt to regain control over her fight or flight response. The longer she delayed her response, the more likely they might assume she was slow or something—assuming they didn’t already.

“Umm… sorry, we didn’t meet to startle you,” Alfie continued, breaking the silence, “We found this teepee yesterday when we were trying to get back to Mr. Browns house. We normally play paintball by his pond. Have you been over to his house? He normally lets kids hang out as long as we’re not being too loud or leaving trash laying around. It’s pretty sweet. I haven’t seen you over there before, but you should check it out. Anyway, we got lost - well I guess you figured that out — but we found this and wanted to see if it was still here…” He gestured to the teepee and his rambling trailed off. He raised his thick arm to scratch at his scalp through short, sandy hair.

Heather gathered enough courage to look at the pair. Alfie seemed friendly enough, his face warm and his posture welcoming. Although she didn't know him well, she had seen him around school enough to notice that he had almost as few friends as she did. Well, she had none, so it wasn't much of a competition. Apart from Jon, he seemed to keep mostly to himself. She had overheard some students snickering about his weight behind his back, but she was pretty sure no one dared say anything to his face as they did to her. It was more likely that they didn’t want to piss Jon off rather than worry about Alfie’s feelings, but he probably sensed it on some level, and that might be why he was being so kind.

Taking a shaky breath in, she tore her eyes from Alfie and spared a quick glance at Jon. She had never been this close to him before. Jon stood with his armed crossed over his chest, looking down at her with a stare that chilled her to the bone, his curly auburn hair falling into his eyes. He regarded her with a disdainful expression, much like the other students, as if her mere presence was a burden. It had never bothered her when it came from the others—fuck them. But how dare he of all people look at her like that. 

She anticipated a surge of anger or indignation, as was typical when she saw him, but this time, it eluded her. Instead, a wave of exhaustion washed over her. She released a sigh and lowered her gaze once again.

She heard Jon scoff and her cheeks reddened with embarrassment.

“You didn’t scare me,” she said softly, internally wincing at the reedy sound of her voice. She cleared her throat, “I’m just not used to seeing people out here.” Nope, too forceful now, she thought. Now she sounded like she was accusing them of something. She really hoped that they didn’t pick up on that. 

Alfie hesitated before responding, “We didn’t mean to trespass or anything. We can go.” From her peripheral, she watched the boys go to turn back the way they came. Jon muttered something too low for her to hear as they made their first steps back into the woods. 

Witnessing the boys turn away stirred an unusual sense of loss within Heather, a feeling she found curious considering her usual enjoyment of solitude. Especially because she had never desired to be in such close proximity to Jon. She couldn't fathom what prompted her to call out to the pair. 

“You’re not trespassing,” she directed at their backs. “I mean, you might be, but I probably am too. I honestly don’t even know if this is our property.” 

She half expected the boys to keep walking and was surprised when both Alfie and Jon turned to face her again. 

“I just meant that I’m out here a lot and I’ve never seen anyone else.” She felt both their stares boring into her, waiting for her to continue. Man, it’s been a while since she tried to carry a conversation with anyone, let alone two someones.

She quickly looked away before meeting their eyes again, “The teepee is mine.” 

“You made this?” Jon’s eyebrows shot up. 

Heather felt like throwing a rock at him for being so sardonic but decided on simply rolling her eyes. 

“How?” Alfie said, stepping closer. “It’s massive! We tried to make one in Jon’s yard earlier, but it kept falling over.” Alfie walked to where Heather was standing. Jon still didn’t move from his spot. “I’m Alfie, by the way.”

Heather let out a short laugh. “I know who you are, Alfie. Our school isn’t that big.”

The boy smiled and pointed back to Jon, “I guess you probably know Jon too, then,” he said. 

Heather didn’t want to respond to that comment, so she just nodded in Jon’s direction. 

“Would it be okay if we checked it out?” Alfie said.

“Sure, go ahead.”

Alfie motioned for Jon to come over. Jon sighed, looking like he completely lost interest in the teepee now that Heather was there, but walked over to where Heather and Alfie were standing in the clearing. 

As Jon approached, a palpable tension seemed to hang in the air between them, and she couldn't help but wonder if he sensed it too. She tried her best to ignore it and instead focused on Alfie, who was circled around the structure once before crouching down and waddling into the opening. 

“Woah, these are amazing!” Alfie’s said from inside the teepee, his voice muffled. He popped his head out of the opening. “Jon, get in here!”

Jon side-eyed Heather before begrudgingly following Alfie into the teepee. Feeling a little silly standing outside by herself, Heather decided to join them inside. 

She entered the structure just in time to witness Jon's eyes widening as he took in the drawings pinned in every conceivable spot inside the lining of the teepee. The sketches predominantly depicted the wildlife she frequently encountered in the woods—fawns with their mothers grazing peacefully, squirrels and chipmunks, toads, butterflies, and various moths. A brown fox she once saw curled up napping. About half of the fabric was covered in sketches of Goldie and Shadow. Lately, she had been experimenting with landscapes, some capturing the woods surrounding the teepee, others portraying the lake some ten miles to the east.

Alfie held her notebook and her half-finished sketch of a tree frog in his hands. 

“Did you do all of these?” Alfie asked before adding. “These are incredible.”

Heather nodded, unsure how to respond to the compliment.

“How do you get them to look so realistic? That butterfly looks like its flying off the page.” Alfie pointed a fat finger to one of the drawings close to his head. 

Heather shrugged, “It’s all in the shading,” 

“I can’t even draw good stick figures,” Jon said, mouth slightly agape. He turned toward her. “You could sell these, you know.”

Heather startled. This was the first time Jon spoke directly to her. She wasn’t sure what she expected him to say, but it certainly wasn’t that. 

“Um, thanks,” she replied. 

As Jon craned his neck to take a closer look at the racoon she drew a couple months back - one of her favorites that she’s done - she used the moment to study him closer. 

His eyes weren’t as cold and flat brown as she had thought, rather they had tints of green in them. She had never noticed before. In fact, they were quite a warm color. Maybe she was just imagining them as dull and lifeless. She didn’t imagine the curls in his hair though. She was sure they were probably lovely to others, but her fingers twitched with the urge to shave the locks off so she would never have to see them again. 

Pushing the thought from her mind, she turned to find Alfie staring at her, his brow furrowed. Shit. She averted her gaze downward, bracing herself for him to call her out on her scrutinization.

Any moment now.

“Thanks for helping us out yesterday,” Jon said, looking back down at her.

She stared blankly for a moment. “Oh, don’t worry about it. It was nothing.”

“How long have you lived out here, Heather?” Alfie said. 

“Since I was born, why?”

“We’ve just never seen you around before.” he added. “Jon lives right across the street.” Alfie pointed his finger in the general direction of the road.

Jon eyed Alfie, subtly conveying that he didn't think Heather needed to be privy to this information. Choosing to overlook his gesture, Heather pretended not to notice. Besides, she already knew where Jon lived, though she didn’t share that tidbit of information with the boys. 

“My dad and I normally keep to ourselves back here.” 

Truth. 

“And I take the bus to school.”

Truth.

Heather picked at her nails and continued. 

“My dad normally drives me into town, so I don’t have to bike or walk on the street.” 

Lie. 

Jon nonchalantly shrugged his shoulders and emitted a noise of acceptance from the back of his throat. Alfie stared at Heather for a moment before nodding slowly.

“I can show you guys how to make one.” Heather blurted out, desperate to change the topic of conversation. When both boys glanced at her with questioning looks, she gestured around at their surroundings. "A teepee, I mean."

The three spent the next couple of hours in the woods. First, they scoped out a relatively flat clearing, brushing away any twigs and other debris covering the ground. Heather then instructed the boys on how to gather the branches that they would need. Around 10 or 15 in total, they needed to be relatively straight and large enough to support the structure. After they gathered their materials, they snapped off the smaller twigs that jutted off the saplings and then did their best to break the branches into similar lengths by using the ball of their foot to apply enough pressure in the correct spot before pulling up to break it into the appropriately sized pieces. 

At one point during the trimming process, Alfie, with one foot suspended in the air, lost his balance. With flailing arms, he toppled backward and rolled down a small hill, landing face-first in a muddy puddle at the bottom. Jon and Heather broke out in a cacophony of guffaws so loud that it scared some of the nesting songbirds in the trees overhead into taking flight. 

After all the branches were the correct length - and Alfie was completely dry - Heather showed the boys how to lay out the branches on the ground in a circular arrangement before bundling the tops of the branches together with a spare piece of fabric that she ripped off one of the blankets in her own. Together, they carefully stood the bundled branches up, spreading the bottoms out in a circle, adjusting here and there to make sure they were even so that the structure was stable. 

Throughout the construction process, Heather covertly stole glances at Jon whenever she knew both he and Alfie were engrossed in their tasks. She observed his movements and mannerisms closely. He was quick to frustration, which didn’t surprise her at all, but what did surprise her was the rapidity with which he could transition from frustration to calm. She pondered whether it was an innate ability of his or if Alfie's lighthearted comments played a role in soothing Jon when irritation set in.

The afternoon turned into evening and the three sat huddled together, knees touching, in the conical amalgamation of branches, sharing Heather’s pop tart, laughing at Alfie’s fall, and Jon’s navigational ineptitude - which Alfie gleefully told Heather all about after he felt like he was being ganged up on by the two. 

It was a quarter to five when Jon looked at his phone screen, checking the time. 

“Shit, Alfie. We’re going to be late,” Jon said, holding out the phone towards Alfie. 

“Crap, you’re right,” Alfie said, glancing at the screen. “Sorry Heather, we told Jon’s mom that we would be back at his house by 5 for dinner.” 

“It’s no problem,” Heather waved away his apology. 

Once again, Heather was struck by a pang of loss at the notion of the boys departing. Much to her surprise, she had fun today. They laughed and joked and played. Alfie was sweet, as expected. Jon’s usual arrogance dissipated with the hours and by the end she was surprised that she enjoyed his lighthearted and sarcastic personality. 

The thought of never talking to Alfie again made her chest ache. The thought of never talking to Jon again cut her to her core. That frightened her. He was the last person she should want to be around. 

As the three crawled out of the teepee and stood, stretching their limbs, Jon fixed Heather with a puzzled look, fighting some sort of internal battle with himself before squaring his shoulders and asking, “You wanna come?”

Heather blinked stupidly. “What?”

“Do you want to come to dinner?” Jon clarified slowly, looking uncomfortable. 

“You should!” Alfie bounced on his heels. “Mrs. Breyer is making tacos.”

Heather felt her cheeks warm at the request. She had never been asked to go to someone else’s house before. 

It had to be his house. 

She cringed internally, knowing that the Breyer’s mansion would be the last place she would be welcomed.

“Thanks, but my dad’s making dinner.” Lie. Her father hadn’t made her dinner since… actually, she wasn’t sure if he had ever made her dinner before. 

Jon appeared almost relieved at her decline, but Alfie’s face twisted with disappointment. “Bummer. What are you doing tomorrow?” Alfie asked, “It’s supposed to rain all day, so Jon and I are going to spend the day at my house playing Smash Bros and watching movies if you want to come and hang out.” 

“Smash Bro’s?” Heather cocked an eyebrow.

“It’s a video game,” Jon said, once again sounding bored. 

“You pick a fighter and then battle against your opponent,” Alfie explained. 

“It’s not really a girl game. You probably wouldn’t like it too much,” Jon sniffed.

Heather turned to Alfie. “Will you teach me how to beat him?” She pointed a thumb at Jon. 

Alfie laughed, “Yeah, he’s not that good so it should be easy.” 

Heather shrugged. “Then I’m in.” 

After Heather told the boys that she didn’t have a cell phone, Alfie gave a detailed explanation of how to get to his house and they made plans to meet up the next day. 

As Jon and Alfie headed back through the woods, Heather returned to her teepee and lied down on the dog beds with her arms under her head. 

She didn’t tell the boys, but she agreed with Jon; the video game did sound rather stupid. But the thought of beating Jon made is sound like a significantly less boring time. Alfie told her he would show her how to play. She closed her eyes and retraced the route that Alfie told her in her mind and smiled. 

[rocorambles]

Surprise Interview

Pairing: Kenma x Reader

Genre/Warnings: NSFW, Yandere, Pseudo-Cest, Dub-Con/Non-Con, Verbal Humiliation, Manipulation

Summary: Kenma sees if you have what it takes to be Bouncing Ball’s newest employee.

A/N: This is for @sugawara-sweetheart ‘s Decadence Collab. So excited to be a part of this collab and to be able to indulge in such a delicious prompt and theme. Be sure to check out everyone else’s works! As always, thanks for beta-ing @sawamooora ~

There’s a familiar peace and a new nervousness about coming back home for the holidays. Mostly because home isn’t quite the same home it used to be. You can feel warmth blooming in your chest at the thought of seeing your mom, telling her about everything and everyone (as if your daily phone calls aren’t enough), and just lounging around while she fills you up with her cooking. But you can also feel a certain shyness as you approach the house, a building that still feels brand new and strange to you.

Your mother had gotten remarried during your earlier college years after your father’s passing and you were elated for her. If anyone deserves all the happiness in the world, it’s her. You had met Mr. Kozume quite a few times and you have no qualms with the man. He treats your mother like a queen and even though you playfully gag as they sweet talk and kiss in front of you, you wholeheartedly approve of their relationship.

However, what you aren’t quite as prepared for is having a new step-sibling.

You don’t know much about Kenma Kozume. Well, not much more than the rest of the world does.

Professional gamer. Successful stock trader. Popular YouTuber. Founder of his own corporation.

You know exactly who your new brother is, but other than seeing him a few times in person at family gatherings and exchanging polite greetings, there’s no real connection. Which is why your heart races as you nervously ring his doorbell, anxiety already making your leg twitch as you wait for the door to open.

Your mother and step-father are on a couple’s vacation and won’t be returning for a few days.

(“We just want some romantic time together before we have a full house again for the holidays. Plus this is a great chance to get to know your older brother better!” You hadn’t even been able to get a word of protest in before she had laughed and hung up on you, leaving you speechless and on your own as you hesitantly texted Kenma, letting him know what day to expect you.)

Kenma is quiet as ever as he nods in greeting, silently leading you to your guest room before quietly telling you to make yourself at home and leaving to do his own thing. You let out a huge sigh of relief as the door closes behind him.

There’s nothing wrong with Kenma. He’s smart and successful. Maybe a bit on the quiet side, but that only adds to his down to earth charm. You know your mother and step-father adore him and you can’t blame them. Yet, you can’t help but feel scrutinized, seen so clearly in a way that terrifies you when his feline eyes gaze at you. It takes everything in you not to immediately scurry away whenever you’re in viewing distance of him, desperate to hide all the flaws you imagine he’s noticing and calculating. Your step-father had mentioned how Kenma used to be the strategist of his high school volleyball team, and has always been able to evaluate and accurately break down situations and people. And you believe it.

You’re just grateful the house is large enough to avoid each other and that Kenma tends to reside mostly in his home office and bedroom.

But even the founder of a company needs a break from time to time. Kenma shuffles towards the gaming room, only to blink in surprise when he sees you already inside of it, happily smiling as Animal Crossing visuals and sounds fill the space.

He had known you owned a Nintendo Switch, a piece of information your mom had shared to break the ice a bit. And it’s really no surprise that this is your go-to game. But knowing and seeing are two different things and he can’t help but let his own lips twitch upwards at how calm and relaxed you are tending to your garden, decorating your home, choosing your outfit.

Kenma’s never been good with people, has never been the one to initiate a friendship. He knows he should have made more of an effort to be friendly and welcoming to you as your new older brother. There’s a slight pang of regret in his chest when he sees how at ease you are while you’re unaware of his presence. His eyes are as sharp as ever and he locks in on the way your body slightly stiffens, fingers nervously fidgeting when you finally notice his figure in the doorway, words already stuttering an apology for using his game room without explicitly asking.

You look like a scared mouse about to flee from the claws of a cat. And it pisses him off.

He hasn’t made the best efforts to bridge the gap between you, but for you to fear him? That seems a tad unnecessary, and more than a tad insulting. It’s more than enough to make the sadistic streak in him want to give you something to be scared about.

But he’s never been impulsive and he just quietly sits beside you on the floor, reassuring you it’s fine to play, smirking when you sneak little side glances his way as you continue collecting fruits.

“Kozume, do you want to play-”

“Just call me Kenma.”

Entranced eyes watch as you grow flustered at his words, mouth silently testing the weight of his given name in your mouth. For once, Kenma could care less about playing video games when a shaky timid “Kenma” slips past your soft lips.

“Kenma, do you want to play something together?”

You have no idea how badly he really does want to play together, but it’s a game you’re not ready for. So he calls upon any restraint he has to pluck your device from your hands and change the game to Mario Kart.

It’s amusing how easily you soften besides him, brow furrowing in concentration, eyes intently and eagerly following the screen, any anxiousness quickly forgotten as you get into the game. He greedily watches as you pout when you make a mistake, as your eyes light up every time you pass someone.

If he had known how easy it would be to make you warm up to him, he’d have done this sooner and he genuinely laughs when you whine and fake glare at him as he wins yet another round.

He asks about school. You ask about work. He tells you about his childhood. You share your own stories.

It’s a comfortable rhythmic back and forth and he’s afraid of ruining it, but a certain question nags at his mind, a question he knows may ruin the entire flow of the conversation.

“You’ll be graduating soon. Have you decided what you want to do after college?”

“Kenma not you too!!!”

His shoulders relax at how well you react to the question, smiling at the way you flop onto your back and groan about how mom and dad are already on your case about future plans.

“I’ve been applying to places, but who knows. Maybe I’ll just work for you at Bouncing Ball.”

There’s a playful lilt in your voice when you say it, a giggle and teasing smile accompanying the words. But there’s nothing funny about it to Kenma and your smile falters a bit when you see how tightly Kenma’s gripping his controller, the way his eyes pin you down.

“Kenma? It’s just a joke. I would never take advantage of-”

You try to get up from your reclined position, only to whimper in confusion when Kenma’s hand on your shoulder forces you back down. And suddenly you’re pinned down by more than just his stare as he moves to straddle you, knees on either side of your body, hands next to your head, his whole body caging yours.

It’s a lighthearted joke in the family that if all else fails, you could always work at Bouncing Ball. A joke your step-father and mother always dish out when the arguments get too tense as the three of you talk about your future. But it’s become less in jest for Kenma, especially after Kuroo sent him a scandalous picture of his newest secretary kneeling between his long legs, lips wrapped around his cock.

It wasn’t the first picture, nor was it the last incriminating photo the older businessman had sent him. Kenma merely rolled his eyes before deleting the image from his phone, wondering when Kuroo would grow bored and find a new toy to play with. But he freezes when he sees the following text message from his long-time friend.

“You’re the CEO of a company, Kenma. Wouldn’t it be nice to have someone convenient around? A pretty warm body? I bet that cute new step sister of yours would look really good under your desk. Doesn’t she graduate from college soon? If you don’t make a move, maybe I’ll snatch her up right from under your nose. I’m due for a change of secretary soon.”

There’s absolutely no reason for the hot anger that lances through him at Kuroo’s taunting words and he grimaces at playing right into his ex-captain’s hands, already hearing Kuroo’s braying laughter in his head if the older man saw just how much his words affected him.

But initial irritation aside, he lets himself really think, really imagine what a life with you at his beck and call would be like. And he likes what he sees. He doesn’t delete Kuroo’s photos as quickly as he used to, replacing the female faces with yours in his imagination as his hands slip under the hem of his boxers.

He knows it’s a longshot, knows there’s a high chance you’ll continue your lives as is, never destined to exchange more than a few polite greetings at family outings. But now...now hearing you voice the idea out loud yourself, hearing the way his first name sounds from your lips…

Maybe it’s not the silly pipe dream he had believed it to be.

“I’m in need of an assistant if you really do want to work at Bouncing Ball, but you’d need to prove why it would be worth hiring you.”

He almost laughs at how you perk up despite the precarious position you’re in, almost ready to launch into an elevator pitch of your qualifications flat on your back underneath him. You’re quite the multitasker already and he groans at the thought of having you cockwarm him while he tests out a new video game, making you answer all his calls stuffed full of him and desperately trying to hide the lustful tremble in your voice.

But he’s not here to listen to your carefully crafted speech. (Guess you really were practicing for job interviews like you said you were. What a good girl.) And he firmly presses his lips against yours to silence you, taking his time to immerse himself in the way your mouths mold against each other.

Your taste, your smell, your warmth. It’s all intoxicating and he slips his tongue inside your parted lips, subtly rutting his groin against your body. He can feel your body jostle as you lift your arms and he waits for the weight of your arms to lovingly wrap around his neck, only to be shocked when you weakly press against his shoulders until he finally relents and pulls back just enough to look down at you in irritated confusion.

“We- we shouldn’t be doing this.”

It’s not the words that have him clenching his fists, not even the way your palms still timidly press against him in a laughably weak show of defense.

It’s the fear in your eyes, the way you look at him like he’s some monster. It's the way he can almost palpably feel and hear your desire to be anywhere other than here, with anyone other than him, wishing to put as much space between the two of you as possible.

It’s your rejection.

It hurts to know that he isn’t enough just as he is, that he needs to resort to less...savory and straightforward ways to entrap you. But he’s not Hinata or Kuroo. He doesn’t have an electrifying personality or roguishly handsome features and charm to woo you. He only has his cunning and sharp tongue.

And he fully intends on maximizing his gifts.

“Of course, you don’t have to. You can just keep on applying and getting rejected by every company you speak to, if they even bother meeting with you after seeing your pathetic resume. Average college. Average grades. Average major. Tell me, how many interviews have you actually been reached out to for?”

He’s going out on a bit of a limb, but his suspicions are right and he cruelly smirks at the way tears bubble in your eyes at his words, no comeback or denial rolling off the tip of your tongue. He had a feeling you were struggling from the bits and pieces he’s picked up as your parents quietly talk and fret over you actually being able to find a job after graduation.

“Our parents are too nice to say anything about it, but you know they’re disappointed in you, right? Have you noticed how they always avoid talking about how school is going or asking you about how job hunting is going? How they only ask me how work is going? It’s because they know you’re just a loser whose life is going to amount to nothing.”

“That’s not true! They love me-”

“I’m not saying they don’t love you, but doesn’t that make it even worse? Making your loving and caring parents worry and stress over you when they should be preparing for retirement, an easy life? Instead of letting them finally enjoy a carefree life, you’ll be their freeloader daughter who uses up all their remaining funds. Is that what you want?”

You really are too easy and his lips curl in satisfaction at the way you frantically shake your head side to side, fat wet drops streaming down your face, adorable sniffles filling the air.

“If you become my assistant, I’ll compensate you well. You can live here with me, have your own room, a roof over your head, all the food and clothing you need and want. Think about how relieved and happy our parents will be seeing you provided for, seeing us getting along. Isn’t that what you want? For them to be happy?”

He knows how close you are to your mom, how important this idea of a perfect family is to you. He knows how insecurity and doubt about your own capabilities torment you. And he knows you’re hooked on his claws when your hands that are still pressed against his shoulders drop limply besides you, not even a hint of resistance left in you when he leans down once more to rest his forehead on yours, one hand cupping the side of your face.

“This is all you’re good for anyway. Working underneath me.”

If you notice his pun, you don’t acknowledge it, too busy wincing and squirming as he harshly nips and bites a trail from your lips to your neck as he pushes up the hem of your shirt until your chest is on full display for him. There’s something experimental, cold, meticulous about the way he gropes and fondles your breasts.Your face heats in humiliation at how he treats you like one of the many game consoles he’s reviewed for his audience.

But you don’t do anything about it, telling yourself that this is just his version of an interview as he pinches and prods at you, meanly twisting your nipples and chuckling at your yelp of pain. You obediently let him spread your legs apart, only letting out an agonized cry as he tests your flexibility, staring at him with a trembling lower lip as he sharply tells you to shut up while scrutinizing your panty-covered sex.

“You really are made for this, aren’t you?”

You whimper as he nudges the small wet spot on the thin fabric, clenching your eyes shut in denial at how hot and wound up your body feels from his touch, unable to hide your gasp as he pulls the layer aside and rubs your aroused clit.

There’s something so different about the way his fingers slowly sink into your wet pussy, almost lazily curling against your soft walls, his thumb never stopping its careful massage on the bundle of nerves at the apex of your thighs. So different from your own fingers desperately thrusting in and out of you. So different from the drunk partners you’ve hooked up with at college and their sloppy, rapid, frantic movements.

You can feel something large, something intimidating slowly rising from deep inside of you, a volcano about to erupt compared to the bright and fast to fade shooting stars you’re used to. You’re scared. Scared of the intoxicating feeling, of how easy it is to grow accustomed to Kenma’s presence, of how his cat-like eyes are all you can see and think of.

How can something feel so wrong and so right at the same time?

That’s the last coherent thought you have before your world goes blank, pleasure rocking through you as you soak the carpet and your step-brother’s hand with your juices. You’re moaning as Kenma continues to rock his fingers in and out of you, fingertips insistently massaging your clit and g-spot as you ride out your orgasm, body trembling and convulsing.

But even when the tremors slow, when pleasure becomes something sharper, more overwhelming, he doesn’t stop. You wail, begging him to stop, to let you rest, slumping in relief when he finally drags his hands away from you, carelessly wiping the mess you’ve made of his hand on your skin, covering you in your own essence.

Your heavy eyelids threaten to flutter shut as you let exhaustion wash over you, already dreading having to get up and wash yourself. But you’re shocked back to reality as something hard begins to nudge at your still fluttering entrance.

“Kenma! No! Too much-”

You break off into a sob as surprisingly strong hands dig into your hips, holding you still as he pushes and pushes until he’s fully settled inside of you, balls resting against your ass.

You’re still so tight, your quivering walls clamping around the intrusion, and he groans at the thought of being able to sink into this hole every day, multiple times, whenever he wants. His cock is already aching from holding off for so long, from watching your body and face contorted in pleasure. Kenma can feel his end quickly approaching as you scream and wail underneath him, eyes rolling back in your head, drool trickling from the corner of your mouth. You look absolutely obscene and he doesn’t think he’ll ever get enough of this side of you.

But despite the way his balls are tightening, despite the stutter in his hips, he’s determined to watch you fall apart once more, to see you shatter to pieces yet again. He grits his teeth, fingers reaching down to furiously rub at your already oversensitized clit, reveling in how your back arches, thighs shaking in overstimulation, and then you snap.

He wonders what his parents would think of their dear dumb daughter now, looking nothing like their silly angel, looking like a wanton used whore, incoherent garbled noises slipping past your lips as you twitch uncontrollably, your pussy milking him dry as he cums inside of you.

There’s only silence mixed with your pitiful whimpers as he slides out of you, grimacing at the sticky mess you’ve made of yourself and him. But that’s what your other hole is for and he orders you to suck him clean, admiring what a quick learner you are, eager to please as you noisily slurp and lick him clean, moaning at the taste of your combined fluids...

Maybe too eager and he shoves you off of him when you become too enthusiastic, his cock beginning to twitch in interest once more.

You look so lost, still sprawled out on the ground, staring up at him with wide imploring eyes as he pulls up his pants. So vulnerable and in need of guidance.

Good thing you have such a great boss to manage you.

“Not bad. Consider these next few days your internship and if all goes well, I’ll be more than happy to hire you as Bouncing Ball’s newest employee this summer. Now clean up this room and show me that my future assistant can do more than just be a slut.”

[yougotthatbilly]

take care (m)

→ member: johnny seo

→ genre: assistant!johnny | smut

→ word count: 15.9k (not surprised atp)

→ playlist: body talk x majid jordan, warm x majid jordan, BoRdErSz x zayn, moment x victoria monét

→ warnings: slowburn, indecisiveness, v  self-indulgent; unprofessional relations, big dick!johnny (ofc; don’t expect anything else), soft dom!johnny, begging (johnny’s a tease), subspace, oral; face-fucking, (and if you squint, ass eating), unprotected sex, squirting, praising, overstimulation, etc. 

↳ summary: your assistant just wants to take care of you

The heavy rain outside mocks you. You were supposed to be at your favorite bar across the street, but here you are sitting at your desk, staring out your window. And that’s how Johnny finds you after being granted entrance into your office.

Your arm is propped up on the arm of your seat, cheek in hand, lips pouted. Johnny does his best not to smile at the thought of you looking adorable as not to piss you off. He just sets your cup of tea down on the coaster on the corner of your desk. 

“How was the meeting?” he asks, taking a seat on the other side of your desk. 

You slowly spin to face him, looking at him with annoyed eyes as you take a sip of your tea. It’s the perfect temperature—a temperature Johnny took almost a month to perfect— and sweetness, and it instantly makes you feel a little better.

“Don’t worry,” you sigh. “Jiyoung didn’t get fired.” You have a three-strike policy; this incident is the second strike.

“Jaehyun,” Johnny corrects, grinning.

You tilt your head at his correction. “I care?”

Johnny just shakes his head, knowing you’re being petty because Jaehyun got his dates wrong and uploaded a post on a few new products a week earlier than the scheduled date, resulting in having to speed things up a little. It didn’t cause a major problem because you’re typically prepared for the worst case scenario, but you don’t like feeling rushed and when things don’t go as planned, so you were pissed. 

“What’s his punishment?”

“That’s between me and him,” you tell Johnny before taking another sip. Your lip curls in disgust at the suggestive look your assistant gives you. “Okay, let’s not be gross. He’s a child.”

“I didn’t know 23 was considered a child,” Johnny teases, mostly because the man of the hour has had a crush on you for the last year he’s been working for you and he’s been trying to get Johnny to talk him up to you. 

“I didn’t know you wanted to get fired in his place,” you say with a tight smile. Johnny decides to switch the subject.

“Mind me asking why you looked so sad when I walked in?”

You sigh once more, slouching in your seat.

“I wanted to go to the bar…” You point to the window beside you. Johnny follows your finger and watches the storm that hasn’t let up since it started half an hour ago. “That’s not happening anytime soon.”

You’ve either been in your office working nonstop or sleeping for the last week or so and you can feel a burnout creeping up. You were going to walk to the bar to get the fresh air you needed, enjoy a drink and your favorite wings because you deserve it—especially after the headache Jaehyun caused the moment you stepped foot into your office this morning—and indulge yourself. Now look at you, hardly munching on the fruit slices Johnny gave you this morning and almost finished with your tea.

“I’m sorry things aren’t going the way you planned today.” Johnny pouts. “On the bright side, you don’t have anything else on your schedule so if you wanted to go home within the next hour, you wouldn’t fall behind.”

“I’ll probably just take a nap on the futon once I’m done looking over the new plan again.” You shrug. 

Johnny wants to roll his eyes, but he catches himself. He’s sure you’ve already gone over it at least five times. There’s nothing he can do about it, though, so lifts himself out of his seat. “I’ll leave you to it. Just give me a call if something comes up or you change your mind.”

To both of your surprise, you actually head out and get yourself a candle you’d ran out of a week ago on the way home to treat yourself to a much needed bath filled with bubbles and essential oils. The scent of the candle reminds you of your assistant because it’s the scent he got you for your birthday, and it’s become your favorite. 

You send a picture of the candle at the end of your tub to Johnny, thanking him again for putting you onto greatness, as he worded it before when you first smelled it in front of him and your eyes practically rolled back. 

[18:14] John Suh: Are you actually relaxing???

You suck your teeth at his response, but you can’t blame him. He’s the only one that knows just how much you put in to get to the position you’re in, while you’re positive a lot of others just think it was handed to you by your mother instead of the school and endless hours work you went through and continue to go through. It’s very rare you give yourself the time to truly sit back and relax aside from when you’re on vacation. And even then, work never really stops. It just gets placed on the back burner for a little.

[18:16] you: Hush.

[18:17] John Suh: I’m just glad you’re taking care of yourself. Your dark circles have been snitching on you.

[18:17] you: Wow. You really wanna get fired today, huh?

[18:18] John Suh: Dark circles or not, you know you’re still beautiful. Now stop texting me and enjoy your bath!

When you find yourself smiling at your phone, you know you should do exactly what he says. Johnny’s always been a complimenter, though his usual kindness goes along the lines of telling you that you look nice. You’re no stranger to this specific compliment, you get it all the time on Instagram from your business partners and supporters. So why does this time settle differently within you?

[18:21] you: Nice save. 

You need a video of one of your popular social media influencer ambassadors using and reviewing your newest skincare products tomorrow—due to Jaehyun’s mix-up—but that’s not happening. She didn’t record it before going on vacation and didn’t think to bring the products with her on her trip. While it isn’t her fault times have moved around, you’re annoyed she didn’t bring the products with her when she’s supposed to be using them every day because she’s one of your main advocates for your products being oily skin-friendly. You have the videos of the other models with their specific skin types, and this is your missing piece. 

The weather is nice today, so you take a much-needed break from electronics and go to the roof of the building. Your peace is quickly interrupted by the body of a six-foot male in front of you, standing in the way of the sunlight you were basking in.

“I know you hate him right now,” Johnny begins, skipping over greetings to get to the point of his disruption. “But Jaehyun has oily skin, he’s been using the products you gave him for like three weeks, he really likes them, and he has a good following on Instagram.”

You take the phone handed to you begrudgingly and look at Jaehyun’s page. Thirteen thousand followers and quality pictures. You’re not blind, Jaehyun is conventionally attractive and looks like a model in the photos and boomerangs. Something is missing, though. ��Eh.”

“‘Eh?’” Johnny parrots, confused. He doesn’t know a better last-minute model for you than Jaehyun.

“Something’s missing,” you explain with a shrug. You absentmindedly tap the profile icon at the bottom of the screen and Johnny’s Instagram profile pops up. The two of you follow each other, so it’s not like you’ve never seen his pictures, but it’s been a while since you actually paid attention to detail. He has eighteen thousand followers and apparently uploads his pictures following a color theme. There are pictures of himself, random people, and nature in a strategic flow. When you select a video to watch, you’re sold on the lighting, exposure, and the way he captured the woman’s features. “Sit.”

Johnny does so without any questions. You gently grab his jaw and study his face closely. His skin is supple and dewy, the sun highlighting his cheekbones and the bridge of his nose. Not that his skin was bad before he started using your products, but the texture and scarring have minimized quite a bit. Johnny doesn’t have the typical, bland model face your competitors love so much, especially with the slight stubble he’s got above his top lip and on his chin. 

“What’s your skin type, John?” 

“Oily,” he sighs, knowing what’s coming next. He was doing his job as your assistant, trying to make your life easier, but now he wishes he would’ve left this task to the social media department and stayed out of it. 

You thought so. “Will you do this for me instead?”

“Do I look like an influencer to you?” 

“Yes. I’ll double your next check and everything,” you promise him. “You actually have a personality and everything you post is quality. Women will love the eye candy and all types of men will take you seriously because you don’t have that annoying pristine, perfect look to you like Jaeyoung does.”

Johnny is here to fulfill your needs, so he knows you asking is really just you being polite. He doesn’t have much of a choice, especially with the lack of time you have. He is enjoying the warmth of your hand and the fact you referred to him as ‘eye candy,’ too. And who is he to say no to extra money?

“I’ll have it recorded and edited by midnight,” Johnny smiles, giving you the hope you need. 

“Ugh, you’re the best,” you sigh in relief, shaking his face side to side affectionately before letting him go to stand up. You feel much better now. “Send it directly to me.” 

Johnny stands up with you and leads the way, opening the door for you. “Yes, ma’am.”

Always true to his word, Johnny emails you two links at a quarter-till, with a message attached: 

Good evening, 

I edited two videos for you, one short enough for a regular post on the company’s page and the other that could be used for my IGTV for my followers. I hope these meet your expectations, but if there’s anything you need me to fix or redo, let me know and I’ll get right to it. 

Sincerely, 

John Suh

You get comfortable in your bed with your iPad and tap the first link. You make sure the brightness and volume are high enough to get the full effect, then press play. The quality of the film makes you assume he used a professional camera instead of his phone, and he gets a point for that. 

“Hey,” Johnny starts with an awkwardly endearing smile. “I know this is a little different than what I usually post, but I got scouted by the skincare goddess herself to be an ambassador for Surreal’s new line of skincare, Ethereal.”

You grin at the nickname and note that with him being in the bathroom, there’s no echo in his audio, and that gives him another point.

“I’ve been using the four of the five products I’m about to introduce to you everyday for around a month and before I do my skincare routine for you, I’ll show you what my skin looked like before I started using these products with dates so you don’t think I’m just trying to sell you on them just because she’s been writing my checks for the last year,” Johnny chuckles, then the screen shows a selfie Johnny took with the date of a month ago from today, some hyperpigmentation and small bumps dotting his cheek and jaw. 

Another point for including before and afters. You knew he’d meet your expectations without you having to say much.  

“I’ll get up close and personal at the end so you can really see the results,” Johnny winks into the camera, causing you to blink. 

You knew he’d have personality and that was one of the main reasons he was a great idea, and while in hindsight his actions are predictable, you shake your head. The fact that he’s actually charming makes you scoff, but you’re sure that the damn wink only worked on you right now because it’s almost midnight and you should be asleep right now. You won’t act like he hasn’t always been nice on the eyes, but he’s Johnny. 

You can’t deny that you do thoroughly enjoy the Johnny presented to you through the screen, though. 

“The first product is an oil-based cleanser because the SPF in this collection is oil-based as well,” Johnny explains, then proceeds to show the jar and small spatula that comes with it before he scooped some out, capturing the texture of the product well. 

And that’s how the rest of the video plays out, the unusually deep, gentle tone of Johnny’s voice explaining how well each product works for his oily and acne-prone skin, lulling you into a relaxed state against your headboard. He keeps things short and simple, the video just barely passing three minutes and as promised, his face comes a lot closer to the screen, showing the faded scarring and smooth texture of what used to be his problem areas. Johnny ends the video with a sweet smile and says goodbye. The shorter video is edited to where he’s hardly talking, mostly just demoing your products, just the way you like things to be on the company’s page.

You did great, John. Thanks again for doing this last minute. You can come in at 10 am tomorrow since I had you working overtime today. Rest well. 

Johnny is at your desk with your morning cup of tea at eight in the morning, a bright smile on his face as he tells you good morning. 

You glare at him. “Why are you here?”

“Because it’s my job?” Johnny says, pretending like he doesn’t know what you’re referring to. You can read him well, though. You take the mug out of his hand before gesturing for him to take a seat in front of you. 

“You’re either being hard-headed as usual, or you’re anxious about your video being uploaded. Which is it?” 

And that wipes the bright smile off of his face. 

“I slept three hours last night,” he confesses. “I’m not used to this kind of exposure.”

You take a couple of sips of your tea and quietly observe him, thinking. 

“Would you prefer we didn’t post it, then?”

Your assistant looks at you as if you didn’t just speak one of the languages he’s fluent in. You just blink at him and continue drinking your beverage, waiting for him to either say yes or no in case you need to make other plans, again.

“You’d do that for me?” he finally says after a while of staring at you like you’re crazy. 

“Why wouldn’t I?” you ask slowly. “You’ve proven how far you’d go for me and I appreciate it, but I care about you as a person and anxiety is a bitch, so I wouldn’t want you to be panicking over Jaejoon’s mistake.”

The corner of Johnny’s lift curls at your continued pettiness, and maybe his heart does a thing at the fact that you care that much about him. It’s obvious to everyone that he is the closest to you out of all of your employees; being your assistant means you let your guard down a little with him. Along with the more serious side of your personality everyone else gets (especially recently), he sees your soft side. You’re not an overly strict boss, but Johnny gets to see you smile more and pout (he’d lose his job if he admitted to you how endearing your pout is to him). But even with the closer relationship the two of you have, Johnny would’ve never expected you to choose his stage fright over your baby; your company.

“I couldn’t ask you to do that,” Johnny declines with a shake of his head. “I’ll be okay, I promise. Thank you for considering my feelings, though.”

You shrug, not about to press him on the issue. “Alright. I need you to post the IGTV at 2 pm and tag our page in an appropriate caption. I’d suggest you turn your notifications off for a while because as soon as you post it, it’s getting posted to our story then I’m sure you’re gonna get flooded with DM’s.”

“Flooded?’” Johnny asks, head tilted. “I mean, all I’ll have to do is copy and paste the same message answering any questions they might have about the products. Easy.”

You’re the one to look at him like he’s stupid this time. You set your mug down, lean back in your swivel chair, and clasp your hands over your stomach. “You can’t be that dense.”

“‘Dense?’” he asks.

“Are you a parrot?” you tsk. “But yes, dense. You know good and well most of the messages will have nothing to do with my products and everything to do with you.”

Johnny has the audacity to still be confused after your explanation. 

“John, you realize you’re a good-looking guy with a likable personality, right?” 

It’s not that he doesn’t know that. Johnny’s always been a pretty confident guy, with both his looks and personality. His confusion doesn’t stem from being blind or too humble. It’s the fact you of all people are telling him this right now. 

“You think so?” he prompts, just to see how many compliments he can get out of you. This is a rare occasion.

“When you’re not being annoyingly happy-go-lucky and chill out, yes.” You reply. And now he’s pouting. That’s what he gets.

“I thought my cheerfulness brought joy to your days,” Johnny says with a dramatic hand on his heart, offended.

“What brings me joy is everything running smoothly and everyone doing their job,” you correct. He isn’t wrong, but you decide not to stroke his ego any more than you already have. And you’ve already said too much. “With that being said, you do everything I ask of you, and that brings me so much joy. You’re the perfect assistant, so don’t cry.”

“Is this your way of telling me to calm down?”

Your iPad buzzes against the wood of your desk and when you peek at it, you see it’s an email from Jaehyun with the subject: Today’s upload schedule.

“This is my way of telling you to get to work, honey.”

Johnny often finds himself slowly backing out of your office with his hands up in surrender, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. He loves the distinct differences between the two of you. He figures it’s why you work so well together and why he’s held this job position for over a year in comparison to the two assistants before him that both got fired before the six-month mark. Johnny’s also positive that you love his excessively positive nature (as Jaehyun has described Johnny’s personality before) somewhere deep down and that he brightens your day after dealing with idiots like Jaehyun. 

When your assistant is out of sight, you grab your iPad, respond to Jaehyun’s email, and find yourself rewatching today’s scheduled video. Maybe more than once. 

The video is up at 2 pm sharp and Johnny does as advised, turning his Instagram notifications off immediately. He even goes as far as taking his phone off of vibrate so he isn’t aware of any other notifications until he decides to look at his phone again. He’s got things to organize anyway, so the work he has to do takes his mind off of any anxiety within him. 

That is until you appear at the doorway of his office an hour later. This is a rare occurrence, so Johnny can’t be blamed for staring at you, and in the process, he appreciates the very fitted pantsuit you’re wearing. You took off the blazer sometime in between when Johnny left your office hours ago and now, and he thinks that the blush pink blouse compliments your complexion and red lips very well. But of course it does. Everything you wear compliments everything about you perfectly. 

Just one of the many observations Johnny has made in the past year.

“How do you feel?” you ask him. Your voice is always so calm and collected, even when you’re ripping someone to shreds because of idiocy. Johnny admittedly admires that about you.

“I’ve done everything under the sun to avoid my phone,” Johnny confesses with a weak laugh.

You nod. “Well, just know that I’ve had multiple companies and modeling agencies ask why I’ve been hiding you. So don’t be surprised if you have job opportunities waiting for you.” 

“Wow… this means I can finally quit,” Johnny hardly whispers with a victorious fist pump.

“I wish the hell you would,” you deadpan, breaking Johnny’s act and causing him to laugh loudly at the lack of expression paired with your response. “You’re mine unless there’s a tragic accident, God forbid, or you’re moving up in the ranks.”

“Promise?” 

“Promise,” you confirm, sending him a wink before turning on your heel and strutting back to your own office. Johnny licks his lips at the sight of the natural sway of your hips before shaking his head and getting back to working on the excel sheet staring at him.

“How is it that you all have the skills and training for the very simple tasks I ask you to complete, yet lack common sense and proper work ethic?” 

Everyone in the room, excluding Johnny, just looks up at you from their seats, pitiful expressions on their faces. Their eyes follow you as you slowly walk to the other side of the room. You’re trying to stay calm and be professional, so pacing around the room is your best bet. 

To Johnny, you look like you’re on a runway in slow motion, modeling the slim-fitting pencil skirt and red bottoms you’re adorning. Though still attentive to every word coming out of your mouth, Johnny lets himself get lost in each step you take because he’s not the one getting chewed out. 

Mark, one of the newest additions to the marketing department, leans into Johnny’s side to whisper into his ear. “How have you managed to not fuck up and be on the receiving end of her talks yet?”

You don’t hear anything, but you see whispering happening, and now is not the time for side conversations. Johnny doesn’t even have the chance to turn to Mark or tell him to shut up until the end of the meeting before you’re speaking again.

“Mark Lee,” you call as you make your way towards him, causing him to sit up straight. “Is there something you’d like to say?”

“No, ma’am,” he responds nervously. Johnny internally shakes his head at Mark not being able to think quickly and lie. “My apologies.”

“Is there anything anyone wants to say or am I just a narcissist who loves talking to hear my lovely voice? Should I sing?” you ask, standing next to Johnny at the end of the conference table, hand on your hip. “Y’all want a performance?”

Johnny bites the inside of his cheek to refrain from laughing. Your sarcasm only intensifies the unsettled looks on everyone’s face and they all side-eye Jungwoo, their savior from the last time they got chewed out as a whole. Jungwoo raises his hand before saying, “There’s nothing we can say to excuse our actions—or lack thereof, but we will get right on it and do our jobs correctly this time. You won’t have to repeat yourself again.”

Johnny is impressed at how quickly your features soften. The ready-to-fire-someone look melts away as you nod at Jungwoo’s promise. You do have a bit of a soft spot for the latter, though, so it makes sense. 

“I’ll take your word for it. You’re dismissed,” you announce, waving everyone off. 

The room is empty, save for you and your assistant, in mere seconds. 

“You’re going to give them nightmares,” Johnny chuckles, gathering your belongings before opening the door for you to exit the conference room. He laughs once more at your responding yawn.

“How? That was me on my best behavior,” you retort, your heels clicking loudly as you walk to the elevator. “And what was Lee whispering about?”

“Your employees are just amazed that I’ve kept you satisfied for so long.”

You walk into the elevator once the doors slide open and lean against the mirrored wall, arms crossed. Your eyes are squinted as you give Johnny a once over. He has done everything right since he completed his training. “You think you can keep me satisfied?” 

There’s a challenging tone in your voice that causes Johnny to lick his lips. “I’d never disappoint you.”

Your response is a nod of your head paired with a drawn-out hum, and then you walk out of the elevator to your office once you hit your floor, walking ahead of Johnny without another word. You laugh at yourself when you replay the short conversation in your mind at the feeling you got in your gut at his response. And then you’re scoffing because, once again, it’s Johnny.

Johnny… Over six feet, amicable, charming, handsome as all hell Johnny. The scene of him licking his lips and saying those four words in that promising, deep voice in the elevator flashes through your mind once you’re seated at your desk. Your fingernail taps against the wood as you roll your lips together, stuck in your head. The ironic conclusion you come to before getting back to work is that you’re working way too much and just lacking male attention because there’s no other plausible reason for your goofy-ass assistant to have been on your mind so much for the last couple of days. 

“Really?” Johnny asks when he walks in and sees you slumped over your desk.

Your eyes flutter open at his voice.

“I was just resting my eyes” you yawn, waving him off. 

“What work is there possibly left for you to do at this point?” The products go on the market tomorrow, meaning all the work that had to be done in preparation for the launch was completed before everyone left today (the marketing department got their shit together quickly because they know about your policy and how unforgiving you are when the deadline is right around the corner). The only thing left for your marketing team to do tomorrow is look over everything once more and then you’re free to sit back and wait for customers to buy the new products and idly watch over social media if you really wanted to. It frustrates Johnny that you always find something extra to do. 

“I was doing some last minute, um”— another yawn —“touches on the-”

“Well, that’s enough,” Johnny interrupts your explanation, walking around to your side of the desk and plucking the pen out of your hand.

 You just nod and lean back in your ridiculously big swivel chair, blinking up at him slowly, because he’s right. There’s literally nothing else for you to do and you have the most full coverage concealer under your eyes; you need to rest. 

“Am I driving you home tonight?” He asks as he packs your belongings into the massive purse on the box by your feet then places it on your desk so he doesn’t have to bend back down to retrieve it.

“Yeah, I don’t feel like moving,” you mumble, thankful you spent so much money on the chair you’re oh-so comfortable in. 

Johnny puts his hands out for you to grab, and once you do so, he pulls you up. You groan and lean forward into him to catch your balance after not being on your feet for many hours, but then Johnny’s hand on firm on the middle of your lower back, and the pressure makes you stay. He’s just helping you steady yourself, a position you’ve been in once or twice before because you like to push your limits (says both your therapist and your assistant), but he smells good and he’s warm; his presence is comforting. It always has been, which is why he’s made the perfect assistant for you. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, looking down at the top of your head that simply nods in response.

“Think I pushed my limit,” you admit, much to your assistant’s surprise. It’s not that you’re prideful, but you don’t exactly like showing weakness, especially in front of your employees.

Though tempted to just let you rest your head on his chest because he doesn’t mind the proximity at all and knows you’re somehow comfortable, Johnny makes sure you’re standing steadily by yourself so he can drape your coat over your shoulders. He grabs your purse and wraps an arm around your waist then guides you out of your office, all the way to the parking garage, saying goodbye to the confused cleaning staff on his way out. 

He presses the button on the handle of the passenger side’s door to unlock it, opens the door, then fits you inside of his car. Johnny leans over your body to buckle your seat belt, and when he’s back away, he catches you looking at him with a look he can’t quite decipher. 

“What’s up?”

You shake your head and blink slowly. “I just really appreciate you, John.”

Johnny just nods to save face and closes the door before making his way to the driver’s seat. He’s not quite sure how to feel or respond to the soft-spoken, sleepy side of you since it’s been months since the one other time you’ve been in a similar situation, and he wasn’t as smitten as he is now. 

You’re fighting your sleep because even though you trust Johnny, you want to be as aware during this trip to your house. It’s a hard feat, though. His car is big and comfortable and the hum of the engine is trying to lull you into a deep sleep. 

Johnny looks over at you after getting on the main road and notices your internal fight. 

“You can fall asleep, you know.”

“You might take my organs.” 

“I would’ve done that a long time ago if I wanted to,” Johnny humors you. His response brings a small smile to your face, and that keeps a smile on his own. 

“You have a really pretty smile, John.”

“Thank you,” Johnny says, figuring it’s just your exhaustion talking. 

“I’m almost jealous of how pretty your lips are,” you sigh, mouth not filtering your thoughts at this point of exhaustion (you’ve gotten 10 hours of sleep in the last week, but no one, especially not Johnny, needs to know that). You don’t care enough to try to “correct” yourself because the pretty curl of his lips gets even deeper.

“Really?” Johnny asks, trying his luck again because he’s sure tonight isn’t like the other day in your office. “You think my lips are pretty?”

You hum and cuddle into his seat even more. After staring at his profile a while longer, you tell him, “I think you’re pretty.”

That makes him laugh again, taken aback at the string of compliments coming out of your mouth towards him of all people. It’s not that you’re mean or don’t applaud him for his great work, but this is a very different side of you that he’s seeing. He likes it.

“That’s a first, but I’ll take it,” he says, taking a moment to look at you again before focusing on the road again. “Thank you.”

“Are you used to hearing ‘handsome?’ ‘Fine?’ ‘Sexy?’” You notice how Johnny’s brows lift. “Too far?”

He shakes his head. “No, you’re good. I like you when you’re nice.”

“You like me regardless,” you say with a sassy scoff, pretending to flip your hair even though it’s slicked back in a low bun, the same as every workday.

Johnny nods slowly, contemplating if he should humor you or just laugh you off. It literally takes him 0.5 seconds to go with the former option because he’s been waiting for the day the two of you step out of professional talk and get into something more personal, specifically between the two of you. “You got me there. I mean, what isn’t there to like?”

Your eyes squint as you analyze him and process his words. There’s a subtle but still very noticeable shift in the air after his question, and while you’re sure it’s your fault for letting your exhaustion let you feel comfortable enough to open your mouth and start spewing out nice things to your assistant, his response is enough to keep it up. It also doesn't help that this is a far more intimate setting than work. 

“Be careful, you keep saying things like that and I’ll think you have a crush on me,” you tease him, chuckling at the snort he responds with. 

Before Johnny snitches on himself, he flips the script. “Says the one staring at my lips long enough to deem them ‘pretty’ and calling me pretty, of all things.” 

“Well,” you start as your gaze goes right back to his mouth at the mention of it. “It would be unprofessional of me to tell you that I think you’re fine as hell, so,” you shrug.

You and Johnny have always had a bit of banter between the two of you, and while this topic isn’t something that’s been covered before, it’s hard to really care when you feel comfortable enough to cross that line right now. If he hadn’t been playing along, you wouldn’t have said anything more than the simple compliment from earlier, but with the reciprocity, the logical voice within gets pushed away. Exhaustion isn’t much of an excuse at this point because that high from tiredness has passed. 

The timing of the traffic light turning red is a little too perfect. Johnny takes the opportunity to look at you again, and something lights up in his chest when he catches how your eyes travel up from his mouth to look into his own eyes at his attention. 

“It would be unprofessional,” he agrees with another nod of his head. “But I can’t say the feeling isn’t mutual.”

You hum and nod. “Good to know.”

“You must not be sleeping well for you to be throwing out compliments like that.” Johnny leans onto the middle counsel.

“I’m not saying anything I haven’t thought of for a while.” You tell him after a beat, choosing to reply honestly since you’re already here. Johnny quirks a brow to prompt you to elaborate, and you do so, mirroring his position and propping your chin in your hand. His face is a lot closer now, but you keep your eyes on his own orbs to avoid losing focus. “I hired you because of your experience and skill set, but I knew it wouldn’t hurt to have some eye-candy around me. Pretty privilege and all,” you wave a nonchalant hand. “You were perfect until you opened your mouth.”

“You can never be nice to me for long, can you?” he snorts.

“You’re perfect tonight, though,” you add on, specifically for the quirk of Johnny’s mouth that comes from the praise. Yeah, you failed the challenge. 

“How so?” Johnny questions, quickly checking to see if the light has changed yet. It hasn’t, and for once in his life he’s grateful for a long light. He feels good about where this conversation could possibly get him after a year of silently admiring you, so good that he not-so-subtly gets even closer, definitely in your bubble, but nothing too crazy.

“You’re calm and collected and taking care of me,” you admit. The silent deep breath you take to calm yourself grants you access to the scent of Johnny’s cologne again, and your mind is so close to deciding that logic is unnecessary. A tiny voice in the back of your mind has been trying to get your attention and steer you in the opposite direction of the one you’ve decided to take, with how you tilt your head up to get just a little closer to him.

“You like being taken care of?”

“I love it,” you confess, and Johnny takes the chance to tuck a stray hair behind your ear as he hums, content with your response. Definitely an excuse to test the waters and see how far he can go and how willing you are to really cross this line. You turn your face into his hand so he cups your jaw, but then there’s a horn sounding behind you because the light is green, and Johnny begrudgingly has to pay attention to the road. You blink, the trance you found yourself in with him so close but so far away dissipating, the situation becoming a lot more real now that he’s out of your space. You slump back into your seat and look out of the window, that voice becoming louder and grounding you as you take another deep breath. “But allowing myself to be vulnerable with someone like that? Yikes.”

He knows your defense mechanism is trying to kick in, but he’s not having it.

“Aside from me?” 

You hum. “Not quite…” 

You set yourself up. From that moment in the elevator to now, you’ve been digging your own grave, and Johnny has done nothing but assist you, encourage you to dig deeper. You’re not sleepy anymore, there’s no more foggy brain from earlier when he found you asleep in the office. Just desire you’ve done a grand job of ignoring up until the last few days. But unfortunately, you have to remind yourself you’ve been ignoring it for a reason.

Your assistant almost doesn’t say anything because he loves his job and you clearly switched the direction of the conversation for a reason, but so much (yet so little) has already been said during your time in the car and you’ve already said enough to get the gears in his head turning. 

“So you mean a different type of care?”Johnny asks. He pulls into your driveway and parks. He wants to get back to the space the two of you were at when stopped at that light, but you’re already unbuckling your seat belt and grabbing your purse, signifying that the moment is long gone. That doesn’t stop him from trying, though. “Do you need me to walk you in?”

“I think I’ve got it now, thanks.” You need to get inside and get some sleep. Are you running right now? Of course. You’re a responsible person and the most responsible thing for you to do as the woman that signs his paychecks, is to get the fuck away from him before he persuades you, because you both know it’s possible.

“Let me rephrase that:” he licks his pretty lips and your fist balls up around your purse’s straps. “Do you want me to walk you in? I know you didn’t need me to do most of what I’ve done tonight, but you let me because you wanted me to.” His ability to read you so well is both a blessing and a curse. “Now would you like for me to continue taking care of you tonight or not?” 

You do. You absolutely do. You’re tempted to say yes in the case you don’t end up alone tonight, but you know it’s not a good idea. And you’re sure the atmosphere of this car ride will disappear by the time you wake up. At least that’s what you tell yourself because you know, ethics.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” you tell Johnny, opening the door and stepping out. “Thanks for the ride. Drive safe.”

Johnny watches you walk up to your door, unlock it, then disappear into your house. He lets out a deep sigh before backing out of your driveway and driving home.

Tea, fruit slices, and avocado toast are set down in front of you the moment you walk behind your desk. 

“Good morning,” Johnny greets you calmly. “Your eleven o’clock meeting has been pushed back thirty minutes, so I’d suggest using the opportunity to get out of the building and get some fresh air. You know, get away from electronics and people to recharge.”

That’s exactly what you’ll do. You’re going to be monitoring the Instagram engagement and website sales for a while, even though you pay people to be on top of numbers, so a break will definitely be needed. 

“I love your brain, you know that?” you ask, looking up at him once your jacket and bag are off of your body, meeting his eye. The corner of Johnny’s mouth twitches. 

“I told you I’d never disappoint you.”

“And I’m holding you to that.” You ignore the fact that there’s definitely another meaning behind his words. You can’t say the tension that last night’s conversation produced has gone away completely, but it’s weak enough for you to ignore it and stick to the amicable atmosphere the two of you have built for the last year plus.

“Would it be alright if I accompanied you during your walk?” Johnny prompts after a moment of him just standing there, pursing his lips together to refrain himself from grinning at you. “There’s something I’d like to run by you because I trust your opinion as my boss and my friend.”

“We’re friends?” you joke, settling into your seat.

“Last time I checked,” he responds, unfazed. “We could be even closer if you let yourself be vulnerable with me.” 

And there it is.

“John,” you say after a brief pause. He’s got his hands in his pockets, face mostly void of emotion. Johnny doesn’t want things to go back to normal, and he’s decided to let you know in the most subtle, yet obvious way. Why ignore the feeling when it’s clearly mutual? 

“Yes, boss?”

“You can leave now.”

The grin on the male’s face falters. He examines you to see just how serious you are, and he knows this isn’t one of your playful banter moments. He tries to call your name, either to ease the situation and tell you it was just a bad joke or to apologize, but you just remove your attention from him and get on your iPad. 

And when he’s out of the room, the door closed behind him, you let out a frustrated sigh. Up until you fell asleep, if you weren’t thinking about your launch, you were thinking about him. If you weren’t thinking about the numbers from your last launch and the possibility of exceeding them, you were thinking of the way you felt and the words he said while you were in that intimate bubble before the horn honked at him. You had to take a couple melatonin gummies to shut your mind up and knock out. The sleep was amazing, the best you’d had in a while, but then when you were conscious again, Johnny was back.

You could have done without stepping into uncharted territory last night. To him, it may not seem as deep as you’re making it out to be, but there’s too much on the line for you. Your professionalism. Your pride. Your job, quite possibly. His job. You could pay him off if you decided to fire him, but you don’t want to deal with bribes making you feel like a shitty person. You don’t want a new assistant. You want Johnny.

At that very last thought, you pick up the phone and call Jaehyun to have him run the plan by you one more time. He thinks it’s because of his fuck up from before, and you just let him think that. 

Thankfully, Johnny is out of your way until later in the night. He didn’t try to accompany you on your walk, but he has no choice but to be here at the company outing taking place to celebrate your products selling out within 4 hours. 

All shots are on you, so your employees are taking advantage of this, recording  as everyone clinks their shot glasses together and downs the painful alcohol down. You’re two shots in and you mentally note that three is your limit for tonight. Maybe four. You’re already a bit of a lightweight, and there’s no way in hell you’re going to make a fool of yourself in front of your employees. Regardless, you’re having a pretty good time. As a gift, your best friend rented out the bar, so it’s empty save for your large group, and Joohyun’s presence is a godsend. She’s being friendly enough to your employees and for the most part she hasn’t left your side, being the comfort she doesn’t realize you need. 

“Congrats again, babe,” she says excitedly to you, pushing another shot in front of you as she scoots into the seat next to you. “Can we take that vacation in Bora Bora now that you’re free and even richer?” Her teasing smile makes you crack one of your own and sigh.

“You know that trip is for August. Be patient, Bae.”

She rolls her eyes but her expression doesn’t falter. Her gaze wanders a bit as she sips from her mixed drink and then she’s looking at you expectantly. You raise a brow to prompt her.

“How is it that all of your employees are hot as fuck?” she asks bluntly. “Even the women.”

You take a glance around like you don’t remember what everyone looks like. “I mean, I guess.”

“Especially a certain assistant.”

“Go for it,” you tell her, nodding in his direction. The said male is at the bar ordering something with his arm draped over Jaehyun’s shoulders, the two of them laughing about whatever the latter just said. 

“You know that’s not why I said that,” Joohyun scoffs, swatting at your arm. You may have mentioned to her a while ago that your assistant is very nice on the eyes and you sometimes enjoy watching him as he does his job. “Plus, Jaehyun’s more my type.”

You shrug. “I’m sure they’d be down for a threesome.”

Your best friend hits you once again. “What’s with your mood? You’re not acting like someone who just sold out in only a few hours.” 

Before she decided to bring a certain assistant up, you were doing pretty well. You’d been able to not look at him for too long or even have to speak to him much aside from a greeting and his congratulations before he was by Jaehyun’s side and Joohyun was by yours. But now, with him being mentioned, your eyes are having a hard time pulling away from his figure. His tie is loosened and the top few buttons of his shirt are undone. His sleeves are rolled up right under his elbows and show off the tattoo on his arm. 

You rip your eyes off of him and down your shot. Yeah, you’re thinking four.

Joohyun’s incredulous laugh brings your attention back to her. “You didn’t.”

“What?”

She leans into your side to whisper, “You’re in a mood because of Johnny?”

You side-eye her because you don’t like how quickly she read you, and her smile grows wide. 

“Oh, my—you slept with Johnny?!” she continues to whisper-yell.

“No,” you hiss. “I did not. But I could have and that’s the issue.”

“Not seeing the issue?” She’s always been the little devil on your left shoulder. “The only reason I brought him up is because I’ve noticed how often you have his attention when you’re not even in the same area. And I know the difference between a look of concern and a look of want. He’s got a good ratio of both going on.”

“Okay, Miss Couple’s Therapist,” you mutter. “You ever heard of conflict of interest?”

And that shuts her up. Only for a few seconds, though.

“All I’m saying is I know you’ve thought about it… and you’re probably thinking about it now,” she giggles, making it hard for you to keep glaring at her. “I’m just trying to help you understand that it wouldn’t be a bad thing if there is a mutual understanding between the two of you on what flies and what cannot and shall not happen regarding the matter. You’re both consenting adults and it’s obvious he’d be on his knees for you with the snap of a finger.”

You decide against telling her about last night’s situation nor do you let her know you’re considering her words. That you’ve been considering the whole thing for days. 

You change the subject instead, asking her about how her latest trip overseas went.

It lasts for only so long when Johnny and Jaehyun make their way over to your table. 

They greet the two of you and you give a nod, choosing now to be the perfect time to check your notifications, while Joohyun says, “Hey guys.”

“Why are you checking your phone when you should be enjoying your time?” Johnny asks right by your ear, his voice lacking excitement but instead low enough to almost make your thumb falter as you scroll. “Get off your phone and celebrate, please?”

You make the mistake of looking up. He’s too close to your face to use the music playing through the speakers in the bar as an excuse. His eyes don’t have their usual playful glint in them. They look down at you with a purpose, and you’re kind of embarrassed at how fast you comply with his request. You drop the device into your purse and zip it up for extra measures.

“Thank you,” he smiles. “I got this for you two, by the way.”

Johnny slides a plate of your favorite wings on the table.

“Aw thank you, Johnny,” Joohyun coos, shooting you an annoyingly smug glance. “Are you gonna sit with us?”

“Is that okay with you, boss?” Jaehyun asks after sharing a look with his friend.

“Have at it,” you smile tightly, gesturing to the seats across from you. While they make themselves comfortable, you steal your best friend’s shot and actively ignore the way she looks at you from the corner of her eye.

Joohyun and Jaehyun fall into conversation easily after she compliments the watch he’s wearing. You nibble on some celery, actively ignoring how Johnny’s still too close. He subtly squeezes your knee to get your attention, and when he’s got it, he tilts his head in the direction of the bar. 

“I drank enough,” you tell him with a shake of your head.

“It’s not about a drink. I would like to speak to you alone, please,” Johnny explains in a whisper. A tiny voice in your mind says hell no because of what Joohyun has put in your head, but the rational voice reminds you that he is your assistant and you can’t avoid him forever. 

You tell your best friend that you’re gonna get a drink and that you’ll be back, and when she notices Johnny getting up with you she nods with a whisper of a smirk on her lips all without breaking the conversation she’s having. 

“What’s up?” you ask once seated on a barstool, at least a few seats away from everyone else.

“I’m sorry about earlier. I was trying to make light of the situation and I took it too far. As for last night, it was wrong of me to make a proposition like, so I want to apologize for that, as well.”

You nod as he speaks, letting his words process in your brain. 

“I spoke out of line last night and gave you an opening, so that part was on me. I apologize and I hope we can move forward from it. Thank you for your apology.” You try to get up and make your way back to your table quickly, but Johnny gently grabs your hand until he knows you’ll stay in your seat. 

For a moment he wanted to just apologize so you can stop being distant with him and he can stop purposely avoiding you for your space, but your response rubs him the wrong way and now he doesn’t really want to drop it. He wants to talk about it because the topic clearly came up for a reason last night and he’s tired of denying how he feels towards you, especially now that he knows he’s not alone after a while of thinking there was no way in hell his little crush would even get him this far. 

“Can you not shut me out right now?”

You really don’t like his ability to see through you.

“I accepted your apology and gave you the one you deserved... how am I shutting you out?” you bullshit him anyway.

“I’m not gonna pretend that what happened last night didn’t happen. I can’t,” Johnny tells you honestly. “Can I speak to you as a friend instead of your employee for a moment?”

“I guess,” you shrug.

“As your friend, what I say cannot be held against me as your assistant.”

“Whatever, John. Go ahead.” 

“I want you,” he confesses, and there’s really no going back from here. “I am very attracted to you and when you spoke about wanting to be vulnerable and taken care of last night it only made me want you more. And if there’s anyone you can let your guard down with and that will take great care of you, it’s me, and you know this.”

All you can do is stare at him for a while. If you hadn’t had that conversation with Joohyun a while ago you would not still be in this seat, letting him know you’re truly considering his proposition. The dip in your gut at his confession confirms your feelings, but your brain and your body conflict. 

Can you separate business from pleasure in this instance? 

If you allow your desires to become reality and it’s nothing like what you imagined, you’d never be able to look at him the same, no matter how good he is at his job. You’d either have to fire him or become so distant he’d want to quit. Would a bribe really have to be offered for the well-being of your precious company? The thought alone rubs you the wrong way.

But if you’re being honest with yourself, you just know it wouldn’t be a bad experience because it’s Johnny. He’s calculated and good at anything that gets thrown at him. You truly believe him when he says he’d never disappoint you. But how will you go about seeing him five days a week without seeing him in a different light? You’re professional but there would definitely be a change in your dynamic.

“I adore you as my assistant, John,” you finally speak up after too long. “And I do consider you a friend. I just don’t want to compromise our relationship over lust.”

“It’s not just lust, though,” Johnny states. “I’m not in love with you or anything but I care about you and want to take care of you the way we both know you need and deserve.”

He’s saying all of the right things and it’s almost as if the universe is rubbing him in your face. Your control is slipping and you don’t like it. You would love to be taken care of. You crave it. Running a business right before the age of thirty comes with so much stress and bullshit and you haven’t been taken care of in years, at least not properly. You’re content with being single because you give yourself everything you need and you love having your own space, but it does get lonely sometimes. And you can’t do everything yourself, at least not to the extent you need. Your eyes scan down from his face to his hands and your resolve gets a little weaker. 

“I’m not going to push you, okay? I just had to let you know that I’m here to help you in many more ways than in the office and that if anything were to ever happen, my lips are sealed. I’d even sign a damn contract if that meant I could have you for just one whole day.”

“A whole day?” you ask before you can stop your curiosity from being known. 

“I can’t elaborate on that. I can talk to you as a friend all I want but I know that too much detail can fuck up my job if you’re not down and I’m perfectly content with my job right now.”

He’s so vague, yet he’s said just the right amount. It’s easy to imagine what exactly could be in store if you release your inhibitions and just agree, but it’s not that easy. And Johnny understands that.

“Just think about it, alright?” He requests, and you nod slowly. “What drink would you like?”

“I’ve already had four shots—”

“No one said it had to be alcoholic,” Johnny laughs. 

“Hello?” Johnny’s morning voice grumbles. 

“Okay.”

It’s quiet on the other end of the line for a while as Johnny wakes up and decodes your single word. When he understands, his smile can be heard through his next words.

“Would you prefer I go to you or you come here?”

“I’ll go to you.”

“How does noon sound?”

“Good,” you nod, even though he can’t see the movement.

“Alright. There’s a couple of questions I have before you come over, though,” he tells you, his voice suddenly a lot more serious than it was before.

“Okay, go ahead,” you sigh, curling into a ball on your sofa. 

“Do you trust me?”

“I do.” Of course you trust him. Johnny smiles at how quick your answer. “You know that.”

“Trusting me with your work and trusting me with your mind and body are completely different things,” he tells you matter-of-factly. “But yes, I did know. I just needed to ask.”

“I clearly trust you enough to be hours away from going to your place without thinking you’re gonna exploit or blackmail me.”

“And I appreciate it. As I said, I’ll sign a contract if you’re still in your head about it.” At the dismissive response you give him, he continues with his questions. “We’re not gonna be weird about this before, during, and especially after everything, right?”

“No, I won’t be weird,” you chuckle, knowing his ‘we’ translates to ‘you.’ “It would’ve took me way longer to give you an answer if I was still gonna be weird or standoffish.”

“What made you change your mind so quickly?”

You blink at the tree on the other side of your window blankly. It took less than a day to give him a response, and while he may have popped up in your dream last night, Joohyun was right. You want him and he’s not shy about letting you know how much he wants you in return, so why play this game of tiptoeing and faux unclarity?

“You’re asking too many questions now,” you deadpan. “I’ll see you later.”

The last thing you hear before you hang up is Johnny laughing quietly to himself, sounding endeared.

You’ve always been punctual, so when you knock on his door, it’s twelve on the dot. And Johnny was expecting this, with it only taking him a couple of seconds to unlock and open the door for you. 

“Hey,” he greets you with a smile and you immediately take in his appearance, having never been around Johnny in anything but formal wear. You take in how he looks in the comfort of his own home, his brown hair is parted down the middle in comparison to how he always has it pushed back, and his fitted white tee shirt and joggers are a stark difference from the button-downs and slacks he usually adorns around you. He looks good either way, you note. 

“Hey.” 

You walk past him into his home and take your shoes off, and while pleasantries are exchanged, it’s Johnny’s turn to give you elevator eyes. The grey color of your athletic wear draws attention to the curve of your ass and hips. Your hair isn’t in its signature style, but out and flowing about freely. When you turn back around to face him he notices you don’t have your typical red lipstick on, just a clear sheen covering your lips. He didn’t think you could look any better, but here he is, being proven wrong. 

You’re guided down a hallway and into his room, and the first thing you notice is a cute stuffed animal on his dresser. One you remember buying him for his birthday because that was his only request, seeing that it was limited edition.

“I still can’t believe you wanted this of all things,” you laugh fondly, picking it up and examining it.

“You gave me a budget and this fit in it,” Johnny shrugs, coming up behind you. His chest molds into your back naturally, causing you to look up from the plushie and up at him through the mirror in front of you. “There was no way in hell I was coming out of pocket for that myself when you were willing to spend big bucks on me.”

You relax into his chest, the vibration against your back a very pleasant feeling. “Touché.”

The last few days of building sexual frustration did nothing to prepare you for the suffocating blanket of tension that envelopes you once Johnny lifts your head up to the side and presses one of the gentlest kisses to your lips. Followed by another chaste one, and another until you find yourself chasing his lips.

“Feel free to bite into it when it becomes too much for you,” Johnny graciously offers in a whisper that tickles your lips.

You scoff, amused by his confidence. 

“I’m a grown ass woman,” you remind him. “I promise you there’s nothing I couldn’t handle.”

“And I’m gonna hold you to that.” He nods, using your own words against you. You’re turned around by his hands on your hips until you’re facing him. A moment of silent eye contact translate to him challenging you before his pretty, soft lips slowly slide in time with yours. 

The longer he kisses you, the more your body melts into his. You find yourself being pulled forward, him walking backwards. The kiss interrupted when he sits down at the foot of his bed, but then you’re pulled onto his lap, straddling him to resume it. A hand on the side of his face prompts him to deepen the kiss, and your mouth instantly opens when you feel his tongue brush against your bottom lip, the wet muscle minty when it touches your own and you curl yours around it to get an even better taste. 

Your hands find his hair as his own grip your ass, pulling a muffled whimper out of you. And then you’re flipped onto your back, legs falling apart to give Johnny freedom to stand. He swiftly takes his shirt off and then he’s interrupted by your palms glide up his abdomen. You’ve never felt small around practically anyone in your adult years, but with how he hovers over you, you feel tiny. You know he and Jaehyun have been going to the gym frequently, but at this angle, you can really appreciate just how big and broad he is.

Originally, you figured you’d give him the reign to do whatever he wanted and you’d bask in being a pillow princess for once in your life, but in the position you’ve found yourself in, with his print in your face, you drag your hands back south and tug his waistband down. 

Johnny just watches you silently until he understands you’re doing more than just assisting him with stripping. Your hand grabs hold of his semi (your mouth waters at how hung he is and you briefly wonder how you never noticed before), his sweatpants forgotten halfway down his thighs. The way your eyes have tunnel vision and you lick your lips tells him your plan. “You wanna suck my dick?” he asks anyway, making sure he accessed this correctly. 

Your eyes fly up to meet his gaze. “Yeah. You want me to?”

“You think I’d ever say no to you?”

His response goes straight in between your legs, so you focus your attention back on his dick, which has grown some during the time of your small interaction, and you might be a little more excited about this than you initially thought you’d be. 

You let spit fall from your mouth onto his tip, then spread it down with your hand. You flick your wrist up and down a few times and lean forward, licking a broad stripe up his shaft. At the deep exhale he releases, you glance up at him through your lashes, and the sight of him with his jaw tightened in anticipation makes you want to give him so much more, so you suck the tip into your mouth. 

Fingers move your hair behind your ear for you and if you still had any inhibitions at this point, they’re lost now. Your head bobs back and forth slowly as you continue to look him in his eyes; it’s hard to look anywhere else when you’ve never been looked at so intensely in this position. You gather spit on the tip of your tongue and spread it across his head, circling the wet muscle around it until he hums and you need to feel the weight of him back inside. 

“Tap my leg, okay?”

You furrow your brows at his words, but your silent question is answered when there’s a hand on the back of your head and the tip of his dick hits the back of your throat lightly as if in warning before his hips pull back then he’s back in your throat. Your hands come up to his thighs as he sets a slow pace to fuck your face, and when his head falls back the moment he realizes he can go as far as he wants, you close your eyes and prepare for the onslaught you know you’re about to take.

Johnny’s hips instantly pick up speed and roughness, and while he’s still in control of himself, he loses a bit of sanity. After a year of silent pining and thinking this would never happen, he’s fucking his boss's face, and of course, of fucking course you don’t have a gag reflex. 

You stick your tongue out flat to lick at the bottom of his shaft as he does the rest of the work and the feeling of spit bubbling out the sides of your mouth and making its way down your chin digs your fingers into his skin since you can’t clench your thighs together. Your hair is gathered for extra leverage, and the pull of your scalp is such a delicious feeling you moan helplessly just when your nose comes in contact with trimmed hairs. 

“Shit,” he hisses, picking his head back up to watch as he slows back down but thrusts in rougher. You clearly enjoy being used like this, spit traveling down your chin to the point of landing on your jacket and darkening the material. You’re a mess in the best possible way, and this is an image that will haunt his memory for a very long time. 

More of his resolve crumbles at the feeling of your hands curling around to his butt to press him even closer into you, even further down your throat. You haven’t even been touched, barely kissed, but you’re lightheaded and extremely aroused. While he contemplates if he should cum down your throat or wait until he’s buried in your pussy, you’re silently hoping he lets you taste him soon. 

Johnny drags his dick out of your mouth at an extremely slow pace, and how you wrap your lips around him and open your hooded, darkened eyes to look at him again shoots a shiver of pleasure up his spine. 

“Never would’ve thought,” he says around an amused exhale.

“Hm?” you prompt, releasing him with a loud pop. 

“Nothing.” He shakes his head. He grips his dick with his free hand and taps the tip on your awaiting tongue, amused and extremely turned on. Smearing fluids over your tongue and lips, he softly demands: “Play with your pussy for me.”

The smile you give him is a concoction of wicked and endearing. He releases your hair as you manage to wiggle out of your leggings. You soaked through your lace and leggings, you both notice, and Johnny stops you with a disapproving hum when you make a move to remove your panties as well. You squint, he laughs and shakes his head. 

“Over your panties.” You roll your eyes but listen nonetheless, slipping your hand in between your thighs. The material is extremely wet to the touch, and the slickness helps with making the friction pleasurable when your fingertips find your clit and begin rubbing circles. “Slowly.”

Johnny finds your huff of frustration adorable.

The tip of his dick taps your mouth again to gain your attention. You suck spit up to the front of your mouth, then your mouth is stretched wide once again, hand back in your hair. 

Having your throat fucked with the additional pleasure on your clit, even with the slow pace you’re forced to go at, has you practically whining, the sound going in and out as he goes in and out your mouth. That vibration only spurs Johnny to grip your locks tighter and thrust in deeper to feel as much as your mouth and throat offer. 

“You were made for this, huh?” 

“Mhm,” you affirm, eyes rolling back at the way he pulls your hair to tip your head back and get a different, much better angle. 

Johnny honestly didn’t expect you to submit so easily to him. The visual of your face all messy, eyes hardly opened to look into his eyes and hair out of place while touching yourself sparks that feeling in his lower abdomen.

 “You want me to cum in your mouth?” You hum again and even with a mouth full of dick you manage to smile. You’re getting what you wanted. “Don’t swallow it until I tell you to.”

It takes a few more strokes for Johnny to fulfill your wish. The moment his head falls back again you use your free hand to caress his balls, and that does it. He leaves the tip in so that his cum pools onto your tongue and strokes every drop out. The groan he lets out causes you to unintentionally swipe at your clit faster, but he’s distracted anyway.

“Let me see,” Johnny says after collecting himself and stepping back. You straighten your head so none slides down your throat and open your mouth wider for his inspection. He smiles in approval, wishing he could take a picture of the sight before him. “Swallow.”

You lick your lips and wipe away all the spit that traveled outside of your mouth with the sleeve of your jacket after doing so.

Johnny completely removes his pants before he leans down to kiss you again. His tongue languidly licks against the seam of your mouth for an entrance that you grant instantly. While it curls around your own and he gets a taste of himself, Johnny’s hand guides you to bend one leg and he caresses your outer thigh.

“Good?” Johnny asks for extra measure, lips just barely dragging across your cheek to press opened mouth kisses on your jaw. Your head automatically tilts to the opposite side to give him more real estate. You hum, your mouth a bit preoccupied with how your teeth have trapped your bottom lip. 

Your breath stutters at the gentle scrape of his teeth along the length of your neck after he unzips the high neck of your top to expose more skin. Whichever scent you chose to put on today has Johnny latched onto your neck for a while, kissing, licking, nibbling the skin to the point of your breath coming out a lot louder than before and the seat on your underwear getting uncomfortably wetter. You’re throbbing at this point and not being touched enough, so you claw at his sides and call his name quietly.

Johnny eventually spreads your legs more and maneuvers himself in between them. Both of your legs bend at the knee to accommodate his large build in the middle of them, and the hand that isn’t keeping himself propped up by your head kneads your hip. 

“You know how long I’ve been wanting to get you like this?”

“How long?” you prompt, voice hardly above a whisper.

“Since the day you gave me a tour of the building,” he admits and slowly rises until he’s up on his knees. 

“That’s a long time,” you respond lamely, hardly caring when your pussy is practically screaming at you to be touched. He raises a brow, and when he looks back up at your face, your lip is back in between your teeth. 

If he doesn’t touch you soon you might explode.

“I’ve wanted this for a while, too,” you decide to confess, hoping it gets you somewhere. And it does. It’s almost like you’re rewarded for it by Johnny walking back on his knees until he’s far enough to settle on his stomach, face barely inches away from the apex of your thighs. He subconsciously licks his lips at the smell of you. He’s been wanting to taste you for so long now, but he refrains himself because he sees how you’re affected by the lack of attention to your heat. He promised he’d take care of you and that’s exactly what he’s going to do. But not before breaking you. 

“Wish you would’ve told me sooner,” he eventually tells you after having you hold your breath for way too long.

“You know I couldn’t.” The way Johnny looks at you, attentive to every word that comes out of your mouth while he smoothly scoops your legs over his shoulders to wrap his arms around your thighs, makes you continue speaking. “Seems like everything fell into place, though.”

Johnny nods, rests his head on one of your thighs, and looks up at you, brown eyes still watching your mouth intently, as he unhooks one of his arms to push your right leg further to the side. His fingers are soon on your center, gliding up and down your slit, bumping into your clit with each pass. 

“I guess it did.”

Before you can reply, he adds more pressure behind his touch, and your hips just barely lift to get even more. The smile you get in return is attractive as all hell but annoying. He knows exactly what he’s doing to you or he’s just really enjoying himself. Either way, you’re getting more impatient by the second, if the way your hips rise to grind your core against his fingers again says anything. 

“Stay still for me, okay?” You almost pout because you need more, but you promised to give him total control of the situation and you’ve done well thus far, so you press your ass back into his comforter. “There you go.”

Your pussy clenches around nothing.

The light pressure on your clit is soon gone and then the zipper of your jacket gets dragged down all the way. “Take this off for me.”

Sitting up, you do as told. You toss it where your leggings had been dropped and now you’re presented in front of the awe-struck brunet in just your matching set of underwear. You figured you’d wear something nice under your clothes, both for Johnny’s pleasure and for your confidence, and with how Johnny’s eyes settle on the way your breasts are trying to burst out of your snug lacy bra, you know you chose well.

A hand slides up your torso to grab one of your breasts and squeeze it. Somewhere in the midst of him fondling your chest and pressing teasing, yet promising kisses on your inner thighs your eyes drift shut again as you bask in the pleasure. One of your own hands comes up from your side to slide under the cup of your unoccupied tit and pull at your nipple. 

The tip of Johnny’s tongue drags dangerously close to your annoying-still-clothed heat and your patience is shot. 

“John…”

“Yes?” 

“I need more.”

He has the audacity to hum and give your clit a kitten lick. “Do you?”

You huff, stuck between just pushing his face into your pussy or doing what he asks of you, but you promised, so you suck in a breath and give him what he wants.

“John,” you say again, almost whining. 

He doesn’t say anything, just continues to look at you expectantly. And when too much time goes by, it somehow hits you what he wants from you and you groan quietly to yourself.

“Please.”

“That was very convincing,” Johnny snorts. His nose glides across the inside of your thigh like he’s got all the time in the world. It tickles in the best way, but it’s nothing but teasing and you’ve been stimulated enough that if you go more than a couple of seconds more without his mouth giving you direct pleasure, you’ll go insane. So with a great amount of willpower, you try again.

“Johnny,” you whine, giving him your best pout. Addressing him so informally feels foreign, but the way his eyes light up encourages you to keep going.“Please?”

And of course a big smile takes up half of his face and you mentally prepare yourself for what’s next to come. He peels your panties off, both of you watching the line of slick that stretches then breaks in the process, and when you spread your legs even more for him, his mouth salivates. 

Johnny makes sure you’re looking into his eyes as his tongue licks a wide stripe from your entrance to your clit. He wants to be smug at the gasp you let out, but the taste of you shuts his ego up quickly. 

You squeak when you’re suddenly flipped onto your stomach and your ass is lifted up into the air. With yet another broad lick to coat his taste buds with your essence, Johnny buries his face in your pussy. He uses the tip of his tongue to collect the puddle of wetness you’ve produced and smears it over your clit, soon digging  inside to directly stimulate the bundle of nerves. 

Johnny’s lips close around your clit and he sucks on it softly. As the moments pass he gradually sucks harder to the point of you not being able to fight the way your eyes flutter shut and hips push back. He’s nice about the movement, just grabbing your hips to keep you still, soon caressing and kneading. 

“Mm, that feels good,” you compliment. At that very moment, Johnny decides to roll his tongue in up and down motions and apply more pressure behind his hands. “Fuck, that feels so good.”

He prompts you with a hum of his own. 

With how your moans start to get louder and your breath gets quicker and harder, not to mention the tingles you feel building in intensity, you know you’re already close. It’s a beautiful yet frustrating feeling because you don’t want this to end so soon after waiting so long. But you also want him inside of you so bad now.

Johnny comes back up to circle your entrance, and then he goes even higher.

“Are you— fuck,” you groan deeply. 

Your hands grip the pillow your face is buried in and your eyes have found the back of your head again. Johnny just hums at the way you react, the octave of your voice as you let out your sounds of pleasure go straight to his dick. His tongue licks filthily up and down, not leaving an inch untouched nor missing a drop of your juice. His fingers rub your entrance until he slides one in. One becomes two after a few pumps, then his thumb presses into your clit and your back is arched almost uncomfortably.

“Johnny,” you whine again, breath hiccuped. 

“Yes?” he prompts, lifting his head and looking up to see your face peaking around your body, smushed into his pillow still. 

“I wanna cum,” you tell him. It feels too good now. “Fuck, I need to come, Johnny.”

“Then cum for me.” His voice is so gentle yet commanding as his digits speed up. He tongues the skin between your holes sloppily and you try to curl into yourself, your mouth wide opened with no sound coming out of it, your walls clenching madly around the fingers inside of you, and your grip on the cushion is borderline painful.

Johnny helps you ride out your orgasm for as long as possible until your body begins shuddering due to oversensitivity. He gradually slows down to a stop, then removes himself from your body to let you breathe correctly. While he sucks on his fingers, he uses his clean hands to soothingly rub your back, waiting for you to calm back down. 

You’re a bit dazed during the transition of more kissing that leads you on top of him, straddling him once again. You vaguely remember the caresses on your waist or the pinch of his fingers playing with your nipples, but the feeling of your bare pussy dragging against his dick is very memorable because it sparks a desperate need within you to sit on it. 

Johnny’s hands on your hips move you to continue the friction, moving you back and forth on his dick easily. Foreheads connected as you catch your breath from the kiss you just broke away from, the two of you watch silently as his head reappears and disappears behind your lips, turning you both on until he’s fully hard again and you can’t handle him not being inside of you anymore.

You lift up on your knees to align his tip with your entrance. A silent look is exchanged where you ask and he nods once. He lets you take your time, enjoying the feeling of his tip directly rubbing against your sopping entrance.

Your labored breaths at the sensation bring his attention to your chest, and his mouth wraps around a nipple without a thought. By now, you deem his dick wet enough to press his head in your hole and press your hips down. The moment he slides in your head falls back because the stretch burns in the best way. It feels like time doesn’t exist as you work your way down his length, inch by inch. Your hips naturally find a slow rhythm as you lift and drop them to take in more until he slides in and out easily. 

When your features no longer show discomfort, Johnny begins moving with you. Every time he lifts his hips up a little to meet your thrusts his body slumps down the headboard. His hands are loose on your waist as you move your body up and down and he’s got the perfect view of his dick going in and out of your core while you’re controlling the pace and intensity. The muscles in your thighs start to burn, so you slow down to a stop and carefully slide your way down until your clit comes in contact with his pubic bone, resulting in your eyes rolling back, hips grinding on their own accord. 

“How the fuck do you feel this good?” Johnny groans deeply, hands gripping your ass to assist your movements.

His compliment, his hungry, intense gaze as they take you in from your eyes—which mirror his own—down to the trail of slick you’ve left behind on his tamed curls from the swivel of your hips, and the way his cock rubs against your g-spot send you over the edge within moments. Johnny soothingly rubs a cheek with one hand while the other caresses your arched spine, keeping his hips still to let you ride your orgasm out on your own. 

You slump into him, head on his shoulder, panting against his neck. A sigh of content slips out when Johnny hugs you tightly against his broad chest right before asking, “You alright?”

“Great,” you reply breathlessly. 

Johnny smiles at the positive response. He lifts his hips experimentally and gauges your reaction, which is a satisfied hum. 

“You want more?” he asks, hands moving to your hips to carefully grind against him. How could you say no? “Hands and knees, baby.”

You begin climbing off to the side of him then he follows your lead and lifts himself up so you can settle on your knees and bend until your face slides onto his pillow. Your hands grab the sides of it in anticipation. 

A deep groan sounds from behind you, so you crane your neck and see the way he stares down at how he can see everything you have to offer him at this moment. One hand goes to his dick while the other massages one of your cheeks. He runs the swollen tip of his dick along your slit, collecting what’s oozed out. You close your eyes and relax the side of your face into the cushion beneath it and take a breath, preparing yourself for the stretch and intensity this angle never fails to bring.

He slowly starts to breach your entrance. There’s a pause, then you hear him spit down before more of him slips inside of you inch by inch with each roll of his hips. He keeps his movements shallow for a while and your walls reaccept him easily. A particular thrust sends him deep inside of you, his tip just barely kissing your cervix. Your body’s first instinct is to run away from it. His hands on your hips stop you from fleeing, holding you still and rubbing the skin there to ease you. 

“I won’t go too deep,” he tells you, hips still as he kisses up your spine and makes you dizzy by the tenderness of it all. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

You nod at his promises and take another steadying breath, then the pleasurable friction is back. You’d believe anything he told you with that intoxicating voice of his. 

A loud, embarrassing squelch comes out of your core when he’s sheathed inside that makes you bury your face into the pillow. There’s one last kiss at the top of your spine before the body heat from his chest is gone and he’s back upright. He finds his rhythm easily, and hands return to your backside, fingers digging into the flesh, no doubt leaving behind white imprints. He uses his grip as leverage to fuck down into you at a different angle that allows him to speed up and rip an unrestrained moan from your throat. 

“You okay?”

You nod violently and sob, “Yes! Oh, my god, yes.”

Content, Johnny hums and you just know he’s grinning down at you by the sound of his voice when he asks: “Feels good?”

“So good,” you whine, unable to close your mouth or stop noises from coming out of it. You begin dropping your hips down to meet his thrusts, the loud smacks of skin against skin echoing and bouncing off of the walls of his room. “Fuck it feels so good, Johnny.”

“I know, baby” he groans. “And this pussy feels so fucking good—shit.”

The two of you get lost in the rhythm you’ve created and no more words are exchanged for a while, just the sound of groans that comes deep from Johnny’s throat and whines and pants that make you drool all while drying your throat out. The room has gotten increasingly hotter and your bodies now shine with a thin, sticky sheen that makes the back of your thighs stick to the front of his own every time he fucks back into you. Your sensitive nipples rub harshly against the sheets, stimulating you even further to the point of another sob ripping out of your throat and your walls fluttering around his girth. 

“I’m gonna cum,” you whimper. Your divulgence prompts him to reach his arm under you to graze his fingertips over your engorged clit and then you’re repeating your words over and over again until your actions meet your words and you’re cumming all over him. Your essence drips down the insides of your thighs and his balls and his thrusts create wetter, louder noises. A swivel of your hips causes his dick to pop out and suddenly your body is vibrating. 

“There you go, baby,” Johnny praises you, sliding back into you and precisely hitting that spot within you a few more times until your pussy clenches again and he pulls out again, letting more wetness spray the sheets under you. 

“Look at you,” he continues with a deep chuckle. “Making such a big mess.”

You don’t know if he really meant for you to look but your curiosity gets the best of you and you lift your head and look in between your legs. There’s a dark puddle on his sheets and another whine leaves your body, your head falling back into the pillow. 

“Can you handle more?” Johnny asks you softly, slapping the top of your asscheek with his dick. 

You need more. You don’t know what the hell Johnny has done to you and your body but you feel empty and not satisfied enough. Your core is raw at this point but you want nothing more than to feel the velvety skin of his thick, long dick sliding in and out of you and hitting every spot in you that makes your body convulse again. 

“Please,” you beg, wagging your hips to emphasize your needs. “Please, Johnny.”

“I’ve got you begging now?” He sounds so turned on yet taken aback, another dark laugh vibrating your body at the nod of your head and movement of your body. If you were in your right mind, you would be ashamed of your behavior and submission to your assistant, but you’re not. And who cares when you’ve never felt this way before and crave to feel even more?

“I need it,” you confess without shame. “Need you back inside of me.”

Johnny doesn’t need any more convincing to be back, deep within you and instantly satisfying you again. Your breath stutters and it’s not easy to speak in coherent sentences, but that doesn’t stop you from trying to voice your pleasure and appreciation to the brunet whose self-control only continues to dissolve the faster he slams into you and the higher your voice gets.

Both of your breath patterns get quicker, loud, more erratic, signaling the approach of his first release and your third? Fourth? You can’t keep up with it when your brain has turned into mush and you can barely remember your own name, only his own registering in your brain. His name rolls off of your tongue like a mantra, driving him insane behind you. 

“Where do you want me to cum?” he pants. It takes you too long to swallow in an attempt to lubricate your throat and answer him, Johnny humming in question impatiently. 

“My back,” you manage to squeak out. You’re impressed with the amount of control he has, the slamming of his hips into your ass somehow speeding up and getting rougher. Johnny lacks the control and precision from before, and the way his tip kisses your cervix rips a yell out of you, eyes watering as you hold on for dear life. He releases a drawn out groan from deep within, and not too long later you feel ropes of cum land on your lower back and ass.

Your body is shaking. Tears leak out of your eyes, your breath is hard to catch, and quiet cries come out. You’re gently flipped over and pulled into strong arms, quickly finding comfort in the chest you settle into. 

“You’re okay, baby,” Johnny’s soft voice says to you, but you can’t open your eyes or your mouth to acknowledge him. You’re confused about why you’re reacting to this, but you don’t dislike it. Especially when you have Johnny to soothe you and help you calm down. “Are you hurting anywhere?” 

You shake your head and finally try to respond, but it takes a couple of coughs and harsh swallows of spit to do so. “No. I feel good. Everywhere.”

Your speech is choppy, unlike your usual way of speaking, but stringing words into sentences that flow well is too much work right now. Johnny doesn’t mind; he loves that he had that effect on you after you’ve had him under your spell for so long. He loves the fact he successfully kept his promise to you and now you’re boneless in his arms. 

He reaches for the glass of water on his nightstand and hands it to you. “Are you ready for a bath?”

“Can I fall asleep in the bath?” you ask, wiping your face tiredly.

“Sure,” Johnny says softly before setting you down on the dry part of the bed. “I’ll come get you once it’s ready.”

That’s how the rest of the day plays out, you getting taken care of in multiple ways. Your favorite method is with his tongue and fingers as he made out with your pussy for what felt like hours in lieu of an apology for going so hard. And maybe Johnny purposely falls asleep next to you after you’re bathed, fed, and exhausted from coming, curled up into his side in the new sheets because he wants you to stay a little longer. There’s no way in hell he’ll ever get to see this side of you again after today.

“Good morning,” Johnny greets you. It’s eight in the morning the following Monday, and he’s got your avocado toast and fruit in his hands as he walks up to your desk.

You're rummaging through your bag looking for the bobby pins you threw inside of it this morning in your rush to get to work on time because believe it or not, you overslept. You give up in favor of looking up to greet him back, but your voice decides not to come out when your eyes lock with his. There hadn’t been any contact since you woke up in the middle of the night and he walked you to his door with a lingering kiss that quite literally took your breath away to close out the short chapter of your relationship you’d just created. You were still tired, but you definitely were not supposed to sleep over, so it was nothing. 

But now, seeing the same eyes that stared into your own while you came and cried his name multiple times, all you can do is blink. And then he licks his pretty lips. You knew this would happen. You’re not mad at it, though. How could you be when you’d never experienced someone like him before? In hindsight, there was no possible way to go back to normal after the intimacy, tenderness, and raw attraction you shared that day. No possible way to never want another taste. 

“You okay?” he asks unsurely, setting your plates down. 

And here it comes.

“Johnny,” you say lowly, setting your bag down. The quirk in his brow and the corner of his mouth lets you know he’s onto you. And that just makes things easier for you. “Lock the door.”

yikesssssss

[celestialarchon]

The Celestial Archon

Chapter Two: The Moonlight Phenomenon

Genshin Impact x F! Reader

Warnings: major Genshin Impact Spoilers! Possible grammar errors.

Tag list: To Be Added. (sorry it needed to be published!)

With the return of a mysterious archon, celebrations began! The night was filled with laughter, food, and memories being made. One person was amiss during the celebration, Mona still found herself unsettled and unable to be as excited as the others. An eerie feeling of unrest and anxiety has settled over our esteemed astrologist as our beloved heroes celebrate.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“I’ve finally found you,” Mona’s intense astrology session was interrupted by a cheery high pitched voice.

“Hello, Seraphim.” Mona turned to greet the beautiful woman.

She nearly gasped as the woman walked in, her hair now styled and her eyes shining brighter than before, the mysterious tattoos seemed to have faded and though she was still striking she looked far more human than before. The Celestial Archon merely smiled at the woman’s surprise and stepped towards her, hand out.

“We should talk, my child. Fate had brought us together, an astrologist with a water vision instead of a celestial vision is strange enough.” The woman was calm but not cold as Mona took her hand.

Mona was warm as the gentle archon interlocked their fingers and led her to the corner of the room, sinking down into a comfy chair and pointing at the one next to her. Disappointment creeped up in the astrologist as her idol released her hand. It was quickly replaced with embarrassment and a soft flush across her cheeks. Mona was wholeheartedly captured by the mystery goddess.

“I’m sure you’re aware,” The bright eyes goddess sighed, “That my arrival in Teyvat has stirred up some trouble.”

Mona frowned slightly, “There was already trouble, your sudden appearance is not the cause of it.”

“That’s good, but I still feel that my presence is going to stir the pot a bit. I am connected to all the stars and spaces of this world, I can feel and see things so deeply and I am well aware that there are challenges coming. It’s annoying in some ways.” Her eyes were distant again.

Words were lost on Mona for a moment. She couldn’t begin to imagine how stressful it was to feel so deeply, to constantly be overwhelmed by information and one’s connection to the world. Every piece of text written about the Celestial Archon was very vague. Information on the god of stars was hard to find and many details had been lost, yet one thing seemed to stay the same in ever piece of information Mona had consumed.

Even when the world was teeming with elemental energy and gods were far more common, the goddess of the sky, Seraphim, was an oddity. Before the Archon war, Seraphim was a lone wolf being without many ties. The last god of stars kept to herself and had no desire to interfere with the other’s problems, despite knowing so much of them. It was incredibly lonely and sad.

“You said it’s strange that I have a water vision,” Mona finally spoke.

“Yes,” The archon clicked her tongue, “Had I been around, somebody like you would’ve received a vision from me. However, you did not receive one of my visions and ultimately that should’ve impacted your abilities over astrology but it did not. You are quite the gifted character, aren’t you Miss Mona?”

Mona’s face was tomato red at the words of the beloved celestial archon, “I am honored to be complimented by the goddess of stars.”

“You’re very formal,” The starry eyed goddess laughed.

“Excuse me,” the two were interrupted by none other than the acting grandmaster, “I would like a word with the Lady of the Stars.”

Mona was hesitant, not wanting her idol to slip away but nodded and escorted the woman to the door. She was a bit dissatisfied with the conversation they’d had, wanting to know more and more of her long awaited god. The woman turned back to Mona, eyes twinkling, and embraced her. The normally level headed and somewhat haughty astrologist stiffened in shock but returned the warm hug. A sigh escaped Mona’s mouth, but she didn’t mind. The goddess was warm and something about her affection put Mona at peace.

“I am so lucky that somebody as beautiful and gifted as you awaited my return, Mona Megistus. Until we meet again, my darling.” The woman’s grasp around Mona tightened as she whispered in her ear.

The water mage watched as the strange goddess gracefully glided away with Jean. She was ethereal with the moonlight filtering in from tall windows, her skin illuminated as she hung on to every word Jean said. Even the confident and ever busy acting grandmaster found butterflies swarming her abdomen at the sight of the goddess. Jean felt as if she could be swept away by the young woman.

A part of Jean felt guilty for several reasons. As acting grand master, it was her duty to know about the citizens of Mond, it was her duty to work without personal emotions interfering, and her duty to oversee the safety of all the wind borne citizens. The Celestial Archon was challenging all of these duties. It was only natural for an astrologist to be obsessed with a god of stars, and Jean had interrupted the conversation. The Dandelion Knight couldn’t help but feel an innocent sort of crush on the goddess, she was kind and beautiful and she really seemed to want to get to know everyone. Ultimately, Jean was also aware of the danger a new archon posed.

Even so, the beautiful knight couldn’t help but want to push all those thoughts aside and capture the attention of the goddess for hours. She shook off that thought, attempting to focus on her duty as Mondstat’s respected Grand Master. Jean explained the general politics of the city of freedom and the individual jobs of the knights of favonious. She even went as far as to explain the adventurer’s guild and the recent trouble with Storm Terror. The Celestial Archon hung on to every word, nodding and asking occasional questions.

Jean took the time to explain the place they were in, a place between Mondstat and Liyue, and the teleport points that marked both countries. She was diligent and had already prepared some documents for the 8th Archon, maps and other things needed in the world. Jean had even communicated with others to ensure each safe place for the archon was marked. The allied domain was the middle ground, but Mondstat welcomed the new Archon with a living place and much to do. Liyue had also prepared a small home in the city for her.

The archon stared in wonder at the map. The knights of Favonious had prepared a room for her in their own head quarters, even the esteemed Tycoon had set aside a room. Wangshuu Inn welcomed her and Liyue Harbor gave her quarters close to Rex Lapis. Small notes were written for her, both Xiao and Diluc noted the stars were best seen from where they were while the traveler and Paimon had starred their favorite places to eat.

“Ah, Master Jean.” The Goddess spoke slowly, bowing.

“Please, Seraphim, there’s no reason to be so formal!” Jean’s voice rose nervously, “You are an archon after all.”

“Yes, that’s true. You do not serve me though, please refer to me as my chosen name. Formalities aren’t my taste much.” The Archon remarked bashfully.

Jean nodded, rose dusting her cheeks.

“I,” The Archon sighed, “Really need an open space so I can, uh, deal with my weapon situation.”

“Oh, oh!” Realization hit Jean.

“Oh, I am so sorry,” Jean babbled nervously, “Here let us go out to the cliffs, it should be okay, right?”

“Mhm,” The goddess followed the knight to the exit.

Aether and Paimon were also by the exit, turning at the sound of approaching foot steps. Aether grinned and waved at the Celestial Archon, she waved back and beamed. Paimon immediately took off, throwing herself into the Archons arms as the woman giggled. Jean’s face was priceless, attempting to process how this small otherworldly creature could just tackle and archon without shame.

Aether and his companion followed the two women, curious about the weapon another archon would wield. The group made their way to the edge of the cliff, the stars seeming extra bright and the moon full. The goddess lowered herself, feet on the lush grass and put her hand forth, palm out. Swiftly, she struck the air in front of her with her pointer finger, an unfamiliar constellation connecting at each point.

“Return to your master, Destroyer of Divinity.” Her words were clear and calm.

The constellation burst into a ray of white light, Aether covered his eyes as Paimon whined. Darkness fell again and he opened his eyes, gasping at the sight in front of him. The goddess held a long weapon close to her body, above her shoulder was a large opalescent curved blade, below the hip on the opposite side, another shimmering curved blade could be seen. No weapon in Teyvat was even similar.

“I-Is is that a scythe?!” Jean sputtered.

“Aha, well yes,” The goddess blushed at their reactions, “Destroyer of Divinity is an unusual weapon, meant to slice through dimensional and spatial barriers. I didn’t mean to shock you.”

Aether stood, mouth agape, “Even its name is terrifying! What the hell?”

“Ahahaha,” the archon continued to laugh nervously, “Well, its existence is basically to bring judgement from the heavens upon those deserving so yeah it’s a bit intimidating.”

Aether nearly screamed. How could she say something so casually?

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The traveler was feeling a bit nervous, as anybody would if an Archon decided to tag along for their daily commissions. Paimon and the Celestial Archon chattered away as Aether spoke to the Katheryne in Liyue. It did not help that the three had left before the others awoke and the Celestial Archon had left a note declaring it as a “friendly date.”

The last thing Aether wanted was to piss off literally any of the adepti, the Geo Archon himself, and even Jean who had taken a very noticeable interest in the goddess. A cloud seemed to look over the blonde but Paimon didn’t notice. The eighth Archon gave the teenager a sympathetic smile and put her hand on his shoulder, attempting to ease his nerves. Only one thing could make the situation worse, and unfortunately that particular thing was heading straight towards Aether.

“Let’s run,” Aether grabbed the startled archon’s wrist and dragged her to the teleport point nearby, ignoring the calls of a certain troublesome individual.

The archon chuckled, “I didn’t know daily commissions would be so exciting!”

Aether smiled sheepishly and let go of her wrist, trying to focus on which commission to start with. He was distracted by a sudden commotion, people yelled out as a hooded figure darted past the trio. Liyue Harbor’s guards thundered after the thief, knocking the poor panicked goddess off her feet.

The eight archon shut her eyes and prepared for the impact of the fall, but was yanked back by a pair of strong arms.

“Hey, girlie. Hold still.” A charming voice said.

The goddess watched as the lanky ginger haired man moved forward and shot an arrow, narrowly missing all the guard and hitting the suspicious character in the back. Aether’s eyes were filled with shock and panic at the sight of the man. Immediately, the goddess side stepped away from her hero, on high alert.

“Now,” He turned to her beaming, “What exactly is such a beautiful young lady doing with this kiddo?”

Her starry eyes met his azure eyes, “I’m just a new adventurer from Mondstat, learning the ropes from the best.”

“Hmm?” His gaze was questioning, “Well then, I’m Childe. Number 11 of the Fatui Harbingers. We should definitely get to know each other.”

The goddess moved to Aether in a quick swift movement. Suddenly, she wanted very much to escape Liyue Harbor. The Fatui were trouble, the goddess was new to the era but even she knew that they were dangerous. It was one of the first matters addressed at her arrival. She no longer knew the Cryo Archon, and this Tsarita sounded troubling.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” an annoyed voice chimed in, averting the red head’s attention.

A shorter man with a large hat and ominous aura stood behind the tall harbinger. Aether tensed up and the goddess wrapped her arm around his shoulder. Slowly, the trio made their escape at the expense of Childe. The older harbinger was chewing the younger man out for flirting and wasting time, both harbingers bickered as the traveler and his companions fled.

“You shouldn’t be wasting time on trying to get laid you, fool.” Scaramouche scowled, still ripping into his subordinate. “Especially not that woman, even from a mile away I can tell she’s trouble. You’re a harbinger not a host, get your shit together, Tartaglia.”

Childe smirked, looking down on his superior, “So you noticed her, too. I wonder what someone like that is doing with my favorite traveler.”

“We should alert the Tsarita of that girl,” Scaramouche mumbled, avoiding the earlier comment.

“I actually agree,” Childe’s eyes narrowed, “I was hoping to see for myself what she is, but that kid stopped me of course. There’s something strange about her but I can’t quite put my finger on it. Maybe I can charm it out of her?”

Scaramouche slapped his comrades back, “Let’s go you useless fucking playboy.”

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Wangshuu Inn looked beautiful and the aroma of food was far too enticing. Aether sighed as he watched his small, chubby companion chase after the eighth archon. The woman was supposed to be divine, yet in some ways he reminded her of a puppy or a kitten. She was somewhat moody with her affections and spacey like a kitten may be, and still somehow clingy and energetic like a puppy.

Luckily for the two, Aether had a commission from Verr Goldet. The blonde tried to maintain composure as he saw a familiar dark haired yaksha speaking with the Inn Keeper, not wanting to admit he’d accidentally led the Fatui straight to the Archon. The traveler watched in fascination and amusement as Verr’s face twisted from composed to horrified when Xiao was knocked over by the goddess. The conqueror of demons merely grunted and stood back up, clutching the ethereal woman to his chest.

Xiao’s eyes were cold as they met Aether’s, clearly annoyed with the boy, but his expression softened at the yawning goddess in his arms. Once again, the traveler was overcome with curiosity at her behavior. Only moments ago the woman was bubbly and hyper, now her eyes were fluttering and she was snuggling up to one of the most dangerous beings in Teyvat. Without a word, the tattooed man spun around and carried the goddess upstairs.

“I’m here for your com-“ Aether began.

“Who was that?!” Verr Goldet burst out, “I’ve never seen Adeptus Xiao so damn agreeable. What just happened? Is this a dream?”

Paimon giggled, “He loooooves her! That person is the one we told you about before! Even Xiao can’t be in a bad mood around her, it’s amazing!”

“Oh,” Verr blushed at Paimon’s words, “She’s that person? No wonder he’s been so restless.”

“Wait, restless?” Aether questioned.

Verr Sighed and beckoned the two to a guest free area. The two followed her into a small back room, exchanging glances. The boss lady pulled out an old book and brushed the dust away. Aether and Paimon peered down at the book, puzzled by its appearance. It was a dark leather with carvings of the moon and clouds on the front.

Carefully, Verr flipped the book open and turned it to the two. Paimon shot up, shrieking. The book looked like a book you’d find in a library but was strange. Instead of ongoing text, the pages had scraps and pieces stuck on the pages with various notes scribbled around. Verr turned to the first page, placing her middle finger at the beginning text and giving Aether and expectant look. The traveler leaned down and began to read the text.

“The moonlight phenomenon: Legend of Liyue.

It is said that there was once a ruler of the stars, one who ruled over the sky as the Gods rule over our land. When tides of war overcame Liyue, Rex Lapis sought out the monarch of the sky to form a contract.

Seraphim granted Rex Lapis the moonlight phenomenon. Liyue’s skies were never to dim even on the darkest of nights, the moon and stars would remain as guides for Liyue always. It is said that this contract assisted in bringing the evil gods to their doom, the sky illuminating the way to victory for Liyue and all of Teyvat.”

Verr flipped the page as Aether exhaled trying to wrap his mind around the strange passage.

“The Contract: Seraphim and Rex Lapis.

The circumstances of the moonlight phenomenon still remain unknown. It is an ancient mystery that many still attempt to solve, what exactly did the Geo Archon barter for his people?

Nobody knows, still. However, the most common theories are that the contract has not been fulfilled or that there was no contract to begin with. Many believe that Rex Lapis and Seraphim were secret lovers, and this was Seraphim’s gift to her beloved. Others hypothesize that Seraphim’s wish was never fulfilled, as her death sealed the victory for The Seven Archons.”

Aether shuddered. People in Liyue believe that The Celestial Archon died in the Archon war? Verr flipped to a page in the middle of the book.

“Liyue’s Priestess Seraphim

It is said that a woman with eyes vast like the galaxy beyond and mysterious astrological powers once enchanted all of Liyue.

Seraphim, the last Celestial wielder was Liyue’s last hope. Though she is not honored as an archon, she is known vaguely as a priestess. The woman who captured the attention of the archon’s themselves and was adored by the Adepti. Few remain, but Liyue’s legends claim that the priestess of the stars was the lover of Rex Lapis, the lover of the Vigilant Yaksha, or the lover another adepti.

Even fewer discuss the devastation that occurred when she fell from grace. Her death was the catalyst of the only known battle between Liyue’s very own Archon, The Anemo Archon and his people, and the Adepti. A lesser known battle that almost forced both Mondstat and Liyue into Civil Wars.

When the dust settled, all that stood was the full moon. Many Adepti still honor the priestess under the moonlight by fighting evil spirits and demons.”

Aether’s eyes widened at Verr. She solemnly shook her head as the traveler’s face fell. Xiao, Ganyu, Zhongli, Venti, all of them suffered so terribly. It was confusing to the boy that every text described the Celestial Archon as deceased. His head began to hurt from the information. Verr sighed and led him back out.

“Once you finish commissions, why don’t you two stay here? I’ll prepare a room for you,” The boss was sympathetic.

Aether grimaced but nodded, leading Paimon out to finish their duties.

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Somewhere in the shadows of Wangshuu Inn crept a Fatui agent, slipping away as the traveler set out. The shadowy figure grinned at the piece of paper in their hand.

“Protected by the traveler and the Adepti. Master Childe will be interested in this,” His eyes were dark as he approached his fellow Fatui agents, “She could be very useful to us, this (Y/N).”

The suspicious shadows began to slink away, overcome with desire to inform their boss of the new information. Only a few feet away, a strange creature ducked down to avoid being seen by the agents, fidgeting.

“The angel is here!” The creature shrieked as the cult like group left it’s sight, “(Y/N) will be ours.”

[helloalycia]

teenage dirtbag [four] // wanda maximoff

summary: Things finally explode between you and Nate, and Pietro decides to get to the bottom of whatever is going on between you and Wanda, though in usual Pietro fashion AKA not subtly at all

warning/s: none.

author's note: this is very beefy, i must admit, but i think you'll all enjoy the outcome 😂💘

part one | part two | part three | part five | masterlist | wattpad

Dinner with the Maximoffs wasn't as strange as I envisioned. Her parents were sweet and the twins did their best to make me feel comfortable. Wanda still seemed mildly frustrated whenever Pietro and I would talk though, and I figured she may have thought I was lying when I told her I didn't like him like that. I hoped that wasn't the case.

After dinner, Wanda took me upstairs to show me her bedroom. I'm not sure how to describe it other than it seemed so Wanda.

"I'm guessing red is your favourite colour," I said when I saw the hints of scarlet in her bedroom. On her walls, in her bedding, on her pillows. Just like her car and her jacket, they were all bright and very her.

"Great observation, Sherlock," she teased with a sly smile.

I returned the smile, sticking my tongue out at her playfully, before having a walk around and coming across her massive CD collection and CD player. Her music taste was actually quite similar to mine, which I definitely didn't expect. It just made her ten times more attractive to me which wasn't good, but oh well. I was here for a good time, not a long time. And my crush on Wanda Maximoff would surely be the death of me.

"D'you have any CDs at all?" she asked, joining my side when she noticed me staring at the shelf.

I crossed my arms, glancing at her. "Don't get me wrong. I'd love to collect them, but it's just so much easier to have Spotify, y'know?"

My intention wasn't to make her laugh, but God I was glad I did when her eyes crinkled and the sound rang around the room, making my heart pinch with adoration.

After giving me some of her pyjamas, the two of us got ready and brushed our teeth before I realised she wanted me to share bed with her.

"You wanna watch some TV before bed?" she asked, clearly not registering my hesitance to slide into her Queen-sized bed.

I swallowed hard. "S-sure."

She turned on the TV at the end of her bed as I slipped in beside her, still a bit rigid as I kept a fair distance from her.

"What you feeling? Comedy? Drama? Horror?"

"Anything is fine with me," I said, still tense.

She hummed in acknowledgement before leaning down on her pile of pillows behind her, edging closer to me. My heart was hammering in my chest as her hair tickled my arm from where she was laying.

"You comfortable?" she checked in, leaning backwards so her head was upside down to see me. "I have more pillows if you need them."

I offered her a small smile, hoping it disguised my nerves. "I'm good."

She nodded before flicking through the channels and eventually settling on reruns of The Office. It took time, but I eventually overcame my initial shock of sharing bed with the girl I had a major crush on and instead relaxed, getting comfortable under the covers.

After watching some TV, we called it a night and fell asleep quite quickly, the day taking its toll on us. For once, I wasn't panicking about doing something stupid. I simply fell asleep, trying to ignore the heat she emanated from beside me.

It was a peaceful night – her bed was super comfortable – and I woke up to the sound of Wanda moving about in her bedroom.

"Shoot, I'm sorry, did I wake you?" she asked when she saw me moving about under the blankets. I tried to blink away the sleep as she continued, "I was gonna wake you soon. School starts in an hour."

I rubbed my eyes, yawning, before sitting up and seeing she was practically already dressed. That meant she would have been up for a while, meaning she would have seen me fast asleep. God, I hated when people saw me sleeping. It always felt so weird.

"It's okay," I got out tiredly, before running a hand through my hair.

"You sleep well?" she asked, spinning around in her chair, her makeup half done. "I tried my very best not to use you as a teddy bear."

She was joking, but I felt my neck grow warm at the thought and damn, it was just way too early to be flustered.

"Yeah, I slept great," I settled, feeling her gaze on me. "Thanks again for having me over."

"Anytime," she said, and something told me it wasn't just a friendly response but that she actually meant it. Maybe it was the kind smile on her lips as she said so. "Just like last night, if you wanna use anything in the bathroom, go for it."

I gave her a thumbs up, taking a moment to wake myself up a little more, before heading to the bathroom to brush my teeth. When I returned to Wanda's room, I saw she'd already made the bed and had laid my clothes on top of it.

"I've got a shirt you can borrow," she said when I grabbed my jeans.

"Oh, I can just wear the same thing again, it's no biggie," I told her, already grabbing my shirt.

She pouted before grabbing a shirt from her closet. "Just hold on. You'll love it."

In no time, she came out from her closet and held out a Paramore tee shirt on a hanger towards me.

"I got it from the last concert I went to," she explained. "I thought you'd like it."

I couldn't help but smile at the thought. "Wow, Wanda. Really? You don't mind?"

She nodded, shaking the shirt as emphasis for me to take it. I did, having a look over it and smiling to myself.

"I'll wash it and give it back to you tomorrow," I promised, taking it off the hanger and holding it with my jeans. "Thanks."

"You can keep it," she said, scratching the back of her head apprehensively. "I've got loads."

"Oh, no, I can't do that," I began to deny, but she shook her head.

"It's fine, I'm giving it to you," she said, before smiling sweetly. "I'm sure you'll look better in it anyway."

Again with the warmth spreading up my neck...

"I doubt that," I quipped with a small smile.

"Go! Go get changed," she said, already pushing me towards the door. "I'll meet you downstairs for breakfast."

I snickered, letting her shove me into the hallway, before heading into the bathroom to get ready. The shirt was oversized, so there was no need to be worried it wouldn't fit. It was actually really nice, plus I liked it that extra bit more knowing Wanda gave it to me. Though I knew I wouldn't keep it. It was hers and she was just being nice.

When I finished making myself look presentable, I headed downstairs and found the twins at the kitchen counter, chatting between themselves. Their chatter ceased when I walked in, with Wanda biting her lip and looking me up and down with satisfaction.

"I was right," was all she said, making me nervous. "You do look better in it than me."

—

The day after that, I did as I said I would and returned Wanda's shirt to her, washed, folded and ironed. Knowing she wouldn't accept it without a fight, I left it in her bag when she wasn't looking during class.

I should have expected her to approach me at my locker afterwards.

"It was supposed to be a gift," she said, and I saw her pretty face reflected in the mirror hung inside my locker.

I turned around, already knowing what she was talking about.

"I told you I couldn't accept," I said politely, giving her a small smile. "I appreciate it though." She seemed disappointed which obviously didn't help with my feelings for her, so I took a leap and added, "Maybe I can get my own at their next concert. In the summer, right?"

She picked up on what I meant and smiled, stifling a laugh. Running a hand through her hair, she met my gaze and I found myself frozen in place as always, unable to look away. I wondered if she knew what she was doing when she did that, knew that she was giving me heart palpitations every time her lips turned into a playful smirk and dark eyes studied me curiously.

My eyes drifted to her lips subconsciously and she must have put on some lip balm or something, prior to finding me just now, as they looked shiny and pink and just so damn kissable. Nate was one lucky guy.

—

Having faced issues with Nate three times now (AKA the three times he happened to launch a football at my head), I'd figured I wouldn't be seeing the last of him. He was a dick, meaning he had a natural inclination to piss people off, particularly me. But I never thought he'd go for Y/BF/N.

We were chilling by our lockers, chatting about his film project, when his books suddenly got knocked out of his hands and he was shoved against the lockers. I straightened up when I saw it was Nate, looking pissed off as he had Y/BF/N's shirt bundled in his fist.

"What the hell are you doing?!" I shouted, trying to shove him off, but he merely pushed me back.

"This isn't your business," he said to me before glaring at Y/BF/N, who was quiet with panic. "You. You've been hanging around my girlfriend and I don't like it."

The colour drained from Y/BF/N's face as Nate slammed his hand to the lockers beside his head, startling him.

"I want you to stay the fuck away from Wanda!" he ordered, and students were starting to pick up on the fight that was clearly about to break out. "You fucking hear me, you nerd? Stay the fuck away!"

Poor Y/BF/N nodded his head, eyes avoiding Nate's. Meanwhile, I was angrier than Nate probably was. Y/BF/N had done nothing wrong. Maybe Nate had just seen Wanda hanging with me and because Y/BF/N was always with me, assumed the worst. Either way, this was no way to handle the situation and I was not gonna let this dick threaten my friend.

"Get the fuck away from him, Nate," I said through gritted teeth, glaring a hole into the side of his head.

Nate barely glanced my way. "I told you this isn't your business, honey."

"Five seconds," I said, standing behind him as a crowd began to form. "You've got five seconds or I'm gonna kick you."

He seemed to ignore me as he tightened his grip on Y/BF/N's shirt, only pissing me off more.

"Five," I began to count down, the grip on my books tightening with nerves and anger. "Four."

He still didn't look my way, just kept slapping Y/BF/N's face to scare him.

"Three, two, one," I said quickly, tired of giving him the benefit of the doubt.

Without waiting anymore, I kicked him between the legs with full force, watching as he instantly let go of Y/BF/N and doubled over. Everybody began to laugh, some making 'ooh' noises, but the consensus was clear – it definitely sucked to be Nate right now.

I tried not to laugh as I watched his face scrunch with pain, turning red. I was starting to appreciate my choice of wearing my doc marten boots today.

"No more balls for the guy who keeps throwing them at my fucking head," I got out, jaw clenching.

He looked up, his face crossing with realisation as he recognised me. In response, he glared in my direction, but it didn't faze me.

"Come on, Y/BF/N," I said, looking to my startled friend. "Let's go."

"What on Earth is going on over here?!" a teacher's voice rang out in the distance, and I groaned internally.

When I turned to leave, I heard Nate from behind me, grunting with dissatisfaction.

"Fuckin' dyke," he mumbled under his breath, and I paused, clenching my fists.

"Y/N, don't–" Y/BF/N tried to stop me, but I was too pissed to care.

I spun around and punched Nate square in the face, feeling good as his smirking face scrunched in pain and his back hit the lockers from the impact.

"Woah!" a teacher came out of nowhere, shoving herself between us and pushing me away from him. "What the hell is going on here?!"

I shook my hand to ease the pain on my knuckles, though the pain couldn't stop the grin on my lips as Nate raised his hands to his face, holding his busted nose. Students were going crazy, egged on by the potential fight, and for once, I didn't mind the attention. Nate had that coming for a while now.

"Everybody back to class! Now!" the teacher yelled, glaring all around her, before her eyes settled on Nate and I. "You two. Nurse's office now."

Nate glared at me behind his bloody nose and, once again, I tried not to laugh. Y/BF/N patted my back, amazement written on his face, before letting me leave with the teacher and an unusually silent Nate.

—

Kicking Nate in the groin and punching him in the face wasn't something I did to get attention, yet that's exactly what happened. Word of the incident spread around the school quite quickly, so much in fact that even students from other grades became aware of the situation and were approaching me to tell me how awesome I was. The whole thing was definitely strange, but I could tolerate it.

What I couldn't tolerate was having Chemistry after lunch and wondering if Wanda knew.

Would she hate me for punching her boyfriend? I wasn't sure. I just knew that when she walked into class and sat next to me, I felt everyone's eyes subtly watching us as if waiting for her to explode at me.

I'd been given an ice pack for my bruised hand after my visit to the nurse's office earlier whilst Nate had been treated for his broken nose (the fact that I'd broken it was hilarious to me, since I knew I wasn't even that strong). The principal had a very angry yell at us both in his office, neither of us willing to reveal the premise of our fight, before giving us detention every day after school for two weeks straight as punishment. Of course, Nate got his two weeks at a different time to mine for fear I'd punch him again (he definitely didn't like that, but he couldn't exactly say that to to principal).

I didn't bother using the ice pack in Chemistry for fear Wanda may ask what was up. I successfully managed to hide my hand and as a second surprise of the day, Wanda mentioned nothing about the incident. Not one thing about her boyfriend, about Y/BF/N, about any of it. I thought she might hint at it, trying to get me to bring it up. But she didn't which made me think she actually had no idea it even happened. Had anyone told her? Had he told her? Nah, probably not. His fragile masculinity probably caused him to change the story to something else so he didn't look like a wimp in front of his girlfriend.

Whatever it was, I was safe for now.

Thinking I'd got away with a confrontation from Wanda, I went about the rest of my day as usual. Well, that was until I was replacing some books in my locker at the end of the day and saw Wanda at her locker behind me, arguing with– yep, you guessed it. Nate.

Y/BF/N was collecting some books from his own locker beside me and we both exchanged looks as we saw the two lovebirds in a heated argument. Just when we were about to leave, someone cleared their throat from behind us, making us turn around.

Wanda was stood there, backpack hanging from her shoulder, beside Nate, who looked like he would rather be anywhere else but here.

"Hi," he started quietly, making Wanda clear her throat. He glanced at her before looking to Y/BF/N. "Look, man, I'm really sorry about earlier. I was wrong about what I said. We cool?"

I tried not to laugh at the way Nate was being forced to apologise by his girlfriend. Y/BF/N glanced to me with questioning eyes, so I simply shrugged.

"I guess...," he finally answered Nate, still a little awkward.

Nate nodded before looking to me. He still had his reservations, judging from the twitch in his expression, but for Wanda's sake, he kept his cool.

"I'm sorry for treating you badly," he said reluctantly. "With the football and just generally."

God, it was so hard not to laugh in his face right now. His nose had gauze taped to it and it made him look like an idiot. I fake coughed to disguise my smile, before meeting his gaze.

"It's, er, cool," I said, not in the mood to be an arsehole to him, even though he deserved it. I'd punched him – I think we were equal for now.

He nodded, before staying quiet. Glancing to Wanda, he waited for her to say something. She rolled her eyes and nodded for him to leave. When he was gone, she sighed tiredly.

"I only heard about what happened after Chem class," she said, mainly to me, a guilty expression on her lips. "I'm so sorry he acted like a jerk."

I chewed my lip, unsure what to say.

"It's okay, Y/N here took care of it," Y/BF/N said, smiling with amusement at me. Okay, well now she definitely knew.

"Yeah, sorry you felt you had to do that," she said with a grimace. "I guess he deserved it though."

"Kind of," I agreed, before noticing the regretful frown on her lips. "He apologised though. It's already happened. I kinda broke his nose... No point in dwelling on it."

She smiled, though it didn't reach her eyes. "Yeah..." Her eyes fell to my bruised hand before lifting it gently. I winced at the ache, but let her hold it, studying the purple bruise painted across my knuckles. "That looks bad."

It felt good punching him though, but I wasn't about to say that since it was her boyfriend I was talking about.

"It's alright," I said dismissively, shrugging. "Nate kind of got it worse. I'll live."

The pad of her thumb stroked the bruise gently and I held my breath, the feeling of her hands holding mine sending shivers up my arm. Her eyes flickered to mine, softened with guilt, before she let go of my hand.

"I should head home," she said after a pause. "I'll see you both tomorrow."

"See you tomorrow," Y/BF/N said for both of us, sensing my loss of words.

Wanda held my gaze once more, eyes half lidded as they glanced down. Before I could even question what she was looking at, she waved goodbye and left.

"She's either starting to realise what a dick her boyfriend is or she's just really into you," Y/BF/N said, patting me on the back. "Maybe both, who knows?"

—

"You definitely cheated," I told Y/BF/N once we finished yet another round of air hockey. "Nobody wins six times in a row like that!"

He laughed at my expression. "Tell me, dear Y/N. How would I cheat? The concept of the game is simple, really. It's not my fault you're terrible."

I rolled my eyes lightheartedly. "Seventh time's the charm. C'mon."

He chuckled, about to put more money in the machine, before his eyes got distracted by something behind me. "Well, would you look at that. The Maximoff twins are here."

"Very funny," I said with a knowing look. "You can't throw me off like that. We've established I'm already terrible. Now c'mon. Let's go!"

"I wish I was joking," he said, shaking his head.

I scoffed, not believing him, and turned around to prove him wrong, but I was surprised when I saw Wanda and Pietro walking into the arcade we were in. They seemed to spot us instantly, waving in our direction before approaching us.

"Fancy seeing you here," Pietro teased with a smile as they stopped before us.

I cracked a smile as Y/BF/N joined my side. "We're hanging out. And you?"

Wrapping an arm around his sister's shoulder, he tugged Wanda close to him. "Sibling bonding time."

Wanda rolled her eyes at his childishness, but I could tell she found it endearing all the same.

"Well, if you want, you can hang with us," Y/BF/N offered, and we all looked to him, myself raising a brow his way. He seemed to sense my reluctance, it egging him on as he grinned at them. "Y/N doesn't mind. Do you, Y/N?"

I swallowed hard as I looked between the twins. "'Course not."

And that's how I found myself playing arcade games with the Maximoff twins that Saturday afternoon. It was actually pretty fun, with Pietro being as competitive as I was and Wanda being the sweetest loser with everything she played. It was so adorable, but I ended up letting her win some games of skee-ball just so I could see that cute nose scrunch of hers as she realised she'd won.

"You gonna let me win like that, too?" Pietro caught on as he took his sister's place in playing against me. He had a mischievous grin on his lips and I felt my mouth go dry at what he was implying.

"You wish," I said, playing it cool, though I wondered if he cared that I clearly let Wanda win. He wouldn't read into it, right?

Pietro took his go as he spoke. "So, I heard what happened with you and Nate at school last week."

I closed my eyes, cringing at the reminder. Pietro merely laughed.

"You kicked him super hard, right?" he asked excitedly. "I heard his face went so red with anger that you could fry an egg on it! And don't forget that punch, goddamn what I would pay to have seen that!"

"Pietro!" Wanda scolded from behind us as her and Y/BF/N played air hockey. "Don't be a tool!"

I felt my face heat up with embarrassment as Pietro continued to laugh. Y/BF/N joined in whilst Wanda tried to hide the smile dancing on her lips.

"You're not even together anymore," Pietro called to Wanda between laughter. Wait, did I hear that right?

"You and Nate broke up?" Y/BF/N asked with disbelief. "Our grade's 'it' couple broke up?"

Wanda ran a hand through her hair to distract from her flittering eyes. "He treated you horribly last week. Both of you." She glanced my way before looking at her shoes. "He was a jerk. It was long overdue... Also, I would have broken up with him there and then had I known what he'd said to you. I'm sorry he said what he did."

She stared at me with apologetic eyes and I wasn't sure what to say or do other than nod awkwardly and look away. The fact that she'd broken up with him put a smile on my face though.

"I just think it's awesome," Pietro admitted, before saluting playfully to me. "Thank you for your service. I knew you were awesome, but this is a whole new level."

I sighed, attempting to hide my smile, before straightening up to play. Pietro and I played some skee-ball before I decided to have a go at the claw machine. Wanda was at the one beside me, attempting to win herself a fluffy black cat plush toy. She'd had three goes before giving up, admitting to defeat.

"Typical Wanda," Pietro teased. "Giving up when the going gets tough."

She punched him in the arm, making him jump and rub it. That elicited a smile from her, making me laugh at their immaturity.

"How about Wanda and I go and get a table in the diner next door whilst you finish up winning whatever it is you're trying to win?" Y/BF/N asked, looking to me, as if assigning blame.

"I already told you, I'm not leaving this machine until I win at least one thing," I stated stubbornly.

"The amount of money you've put into the machine won't make up for whatever you win," Y/BF/N teased with amusement.

"Just go," I said, waving my hand dismissively. "I'll be there soon."

"I'll wait with her," Pietro said, resting a hand on my shoulder, making me shrug him off jokingly. "See you soon," he added with a laugh, to his sister and Y/BF/N.

When they left, I looked to Pietro with an amused smile. "I don't need you to look after me, y'know."

He shrugged and looked through the glass of the claw machine. "I know. But I stayed to give you some advice, princess."

"Oh, really? And what advice is that?" I asked, before putting some coins in the machine to have another go.

"People usually tend to win these things for people they like, right?" he asked, nodding to the plush toys in the machine.

"Or for themselves," I corrected with a curious smile. "Take Wanda for example. How badly did she want that cat?"

He crossed his arms, smiling with amusement. "You could win it for her, y'know."

"What?" I asked, half paying attention as I attempted to grab a teddy bear.

"Win the cat for my sister and give it to her?"

I ended up dropping the teddy from the claw as I looked to Pietro with shock. He laughed at my expression, leaning against the machine.

"You do like her, right? Otherwise this is awkward," he added as an afterthought, looking down and smiling to himself.

My jaw hung open. "I– er– I never really– I don't–"

"She must definitely like you," Pietro noted, glancing at me.

I licked my lips as I found my words. "Did she," I cleared my throat, "did she say something?"

"Well, no," he said, "but she looks like she wants to murder me every time I hang out with you."

"That's just a coincidence," I said, shaking my head and looking back to the machine. "She's not–" I thought about, before shaking my head again. "No."

I appreciated Pietro's help, but Wanda definitely didn't like me like that. She was just protective of her brother and friendly to me. It didn't mean anything.

"Look, you don't have to listen to me," he said, straightening up and looking at the machine as I slotted another coin in. "But you could give it a shot. See what happens."

I glanced at him, his blue eyes watching me knowingly, a matching smirk on his lips.

"Fine," I gave in, hoping it wouldn't backfire. "Let's see what happens..."

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Like Mother, Like Daughter

Warnings: noncon/rape, mentions of prostitution, bullying/humiliation, coercion.

This is dark!Lee Bodecker and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You bail your mother out but you still owe the sheriff.

Based on these drabble requests:

Lee Bodecker + “I could crush your throat right now.” + Humiliation/bullying + y/n is the daughter of the town's hooker, but she is nothing like her mother, everyone is mean to her just because her mom's work . Lee have fun with her just bc for him she is the same trash as her mother. requested by anonymous.

You could still smell the alcohol on your mother. Her hair and clothes stank of it and the stale piss of the county jail cell. It made your eyes water, just like the glares of the townsfolk as you left the precinct.

They all knew, it was a small place, how could they not? They saw you almost every week bringing your ma out those doors, another twenty dollars to the station to set her free so she could do it all again. The same spite and disgust in their stares, the same judgment bearing down on you like a coyote on a barn cat.

“What happened to the grocery store?” you asked your ma quietly, “you said you wouldn’t do this no more. You don’t need to, ma. We got food, a roof--”

“Johnny Hatton gave me a whole bottle of whiskey,” she said, her voice still thick from the alcohol, “and for what, five minutes with my hand.”

“I don’t need to hear that,” you scowled and kept your head down as Gerry, the butcher, spat at your feet as you passed, “you want some drink, I can buy you drink, ma, but you shouldn’t be gettin’ so drunk, neither.”

“Gail fired me,” she grumbled and you kept her up before she could tumble, “found the bottle in my bag. Now I was gon’ pay for it before I left--”

You sighed and came to a stop at the corner as a car drove in front of you. You waited and watched the tail light. You took a step off the curb and nearly hit the side of the cruiser as it pulled up. The sheriff bent to meet your eye from the other end of the seat and you clung to your mother.

“Need a ride?” he asked.

“She just got out, sheriff, we’re just on our way home,” you said quietly. It was often Sheriff Bodecker who signed over your ma to you but that morning had been a cadet.

“Easier with some wheels under ya,” he said.

You sniffed and looked around. He was never overly friendly, the stern officer and his wide-brimmed hat put fear into most around, even when they hadn’t committed an offense. And like many in the town, he laughed at your ma and you, even asked you once or twice if you took after her.

“It’s not far,” you said, “but I appreciate the offer.”

“Nonsense,” his door swung open and he closed it heavily, “lemme help ya.” He came around and opened the back door, “you put her in here and take the front. She’s barely on her feet,” he took your mother’s other arm and angled her under the roof of the car, “whew, she smell like a sill.”

You held your tongue as your mother slumped across the leather and he shut the door. You stared at the side of the car and he touched your arm, “go on and get in, missy.”

You drew away from him and he pulled open the door. You ducked your head down and sat on the passengers side. He got in beside you and drove back out onto the street, easing into the sleepy small town traffic.

You were quiet; nervous. You didn’t know the sheriff to be a generous man, no one would ever say that of him. Your ma had sown a lot of discord in the town and you were no stranger to the bitterness that you inherited. Of all the people, Sheriff Bodecker should be most offended by her back alley antics.

“What’s a matter, missy?” he asked as he steered.

You shook your head and stared out the window. He stopped and tutted.

“Ya know, a lawman ask you a question and you should answer,” he warned, “now why you so quiet?”

“I don’t talk much, sir,” you shrugged.

“But you got a tongue,” he said, “and you fidgeting something awful over there.”

“I… just don’t know why you offer a ride,” you muttered, “ain’t no one round let my ma in their backseat, no even for a dime.”

“You looked like you needed help. I’m the sheriff, my job is to help,” he drove on and turned down your street.

“I suppose,” you said, “thank you.”

“See, now was that so hard?” he asked, “a thank you’s all I wanted.”

He pulled up in front of the ramshackle house you and your ma lived in. You got out without thinking and opened the back door. The other side opened and he grabbed your ma and dragged her out with his arms under hers. You tried to catch her ankle but he had her on her feet quickly, though she was swaying and half-unconscious.

“You show me where to put her,” he said as he kicked the door shut.

“I can take her,” you came around to him, “thank you, sheriff.”

“Nah, you go on and get the door, I can handle her a lot better than you, missy,” he said, “got a bit more brute in me.”

You held in a sigh and went around him. He turned and followed you up the slanted steps and you unlocked the front door. He lifted her feet and carried her over the threshold. You didn’t want him coming too far in so you backed up and watched him enter the front room.

“Just there on the sofa,” you pointed to the sagging cushions, “that’s fine.”

“Alright,” he crossed the room and put her down, he dusted off his hands on his pants as he stood straight. 

He looked around and removed his hat, his fingertips tapping on his pudgy stomach as he mused at the pale interior. He clicked his tongue and turned to you again.

“Well, I know your ma ain’t much of a housekeeper but it only polite to offer a guest something to drink,” he said, “something for my trouble.”

You put your purse on the chest of drawers by the door and crossed your arms. You teetered on the balls of your feet.

“I got milk or tea, sheriff,” you said, “tap water?”

“Tea,” he said, “I wouldn’t mind something to warm me up.”

You nodded and slipped past him. You went to the kitchen and moved the kettle onto the burner. You turned on the gas and heard his boots on the floor as he appeared in the doorframe. You looked up at him and carried on, searching for some leaves in the cupboard.

You sensed him getting closer and he came up behind you. His arms snaked under yours as you reached up and moved aside the cans and boxes. He cupped your tits and pushed you against the counter. You dropped your hands to his and tried to tear them away from your chest.

“What’re you doin’?” you gasped as you wrestled with him.

“I’d say you owe me,” he rocked you against the counter, “wouldn’t you?”

“Please, let go of me,” you begged, “I’m makin’ you tea--”

“I don’t want tea,” his hand crawled down and he yanked at your skirt, “like mother like daughter, huh? You know how to pay a man.”

“Stop,” you slapped his hand and he ignored you.

He spun your around and your head swam from the suddenness of it. He scooped you up easily and sat you on the counter as he pushed between your knees. He shoved your skirt up as you fought to keep the hem down. You kicked out around him as he reached for your knickers.

“Sheriff!” you cried out.

“You wan’ wake your ma?” he growled, “let her know she taught you well? If she can even be woke.”

He snickered and tore your underwear down your legs, moving back only to get them past your ankles. He slid quickly between your legs again and pulled your closer. He grabbed your jaw and squeezed as his other hand fumbled with his belt. You whined and writhed against him.

“Now, you stay still,” his hand went to his holster, “don’t make me do anything rash, missy. I could crush your throat right now.”

“Please, sheriff,” you grabbed his wrist as he held your chin.

“You already beggin’ me, missy,” he pushed his zipper down and stepped closer as he pulled himself out above his underwear, “now let’s not get too loud or you’ll be disturbin’ the neighbours.”

He poked against your cunt as he slid you closer and reached between you to line himself up. He pushed into you with a sharp thrust and you exclaimed. His grip tightened on your jaw as your lips parted and he covered your mouth with his.

He tilted his hips painfully against you, lifting you slightly off the counter as he did. He nibbled your lip as his hand wandered down to grope your chest again. His breath hitched as he fucked you and you were surrounded by his heat. You quivered as each crash of his pelvis hurt worse than the last.

“That’s it, missy,” he purred and bent your leg around him, “just like that. Move them hips, girl.”

[gohyuck]

hometown (lee jeno) teaser

pairing: jeno lee x reader

genre: smut, angst

teaser word count: 1.5k

fic word count: 7k+ (it looks like it may end up being, like, 11-12k? i’m unsure)

teaser warnings: wet dream, one-sided emotional affair, jerking off into a shared bathroom sink, some discussion of math, general hatred of “the System”, mentions of depression

general plot warnings for the fic: infidelity: reader cheats on yuta and jeno cheats on his original character gf and neither of their partners find out so there isn’t even a nice little revenge scene at the end... it’s literally just them getting away with cheating, leftist thought points/philosophies discussed even if they aren’t outright stated as leftist, both implicit and explicit discussion of mental illnesses (mostly depression and suicidal ideation but like it isn’t explicit ideation and they don’t actually want to die they kind of just don’t want to exist), general disillusionment with the system, jeno and the reader are not very happy people and are actually full of a lot of hopelessness about society and the future of the planet as a whole, explicit mentions of American politics/legislation/etc. and implicit criticization of them, mentions of drugs (weed), the characters are so self-aware that it hurts me to write them because i feel bad for them and feel even worse for their significant others

A brief taste of hair in his mouth - he doesn’t like it, he decides then and there - before you pull yourself away from him, laughing softly at the way you’d accidentally shifted just as he’d leaned in to press a kiss against your forehead. You reach up to smooth the wrinkle between his eyebrows, a gesture more symbolic than anything, and he straightens his face out himself, trading the hair-in-mouth disgust in for the gentle smile he’d had just before being so rudely assaulted. It’s as you start to move your hand away from his face that the two of you meet eyes, and a corner of Jeno’s mouth turns up as he circles his hand around your wrist to stop it mid-air.

“Kiss?” He asks, one of his brows arched now. You can’t look at it too long, knowing that the urge to pluck away at his stray hairs will overcome you. Instead, you train your gaze on his cupid’s bow, thinner upper lip giving way to the kind of full lower lip you love to sink your teeth into. Jeno makes the prettiest noise when you do so.

“Mhm,” You respond, sounding noncommittal to the world but absolutely sure to the boy you’re straddling. He grins fully now, right before leaning up to capture your lips in his. The first touch is just a little clumsy, just slightly awkward, but after the initial meeting it’s only up from there. It’s easy, natural, the way you dissolve into each other, a mess of tongue and teeth as his hands grip the cloth across your back that much harder, as you grind the apex of your thighs down into his with that much more force. Time progresses at the speed of light. Time doesn’t progress at all.

It’s only a matter of seconds before Jeno cums in his pants, but it’s only a matter of seconds before you do, too. He knows it. It’s what happened when he’d actually lived through this, and it’s what happens now, over and over again, a moment preserved in time with a delicacy only minds can make. The stuff of dreams, literally.

Jeno wakes up right before it happens. It isn’t jarring only because he’s used to it. His fourth alarm of the morning is blaring, and he uses one hand to haphazardly wipe the sleep out of his eyes while extracting his other arm out from underneath his girlfriend in order to reach his phone. She’s sound asleep - she always is - and he envies her for a moment before turning the alarm off and, for good measure, turning his goddamn phone off too.

It’s a bit fucked, he realizes once he’s properly come to, for him to have a wet dream about you when Minhee is right there, still sleeping off the way he’d fucked her into the bed last night. He’s had this revelation twelve nights and days in a row now. For a split second he feels bad, feels as if he’s the worst person on Earth, but it’s easily overshadowed by the way his cock is straining in his boxers. This has happened for the past 12 days too.

Jeno’s always wanted to have a daily routine.

He slides out of bed, careful not to wake Minhee, before slipping the nearest shoes on - gold Nike slides, a birthday gift from Jaemin who’d insisted that Jeno wear colorful things even if it’s just in their dorm room - and making his way to the bathroom him and Jaemin share with Renjun and Donghyuck. They’re the best suitemates he could possibly have, but he’s even more glad in this moment: none of them will be awake ‘til noon. It’s a Saturday.

He can jerk off in peace.

Just in case, Jeno locks both the bathroom doors and double checks to make sure that they’re locked before he finally, finally slips a thumb under his waistband, forcing it down with almost gratuitous speed. He can’t help the soft grunt that bubbles up from the back of his throat as he wraps one hand around his dick. He braces the other against the mirror for balance, just in case.

Jeno swipes across the base of his tip with his thumb, his eyes sliding shut at the feeling. He moves his wrist up once, lets precum drool over his own fingers for a second before sliding his hand back down with purpose, slicking himself up to make the slide between his cock and his calloused palm easier. It isn’t Minhee’s face or body that sear themselves into the inside of his eyelids as he strokes himself, bottom lip folded in between his teeth. You’d love to bite it, tug on it. He imagines your face as you’d cum from grinding against him that one time.

He tightens his grip.

He’d never actually fucked you: you hadn’t wanted to lose your virginity to someone who was so starry-eyed, so untarnished by the ways of the world. You didn’t want to take the virginity of someone like that either. It felt wrong on every level somehow. You’d made sure to tell him so, never one to mince words, not even as a 16 year old. The breakup hadn’t come long after the singular time he had (in his pants, he remembers with a wince… always with a wince when he isn’t dreaming of it) and although it didn’t work out romantically between the two of you, you’d stayed friends for the rest of your high school careers. Even now, both in different parts of the country for college, the two of you keep up, more or less, with each other. It’s friendly in a way it wasn’t before.

You’d been having your manic pixie dream girl arc the year you’d dated him, Jeno supposes now. Cynical, hopeless, bitter at the world and hating everything and everyone. The world was and is awful, and you were too aware of it, or so you said. Jeno wants to laugh so badly at that old version of you, the one that had broken his heart, but he finds that he can’t anymore. A too-big part of him thinks you might’ve been right about everything.

You’d slept with YangYang Liu in senior year, had called Jeno afterwards to see if he’d go with you to get Plan B at 3 a.m. on a Friday. It’d been hardly a week after he’d cum embarrassingly early while sleeping with someone - a girl from his third period class - for the first time. He’d swallowed his suddenly resurfacing heartbreak to pick you up and drive you to the nearest CVS in the same car you’d made out with him so many times before. He’d swallowed his moans later that night as he lay in bed, fisting his cock tightly at the thought of gripping your thighs so hard they bruised, at sinking into you, at how warm, how wet, how tight - fuck!, he’d hissed to himself then, having bitten so hard into the hand he’d used to quiet himself that blood bloomed from broken skin.

Jeno had cum hard then, and he cums just as hard now, canine splitting the flesh of his lip as he muffles his long, drawn out groans. The metallic taste of blood is enough to push him further over the edge, and he practically hunches in on himself as spurts of opaque white liquid land in the bathroom sink. He’s satiated for now. He remembers all the work he has to do - midterms are upcoming - and his post-orgasm glory fades as soon as it’d come.

After an earth-shattering orgasm to properly wake him up, everything else feels twice as mundane as usual. Jeno’s quick to run hot water in the sink, making sure all evidence of his one-sided emotional affair is gone, before brushing his teeth and pissing. He’d shower, but for some reason he can’t bring himself to. Sometimes, he can’t bring himself to for two days, or three. Deodorant and Minhee’s perfume are his best friends now. Donghyuck, psych major that he is, calls it depression. Jeno, hellbent on never letting Hyuck be correct, calls it ‘finally experiencing ego death’.

He thinks Hyuck is right, though. He won’t say so.

Jeno’d come in as a mechanical engineering major, though he thinks he might switch to computer science. If he’s going to be a corporate shill - he’s realized, quite quickly, that there’s not much else to be - he may as well do it as efficiently as possible. He’d started college with the firm belief that the world is easy to change, and that he can help to do so. He’d dispelled this concept less than three weeks in.

He has midterms to study for, and corporate shill-dom to look forward to for it. Jeno should open the blinds - Jaemin isn’t here right now anyways, and Minhee’ll sleep through that, too - and sit down at his messy desk and get to work. He should study up on eigenvectors and eigenvalues - they’re easy, but they’re comfortable, and Jeno has started to like comfortable - or work through his solids textbook. He should, he should, he should.

Jeno doesn’t even pause between leaving the bathroom and climbing back into bed. Minhee shifts, and he presses a gentle kiss to her forehead before settling in beside her.

He has this moment, so he takes it. He doesn’t feel like he has many moments to himself anymore.

let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!

[buckysgoldenheart]

The Ways We Meet

Henry Cavill x Reader

Summary: While trying to avoid another man at an A-list event, you accidentally bump into Henry who has no interest in letting you go despite not even knowing your name.

Notes: idk, I thought it was kinda cute. Pov changes back and forth between Y/N and Henry A LOT. Implied smut (because I’m so damn bad at writing full smut).

Words: 2211

Y/N:

These events pissed you off, they really did. Despite being only a director’s assistant, you were forced to attend. And it wasn’t the tight, sparkly dresses you had to wear that made you miserable, nor the heavy makeup or the overcrowding in rooms that far surpassed fire department code. It was more that you felt out of place and always managed to have one creepy man sense that from a mile away with the intent to pray on what looked like your innocence. You weren’t innocent, by far, but you supposed the impression you gave off by the way you stood away from others, sipping the same drink for a half hour, made sense.

Usually, drinking in a dark corner at an A-list event by the time midnight came around kept you safe. Those creepy men surrendered to your disinterest in them, and ventured to find an easier, more desperate woman. But not tonight. Tonight, this one was persistent.

You didn’t know his name; never let him get close enough to tell you, but he followed you around, not so subtly watching you with a look in his eyes that had you nauseous. Every step he neared you was a step you took in the opposite direction hoping to evade his creepiness.

Henry:

It had been a long night, too long, and Henry wished he could just go back to the hotel and watch a stupid movie until the early hours of the Sunday morning, since there was no way he would get a good nights sleep with the jetlag still wracking his body from the morning before.

He was saying goodbye to a couple coworkers, patting them on their backs in a friendly gesture when his shoulder roughly shoved forward. He stumbled a step, and before he could turn to see why, a woman passed him.

Her body was wrapped a snug, shiny red gown, and she had curls pinned back into an elegant bun, and when she turned to apologize, she lightly touched his bicep, smiling politely before continuing on her path. His breath hitched but she didn’t notice as she was gone a half-second later, buried somewhere in the mass of bodies.

His lips were still parted, stunned, until a friend tapped his shoulder.

“Hey, are you ok?” The friend asked, to which Henry only nodded, then walked away in the direction the woman went.

It took time to find her, but when he did, something in his chest seemed to both tighten and lighten in sync. He watched her from a distance as she took a gulp of the drink in her hand then placed it back on the counter and ducked. Henry chuckled, but then spotted him: A smallish man slowly making his way toward where she was unsuccessfully hiding.

Henry quickly shuffled his way through the crowd, and just moments before the other man could’ve spotted her, Henry snatched her by the arm and pulled her into a corner. With his back to the wall, he faced the crowd, his arms holding her snuggly, chest to chest, until the man passed them by.

Y/N:

“You’re safe now,” A man said, drawing your attention upward, and your eyes couldn’t help but widen. Henry Cavill was looking at you with a playful smirk on his handsome face that you never in a million years would have imagined be directed toward you. “Remember me?”

“Shit,” You cursed yourself. “It was you I bumped into earlier.” What a way to make a first impression. How was it that you always managed to look like an idiot in front of the hottest actors at these parties? This certainly wasn’t the first time. Chris Evans could confirm that, and probably wouldn’t hesitate to.

“It was.”

“Oh God, I’m so sorry. I’m not normally so rude. I can explain.”

Henry’s shoulders shook as he laughed, and it reminded you that he still held you tight, with an odd protectiveness. “I think I’ve caught on to the situation,” He said. “Do you know that guy?”

You shook your head.

Henry casually nodded at your confirmation, that smile still on his face, but it slipped a moment later and you didn’t have to guess why. He looked back at you. “Do you think you could trust a stranger for a brief minute?”

“W-What?”

“Yes or no?” He quickly asked.

You blinked. “Yea, I guess.”

“Good,” He said, then slammed his lips to yours.

It shocked you but the feeling of having every part of your body pressed against his made you dizzy, and what was meant to force the creeper away, lasted much longer than the minute Henry promised. Many minutes longer. Enough minutes to give you the time to slide your hands up his chest until they settled on the back of his neck. Enough minutes to have him groaning when you softly nibbled on his bottom lip. Enough minutes to have your heart pounding.

You pulled back first when the embarrassment began to flood your body. Chuckling awkwardly, you stepped out of his arms, and said, “Um, thanks for the help…stranger,” then tried to disappear as fast as you could, for the first time thankful of the enormous crowd.

Henry:

She stiffened as his hand clasped around her wrist before she could get away, and when she turned to look at his face, she became no less tense. It made Henry feel uneasy. He liked her a little too much for how long he’d known her—which was nearly no time at all--and when he kissed her with everything he had, he thought it might’ve been enough to get her to stick around, at least for an extra minute or two.

He wasn’t arrogant. Yes, he’d had women tell him he was a good kisser, but he didn’t assume one kiss from him would have her falling on her knees, begging him to take her home. Henry just thought she felt something too. Perhaps more than one should from a stranger’s kiss, but enough of something to make her pause and question why it felt so damn good, just as he had for the millisecond before she bolted. It had him unwilling to give up so soon.

“Now where are you going?” Henry said, trying to hide the twinge of desperation in his voice.

“Sorry, I—”

“What’s your name?” He asked.

She blinked with her big, butterfly-wing-like lashes as if she hadn’t expected him to care. “…Y/N.”

“Ok, well, Y/N, I think that guy got the hint. You don’t have to keep running.”

“You never know.” She shrugged and anxiously bit the inside of her cheek.

“Right then, how about we leave?”

“What?”

“Do you like coffee?”

“…Sometimes,” One corner of her lips hesitantly turned upward. “Not usually at twelve thirty in the morning.”

Henry grinned as his thumb ran back and forth along the inside of her wrist. “Well, decaf is a thing, and I happen to know a place not far from here that’s open for another hour.”

Y/N:

You didn’t know how you managed to be pinned against one of his hotel room walls, but you were. You weren’t drunk from the little alcohol you’d had at the party, and the coffee certainly wasn’t spiked, but you still couldn’t explain how you were now moaning from the feel of Henry’s lips attached to your neck. Not that you were complaining.

“Goddamn,” He groaned against the skin of your collarbone as his fingers bunched the glittery fabric of your gown up until his hand could slip underneath. As it glided up your thigh, his palm left burns from its trail, and your skin grew hotter with each inch he made closer to your core. “You’re like an angel.”

You let out a throaty chuckle. “Hardly.”

Henry lifted his head and his hazy blue eyes met yours. “Hardly, huh?” He said as his index finger ran along the edge of your panties. He could’ve easily tucked a finger under that useless barrier and felt how wet you were.

“Yes,” You smirked, reaching your hand forward and undoing the buckle of his belt. “Hardly.”

Then you lowered to your knees.

Henry:

Henry didn’t even have to open his eyes to know that she was gone. He’d woken up a few times throughout the night, only to fall right back into peaceful sleep when he felt her warm body tucked into him. Each time, he tightened his arm firmly around her waist as she emitted little soft snores. But now, without the weight of her body next to his, Henry felt cold. Only the empty dip in the mattress where she’d laid for hours remained.

Her warmth was gone. She was gone.

And it stung a lot more than it should. He didn’t even know her last name or her age or, hell, anything about her. He knew he shouldn’t be as upset as he was, but he wanted to learn those things. To get to know her. Coffee the night before gave little insight to who she really was. That time was spent throwing flirtatious jokes back and forth, and if he’d have known she wouldn’t have given him the next morning to ask the important things, he’d have slowed himself down.

Fisting his fingers into his hair, Henry groaned at more than just the glaring sunlight streaming through the windows giving him a ripe headache. He shouldn’t be hung up on someone he barely knew. It wasn’t healthy.

Y/N:

God, you hoped you weren’t overstepping your bounds, or worse, being that girl who hangs around after a one-night stand long after the guy wants you to. You just…didn’t want to leave. He surprised you with his sincerity. He seemed to like you, though you didn’t know why, but you liked him, and, for once, you were willing to take the risk of sticking around for the morning after. It could be awkward. It could crash and burn. But if you weren’t going to be brave enough to see how the rest of the day could unfold, you knew you would regret it.

But, staying or not, it didn’t mean you weren’t going to hop down to the hotel lobby as soon as you woke to get your coffee fill. And based on what you saw last night, Henry liked his coffee rich and black.

Henry:

Who was he trying to fool? This was absolutely going to ruin his day. They’d had a rare chemistry that made him feel like he’d known her forever, and the sex certainly didn’t suck. Not even close.

Throwing his legs over the side of the bed, Henry sat up and rubbed his face with both hands. If she wasn’t going to be there, he might as well get dressed and go about his day. At least, that’s what he thought, until he heard the door lock click and the handle turn.

His head shot to the sound, and he was almost stunned when he saw her walk in, shakily balancing two cups of coffee, a danish, and a muffin in her arms. She jumped when she saw him looking at her, still impressively holding on to the breakfast.

“H-Hi,” She said. And, damn, Henry liked that voice.

“Hi,” He smiled back, and at the gesture he could see her shoulders relax.

He stood and walked towards her, neglecting his boxers entirely, just thrilled she hadn’t disappeared forever. She looked down and blushed, then averted her eyes as he began to unload the food from her arms, and one-by-one placed the items on the table. When she still hadn’t looked back at him, he chuckled and tucked a finger under her chin, tilting it up until she was forced to meet his eyes.

“Don’t be shy on me now.”

He ran his hands down her arms and grabbed both of her hands in his when she sighed and said “Sorry, I’m not…” She took a breath,” I don’t usually do this.”

“Hook up with strangers?”

“No, stick around the morning after. I kind of assume I’m not wanted, so—”

“You’re wanted here. Believe me,” Henry said fast, because those thoughts were the last he wanted on her mind.

She gaped, but then grinned wide and bright. “Really?”

“Definitely,” He said. “I want to know you.”

Y/N:

He wants to know you. Those words made your stomach flip. Though you took the risk to not sneak out at the break of dawn, you figured the odds of him not shuffling you out the door were unlikely to be in your favor. But you weren’t complaining about being wrong.

You grew embarrassed when you realized that dopey smile was still on your face, so you quickly wiped it off then grabbed the muffin and offered it to him. One corner of his lips quirked in unison with an eyebrow, and he gently took the offering from your hand.

“Thank you,” he said, pulling the paper down to take a bite.

“So, um…if we want to get to know one another, what do you want to do?”

Henry only smirked and said “Well…I’ve got some ideas.” He took another bite then licked the remaining crumbs off his lips, which was somehow more distracting than the fact that he was completely naked. “Half of them don’t involve clothes, though.”