#specifically folding it is what gets me the worst i think

[after-witch]

A Barter [Yandere Feitan x Reader]

Title: A Barter [Yandere Feitan x Reader]

Synopsis: Feitan wants one thing. You want something else. 

Word count: 2200ish

Notes: Yandere, kidnapped reader, noncon

God, you’d kill for some books. Not even some. Just one. A single book to pass the time, to retreat into, and above all, to keep you from being so fucking bored.

You’d asked Feitan for some about two weeks ago. Laid out your case as carefully as anything, even written down a list of genres you like, or specific books if he wouldn’t mind, but you ended by affirming that you’d be happy to read anything that he felt like picking up.

He didn’t bother answering. He only stared at you until you left, feeling ashamed, stupid–and more bored than ever. 

It’s amazing, really, how your brain eventually stops firing off all cylinders, stops being stuck in flight-or-fight-mode, after a while. Even a kidnapping can become ordinary. All it takes is a year or so–you don’t exactly have a calendar to keep track–of being kept in a few rotating dingy hideouts by a torturer with a penchant for basements to make you able to think of things other than is-he-going-to-kill-me-or-not.

Things like: what will Feitan do, if you ask him for a book again?  Scoff? Make you beg? Or, perhaps the most likely, simply ignore you once again? He does his fair share of that, for all that he refuses to let you go.

Well.

There’s nothing to do but find out. Even that is a relief from boredom, trying something new: repeatedly asking your captor for some remnant of normality.

So, with a squirming stomach and an awful blend of worry-relief slick in your gut, you push off your mattress on the floor, hop up–

And run right smack into Feitan, who has chosen this exact moment to make his own surprise appearance into the room that has become your own. It startles you both and it’s only his own honed reflexes, you think, that keep him from copying your own startled trip as you almost stumble backwards right onto the dingy hardwood floor.

You catch yourself, without dignity; and it is without dignity that you manage the only verbal response you can, a shaky, uncertain: 

“Um.”

Feitan stares at you. And then he huffs, which might be as close to an “um” as you might ever get from him. 

But what little standoff there is between you folds easily. You back down first. Of course you do. Quite literally, you walk backwards, until you feel the firmness of your mattress behind your legs, and you sit down.

It’s best to sit, when Feitan wants something. You never know what it might be, after all.

“Did you…” You pull your knees up, prepared to be told to head into the basement at worst, or to make him something to eat, at best. “Did you need something?”

It’s his lack of response that clues you into something being strange first. Then it’s the fact that, as you dart your gaze towards his face, you can see a faint something about him–on his cheeks, maybe? They look a little flushed.

Maybe he’s sick. The thought of tending to a sick Feitan is not something you’d considered before. You’re not keen on considering it now, but what choice do you have?

“Are you sick?” 

“What?”

The word is bitten out but it lacks the usual harshness in his tone. Instead he sounds–taken aback, maybe. Embarrassed, even, and that’s a bit more stomach-churning than annoyance. What would he have to feel embarrassed about? 

“Sorry,” you reply, automatically, wanting to avoid being sent down to the basement again. “I just thought… because of your cheeks?”

His fingers do not fly to his cheeks. Instead, he slowly, deliberately, raises his hand to his cheek and brushes his knuckles over his skin. 

It makes him hum–thoughtful. Quiet. 

Completely unnerving. 

And when he turns around and shuts your bedroom door, your thoughts begin to feel rootless. It’s a strange gesture. What would he shut the door for, anyway? No one else would see you. Even if he had someone chained up in the basement, they weren’t likely to get away.

The thoughts get swallowed down when he stands in front of you, arms crossed.

“I need something.” He pauses. “From you.”

You can’t bear to meet his gaze, so you stare down at your feet, picking at the frayed lace on your socks. “From… me?”

“From me?” He repeats, a mocking lilt just detectable in his tone. 

Heat rises in your chest, and you stamp it down just as quickly. The days where you used to argue–and plead–and argue some more are gone. Mostly, anyway. 

“What,” you swallow, “could you need from me?”

He hesitates. You think for a moment that he’ll simply leave, forgetting the matter entirely. Then he pulls at his cowl, revealing his face–mouth set in a frown–before he begins to pull at his coat. He shrugs it off like a robe and it drops to the floor without ceremony. Underneath, he’s wearing a slim tank top and trousers. Both are suspiciously stained, despite the dark fabric.

Still, he just stares at you, until you can’t take the silence any longer.

“Um,” you say, an echo from earlier. 

This time, when he huffs, it’s less of an “um” and more of an implicit marker of your own stupidity. 

“You wanting books?”

Oh. 

That’s what this is about? The books. The books you wanted–needed, really, to get you through this newfound life. If you can call it that.

So you nod, slowly. Already not liking where it’s going, even though you’ve yet to find the destination.

Feitan’s lips quirk into something like a frown before he speaks. An uncertain little thing. 

“Take off your clothes, then.”

Ah.

It’s–a trade.

A book for–well. That. 

It’s not that you didn’t think it was coming, eventually. Perhaps you’ve always known that he’s going to have sex with you, one way or another. The only decision you have is in the little details. Will he pin your wrists down and take you screaming? Or will you submit and wind up on the bed of whatever free will you still possess?

You know which one ends with more pain, more tears. You know which one ends with tears, yes–but something you want, too. A book. Or two. Something to tide you over. 

So–so you swallow and look up at him as firmly as you can and nod. It’s going to happen, so it might as well happen on your terms. Or what you can pretend are your terms, at least.

“Fine.”

He almost seems surprised, but he bites it back quickly as you hastily begin to shrug your clothing off. A flimsy tank top and thin leggings that were beginning to rip at the seams, but you didn’t feel like asking for a sewing kit or a new pair. 

He stares down at your naked form and it’s only when you awkwardly pat the spot next to you on the mattress that he moves, almost jerking his body as he jerkily crawls down onto the bare mattress. It creaks underneath him, and you instinctively shift backwards, leaning your back against the pillow.

Let it just be over with then. Let him do what he wants–and you get your books, and that awful tension that’s been hovering since he took you can unravel. 

Only he doesn’t simply crawl over you and begin fucking hard, satiating whatever lust that’s been built up inside him. Instead, he scoots himself until he’s laying above you, yes, but leaning down and… what? Looking at you. Expecting something. He leans down, his face closer, and it hits you.

He wants to kiss.

He doesn’t want just sex then, you think. He wants… more? He wants–wants… you? Yes–maybe? He wants you, in some way that he doesn’t have you yet. Even though he has you, literally, where he wants you; makes you do whatever he wants, controls what you eat and what you wear and when you sleep. When you shower, when you speak, often enough.

And now he wants whatever kissing him will give. It’s a shitty world, when you can’t keep anything for yourself. You could refuse. Could press your lips tight and turn away, make it harder on him. 

Harder on yourself, too. 

You swallow, and he follows the motion in your throat as he finally leans in closer, his chapped lips brushing against your own. Equally chapped, to be fair; lip balm wasn’t exactly a top priority for either of you.

“Open your mouth,” he says, and it’s almost softly. Almost like it’s not a command and is instead a request. 

Well. If you’re going to do it, you might as well get something more. 

“I want–I want a trilogy,” you murmur. 

He stares at you, uncomprehending–until he gets it. You’re bartering. He snorts against your skin, but doesn’t disagree as he captures your parted mouth, shoving his tongue inside with little fanfare. 

If he got what he wanted from the kiss, you don’t know, because by the time he’s practically breathing down your throat, you feel his hands part your naked thighs. And when he pulls away and positions himself to see what he’s revealed, his expression turns into something you’ve only seen him sport in the basement during particularly fulfilling torture sessions.

Satisfaction.

It’s almost flattering–fuck, something has to be, your naked back against the mattress as Feitan finally pulls his trousers down and positions himself at your entrance without any fanfare. Or preparation. Not that you were expecting it. Maybe, to him, the kiss should have been enough.

The ceiling has a stain on it–that’s what you’re thinking, as he thrusts inside you. It hurts, there’s a startling sort of burning and pressure, and you don’t have any time to be eased into things as he lets out a long sigh and begins to fuck you.

Your body shifts against the mattress with each thrust, and you think–is this going to be it?--before you feel a startling, uneven jolt of pleasure between your legs. When you glance down, you can see Feitan’s hand between your legs; it’s his thumb, you think, rubbing your clit almost haphazardly.

It’s enough to dull the sting, at least. Enough to make you gasp in something other than discomfort. 

Maybe that gasp is why he leans down again, why his free hand grabs one of your wrists and pins it above your head. It’s to keep you still, you realize a moment later, as he begins to bite and lap against your neck. You’ll have hickeys, after.

It adds another layer of pleasure, something warmer, something that sends tingles down your stomach despite the discomfort of the situation. 

“Feitan–”

“Hush,” he says, and you do, and you’re almost grateful for his words. It’s easier not to say his name, to bite down your gasps and sounds. Especially when saying his name merely made him rut harder against you, faster. It’s almost too much, the friction between your body and the mattress, your heart rate speeding up, the feeling of his thrust between your legs. It’s almost dizzying, making it harder to keep your thoughts straight. 

Harder and faster, all because you said his name. Because it made him hornier–or because he wants to leave? The question lingers, caught between thrusts and the feeling of his mouth against his skin.

His thumb rubs harsher against your clit until you’re suddenly spasming, cumming as he’s still fucking you. He takes his hands away too quickly and it’s not an entirely satisfying orgasm but you’re in no position (literally) to complain about it. Instead you try to ride some lingering warmth between your legs as he reaches his own peak, abandoning your bruising shoulder and bruising your lips, instead, a kiss that’s part teeth and tongue.

He thrusts forward and goes still and makes an almost keening sound into your mouth as he finishes, and you feel the warmth spreading inside you. It’s not pleasant, but the feeling when he pulls out and some of it dribbles out is far less so.

Next time, you think, you’ll tell him to keep touching you when you come. So it feels better. Hell, next time, you’ll barter for something more than a book, too. 

You expect him to stay against you, maybe even kiss you again, in the afterglow. Instead, he simply stands up without fanfare and begins to redress himself. Pulls his pants back up–you hope to whatever god there is that he washes his clothes soon–and begins to pull on his top and coat.

“What genre?”

You don’t register the question at first. You’re too fucked out, too guilty, lost, confused, hazy, to understand the question. 

Maybe he sees all that, because before he throws his cowl back up, you see his smirk.

“For your books.”

Oh. Right.

“Fantasy,” you answer, without needing to think. 

Above you, that ceiling is still stained, and now your mattress has new stains. It was the first time Feitan fucked you, but it won’t be the last, and what sort of Pandora’s box did you open today, anyway? 

So yes, a fantasy trilogy is what you ask for, naked and bruising on your bed. 

You’ll need something you can escape into every chance you get.

[oetscop]

i did laundryyyyy and cleaned and i feel so dead. bht at least i wont be smelly anymore. its been probably a month since i did laundry last

[starmapz]

man's best friend - r. sukuna

❦ biker!ryomen sukuna x biker!f!reader [non-curse au]

❦ oneshot

❝ you know those videos of people falling in love with the pet they didn't want? yeah, turns out your husband sukuna could be the star of one of them. ❞

❦ cw ; 18+ only. mdni. sexual themes. fluff! husband!sukuna. soft!sukuna. part of the love & company series of oneshots but can be read separately.

❦ words ; 1.8k.

main masterlist || love & company masterlist

Shutting the door behind you, you kick your boots off and pad slowly into the house. “Ryo!” You call out in search of your husband, peeking into the kitchen.

He rounds the corner in only a pair of gray sweatpants, every peak and valley of his washboard abs on display. If it were any other day, you would be jumping him in a heartbeat and he knows it. So when you don’t, even as your eyes trail down his body, he approaches you suspiciously.

“Who are you n’ what did you do with my wife?” He asks, a hint of playfulness decorating his tone. He eyes your outfit, still in your riding gear aside from your boots and helmet. You haven’t taken off your leather jacket yet, which is odd.

When his gaze lands on your chest, he narrows his eyes. “You get a third tit at work today?” He asks as he realizes you have a lump hidden beneath your coat. You can’t help your giggles at his stupid joke, shaking your head. The lump shuffles beneath your coat and his eyes go wide.

“You did not,” he deadpans, searching your expression.

Oh, but you did.

“Okay listen, I know you didn’t want a pet until we got a bigger place, but hear me out!” You plead as the lump shuffles more before it finally pokes its tiny little face out from your coat.

Facing Sukuna is the tiniest, most disheveled bundle of fur he’s ever seen. The little kitten is pure black, hair sticking out in every direction and wide green eyes that take in the world as the little furball tilts its head curiously at your husband with a pathetic mewl.

“No. No way, that thing’s gotta be covered in fleas. We talked about a dog,” he shakes his head. “Where did you even find it?”

“Ryo, come on!” You pout at him with a look entirely too similar to the kitten and his glare flickers between the two of you. “I found it in the bushes outside work and my co-worker said it’d been there for a while. I couldn’t leave it!” You insist, pulling the furball gently from within your jacket to hold them tightly to your chest.

He’s probably right about the fleas, but how could you not immediately fall in love with the little kitty as it calmly abides to you holding it like a baby, chewing softly on your gloved thumb as you hold it up to Sukuna.

“We don’t even need a big place to get a cat!” You insist. The kitten stops chewing on your thumb, rounded green eyes turning to stare up at Sukuna as it mewls pleadingly. Sukuna has half a mind to wonder if the kitten can understand you because between the two of you pouting at him, he thinks you have to be conspiring specifically to get him to break.

He sighs dramatically, rubbing the crease between his brows. “Fine. But it’s your responsibility.”

And how is Sukuna ever meant to resist his beautiful wife with the way your eyes light up?

Of course, you knew from the moment you brought the bundle of soot home that Sukuna would cave. What you didn’t expect was the way their dynamic shifted.

After getting cleaned up and visiting the vet, you discovered she’s a sweet little girl and insisted on naming her Jiji, after the cat from Kiki’s Delivery Service. Your husband had more… creative name choices. Pawasaki and Yameowha were among the worst of his horrible bike-related names, but Ducati had to be the one that really took the cake for the one that made you groan the most.

… And it also happened to be the one that stuck.

“Kuna! Have you seen Cati?” At least Cati sounds close to Kitty, right? Peering into the living room, you catch a glimpse of Sukuna laid out over the couch in a black hoodie and gray sweatpants, his arms folded back behind his head and his eyes trained on the TV.

“Yeah, she’s in here,” he replies nonchalantly. Stepping into the room, you look around for her but she’s nowhere to be found. Turning to Sukuna finally, your lips purse and your heart absolutely soars at the sight of the little kitty curled right into the crook of Sukuna’s neck, almost invisible buried in his hoodie.

“Oh. My. God,” you gasp, pulling out your phone to take a photo, which quickly becomes thirty photos to Sukuna’s dismay as his smirk becomes a scowl by the fifteenth. “You two are the cutest things I’ve ever seen. This is gonna be my wallpaper.”

It doesn’t take long for the two to warm up to one another either. Ducati is like his shadow, always following right behind him even as he brushes her off. She’s constantly rubbing against his ankles and mewing for his attention. He doesn’t pay her much mind at first, but his resolve crumbles after only a few weeks.

Brushing your teeth one morning before work, Sukuna walks into the washroom in a red hoodie to grab his razor. As he slips past you, your jaw drops at the realization that Ducati’s little tail is poking out from his hood.

“No way,” you barely manage to mumble through the toothpaste and toothbrush, spitting it out and darting back to your room to grab your phone. It hardly matters that you have toothpaste on your lips still when you need a photo of this right now.

“Your camera roll must be mostly photos of her,” he chides, plugging his razor in.

“You say that like it’s a problem.”

A puff of air leaves his nose in a laugh as he watches your mirth through the mirror. Who is he to deny his wife of having a camera roll full of photos where you can barely make out where your kitten’s limbs start and end?

The day everything changed was when you woke up early enough to see their morning routine. Sukuna got up early to work out and have breakfast before work, while you would practically rush out the door, but your body had other plans today.

The sun warms your cheek as it peeks over the horizon and with a yawn you realize your alarm hasn’t gone off yet. Usually you would just flip over, but a morning with your husband sounds even better.

Slowly shuffling down the hall, you blink sleep from your eyes as you make your way into the kitchen in time to see what might be the funniest thing you’ve ever laid your eyes on.

Sukuna sits down at the table with a breakfast burrito on one plate and another smaller plate in his other hand. He sets it down at the chair beside him with some coffee and your jaw drops when you realize what’s on the smaller plate.

It’s Ducati’s fucking breakfast. He pulls the chair beside him out and pats it before pushing her plate to the edge of the table so that she can reach it.

“No fucking way,” you breathe out. Like a deer in the headlights, Sukuna’s eyes widen, before his expression hardens.

“What? She’s hungry,” he grunts like any of this is normal by any means and he isn’t the cheesiest cat dad on the planet. To think he was a dog person a few months ago.

You burst into laughter as his tough-guy persona crumbles. You may be his princess, but that cat is his queen.

“I need to get my phone, oh my god-”

“Don’t you dare!” He roars, but you’re already racing back to the bedroom in a flurry of giggles. Sukuna sighs, slumping back in the chair as he stares at the ceiling.

“You’re such a sucker,” you tease as you snap another dozen photos of the pair to add to your collection.

“Don’t call me that,” he grumbles, holding his hand up to block the camera’s view of him as though the tattoos on his wrist don’t spell out exactly who he is.

You found out a week later that the next step from breakfast at the table is apparently coming with you on dates.

Finishing up your makeup for your beach day with your husband, you bound over to the door with your duffle bag of towels, sunglasses, and sunscreen ready to go. Sukuna, on the other hand, packed very differently.

Kneeling on the ground, Ducati’s on her side, her fluffy black tail happily swishing back and forth as Sukuna adjusts a harness on her.

“Kuna, as cute as that is, I don’t wanna lose her,” you gently scold, deciding you have to put your foot down when it comes to your cat joining you on your beach date.

“We won’t lose her,” he gruffs, scooping her up into his arms. “She has a tracker tag. It’s connected to my phone.”

You have to stifle a laugh. “Right, of course. That’s super normal. Normal people do this with their cats.”

Sukuna glowers, heat rising from his neck up to his cheeks. To think that this is the same man who cuffed you to your bed frame last night that’s now brimming with embarrassment. “She likes being outside,” he grumbles.

“I know she does but I thought the front yard would be as far as she would go,” you sigh, unable to help your smile. “Fine, Ryo. She can join us, but you better watch her like a hawk.”

“Promise, princess,” he agrees, leaning down to kiss your cheek. “Your hickeys r’ showing, by the way.”

You shrug. “My makeup would come off in the water anyway if I tried to cover them and I know you like them,” you smirk. Something dark flashes in his eyes, his free hand that isn’t supporting Ducati in his arms reaching out to rest on your waist. His fingers tighten, his grip sinking into the plush of your skin as he pulls you into him.

“I like when people know you’re mine,” he purrs, eyes lidded. 

“That’s good, because now,” you begin, a gleam in your eye that he recognizes all too well, “people will know that I’m with the big burly biker and his tiny little kitty,” you tease with a grin as you push off of his chest, adjusting your duffle bag over your shoulder. “Come on, you big sucker. Let’s go to the beach.”

Of course, you’ve seen the videos and stories of men who didn’t want a pet later becoming said pet’s best friend, but you could never have imagined that would be your hardened and often cold husband. Especially given that when you had discussed getting a pet, he wanted a big dog like a Rottweiler or a German Shepherd.

Like many other times over the course of your life, he surprises you at every turn as you find him in the kitchen pouring himself a bowl of Cheerios with Ducati atop his shoulders. Another time, you find him doing pushups in your bedroom with the cat laying on his back, earning a raised brow. On rare occasions, he even calls both of you ‘his girls’.

Turns out, Sukuna is a cat guy. And honestly? You wouldn’t have it any other way, even if it means you’re not Ducati’s favorite.

main masterlist || love & company masterlist

❦ a/n ; was feeling inspired since i adopted my cat a year ago tomorrow and couldn't help but think this would suit this sukuna really well <3 as always, likes, reblogs, and comments are super super appreciated <33

❦ taglist ; OPEN. please comment here or on the masterlist to be added. 18+ only, age must be visible on blog.

@toffeebrat @gojodickbig @4acoffee @billiondollarworth @qyuin

@bxnfire @jayghostedu @favvkiki

writing & format © starmapz. art © too-many-owls. dividers © adornedwithlight & cafekitsune.

[alchemistc]

get by (with a little help from my friends)

Eddie's "Hey man." gets completely ignored when he answers the phone, which isn't entirely unusual, considering the man on the other end.

"I need you to talk me off a ledge."

Tommy sounds like he's gone three rounds already, and that's entirely possible. At this point, he's got the same steps as Buck does any time he feels like flying off the handle: phone a friend, and then another friend, and then talk to Buck about it. Eddie always likes it best when they just fucking talk to each other, but he can see the wisdom in asking for advice first. They're both reactive fucks who love each other way too much to be rational face to face, sometimes.

"Am I qualified to give advice on this subject, or is this gonna be another Spare Key Fiasco?"

Tommy chuffs from the other end of the phone. He still hates that Eddie had had a front row seat to that freakout.

"It wasn't a spare, Eddie, I had it specifically made for -."

"Yeah, that's my bad, dude, stop taking every opportunity to change the subject. What's up, man?"

There's a noise Eddie recognizes vaguely as the breathing exercises Buck had been explaining to him a few months ago. They both use them - Buck to prevent the leap to anger and defensiveness, Tommy to prevent... whatever his reactive habits are. The pair of them have been surprisingly light on details, since they got back together. Well. Surprising that Buck hasn't word vomited all of Tommy's idiosyncrasies, at some point.

It's going on a year since he's seen Tommy in person, but he can picture the exact curmudgeonly expression he's probably pulling right now. "I bought a ring, last week."

Only about a month behind Buck. They're getting better about the whole pacing thing. Eddie's been sworn to secrecy, so this is gonna be a fucking minefield to navigate.

"That's great, man. When are you gonna ask him?" Buck has a spreadsheet already. Two, actually, if you're counting the Worst Case Scenario tab Eddie'd caught a peek at when Buck shared his screen instead of ending the video call they'd been on.

That's going in the speech whether Buck likes it or not.

"You remember that ledge I was talking about?"

Of course. Of course that's what he's worried about. Of course Eddie's been dialed in to either talk him down or throw out a rope and wrangle his ass off a cliff side.

Man's stolen helicopters, evaded military and FBI and earned medals for his reckless bravery, and yet the idea of settling down with a man he loves more than the entire world and flying is rattling him enough to need backup.

"Who was your first call?"

Tommy's huff is fairly telling. Sal, then. Eddie's only met him once and he wasn't his biggest fan, but Buck loves the guy. Says sitting between the two old friends is better than watching a UFC match. He's got weird priorities, Buck does.

("They're so mean, Eddie, you'd think they were mortal enemies, but Deluca, like, gets Tommy. Do you think he'll help me with the contingency plan?")

From what Eddie can remember, they'd only reconnected about six months ago, but they'd fallen back into their aggressively combative friendship easily, according to Buck. Eddie's of the opinion that Tommy reached out to Sal Deluca specifically to combat Buck's intense positivity when he finally cottoned on to the fact that Buck considered himself a permanent fixture in Tommy's life.

"Sal told me to woman up. And swap the ring out for a leash."

Yeah. Eddie's not sold on Sal Deluca. Considering they're most likely gonna have to plan some sort of joint bachelor party across state lines sometime over the course of the next year, Eddie's going to have to woman up himself.

"Not to make everything even worse than Deluca, but what the hell are you hoping I can help with? My only proposal came about three days after the pee stick showed two lines."

Tommy blows out a breath. Not the breathing exercises, this time. Eddie can almost see the hand he's dragging down his face, nose folding and bouncing back when the hand gets to his mouth and hangs there, for a moment. "I've proposed before," he murmurs.

Well. There that is. Eddie had definitely forgotten about that little hiccup.

"I mean, it's not like you're gonna propose, sit on it for a few years, and then decide you actually don't like dick, right?"

"Your support is overwhelming," he deadpans, and the line goes quiet. For about forty seconds, Eddie stares at the time on the call tic up and up. "But no, that's not the issue."

"No offense, buddy, but I have no idea what the issue is. He's gonna say yes. It's gonna be great. He'll cry for like an hour and then for a few weeks he'll tell every random stranger he meets that his fiance is a pilot for the LAFD." If Tommy swears him to secrecy, too, he's gonna have to get creative. See if he can coordinate a joint proposal without either one of them cottoning on.

"You ever been gun shy before?" Tommy asks, in that roundabout way he has of trying to explain the thoughts inside his own head.

He tried. He failed. He hurt someone. He doesn't want to do it again.

"Yeah, but like - besides the fact that you're attracted to and in love with Buck, they're...very different people." He'd only met Abby once. Hadn't particularly cared for her, on account of the whole leaving his best friend in limbo for months, and the Making His Best Friend Act More Out Of Pocket Than Usual At A Scene.

"Both with amazing hair, though," Tommy jokes, and then groans. "I'm going to gouge my eyeballs out with a teaspoon."

"Yeah, don't do that. You think Evan Buckley's going to decipher that as 'Lets get hitched'?"

"I resent the idea that you think that I'd use those words."

"Apologies. You gonna quote a movie he's never seen?"

"It's easy to recycle when he thinks they're all my witty rejoinders."

"He knows when you're quoting something. Tommy, your whole body vibrates, and you get this deranged smile. You are many things, my friend, but subtle is not one of them."

Christ, Tommy has a type. Drawn to whatever asshole can slice him to the bone while keeping up with his brand of sardonic banter. Eddie doesn't enjoy the new knowledge that he's basically the Buck-adjacent version of Deluca.

How the hell had he ended up with the human equivalent of a socially anxious Great Dane?

There's an easy solution here. Is it a violation of the bro code to tell Tommy to just sit on it? Carry the ring around everywhere and wait til the time is right? That's not a hint, is it?

"You're trying to distract me," Tommy observes. "What do you know?"

"I know that despite the fact that the two of you could fill Michigan Stadium with your insecurities and diametrically opposed capital I issues, this is gonna work itself out in a really good way."

"Eddie."

"Tommy."

"He already bought the ring, didn't he?" There's his typical bemused sigh whenever Buck does something that he, personally, finds adorably annoying. Annoyingly adorable. Something. Eddie doesn't know; he still doesn't quite get them. They work, and that's all that really matters, at the end of the day.

Sometimes they work because Eddie, Maddie, and Sal Deluca, for some reason, can offer the right support and the right advice at the right time.

"For legal and personal reasons I'm invoking my right to remain silent."

"Are the personal reasons to do with wanting your ankles intact?"

"I might take a vow of silence, actually."

Tommy's quiet for a long, long time. Long enough that Eddie has to check and make sure the asshole hasn't hung up on him.

"Is his plan going to cause any permanent damage to county property? We've both got priors." Stealing government property, evading police and military, technically domestic terrorism. All wiped from their records because they both have main character syndrome, so exactly zero actual prior offenses.

"I don't recall saying anything about a plan."

"That vow sure has legs to stand on," Tommy muses, and Eddie has to fight the urge to blow a raspberry.

"You can ask one yes or no question that I retain the right to not answer. If it'll help you walk yourself back off that ledge."

Tommy takes long enough forming the question that Eddie gets through three of the syllabuses Chris' school is requiring him to confirm he's read. He hates this damn school, but Chris loves it.

"Should I start carrying the ring with me everywhere, or can I assume Evan will at least make it clear we have plans, when he decides he's ready?"

That's not a yes or no question.

"That's not a yes or no question."

"Should the ring be on my person at all times, yes or no?" Eddie can't tell if he's throwing the bitchy tone in for a laugh, or because he's actually annoyed. For all Eddie knows, he could still be a little prickly about the fact that he's having to seek out the competition for advice on his love life. Buck says they're over that, but sometimes Eddie's not sure.

Sometimes Buck still encourages him to lean into it a bit because apparently "The sex is mind-blowingly hot, Eddie."

"You'll probably be fine without it at work," Eddie hedges.

"Probably is not a yes or a no."

"I never told you how I was gonna answer."

Eddie hates that he knows Buck's gonna get laid tonight on the back of Tommy's frustration with Eddie.

"So. How's that cliff looking, from over there?"

Tommy's put-upon sigh is edging on overkill. "What cliff? It's plains and valleys from here."

Eddie's well aware that Tommy can dig himself trenches a mile deep just to have a ledge to jump from. He has a good feeling about this, though.

"Let him romance you, for once, dude."

That shouldn't be such a polarizing statement, for the man who's been desperate to be loved almost as much as Evan Buckley himself, but Tommy has a nasty fucking habit of shooting himself in the foot whenever Buck makes it a point to take care of Tommy back.

Tommy groans. "None of this makes it to the speech."

"Yeah, it's absolutely going in the speech, man."

[void-my-warranty]

“Yer shoe’s undone.”

Ghost continues to stare at the one string that’s slipped the lacing, taking steady breaths to calm his heart rate after the last round of CQB. “I know.”

Soap gives him a dubious look, halting mid step as if he was about to walk past, but now feels the need to investigate.

Ghost was curious about that, if he would continue trying to avoid him for the rest of the day, or if old habits would work against Soap’s better judgement. It’s been just a few hours, but it’s had Gaz and Price exchanging curious looks a few times.

“That doesn’t bother you?” Soap finally probes, shifting his weight as if he’s thinking about joining Ghost on the bench.

Ghost flicks his gaze towards his friend, but in the back of his mind, he’s locked in on that shoelace. He focuses on the coarseness of it against his sensibilities, the out-of-place-ness grating and itching something inside him. “No.”

The shoelace is a tool. It’s serving its purpose, giving him an obvious evil to direct his attention towards. Because if he fixes the shoelace, then he’ll be tempted to straighten all his patches. And if he straights all his patches, then he’ll want to rebalance his helmet. And if he does that, then he’ll start obsessing over the shit that happened over the weekend.

Soap gives him a look that says he doesn’t buy it for a second, but he just continues walking, reaching up to grab his water bottle out of the wooden supports he stashed it in.

Soap’s got a fresh bruise on his upper arm, right under the hem of his sleeve. Ghost finds this odd, because he knows for a fact that Soap hasn’t been on base since he saw him last. He knows this, because he checked.

Shoelace.

That wasn’t Soap’a worst run, but it definitely wasn’t his best. He was rushing, and everyone knows that’s when mistakes happen. Ghost is pretty sure he’s the only one who noticed the way he fumbled a second too long for the chemlight, and he’s grateful they aren’t shooting live rounds today. Nervous fingers and bruises and rushing aren’t something to mess around with, even in training.

Shoelace. Crooked patches. Helmet pulling forward a hair.

Hot, velvet pussy, stuffed down on him, and sweet noises in his ear. He hasn’t jerked off since.

Shoelace.

“Five minutes,” Price calls from the rafters, smoking up there as usual. “Then we go again. And slow down, Soap.”

The rookie whose nose could use another break smiles to himself, leaned back on the other bench. That actually pushes past shoelace level in Ghost’s mind. It’s one thing to be a worthless fuck-up, but it’s another to find pleasure in someone else’s bad day. At least, someone as important as Johnny.

Ghost typically makes small adjustments in training, compensations to keep things running smoothly, and cover someone else’s misstep. But he suddenly finds it burdensome, as he curls his fist in fond memory of a specific crunch. He’ll give Price someone else to yell at. It’ll be easy.

———————————

“Out with it.”

Ghost finishes tugging off his gloves, then turns his head to eye Soap’s crossed arms. “Afternoon, Johnny.”

“I know you hate me, so let’s get it over with.”

Ghost turns his attention back to business, peeling off his sweaty vest with a loud rip of Velcro. “Don’t hate you.”

“Don’t be stupid.”

Ghost levels him a bored look, tracing his eyes down Johnny’s body as if he’s not sure why he’s still in kit. “Not too fond of your fancy fingers earlier, but better here than combat.”

“Simon.”

Ghost silently takes a seat in the folding chair he has next to his gear space, reaching down to unlace his boots. “Johnny.”

There’s no one else around. It’s a pretty good assumption that they’re giving them space to work out the weird tension from today.

“Can’t be arsed to look at me?”

Okay, then.

Ghost stops what he’s doing, planting his half-laced boot back down on the ground. He stands up, getting to his full height and turning his body parallel to his friend’s terse shoulders.

Soap narrows his eyes a little, like he expected to see something behind the mask that isn’t actually there. “You don’t need me now. You’re doing great, and I’ll just be getting in the way.”

Ghost just blinks down at him, tilting his head and waiting for the rest of the bullshit to spill out.

“So I’m done,” Soap tells him, smacking a hand to Ghost’s shoulder. “It’s been fun, and I’m quitting while I’m ahead.”

“Alright.”

“You can, ahh, send my regards to the missus.”

“Sure.”

Soap keeps taking in a breath and holding it, like he’s bracing for something that never comes.

“You’re a good man, Johnny.”

That makes something like anger flicker in Soap’s expression for a moment, but he quickly smoothes it over. “I’ll be on my game tomorrow.”

“I know.”

Chronological Read-Through Path

[buckets-and-trees]

Huffily Ever After: A CindereLloyd Story [7/8]

Chapter Seven - Conversations on the Final Night

Characters/Pairings: Lloyd Hansen x curvy Millennial Female!Reader Word Count: 6.9k Summary: Can you say anything to Helen that can possibly salvage your situation? There's also one more person who still wants to talk to you, and he won't be denied.

SERIES Content/Warnings: modern Cinderella adaptation, unknown identities, enemies to lovers, toxic coworkers, eventual THE SMUT IS HERE CHAPTER SPECIFIC: breaking and entering; explicit smut: kissing, grinding, nipple play, vaginal fingering, unprotected vaginal penetration, creampie; praise; use of endearments: princess, Cinderella; coarse language

Previous Chapter | Series

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

Your eyes scanned the lobby, searching for Helen's familiar face. She was seated in one of the plush armchairs, her tablet in hand, looking every bit the powerful executive you remembered. When she saw you, she stood, and you straightened up a little taller as you approached the Nexus VP of Strategy and Innovation.

"Hello," she said, her voice calm and measured. "I think we need to talk somewhere private. Shall we?"

She gestured towards the hotel bar, which was relatively quiet at this hour. You nodded, following Helen to a secluded corner of the bar. As you settled into the plush leather seats, a waiter appeared. Helen ordered a sparkling water, and you did the same, your mouth suddenly dry.

Helen folded her hands on the table, her piercing gaze fixed on you. "I've heard some very concerning things in the last twenty-four hours," she began, her tone neutral. "I'd like to hear your side of the story."

There was nothing else for it.

You launched into a detailed account of the events leading up to your firing, careful to stick to the facts as you knew them. You explained your interactions with people from Hansen Global, emphasizing that they were all above board and at no point involved discussing substantive current business.

Helen's expression remained impassive as she listened. You continued into recounting the events of today, explaining how you had learned about Zhongxin’s departure over social media, and then how Amilla had ambushed you with the firing. You were about to launch into sharing what you'd learned from Claude about the disastrous meeting that apparently took place between Zhongxin and Amilla, but at that point, Helen raised her hand to stop you.

“I’ve heard more than enough,” she huffed.

Your heart sank.

“You know I wasn’t slated to come to Paris since I was in Amsterdam meeting with one of our potential new clients.”

You nodded, but didn’t say anything, her point clearly rhetorical.

“But I got a call last night that had me booking the first flight to get here to clean up a catastrophe.”

Helen's expression remained unreadable as she continued, her fingers idly tracing the condensation on her water glass. The soft clink of glasses and murmur of hushed conversations in the bar seemed to fade away, leaving you hyper-focused on her every word and gesture.

"When I got that call," Helen said, her voice low and measured, "I was told that we had lost our biggest international client." She paused, her eyes boring into yours. "You can imagine my shock and disappointment."

Your heart sank further, a cold dread settling in your stomach. The weight of Helen's words seemed to press down on you, making it hard to breathe.

It seemed Helen was about to confirm your worst fears - that your career at Nexus was truly over, that Amilla's version of events had prevailed. You braced yourself for the final blow, your fingers nervously tracing the condensation on your water glass.

"I've known Amilla for years. We started at Nexus around the same time, climbed the ranks together. We weren’t close friends, but close colleagues, and I thought I knew her character, her capabilities." Helen paused, her gaze drifting to the bustling hotel lobby beyond the bar's entrance. "I was wrong."

Helen's eyes returned to you, a mix of emotions flickering across her face. "What I'm about to tell you doesn't leave this table, understood?"

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest.

"My call last night was from Min Ho Song himself," Helen said.

Your eyes widened in surprise. Min Ho, the charismatic head of Zhongxin's marketing division, had always been your primary contact at the company. You remembered countless video calls, his infectious enthusiasm, and the way he'd championed your ideas to his superiors.

"Min Ho felt compelled to reach out to me directly, out of respect for the business relationship we've cultivated over the last year. He wanted to explain why Zhongxin was terminating their contract with Nexus." Helen's fingers tightened around her water glass, her knuckles turning white. "What he told me was... shocking, to say the least."

Your heart raced. You could only hope Claude’s story aligned with what Min Ho had told Helen.

Helen took a sip of water before continuing. "Min Ho recounted a disastrous meeting with Amilla in Shanghai. Her behavior was unprofessional, dismissive, and frankly, insulting. He said it was clear she had no real interest in maintaining the relationship with Zhongxin."

You felt a mix of reassurance and vindication wash over you. Claude's account had been accurate. You hadn’t thought to doubt Claude, but after so much of the ground had shifted out from under you since last night, the fact that you had confirmation here that you could trust your new friend sent warmth into the cracked and fractured parts of you.

"But that wasn't all," Helen said, her voice dropping even lower. "Min Ho also expressed deep concern about some of the changes Amilla was proposing to their marketing strategy. Changes that would have undone much of the innovative work you and the rest of your team had implemented."

Your brow furrowed in confusion. "But why would she do that? Those strategies were working well."

Helen's expression hardened. "Because they weren't her ideas. From what I've gathered, Amilla has been feeling threatened by your talent, your potential, and your success since I first assigned you to her team. I was optimistic that she’d change her attitude, but I’m afraid I was wrong, and it only ever got worse.”

You were speechless. You had packed away or deflected so many of your doubts or the moments when you felt discouraged or undervalued by Amilla, Anya, or Holly, determined to muscle through it, immersing yourself in the other parts of your job that were still good - working with the clients, strategizing, building and executing campaigns.

Helen let out a heavy sigh. "I should have seen it sooner. I knew Amilla could be difficult, but she should have been leading her team, not resenting any of them, and I never imagined she'd let her insecurities jeopardize a major client relationship like this."

You sat in stunned silence, trying to process everything Helen was telling you. The vindication you felt was overshadowed by a deep sense of betrayal and hurt. All those times you'd doubted yourself, pushed harder, stayed later - had it all been for nothing?

Helen reached across the table, her hand covering yours. "I owe you an apology. I should have been paying closer attention, should have stepped in sooner. I doubted my instincts, worried that I was just being overprotective and biased because of your history working on my team before I took this new position."

Your eyes widened, and you bit the inside of your lower lip, overcome with emotion, but still on edge, processing information. "So what happens now?" you asked hesitantly.

Helen's expression softened slightly. "Amilla has been terminated, effective immediately. Her actions were inexcusable and a clear violation of company policy and ethics."

Relief washed over you, but it didn’t take away all the anxieties - not yet.

"And what about me?" you asked. “Can I have my job back?”

Helen raised an eyebrow. "No. Your firing was completely baseless, but there’s no way I can bring you back only to put you in your former role.”

Helen's words hung in the air for a moment, and you felt your heart sink. But then, a mischievous glint appeared in her eyes, and she reached into her sleek leather briefcase. "I have a better offer."

With a flourish, she pulled out a thick black folder. The soft glow of the bar's ambient lighting caught the embossed Nexus logo on its cover, making it shimmer like a beacon of hope. Helen slid the folder across the polished mahogany table, its smooth surface allowing it to glide effortlessly towards you.

"This," Helen said, tapping the folder with a perfectly manicured nail, "is overdue. I had HR working on this before the conference, but with everything that's happened, I'm even more certain it's the right move."

Your heart pounded as you reached for the folder, your fingers trembling slightly. You opened it, your eyes scanning the contents. The first page was a formal letter, addressed to you on Nexus letterhead. As you read, your eyes widened in disbelief.

"Team Director and Regional Lead for International Strategy and Innovation?" you breathed, looking up at Helen in shock.

Helen nodded, a proud smile spreading across her face. "It's a new position, one that I've been advocating for since I took on my current role. You’ll direct a team - like I did, like Amilla did - but we’re expanding, and I need a point person for each region who will report directly to me and help shape the strategy and provide leadership for all the teams working with clients in their region."

You continued reading, taking in the details of the job description, the generous salary offer - doubling what you made before, and the expanded responsibilities.

“I knew you had the talent and potential, but now you have more years of experience and have proven at this conference from everything I’ve seen and heard that you can make valuable new connections and expand conversations about what we do and how we do it.”

You felt a rush of emotions - pride, excitement, and a touch of apprehension. This was a massive step up, a role with significantly more responsibility and visibility within the company.

"Are you sure?”

Helen leaned forward, her eyes intense. "I am. You've earned it and no one can question anymore that you would only be promoted because of our history working together.”

The enormity of the opportunity before you was overwhelming. Your mind raced, trying to process all the implications of this new role.

You opened your mouth to speak, but found yourself at a loss for words. How could you possibly articulate the whirlwind of thoughts and feelings swirling inside you? Just hours ago, you had been fired, your world turned upside down. And now, here you were, being offered a position beyond your wildest dreams with two other job prospects waiting with Claude and Maggie.

“Don’t accept my offer now. I always tell people to sleep on a job offer before accepting,” Helen remarked. “And when you contact me in the morning, ask for ten thousand more. I won’t be able to give it to you, but I’ll be able to counter offer with five and your choice of the regions because your my first appointee to the regional leadership team.”

You stared at Helen, stunned by her candid advice. A smile tugged at the corners of your mouth as you processed her words. It was so quintessentially Helen - always pushing you to advocate for yourself, to aim higher.

"I... thank you, Helen," you finally managed, your voice thick with emotion. "This is beyond anything I could have imagined."

Helen's eyes softened, a hint of pride in her gaze. "You've earned it. Your work speaks for itself, and your handling of this situation has only confirmed what I already knew about your character and professionalism."

You nodded, still feeling slightly overwhelmed. "I appreciate your advice about sleeping on it. There's a lot to consider."

Helen leaned back in her chair, a knowing smile playing at her lips. "I imagine there is. The news about your firing has spread like wildfire,” you grimaced at this, “but so have the rampant but credible rumors of offers coming your way.”

You reached for your drink to take a sip.

Helen laughed. “Offers you’ve already received, I take it. Let’s get you something stronger to drink to celebrate then!” And she signaled for the garçon.

you go to dinner with maggie

then you head back to your room

As you approached your hotel room, the events of the day swirled in your mind like a kaleidoscope of emotions. The shock of being fired, the rollercoaster of revelations, and now the promise of an exciting new future - it was almost too much to process. The dinner with Maggie had been a delightful reprieve, filled with laughter and animated discussions about her vision for the think tank. Her enthusiasm was infectious, and you found yourself drawn to the idea of being part of something new and innovative.

You fumbled with your key card, your fingers still a bit clumsy from the celebratory glasses of wine you'd shared with Maggie. As the door swung open, you were surprised to see a warm, golden glow spilling out into the hallway. Hadn't you turned off all the lights before leaving this morning?

Stepping into the room, you froze, your breath catching in your throat. The soft, warm glow was emanating from the bedside lamp, casting long shadows across the plush carpet. As your eyes adjusted to the dimness, they landed on a figure lounging casually in the armchair by the window.

Lloyd Hansen sat there, one leg crossed over the other, a leather-bound book open in his hands. He looked completely at ease, as if he belonged in your private space. The golden light caught the sharp angles of his face, softening them slightly, and for a moment, you were struck by how different he looked outside of the conference halls - more relaxed, almost approachable.

But that fleeting thought was quickly overwhelmed by a surge of shock and anger. Your heart pounded in your chest, adrenaline coursing through your veins. “What are you doing here, and how did you get in my room?” you demanded.

His piercing gaze met yours, a hint of amusement playing at the corners of his mouth. "There you are. I was beginning to wonder if you'd lost your way."

He closed the book with a soft thud, setting it aside as he rose to his feet. In the dim light, his tall frame seemed to fill the room, and you found yourself taking an involuntary step back.

"You didn't answer my question," you said, trying to keep your voice steady. "How did you get in here?"

Lloyd chuckled, the sound low and rich. "Come on. You're far too clever to think I'd reveal all my secrets so easily. Let's just say I have my ways."

You felt a shiver run down your spine, unsure if it was from fear or something else entirely. Lloyd's presence was overwhelming, filling the room with an energy that was both thrilling and almost dangerous.

"That's not an answer," you said, forcing steel into your voice. "You have no right to be here. Get out before I call security."

Because that’s what you should do, right? Call security.

Lloyd took a step closer, his eyes never leaving yours. "Now, now. Is that any way to treat someone who's come to offer you congratulations?"

You blinked, confusion momentarily overriding your anger. "Congratulations? For what?"

A slow smile spread across Lloyd's face. "For your new position, of course. Team Director and Regional Lead for International Strategy and Innovation. Quite the impressive title."

Your blood ran cold. How could he possibly know about that? You'd only just received the offer hours ago.

"How did you…?”

“Or are you considering one of the other two offers you already know about? Bennington Corporate Consulting is going to try and catch you in the morning as well.”

Your jaw dropped. “Bennington?” You’d hardly spoken to anyone from their delegation.

He nodded. “You’ve certainly been the bell of the ball this week.”

Your mind flashed back to his comments the day before - “enjoy your flash in the pan conference fame, pumpkin, because it takes more than a couple of clever questions and answers to make it longterm in this business.”

Had that really only been a day and a half ago?

So much had happened since then.

Even between you and Lloyd - a softening last night at the gala, but then fire between you two as things had come crashing down around you this morning.

"Just enjoying my 'conference fame'," you shot back, your voice dripping with sarcasm. "That’s what you said, right? But I guess other people saw more than ‘a couple of clever questions’."

Lloyd's smile widened, a glint of something like admiration in his eyes. "Ah, you remember. I'm flattered."

"Get out," you said, your voice low and firm. "Now."

You were done playing games and you didn’t want Lloyd ruining the last hours of your final night, especially not now that you had so much to be excited about again.

But instead of leaving, Lloyd took another step closer, closing the distance between you. You could smell his cologne now, notes of sandalwood and something spicy that smelled familiar and made your head spin slightly. Or maybe that was just the wine from dinner.

"You misunderstand me," Lloyd said. "I'm not here to patronize you.”

You looked up into his face and sighed. “Look, I don’t know or even really care what you’re doing here at this point. Today has been the best of times and worst of times, and I just need you to leave.”

“Today did not go the way I wanted it to,” he replied, unmoving.

Your laugh was bitter. “Your day?” you scoffed. “Your day. Sure.”

“Fuck, I know your day was worse, but it wasn’t supposed to be a shit show. I didn’t want that for you.”

Your chest constricted. What did he mean by that? He hadn’t had anything to do with today, and maybe he would have been able to share some of what Claude had told you about Zhongxin, but…

"Please, Lloyd. I'm tired. I just want to be alone."

He studied you for a moment, his piercing blue gaze seeming to see right through you. Then, to your surprise, he nodded. "Very well. I'll go. But before I do, I have something for you."

Lloyd reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small, velvet box. He held it out to you, his eyes never leaving yours.

You hesitated, eyeing the box warily. "What is it?"

"Open it," he insisted.

You frowned, but hesitantly took the box. Your eyes flicked back up to his once more before you tilted the top open.

You gasped.

And then in the next instant, you launched yourself at Lloyd, wrapping your arms around his chest without a second thought, because sitting pristinely in the modest jewelry box in your hand was your mother’s necklace.

Lloyd stiffened for a moment as you collided with him, clearly taken aback by your sudden embrace. His arms hung awkwardly at his sides, and you could feel the tension in his body. But then, slowly, almost hesitantly, his arms came up to encircle you.

His body was warm and solid against yours, the crisp fabric of his shirt brushing against your cheek. For another heartbeat, you both stood frozen, the air between you charged with an unexpected intimacy.

Then you suddenly remembered yourself and that this was Lloyd Hansen, and you let go and stepped back, hastily wiping at tears that had sprung from your eyes at the relief of the return of your most prized possession. “Thank you,” you breathed.

"I found it on the terrace last night after I told Chen off - which, by the way, was thoroughly satisfying. It was lying there in the moonlight, the chain broken," Lloyd explained, his voice uncharacteristically soft. “I almost missed it, but it caught my eye as I was heading back inside."

You listened, transfixed, as he continued. The warm light of the lamp softening his usually sharp features.

"I recognized it immediately, of course. I'd noticed it earlier in the evening - it's quite striking, and I know how meaningful it is to you."

Your hand instinctively went to your throat where the necklace usually rested.

“May I?” he asked, gesturing to the open box still in your hand.

You nodded and handed it to him before turning around, grateful for a moment to have your back to him after the overwhelming surge of gratitude and then the unexpected moment of tenderness between you in that hug.

You felt Lloyd's presence behind you, the warmth of his body radiating through the space between you. His fingers brushed against your neck as he carefully fastened the clasp of the necklace, sending a shiver down your spine. The familiar weight of the pendant settled against your skin, and you let out a breath you didn't realize you'd been holding.

"There," Lloyd said softly, his breath warm against your ear. "Where it belongs."

You turned to face him, your hand reaching up to feel the necklace hanging in its right place. "Thank you," you said again, your voice thick with emotion. "You have no idea how much this means to me."

Lloyd's eyes softened, a hint of vulnerability flickering across his face. "I think I might have some idea," he said quietly.

You stared at Lloyd, your mind racing. The way he was looking at you now, the softness in his eyes, the gentleness of his touch as he fastened the necklace - it all felt achingly familiar. And suddenly, like pieces of a puzzle falling into place, you realized why.

The man from the masquerade. The one who had swept you off your feet, who had made you feel seen and understood in a way so few people in your life ever had before in the few hours you’d shared together. The one whose kiss had left you breathless and yearning for more. It was Lloyd.

Your heart pounded in your chest as the realization washed over you. The height, the broad shoulders, the way he moved with such grace and confidence - how had you not seen it before? Even his scent, that intoxicating blend of sandalwood and spice, was the same.

"It was you," you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper. "At the masquerade. I told you the necklace belonged to my mother."

“And that she said it would bring you good luck,” he added softly.

Anger flared within you, hot and sudden. "I thought it was you! Last night when we were dancing, I thought…” you took a step back. “But you just deflected me. Was this all some kind of game to you?"

The room suddenly felt smaller, the air thick with tension. You took another step back, putting more distance between yourself and Lloyd.

"Did you think it was funny?" you demanded, your hands clenching into fists at your sides. "Watching me stumble through our interactions, never quite sure why I felt so drawn to you despite your infuriating behavior? Was it amusing to see me struggle with these conflicting emotions?"

“No!” Lloyd took a step towards you, his hands raised in a placating gesture. "No, I didn’t know until last night at the dinner - it was the first time your necklace was openly on display. But do you think it was a picnic for me this week? Overhearing two people I don’t even know gossip over me at a cafe the first morning of the conference? Literally bumping into that woman only hours later, having her appear in the circle of people I’m supposed to interact with, and - as my father so kindly informed you - take the spot I might have had at the panel yesterday?”

Your mind raced back through every encounter you'd had with Lloyd during the conference. The heated debates, the sharp exchanges, the moments of unexpected vulnerability - they all took on a new light with this revelation.

"So what was all of that then?" you asked, your voice quieter now but still tinged with hurt and confusion. "The antagonism, the competition - was any of it real?"

Lloyd ran a hand through his hair, a gesture that seemed uncharacteristically nervous for him. "All of it was real," he said. "My frustration, the admiration that grew for your intellect, my attraction to you - it was all real.”

You opened your mouth to push against him more, but before you could form the words, Lloyd surged forward. His hands cupped your face as his lips crashed against yours, hard and insistent. The sudden intensity of the kiss stole your breath away, igniting a fire that spread through your entire body.

For a moment, you were too stunned to react. But then instinct took over, and you found yourself responding with equal fervor. Your hands fisted in the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer as you melted into the kiss. The familiar scent of his cologne enveloped you, bringing back flashes of that magical night at the masquerade.

Lloyd's lips moved against yours with a desperate hunger, as if he'd been holding back for far too long. Your hands slid up Lloyd's arms, feeling the taut muscles beneath his shirt, before coming to rest on his broad shoulders. His body pressed against you, warm and solid, as he backed you up against the wall. The cool surface against your back contrasted sharply with the heat radiating from Lloyd's chest, sending a shiver down your spine.

Your fingers tangled in Lloyd's hair as the kiss deepened, your bodies pressed tightly together against the wall. The heat between you was intoxicating, clouding your mind and making it hard to think of anything but the feel of his lips on yours, his hands roaming your body.

With a low groan, Lloyd broke the kiss, resting his forehead against yours as you both caught your breath. His blue eyes were dark with desire as he looked at you, searching your face.

"I've wanted to do that all week," he murmured, his voice husky.

You let out a shaky laugh, your head spinning. "Even when you were being an absolute jerk to me?"

A wry smile tugged at Lloyd's lips. "Especially then. You're magnificent when you're fired up."

His words sent a thrill through you, and you found yourself pulling him in for another kiss. The world around you faded away, leaving only the electric current passing between your bodies. Lloyd's hands roamed down your sides, settling on your hips and grinding into you.

A soft moan escaped your lips and Lloyd's mouth moved to your neck, trailing hot kisses along your jawline. His teeth grazed your pulse point, sending sparks of pleasure coursing through you. You arched into him, craving more of his touch.

"Lloyd," you breathed, your voice husky with desire.

He pulled back slightly, his blue eyes dark with passion as they met yours. For a moment, you both stood there, chests heaving, the air between you charged with unspoken longing.

"Tell me to stop," Lloyd murmured, his thumb tracing your lower lip. "One word from you, and I will.”

“No words, just this,” you demanded, pulling him back in for another searing kiss.

Lloyd groaned against your mouth, his hands sliding down to grip your thighs. In one smooth motion, he lifted you up, pinning you against the wall as you wrapped your legs around his waist. The new angle allowed you to grind against him, eliciting a low moan from Lloyd that sent shivers down your spine.

His lips blazed another trail of hot kisses along your jawline and down your neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin. You tilted your head back, giving him better access as your fingers tangled in his hair. The familiar scent of his cologne mixed with the heady aroma of desire, intoxicating you further.

"Bed," you managed to gasp out between kisses. "Now."

Lloyd didn't need to be told twice. His clothing hadn’t done much to conceal his muscles all week, and you experienced now the strength of them as carried you effortlessly across the room before throwing you down on the bed.

You landed on the plush hotel bed with a soft thud, your heart racing as you looked up at Lloyd. He stood for a moment at the foot of the bed, his eyes raking over your body with undisguised hunger. He crawled up to join you, his movements predatory.

Lloyd hovered over you, his intense gaze locked on yours. The weight of his body pressed you into the mattress as he captured your lips in another hungry, searing kiss. Your hands roamed over his broad shoulders and down his back, feeling the taut muscles beneath his shirt.

With deft fingers, you began unbuttoning the shirt, desperate to feel his bare skin against yours. He shrugged out of it impatiently, tossing it aside before turning his attention to your own clothing. His hands slid under your blouse, leaving trails of fire in their wake as they skimmed up your sides.

"Off," Lloyd growled, tugging at the hem of your top. You arched your back, allowing him to pull it over your head. His eyes darkened as they raked over your newly exposed skin.

Lloyd's lips descended on your collarbone, planting hot, open-mouthed kisses along the sensitive skin. His hands roamed over your body, caressing and exploring as if memorizing every curve. You arched into his touch, craving more.

With deft fingers, Lloyd unclasped your bra, tossing it aside. His mouth moved lower, trailing kisses down the valley between your breasts before capturing a nipple between his lips. You gasped at the sensation, your fingers tangling in his hair to hold him closer.

As Lloyd lavished attention on your breasts, his hand slid down your stomach to the waistband of your pants. He looked up at you, his eyes dark with desire but seeking permission. You nodded eagerly, lifting your hips to help as he tugged your pants and underwear down in one swift motion.

Lloyd sat back on his heels, his eyes roaming over your newly exposed body with undisguised reverence. The soft light from the bedside lamp cast a warm glow across your skin, highlighting every lush curve and dip. You felt a momentary flicker of self-consciousness, but it was quickly extinguished by the raw desire blazing in Lloyd's eyes.

"Fuck, you're beautiful," he breathed, his voice low and husky.

His gaze traveled slowly up your body, taking in every inch of you. He drank in the sight of your full, shapely legs, the soft swell of your hips, the gentle curve of your stomach. His eyes lingered on your breasts, full and heavy, before finally meeting your eyes.

What you saw there made your breath catch in your throat. There was no hesitation, no hint of disappointment or judgment. Instead, Lloyd's eyes blazed with unbridled desire and admiration as they met yours. His gaze was so intense, so full of raw need, that you felt yourself flush under his scrutiny.

"Come here," you murmured, reaching for him.

He did so immediately, but you knew instinctively it wasn’t to comply, but only because he wanted to. He lowered himself over you, his skin hot against yours as he captured your lips in a searing kiss. You reveled in the feeling of his bare chest pressed against you, your hands roaming over the planes of his back.

As you kissed, Lloyd's hand trailed down your body, skimming over your curves before dipping between your thighs. You gasped against his mouth as his fingers found your center, already slick with arousal. He stroked you slowly, teasingly, swallowing your moans with his kisses.

"Lloyd," you whined, reaching for his belt, needing him to be as naked as you.

He chuckled darkly against your neck as your fingers fumbled with his belt buckle. "Patience, Cinderella," he murmured, his breath hot on your skin. But despite his words, he pushed back and knelt on the mattress, allowing you better access.

You made quick work of his belt and zipper, pushing his pants and boxer briefs down his hips. Lloyd shifted off the bed, standing briefly to kick them off completely, and you took a moment to admire his naked form. His body was all hard muscle and sharp angles, a stark contrast to your softer curves. Your eyes traveled down his torso, following the trail of dark hair that led to his impressive erection.

Lloyd caught you staring and smirked, his usual cockiness returning. "Like what you see?" he asked, his voice low and husky.

Instead of answering, you reached out and grabbed his hand, tugging him back to join you on the bed. He crawled over you once more. Lloyd's body pressed against yours, skin to skin, as he settled between your thighs. The feeling of his hard length against your core sent a shiver of anticipation through you. His lips found yours again in a deep, passionate kiss that left you breathless.

You arched into him, craving more contact, more friction. Lloyd's hand slid down your side, gripping your thigh and hitching it higher around his waist. The new angle allowed him to grind against you more fully, and you both groaned at the sensation.

"Lloyd," you gasped against his mouth, your nails raking down his back. "I need you."

Lloyd pulled back slightly, his eyes dark with desire as they met yours. "I’m not fucking you with a condom," he stated, his voice strained with barely contained need.

You shivered at his bold declaration, a rush of heat coursing through you.

"IUD," you breathed and arched up to press against him. "Please, Lloyd. Fuck me already.”

A low growl rumbled in Lloyd's chest at your words and he nipped at your bottom lip. He positioned himself at your entrance and with one smooth thrust, he buried himself inside you to the hilt.

You cried out at the exquisite fullness, your body stretching to accommodate his impressive size. Lloyd stilled for a moment, his forehead pressed against yours as you both adjusted to the overwhelming sensation.

"Fuuuuck," Lloyd groaned, his voice rough with pleasure.

He began to move, setting a slow, deep rhythm that had you gasping with each thrust. Your legs wrapped tighter around his waist, pulling him closer as your hips rose to meet his.

The room filled with the sounds of your shared pleasure - gasps, moans, and the rhythmic slap of skin on skin. Your nails raked down his back as the tension coiled tighter in your core.

"Damn, you feel amazing," Lloyd breathed against your neck, his voice strained with effort. "Such a tight, perfect cunt."

His words sent a thrill through you, stoking the fire burning in your veins.The headboard knocked against the wall with each powerful movement, but you were too lost in sensation to care.

Lloyd shifted slightly, changing the angle of his thrusts. Suddenly, he was hitting that perfect spot inside you with each stroke. You groaned, your body trembling as the pleasure built to an almost unbearable point. You slipped your hand down between your bodies to rub your clit, and Lloyd grunted in approval.

"That's a good girl, touch yourself for me," Lloyd growled, his voice husky with desire. "I want to feel you come undone around my cock."

His words pushed you even closer to the edge. You circled your clit faster, matching the rhythm of Lloyd's increasingly urgent thrusts. The tension inside you built to a fever pitch, your body trembling on the precipice of release.

"Lloyd," you gasped, your free hand gripping his shoulder tightly. "I'm so close."

"Let go," he commanded, his blue eyes blazing into yours. "Come for me, now."

As if your body was obeying his command, your orgasm crashed over you in waves of intense pleasure. You cried out, your back arching off the bed as your inner walls clenched tightly around Lloyd's length. The sensation of your release made him snarl and snap his hips faster and more violently against yours. It didn’t take much longer, and then with a guttural groan, he thrust deep inside you one final time, his body shuddering as he spilled himself within you. The feeling of his hot release prolonged the high from your own orgasm, smaller waves of pleasure rolling over you feeling him fill you with his cum.

For several long moments, you both remained still, breathing heavily as the waves of pleasure slowly subsided. Lloyd's weight pressed you into the mattress, and you welcomed it, his face buried in the crook of your neck. You could feel his heart racing against your chest, matching the rapid beat of your own.

Finally, Lloyd lifted his head, his blue eyes meeting yours. The intensity of his gaze made your breath catch in your throat. There was a vulnerability there that you hadn't seen before, a softness that contrasted sharply with his usual bravado.

He leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that was slow but still infused with a potentially dangerous heat, and you couldn’t help but surrender to it. Then he rolled onto his back, taking you with him, holding you against his chest, and he stared up at the ceiling.

You lay there for several long moments, your head resting on Lloyd's chest, listening to his heartbeat gradually slow. The room was quiet except for the sound of your mingled breathing and the distant hum of the city outside.

"Well," Lloyd finally broke the silence, his voice a low rumble in his chest. "That was..."

"Unexpected?" you offered, tilting your head to look up at him.

A smirk played at the corners of his mouth. "I was about to say something far too salacious for your delicate princess ears, but unexpected works too."

You scoffed, poked him in the side, and tried to move away from him as he flinched, but he chuckled while easily keeping you trapped with his arm still banded around your back. With his other hand, he tilted your chin up, and kissed you again until you melted against him.

Once mollified, you curled up against him again, settling into the last of the post-coital haze. As it began to clear, the landscape of the situation started to come into focus. You had just slept with Lloyd Hansen - the man who had been an enigmatic menace to you all week, who had prodding you and perplexing you in equal measure. The man who, as it turned out, had also been the mysterious and irresistible masquerade dance partner you had yearned for since that magical night together at Versailles.

You propped yourself up on an elbow, looking down at Lloyd. His blue eyes met yours, a clear level of satisfaction in their blue depths.

“What is it, Cinderella?” he asked, mustache twitching as he smirked at you.

"So you said you didn’t figure out who I was until last night, but why didn't you say something once you knew?”

Lloyd's smirk faded slightly as he considered your question.

"Honestly? I wasn't sure how to approach it," he admitted. "Our interactions had been complicated, to say the least. I didn't know how you'd react if I suddenly revealed that I was the man from the masquerade."

You nodded slowly, understanding his hesitation.

"Plus," Lloyd continued, a hint of his usual cockiness returning, "I enjoyed our verbal sparring. I didn't want it to end just yet."

You couldn't help but laugh at that. "Of course you did."

Lloyd's hand trailed lazily up and down your spine, sending pleasant shivers through your body. "And I’ll admit part of me wanted to win you over as Lloyd Hansen.”

Your chest tightened - but not in an unpleasant way - when he said that.

“Of course my plans were shut down when everything went to hell this morning with Zhongxin and Amilla," he conceded.

You nodded, remembering the chaos of the day's events, including your own unfair vitriol toward him. "So why come here tonight?"

Lloyd's lips quirked into a smirk. "Well, I couldn't very well let my Cinderella leave without her glass slipper, could I?" He nodded towards the necklace still hanging around your neck.

You rolled your eyes at his cheesy line, but couldn't help the smile that tugged at your lips. "And the breaking and entering?"

“I like my share of villainy.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head at his audacity. "You're incorrigible."

"And you can’t resist it," Lloyd retorted, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

You bit your lip, not wanting to admit how right he was. Instead, you changed the subject. "What happens now?"

Lloyd groaned and rolled you over, pinning you beneath him. “Clearly I need to fuck you until your pretty little head is empty so we can stop the inquisition.”

You grinned. “If you think I’m going to complain about a threat like that, you’re wrong,” you replied.

Lloyd's eyes darkened with desire as you spread your legs invitingly. He lowered his head to trail hot kisses along your neck, nipping gently at your pulse point.

"So eager," he murmured against your skin. "I like that."

His hand slid down your body, fingers tracing teasing patterns along your inner thigh. You arched into his touch, craving more. Lloyd chuckled darkly, clearly enjoying the effect he had on you.

"Patience, princess," he admonished playfully. "We have all night."

final chapter: DEPARTURE DAY

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

[tinyluvs]

Can I get a fic of Reader slapping Spencer's butt for the first time randomly while he is making coffee or walking by and he does know how to react and Reader thinks his confusion is the funniest thing ever. (Up to you if you want to extend it further iykyk)

the mental image this gave me is *chefs kiss* tyyyy so much

the smell of coffee starts to fill spencer's apartment, you give a small sniff to the air, trying to figure out what coffee pods he's using but to no avail, you can't work it out from the bed

with a yawn, you wander down the hallway, smiling to yourself when the sound of classical music pours out from a distant radio, "morning," you hum as you round the corner into the kitchen

spencer startles slightly but turns, back resting against the countertop as he looks at you, all gentle eyes and a soft smile, "morning honey, coffee?" he asks, tilting his head slightly

"please," you answer simply, pulling yourself up onto the corner of the counter. you start to sway to the music, not a personal choice but definitely not the worst thing you could be listening to early in the morning

you watch as spencer finds one of your mugs and one of the pods he had bought specifically for you, "do you want breakfast?" he asks, pushing the mug under the stream of hot water

"no thanks angel, just coffee for now," you mumble through another yawn. he hums, acknowledging your answer while his back is turned towards you.

the coffee machine splutters quietly and seconds later spencer's pushing your coffee mug along the counter with a gentle smile and a nod.

you mornings are always the same. you get your coffee, silently sipping it while your boyfriend moves around the kitchen, making his breakfast without saying a word, just the radio playing softly

by the time you're done with your coffee, spencer has already finished his cereal. you hop off of the counter when he starts to roll up his sleeves, kitchen sink filling with warm water

"thanks pretty boy," you giggle, finally feeling alive and not like you're sleep walking. you reach round one side of his body, dumping the mug into the sink before passing behind his back and without thinking, you slap his ass, not hard but just hard enough to make a sound

spencer makes a noise you've never heard before, a mix of a grunt, shriek and a shout, which makes you jump and whip around to face him again, "what was that? what is wrong with you?" he gasps, eyes wide as his hand flaps to turn the taps off

"have i never slapped your ass before?" you ask slowly before biting down on your bottom lip as you attempt not to laugh at the look of pure horror on his face

his eyes somehow widen even further, just for a second, his head shaking slightly, "what? no!" he huffs, brushing the butt of his trousers with both of his hands

the whole ordeal is too much and it forces you to break out laughing, your hand on the counter as you double over, "i'm sorry," you struggle out between a cackle and a cough

"no you're not," spencer grumbles, arms folding over his chest, "why on earth would you do that?" he asks, seriously, glaring at you fiercely.

it takes longer than you'd like to admit before you're recovering, standing up straight, hands wiping a stray tear off of your cheek, "it's just something people do when they're in relationships, spence," you explain

your boyfriend looks at you completely unconvinced, "why?" he asks again and you're sure you can almost see the cogs turning in his brain

you shrug, "because, people like it, i don't know," you take a step towards him and he takes a step back causing you to snicker, "why, didn't you like it?"

"no!," he shrieks too fast but then his eyes soften and he thinks, hard, "actually, i don't know, it surprised me too much," he says quietly, a red blush passing over his cheeks quickly

your laughing and giggling subsides, "want me to do it again?" you ask, softly, not wanting to make him feel embarrassed about anything

"not now,' spencer says slowly, starting to back away from you, "would probably be awkward now, right? right,” he asks through a nervous chuckle as you start to stalk after him

you hum, not a yes or a no as your eyes travel down to his hands, moving to cover his butt, "spence, i want a kiss, i'm not going to attack you," you do giggle this time

spencer makes a slight oh sound before crowding into your space for kisses, lots of little ones, tasting like coffee before he's kissing you a little longer and slightly deeper. he gets distracted, his hands sliding over your waist, just like you knew he would

"aha!" you cry, victorious, as both of your hands slap at his ass before he knows what's happening. you turn on your heel as he gasps, loudly, taking off back towards the bedroom

"i'll get you," he shouts, only a few steps behind you. it's your turn for your hands to shield your butt now, zigzagging your way down the hall until you're launching yourself into the air and landing on the bed, pressing your back down into the mattress with a giggle

thanks for reading! remember to like! reblog! and comment! i’ll give you a smooch if you do, ily !! send prompts to my ask box!

❥ spencer reid masterlist !!

+

i like to think that spencer does like it, eventually. blushes when you walk past n gently tap at his ass BUT going up stairs in front of you gives him the FEAR to the point you just tease him about it

[readingpeacebypiece]

Let's chat about Elodie

I'm really cautious to say this but I think Elodie could be alive.

It's unrealistic and optimistic and may undermine the theme of learning to live with grief, not cheating it. But there is something at play here that we're not seeing. The swiftness of Jean's parent's arrest was emphasised as well as the fact that the FBI was going way beyond what was expected of them with no obvious reason to keep Jean safe. These inconsistencies mean something, we're told to look at them, but we don't know why yet. This could be one explanation for them.

A "manhunt" is underway for Elodie instead of her death being announced when Jean's parents are arrested. If she was dead, wouldn't Nora have shown us this by now? In her style, Elodie's death would have been announced officially, and everyone would have been looking at Jean in his vulnerable grief. The details would have been horrible and torturous and we would have seen Jean endure that in this book.

Another inconsistency: Jean's papers were not fudged to get into the USA, his parents planned his sale extensively, non stop exy training from the age of 7, Japenese from 8. He legally and publicly was sent to Edgar Allen. This starkly contrasts with Elodie. No one knows where she is, not just Jean who was kept from knowing anything but the authorities and press: Elodie is expected to be living with the Moreaus when they are arrested. Stuart tells Jean that she was sent to a contact in Morrocco 2 years ago. I feel like it's strongly implied she was sex trafficked. He says she was brutally murdered (implying her body was unrecognisable). These are stark differences in M.O.

This could make sense: they had a plan for Jean, they put him into Exy because they wanted to market him to the Moriyamas who needed his papers to be legit as he was going to be in the public eye and traded to a team after graduation. Whereas with Elodie, they didn't have the same lofty plans for her, they don't care about her, don't want her around and want money/favour so they just toss her out to the first bidder. This tracks with the idea that Jean basically raised Elodie and sheltered her from their parents abuse- they were unable to manipulate her into anything usable, their dynamic in the house quickly fell apart without Jean.

Is Elodie working with law enforcement against the Moreaus? Was this after she was trafficked to Morroco or did she escape from her parents and the Morroco story was a cover they told to other families?

Will she return in the last book? Will Jean take on the role that Kevin and Renee and Jeremy adopted for him? Will he help her heal and learn to live again? Is that the end to his story, him being well enough to help someone else?

It's not just explicit plot points and clues, it's the way the story is being told that's leading me in this direction aswell.

There are opportunities for Jean to fill a brother to characters, but Nora seems to be steering away from that.

She repeats that although Jean loves Cat and Laila fiercely, he is also attracted to them- they are not siblings to him like they are to Jeremy.

His attraction to Annalise is also underlined in their brief meeting.

His brotherly connections (although pretty one-way at this point) to his teammates are focused on through language but i think that's to emphasise that Jean is good and the trojans are recognising that, people want to have connections with him: Tanner fauns over him, Lucas sticks by him even against his dead brother, the double Ds adopt him into the fold, but he doesn't have a strong brotherly bond with any specific person.

Jean is making a family in USC, that is undeniable but I feel like if Elodie was dead, as part of this story Nora would make him an older brother to another character to show that grief doesn't have to bury him, he can 'put' his love for Elodie somewhere, he can still be a brother after his loss.

Instead, it feels like she's saving the worst of his grief over Elodie, allowing him to push it away for this book. I feel like this could end with the grief fully hitting him (maybe after her body is found) in the next book and him dealing with that/ letting his anger out somewhere (I volunteer Bryson).

Or, book 3 could focus on the denoument of the Moreau family. We learned a lot in this book about Jeremy's family that was hinted at in the first book, but we haven't really delved into the Moreaus in the same way. It was hinted at that Jean's mother was his main tormentor, and that there was abuse with a belt- this book we learn she was causally murking children to keep her son under control. But it still feels like it's all behind a curtain. His parents were arrested by interpol, will we see the trial? Will we meet the Moreaus? Will Elodie enter at this point in the story?

It's interesting to me that at the end of TSC, Jean's old name is introduced, but its not fully addressed in TGR, again pushed away for this book. I feel like she's obviously waiting for it to be introduced in a Marseille-related plot line, either his parents or Elodie.

Please please give me your thoughts on this, not to minimise Jeremy's experiences but I'm in serious withdrawl from aftg, hyperfixating like a mf

[targaryenluvs]

Holy shittt that capitol girl blurb??? That was something else 😵 can you pls make a part 2 of it but like a oneshot of it where he gets jealous of one of those lowly capitol people takling to us and he takes us to his room and then smutty smut happens??? Your dark!finn fics make me feral😩

oooh, i like your brain, captiol girl reader is a fav of mine! but ngl this gives off coryo vibes too.

i was listening to ride…

love you best,, coriolanus snow/finnick odair

can be read as either!!! no specifics i think

tw: kind angry sex, jealousy, choking, possessiveness, semi-public, implied short reader, size kink, humiliation, kinda guilt-tripping, degradation, mirror, flashback punishments, mentions of purposeful starvation, spanking, overstimulation, toys 👀 double pen, im so sorry i don’t know what possessed me

if there was one thing you knew about your partner it was his short temper when it came to you. obviously he didn’t show it all that often but you were one of the few people who could tell. whether it be by his grip on the champagne flute, the rigid posture, or, his unsettling smile. but it was obviously normal to everyone else, all they could think of was the fact that the legend himself was smiling their way.

he hated them in all honesty, but he wasn’t an idiot so he tolerated them.

but eventually every man breaks, and this time it was because of you.

an ugly, loud, grimy businessman had taken interest in you, his girl. he flashed his pearly whites your way every chance he got, brushing his hand by your waist in order to grab a drink, even has the audacity to actually touch you, bring the strap of your dress back up.

“sweetheart,” your partner beckoned you from up the stairs, your saving grace from the man. “come along now.” his grin was sinister and mischievous and you could only guess at what he was thinking of. excusing yourself from his side you made your way up the stairs, his eyes lingering on your behind. that man was lucky your boyfriend didn’t jam his fist in his face.

and before you knew it, the two of you were far from the party, on the third or fourth floor. “what are we doing here?” your voice was quiet, too focused on your surroundings rather than the man behind you, and how hungry he looked. turning to view him you were met with a hand around your throat. “what do you think you’re doing?” his one hand practically encircling your neck, your two hands pawed at his wrist to no avail.

“n—nothing.” you croaked out, watery eyes meeting his own dark irises, they seemed to be consumed with fire, and you knew your were bound to be burned. “are you trying to fuck with me? everyone here knows who you are here with but you’re acting like a whore, do you even know that man’s name?” you shook your head as a smirk made its way to his face, his voice was hot in your ear, “i think you need to be taught a lesson.”

he made you feel small in every way possible, whether it be guiding you through a crowd, or a hand on your hips moving you to the side. or, cornering you when you decided to be a brat, especially during the start of your ‘relationship.’

one of the most prominent examples being when you’d once refused to eat, besides a snack here and there and some water. the servants didn’t know what to do and your boyfriend hadn’t returned, busy with work. so when he did return and learned of your temper tantrum, he tied you down, taking orgasm after orgasm, one for each day you hadn’t eaten. it was the worst and best night of your life, your own ass was bruised and bloodied.

he’d struck you for every hour you refused.

he had his head between your legs, lips on your clit, licking it whilst two fingers pushed in and out, grazing just the right spot, making you arch your back and claw at the mirror. removing his fingers, his tongue traced your folds, saliva mixing in as he moved to your slit, and the inside of your walls. but it was never easy with your boyfriend, and he hated the fact that you looked so pretty. moans sweet as ever, hands pulling at his hair softly.

no, he liked you best at your worst.

so instead of letting you catch your breathe, he took off his tie and bound your wrists behind your back, your circulation practically cut off. you had nothing to grab, to hold, to ground yourself with, all you could do was sit and cry as he sucked your clit harshly, fingernails digging into your thighs as a warning.

stop moving.

again, horrible listener, so you thrashed around, lifting yourself up from against the mirror before being pushed back by him. your eyes were screwed shut as you heaved, “please, please i didn’t do anything!” his eyes shot up to look at your face in disbelief. “you did nothing?” he sneered, rising from in between your legs before his hand clutched your hair as you yelped.

“you want attention, that’s all you ever want. you have legs you could’ve walked away and come to me but you stood there, laughing at his jokes.” his fingers smooshed your face, he loved you best like this. messy hair, mascara smudged and lipstick smeared. for once you were unable to read him, you couldn’t tell if he was joking, mad or teasing. he got down on his knees, tapping your foot as you raised it, your panties removed as he stored it away in his pant pocket. your thighs were painted with arousal, sticky when you moved.

the click of the door opening sobered you up straight away, “what? why are you—” he shoved you infront of him, not even bothering to check if the coast was clear, he assumed there wouldn’t be anyone, you were floors above the party and the only people that would be around these disgustingly sensual rooms would be there for the reason he was. crimson red walls, plush velvet walls, a monstrosity in terms of a fashionable home, but comfortable.

you ended up in a random bedroom, also red. he shoved you onto the bed, shuffling through the drawers with intent. “where would it be?” he muttered to himself as he surveyed the room, his eyes landed on a closet door, promptly moving towards it.

you laid on the bed with your hands underneath you, at least the ceiling was white you thought. the heat between your legs was unbearable, but not left unattended for too long. he had a box in his hands, not too large but not small. “what is that?” you craned your neck to look, but he pulled out a blindfold.

“i want you to only cum when i tell you to, do you understand?” you groaned loudly, “oh come on are you kidding me? why the hell do i have to do that? so annoying—” the dildo penetrated your dripping pussy as you moaned out, finally.

he couldn’t do everything he would have wanted to whilst still at the event but he could at least satisfy himself. he slid in and out with ease, unrelenting pace as you cried out, “don't stop, please don't stop!" he loved you best like this, crying on his fat cock splitting you open.

“you like that? yeah you do.” he grinned as you clutched the sheets underneath you, he pushed it deeper, before taking it out. “please, don’t stop!” you screamed out, the anticipation of what he’d do was exciting, unable to see him. his finger simultaneously traced around your ass, using your slick he smeared it around.

“you want more? you want my cock in you too?” you nodded vehemently, “oh god yes! yes!” he pulled it out before flipping you over and propping you on all fours. he was nice enough to be sweet, cooing and praising you for how good you were being. “you’ll be good for me won’t you? i’ll take your bind off.” thank god, “yes, i’ll be so good, promise.” it felt so good to move them around again. the thing about your boyfriend was that he never made anything easy when it came to sex.

“i want you to fuck yourself.”

his hand on your hips and your own pressed against the headboard. “that's it, fucking take it!" he grunted as he thrust into you, “yeah, you wanna scream? confirm what they know?” you could barely keep your own eyes open let alone respond but of course he would never let that be. you’d never experienced something so euphoric yet punishing. you felt as if you’d explode. he’d gotten tired of how slow you were being with your pussy so he was kind enough to multitask.

but listening wasn’t exactly your strong suit and it didn’t matter how harsh he gripped your hips or how he slammed into both holes, you’d still try and get away. “s’too much, please.” your head rested on the bed, you were exhausted.

“fuck, i’m so close!”

“you’re lucky i’m letting you after the shit you— you pulled.” his words didn’t hurt, your pussy only clenched further, “i can feel you, in both holes.” your forehead pressed against his, a gentle gesture, a reminder of your relationship. he grunted into your ear, thrusts slowing down, messier, closer.

he pulled it out of your ass as you moaned at the loss of contact, “messy girl, need two cocks in you? my little slut needs more?” you shook your head, “just you. just you.” you babbled, you felt so good. oversensitive and tired, which again he loved. he pulled almost all the way out, pressing the fake cock to your lips, “suck it, you’re too noisy baby, you want someone to find you like this? i didn’t lock the door.”

his smirk made you dizzy, he made you dizzy. he took a second to admire you, splayed out on the bed now, sucking both of your juices off it. he slammed back in making you whimper and teary-eyed. soon enough reaching his high as well as your own as you clutched onto his shoulders for dear life, “mmm!” he grunted, “fuck, you’re too good, take it the whole way baby, if you’re— if you’re gonna suck it then take it all.” he found his release with you, his hot cum spurting into your womb.

“next time, you stay by me. or don’t, i’ll fuck you even harder next time.”

[ssweetleaf]

just like heaven.

| part ii |

pairing— best friend’s brother!steve harrington x fem!reader

♡ summary— steve overhears about your disappointing sex life, but soon starts to imagine how good he could make you feel if only you were with him. (based off this ask)

♡ includes— SMUT 18+, male masturbation, kind of perv!steve, praise, breeding kink, basically stevie fucks his fist thinking about you and gets caught in the act, no specific pronouns used, and no use of y/n, i know some people don’t like that, (i gave steve’s sister a name to make the whole thing a bit easier!)

let me know if you’d like a part two! <3

˖ ࣪⭑

Steve was insatiable; hard as a fucking rock ever since he heard you, on your best friend’s bed, fingers flipping through a cosmo mag and smacking on your cherry gum, completely unaware that King Steve himself was eavesdropping on your rather private conversation.

He didn’t mean to listen in, honest, he was just on his way to the bathroom that just so happened to be next to his sister’s room, the door cracked open ever so slightly, just enough so he could see you on your stomach, ankles crossed and swinging behind you.

“It’s just so disappointing, yknow?” You huffed, eyes narrowing when it caught sight of a certain article on page seventeen about spicing things up in the bedroom. “It’s basically non-existent!”

Tiffany sighed, and his brows started to furrow, trying to get a clue on what they were talking about— slowly creeping closer to their door.

“Babe, it can’t be that bad. What happened to that guy that took you out?” She hummed, trying to think of his name, yet seeming to fall short, the boy completely blanked from her mind.

You groaned, pressing your cheek against your folded arms— and if he craned his neck just a little, he’d be able to see the way your puffy folds sucked up the material of your sleep shorts, riding higher and higher up your thighs each time you kicked your legs.

Oh fuck, he was totally perving…

“Don’t even bother— he was so- so-” you grumbled, huffing at the thought of him before finding the right term to describe that son of a bitch. “Self-absorbed.”

Steve arched a brow, wetting his lips with the tip of his tongue, the sight before him, all cutesy and whiny, it was enough to have his cock rutting up.

“Come on, babe. Spill the beans, I wanna know what happened.”

You sighed, fighting the urge to hide your face in your hands, before flipping the magazine shut.

“He was just selfish, Tiff- he wanted me to do all the work, didn’t even get me ready just kissed me a little.” You scoffed, recounting the memories and his stupid smirk, “and worst of all, he’s a head pusher- way too forceful, shoved it right down my throat without any warning!”

“Oh my god,” Tiff rolled her eyes, nostrils flaring and she didn’t even know the guy. “What a dick!”

“I know,” you spoke, picking at the remnants of your chipped nail polish, “this is why my sex life is so disappointing.”

˖ ࣪⭑

Steve gnawed at his cheek, traipsing back into his bedroom and kicking the door shut, not even bothering to use the bathroom after— not that he really needed to anyway…

Laying back on his bed, the cool sheets squished beneath him, he thought about you— your pretty thighs and the way they squeezed together mindlessly, the soft fat of your hips from underneath your shorts and the curve of your tits that begged to pop out from your too-small tank top.

You were a total babe, so fucking pretty, and so sweet too, he couldn’t wrap his head around how someone like you had a sex life that was so boring.

I could change that, he thought, fuck, his cock throbbed at the thought. He could take care of you, make you feel better than any of those losers you had been with, sating you on his big cock until you were all dumb and tuckered out.

The thoughts he had were swirling around his brain in a constant tizzy, so much so, he hadn’t even realised he had slipped a hand under his briefs, only realising once it started to leak in his palm, pre-cum staining the material and sticking to his skin.

You were on his mind, your tits, your ass, your pretty thighs- it had him hard as a rock, starting to buck into his own hand, teeth clutching at his lips to stifle his groans— after all, the walls were thin, and there was only one that separated Steve’s room from his sister’s.

He wanted to tease himself, pretend it was you that was teasing him with your pretty fingers— trailing his fingertips along his shaft, running up along the thick vein underneath it before swiping a thumb over his mushroomed tip, all swollen and sensitive, leaking even more now he had his hands on himself.

He sucked that same thumb into his mouth, the salty tang of his arousal on his tongue and the sudden image of his face between your thighs, licking up at your slick pussy and suckling at your peaked clit had his hips bucking.

“Fuck—” he gasped, breath hitching in his throat, sweat already ebbing at his hairline and beginning to slip, cheeks all rosey and flushed, all from the thought of you, you, you.

“Drive me fuckin’ crazy, honey-” he was muttering to himself, squeezing his eyes closed and rolling his balls in his palm, playing with him just how he imagined you’d play with them. “wish you were all mine.”

Steve’s fist was tight around his cock, fingers squeezing and pumping it. Up and down, up and down— groaning out into the stuffy air when he thought about your hands stroking at him, fingers barely managing to reach round.

He was leaking, tip bubblegum pink and glistening with pearly beads of pre-cum, dribbling down his shaft and oozing between his fingers, lubing up his cock so nicely— fuck, he thought about your mouth, suckling on him, getting him nice and wet, drooling all over his balls, making a real mess— oh fuckfuckfuck.

“Jus’ wanna fuck you,” he muttered into the air, wishing you could hear him, watch him, “could treat you so well- would spoil you so good.”

He was whining, high and breathy into the stuffy bedroom air, the slick sounds with each jerk were so loud, but he was so pussy-drunk, dumb from the constant swirly thoughts of you, big love hearts pumping in his eyes, he couldn’t find it in him to really care about how loud he was starting to get.

He started to slow down, he had to, already so close to coming, he took his fist away and swirled his fingertips along his cock-head, watching the way his muscles clenched with hooded and hazy eyes.

Steve thought about you on his bed, underneath him, letting him fuck you into the mattress, muttering pretty praises into your sweet skin— licking and sucking at your neck all the while his fat cock punched into your gummy walls and nudged at that special spot so deep inside.

“Bet you’d be such a good girl.” he sighed, starting to stroke himself once again, but much slower than before. “jus’ wanna- fuck— wanna fill you up with my cum, get you all messy and- shit— give you my fuckin’ babies.”

Oh fuck, picturing you all pregnant, tummy all swollen, letting him fuck you from behind while you both lay on your sides, oh god, he was in too deep, but he couldn’t help it. You’d look so fucking pretty all pregnant with his babies— all full of his cum.

His hips stuttered, thighs tensed and his cock twitched, he was so close, so, so close, bottom lip clutched between his teeth, fist squeezing down and shaking from the stimulation.

“G-gonna cum, oh Christ, gonna fucking’ cum!”

He chased his high, jaw slack and mouth agape while long, hot ropes of his sticky cum painted his stomach and thighs, crying out a mixture of your name and a few curses and he swore he hadn’t came as hard before as he did then.

And it all would’ve been fine— he would’ve settled and cleaned up and just went to bed with a little secret in the back of his mind, though the sight of you stood there when his eyes fluttered open— eyes all glassy and lips in a pout, thighs clenching and a cute little wet spot saturating your shorts… oh no.

“I-I can explain!”

⋆˙⟡♡ inbox me eddie and steve stuff ! ♡⟡˙ ⋆

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

Vaggie: “Babe, you have an amazing brain, love everything going on in there-”

Charlie: “Thank you!”

Vaggie: “-but we need a LITTLE bit of organization or we’re NEVER gonna remember what great ideas you had five minutes ago.”

Charlie: “Wait, what great idea did I have five minutes ago???”

Vaggie: “I don’t know. You scribbled it on a napkin and there’s like, five hundred of those scattered around our room.”

Charlie: “Aw shoot.”

Vaggie: “Some of them are folded in the shape of swans?"

Charlie: "Nnnoooo I've been trying so hard not to DO that so much!!!"

Vaggie: "It’s, pretty impressive honestly.”

Charlie: (huffs) “Okay. Fine. Maaaybe you’re right. Maybe I might have a slight, uh, organizing thoughts problem.”

Vaggie: “No worries sweetie, I have a solution.”

Vaggie: (dramatically steps aside) “BAM!”

Charlie: “OH OH VAGGIE! YOU GOT ME METAL BOXES~!”

Vaggie: “They’re filing cabinets.”

Charlie: “OHHHHH!!!”

Charlie: “…..”

Charlie: “How… how do we activate the filing cabinets?”

Vaggie: “You put your ideas in folders, label the tabs on the folders, put them in a drawer, and label each drawer. Then when you’re looking for something you just open the drawer and-”

Charlie: “Bam?”

Vaggie: “Bam. There it is. The brilliant ideas of Charlie Morningstar.”

Charlie: “As organized by Vaggie, her amazing wonderful super smart and beautiful girlfriend!!!!!”

Vaggie: (chuckling) “I don’t think looking good has anything to do with organizing…”

Charlie: “Hmm, you still are though, miss good looking. Annnnnd it DOES have a lot to do with what I’m thinking about right now.”

Vaggie: “What’re you thinking, Charlie?”

Charlie: (grins)

Vaggie: “…really? Right here, in front of our new cabinets?”

Charlie: “Heheh. I like it when stuff is ‘ours’~”

Vaggie: “Why do I get the feeling the first recorded thoughts of Charlie Morningstar are gonna have to be filed under ‘for our eyes only’.”

Charlie: “Your smirk would have to go there too then. But does this mean it’s a good idea!?”

Vaggie: “Definitely.”

Charlie: “WOO! Kisses kisses kisses-”

Vaggie: “AFTER we’ve cleaned up all these napkins. AND have neatly folded the ones that aren’t already swans.”

Charlie: “Wh- but- but there’s almost five hundred of them!! The kisses-?”

Vaggie: “One kiss per every fifty napkins, how’s that sound?

Charlie: (pouting) “Insufficient kiss ratio.”

Vaggie: “Sorry, but as much as organizing your brain turns me on, the storm of paper in here is kinda a total mood killer. No way I can focus on anything with this mess everywhere. So. Start cleaning.”

Charlie: “I’m starting to think writing on napkins was my worst idea yet…”

Vaggie: “Could’ve been worse. Could’ve been paper airplanes again.”

Charlie: “THEN I could’ve just thrown them all out the window! Be free! Fly!!! Shoo! Let me make out with my girlfriend in peace!”

Vaggie: “Ha!”

Charlie: “…. Vaggie. What if we-”

Vaggie: “Charlie no.”

Charlie: “Oh come on! Swans can fly!”

Vaggie: “Not when they’re fancy origami ones that we’ll just have to clean up later anyway.”

Charlie: “Feh. Stupid ideas on stupid napkins.”

Vaggie: “Would one kiss per every two dozen napkins make you feel better?’

Charlie: “Yes.” (deep sigh) “But I’ve only folded ten.”

Vaggie: “Perfect, I’ve done fourteen, so that makes two dozen.”

Charlie: “Wh-”

Vaggie: “Kiss ratio completed.”

Charlie: “It’s based on our combined number???”

Vaggie: “Why not. You like it when stuff is ‘ours’, don’t you.”

Charlie: “….yesthankyouiloveyouonekissplease.”

- a few several many moments later –

Charlie: “….”

Charlie: “I’m suddenly getting the idea that… those were way more than one kiss.”

Vaggie: “I don’t care and wasn’t keeping count. File it under ‘Vaggie can’t multitask for shit’.”  

Charlie: “Mmm, ehhh. I think we just need a ‘Vaggie has AMAZING focus while kissing, but specifically only on the actual kissing’ folder instead.”

Vaggie: “Are you trying to get me to kiss you again.”

Charlie: “Is it working?”

Vaggie: (shoving napkins in her hands) “Here. Fold.”

Charlie: “I’m filing that under a yes~”

Vaggie: “Charlie. Fold. NOW.”

Charlie: “Hm-hmm-hm-hmmm~” (folding at lightspeed) “My newest great idea is that we should get even MORE filing cabinets.”

Vaggie: “Oh for-”(throws aside napkins) “-fuck’s sake-” (gives up and kisses her again)

[chee-shep]

Favorite Student (Teacher!Sanemi X SeniorStudent!Reader)

I've written sloppy smut, but this is the worst one yet.

I haven't written in while. I'll go back and re-read it later to double check perspectives since I've had a bad habbit of mixing them.

Mature & General Content Warning: StudentXTeacher, fingering, squirting, Kaigaku being a bully and a bit of an ooc Sanemi at times

“It has to be here somewhere,” (Y/N) said as she dug through the trash can, looking for her lost item.

“(Y/N)?” A familiar, stern voice was heard from behind her. She turned around to see the math teacher, Sanemi Shinzugawa looking at her with his arms folded. “What on earth are you doing here after hours?”

“Huh?” (Y/N) said, turning around after stepping away from looking in a trash can. She was probably Sanemi’s best student, the only one who listened in math. Just maybe she was his favorite, “Oh, Mr. Shinazugawa.” It was odd she was at school after hours, she was a good senior student who wouldn’t be getting into trouble.

In the teacher's mind, she was not the type of student to do something mischievous or foolish, so he assumed she had a pretty valid reason for being at school. "Why are you here?" He repeated his question, his arms still crossed.

“Someone stole my diary, and I was trying to find it.” She said, looking worried as looked back in the trash can, “I thought maybe he’d have tossed it out after he probably read through it…”

His eyes widened when you informed him that someone stole your diary. He felt protective over you, since she was known as his favorite student. "Let me ask you something. Do you have any idea who stole your diary?" He asked, his tone turning more serious.

“It… It was Kaigaku.” She admitted, looking away. She had really hoped that she could take care of this issue on her own.

His eyebrows shot up, and his jaw dropped a bit. He could not believe that a fellow student would steal his favorite student's diary. But then again, it was Kaigaku.

"And why do you think it was him?" He asked, with suspicion.

“He told me he wanted me to do his history homework for him…” She said, looking very upset her diary was gone. “I guess he wanted to use it as blackmail, or hold it over my head.”

Sanemi-Shinazugawa's eyes widened with disbelief and rage as he processed what you just said. "So... this was all because you didn't let him cheat off of you.."

“Yes…” (Y/N) wasn’t the type to let someone copy her. She’d be more than willing to help and tutor, but she wouldn’t aid cheating.

"Hmm..." *He thought for a moment, tapping his chin.* "He has to have put it somewhere... I don't think he would just toss it out..." Part of him wanted to catch Kaigaku with it, just to take the annoying brat down a peg.

“He might still have it.” She said sadly, wondering just how many pages he’d probably have already read through.

"I bet he still has it." He grumbled, crossing his arms and clenching his fists a bit. He got mad whenever anyone did something mean to you, his favorite student.

“I guess I should just go home then, and to track him down tomorrow.” She said, “I should get going, it’s almost about to start raining…”

He was about to let her go, but he stopped her. "Wait, Lilli. Before you go, answer me one more question."

“Huh?” She was confused but followed him anyway to the school entrance.

Sanemi had thought as much. Your diary was probably your safe space of sorts, and he figured that you could get really honest and personal in it.

"And... is there anything specific about..." *He hesitated to ask the question that was on his mind. But still, he couldn’t help but wonder what could be in there that Kaigaku would be desperate to get his hands on.

“Boys?” She guessed the end of his sentence,* “Yes, more personal feelings written in there…”

"Hmph..." The math teacher mumbled before clearing his throat and saying with a slightly less strict tone, "Alright. Well, I guess you still should go home... it's late and the rain's almost here..."

“Yeah, I better hurry.” She said, “Thank you for understanding.” She was glad she wasn’t in trouble for trying to find her lost possession.

He only nodded and watched her walk down the hallway as his eyes followed her, making sure she made it out of the school safely in the late night. Part of him was worried about her walk home, but hopefully the short walk from school would be okay.

Lilli missed math class that next morning, something unusual and out of character for her. As the students left he could hear whispers about Lilli crying in the broken girls bathroom.

That bathroom had been broken for months, causing it to be abandoned by students. No water supply to it left it as a secret hangout or for Lilli a hiding place to cry in.

The math teacher grew suspicious and concerned when hearing the rumors that (Y/N) was crying in the abandoned girl's room. He immediately left his classroom and went straight to the girl's restroom.

"(Y-Y/N)?" Sanemi called out, the anger in his voice becoming something a bit more concerned and even, dare he not say, protective. "Is that you?"

"I'm down here..." She whimpered, making Sanemi realize she was crying on the floor, curled up under a sink.

He crouched down in front of her, his tone turning more gentle. "What's wrong, (Y/N)? I heard you crying and I-" His eyes widened and his heart nearly dropped in horror when he saw the graffiti on the wall.

Suddenly, a large piece of graffiti in the hallway caught his attention. *In huge letters it read, ‘(Y/N) Loves Mr. Shinazugawa' as if someone had found out a secret and wanted to taunt and torture her with it.

"He's painted it everywhere," she said, "It's all over campus."

The math teacher grit his teeth, it felt like steam could come out of his ears as if he was an enraged kettle.

"That stupid ass..." He snapped, but immediately turned a bit softer and looked genuinely a bit worried for your safety. "He didn't hurt you, did he?"

"No..." She whimpered, her face buried in her knees.

"(Y/N), look at me." He said in a stern, but yet reassuring tone, crouching before her and placing a hand on her shoulder.

(Y/N) shyly looked up at him, her mascara running down her face from how she had been crying.

He felt his heart sink when he saw the tears running down her face and the makeup running down with it. His entire persona softened and his strictness disappeared as if it was all just a show.

"(Y/N)... don't beat yourself up over it..." He said, using a gentle, comforting tone that he's only used for the rare moments he ever encountered little kids. "If you want, you don't have to go to your final class today... You can just go to the nurse’s office until I take care of this..."

"I... I don't want to go to the nurse..." She whimpered, "It's the last period of the day, can't I just... hide in here?" 

He pondered for a bit before sighing and nodding. "Fine... But don't get yourself caught, okay?" He replied as he stood and dusted himself off, before looking down at her again. "If you need anything, my classroom is right down the hall. You can come to my classroom instead. Got it?"

"Can I just hide in there?" She asked, knowing this last class of the day was his free period.

"Hmm... Fine." He said after thinking again and holding out a hand to help her up. "But you've got to promise to keep it a secret and not let other students see you in there, okay?"

"Okay," She said, taking his hand and standing up.  

When they got into her classroom she sat in her usual seat. She decided now that this would be a good time to do today's homework assignments.

The math teacher sat at his desk and continued to grade tests, keeping an eagle eye watch at the door in case a student passed by. He looked over to see Lilli starting to do her homework, and felt bad for her. He had to say something to ease her worries a bit.

"Hey, Lilli..." He said, his tone surprisingly gentle and soft as he made a motion for her to come and sit by him at his desk.

"Y-Yes Mr. Shinazugawa?" She said, a bit startled. She was still a bit embarrassed about the secret of her crush on him being out.

He looked her directly in the eyes and gave her a very gentle and warm smile that nearly turned him into almost a different person than the strict teacher student knew him as.

"It's alright, (Y/N). Ignore all the stupid and dumb things written on those walls, okay?" He said, putting a hand on her shoulder and giving her a sincere and understanding look "And no matter what your students say and do, you're still the top student in my class."

"I just..." She said, looking away shyly, "I wish things... could be a bit different..."

He raised an eyebrow, slightly confused by what she meant by that. "What do you mean? What things could be a bit different?" He inquired, placing a hand on her chin and turning her head to face him once more.

"Y-You and I..." She shyly answered. He knew what she meant, her crush was discovered by Kaigaku. He saw the spray painting on the wall.

He was surprised at how she felt about him. He was still processing the fact that Lilli was his self-proclaimed favorite student, and yet she had a crush on him. “So... you have a crush on me?" *Sanemi asked quietly, her nodding in response.

His face slightly turned pink, and he had to prevent himself from leaning back on his desk. He also had to refrain from wrapping his arms around her, and pulling her into an embrace.

"It's... not everyday that my student has a crush on me." He spoke, trying to keep his composure. "Not to mention my favorite one..."

It was true, most students were afraid of him or hated him. "I just... I don't know how it happened..."

"Well, I guess we're both surprised by this... But, that doesn't change the fact that I'm still a teacher..." He pulled his hand from her chin, but kept his eyes on her and leaned a bit close to her in a way that she had to look at him. "But... it also doesn't change the fact that I like you too... a lot… But still," He answered after a few moments of staring into her eyes. He knew as well as she did how taboo their relationship would be.

"I-I know but..." *She said, having a bit of a pleading look in her eyes as he leaned back a bit away from her and sighed.

"No buts. I'm a teacher, and you're my student. It would be inappropriate for us to date and be in a relationship while we're still at school." He said as a matter-of-fact tone, crossing his arms and trying to look even a bit stern.

"Maybe though.." She said with a pleading look, "Just... one kiss?"

The math teacher gulped, feeling a bit flustered at hearing her ask to kiss him. On one hand, kissing her was a bad idea, because they were still in school and she was a student.

"Just one?" He inquired, his stern expression slowly starting to fade.

"Yes, I won't ask for another one, I promise." She said, maybe just having a short, little fix of him could help her feel better. Maybe it'd fulfill whatever daydreams she had of him as well.

"Fine, but just one, alright?" Sanemi said as he started to feel a bit bashful about the entire situation, and yet it didn't stop him from leaning in and putting a hand on the side of (Y/N)'s cheek as he closed his eyes and puckered his lips. He seemed almost excited that he was finally going to kiss his favorite student, and even more since he'd never actually kissed someone in a long time.

She closed her eyes, puckering her lips and meeting him halfway. It truly felt like a magical moment. Something they could share together behind closed doors.

The math teacher let out a content, and almost relieved sigh as he moved his lips against hers. He gently pulled her in, his other hand wrapping around her waist as he kissed her in a deep and passionate kiss that felt like fireworks. It was more than just a little kiss. It was a kiss that had Sanemi second guessing himself.

Sanemi Shinazugawa was almost shocked that he started second guessing himself. Why did it feel so good? What about it made him want more and not just leave it at a kiss?

He kept holding (Y/N) close to himself as he kissed her a bit deeper, gently pulling her tongue into his mouth to deepen the kiss a bit more. (Y/N) opened her mouth, allowing his tongue to enter. She let out a small sound as their tongues entwined with each other.

The math teacher couldn't help but let out a low groan of pleasure and contentment as he felt (Y/N)'s tongue in his mouth. He slowly and gently lifted her up and sat her on the desk, holding her back with one hand and using the other to keep cupping her cheek. She let out a surprised sound. She looked up at him, panting as they pulled apart.

He panted quietly in surprise and shock after they pulled apart. He took a moment to examine (Y/N)’s face, making sure to not miss a single detail. He looked down at her from where she sat on the desk, and the first thing he noticed was the lustful and needy look in her eyes.

He'd never expected her to have such a look. Her skirt had hiked up from how he had placed her on the table in the heat of the moment. The math teacher gulped, watching as her skirt started to ride up, revealing her knees, and even more. “(Y-Y/N)..." *He said in an almost shocked, but lustful tone.

"Mr. Shinazugawa," She breathed out, the love and passion for her teacher visible in her eyes. He couldn't believe what was happening, he finally felt a sense of being loved and accepted and desired, something that was new for him. He gently pushed the chair he was sitting in away from the desk as he moved closer to Lilli, the look in his eyes still one that was burning with lust and longing.

"Wh-What are we doing?" She asked, wanting to know what his next intentions were. She was a smart girl, she knew what his plan was.

"I don't know... We really shouldn't be doing this, but... I think I'll be making an exception this time..." The math teacher answered, leaning into (Y/N) and gently pressing soft, needy kisses onto her neck.

He moaned lowly against one of (Y/N)'s more sensitive spots on her neck, sending shivers down her spine and causing her to feel a spark of pleasure. He started to kiss and suck on that same spot, his warm and soft touch feeling comforting as he continued to mark her neck.

"Y-You can't leave marks," She whimpered, "someone will see it..."

He was hesitant, but he let out a little sigh and pulled away from her neck. "You're right... But that doesn't mean I won't mark up other parts of you." He placed another kiss on her neck before pulling back.

He gently brushed his fingers along her thigh, gently stroking her soft and heated skin. The math teacher got a sudden mischievous look in his eyes as a mischievous idea crossed his mind.

He slowly and gently caressed one of her thighs, rubbing small circles on it with his thumb. "You know... I never realized how soft your skin is." He whispered, his other hand gently tracing some of the other parts of her body. He slowly let his hands wander to the buttons of her blouse.

He quietly unbuttoned her shirt, letting out a small gulp himself. He still couldn't believe that this was happening, and he almost felt a sense of disbelief as the heat in the room slowly rose.

"You're sure you're okay with doing this?" He asked her as he gently helped pull her shirt over her shoulders.

"Are you okay with it?" She asked, her lavender colored bra finally exposed. She knew what he said earlier, and she’d hate for him to get in trouble if someone caught or heard the two of them.

The math teacher gulped and tried his best not to stare too hard but couldn't help but stare at her breasts. "I really am," He said, gently tracing her skin with the tips of his fingers, watching goosebumps rise up. He didn’t care about what he had said earlier.

“I’m glad you have this free period,” (Y/N) confessed as she shivered at his touch, “It can be just the two of us.”

"Although, what?" The math teacher asked, looking up from her chest and into her eyes.

“I… I’m still a virgin and… I don’t know how ready I’m feeling to go all the way.” She said, “It’s complicated, I want you to feel good too but…”

He was surprised by this confession, but didn't seem disappointed or upset.  "Don’t worry, I understand, and it’s okay... Why don't we work on making sure that you feel good for right now?"

He gently caressed her inner thigh and hummed in contentment. "Does that feel good?" He inquired as she nodded, his own pants becoming a bit uncomfortable as the heat in the room continued to rise. He could tell just by the look in her eyes that she wanted him, but he wanted to hear it.

He hummed and gently ran his fingers along the elastic band of her underwear, caressing her skin. "Just how needy are you?" He asked as his fingers teased her.

“A lot… b-but only for you.” She begged as he slipped off her panties.

His heart was racing and he felt himself getting more excited as he took off her underwear. He never thought he’d be in such a situation with anyone, much less his favorite student.

"Well I'm honored..." He mumbled as he gently traced his fingers along her most intimate area.

He hummed lowly as he felt her heat and wetness, the feel of her insides on his fingers felt exciting and new to him. “That didn't take much to get you so excited, (Y/N)."

He felt her tighten around his fingered, warm velvety walls full of her neediness, “M-Mr. Shinazugawa~” The look on her face showed out much it was affecting her, it was like she was drunk just from the feelings of his fingers. Was she this sensitive of a virgin?

He was a bit shocked by how sensitive and needy she already was. "You're already so tight and needy, (Y/N)," He whispered.

“A-Ah~!” (Y/N) moaned, tensing up a bit at the sensation, “P-Please…” She whined,

He kept teasing her sensitive bud, gently rubbing in small, slow circles. "Please, what?" He murmured in a teasing tone, wanting to hear her whine and beg more.

“Please, I want more,” She whined, wanting him to go faster. She could feel herself growing wetter as his fingers were able to move more easily.

"How much more? Do you think you deserve it from me?" *He inquired, continuing to tease her with his slow circles. He was getting a bit more excited himself, and felt a bit more comfortable about the whole situation now as he continued rubbing her sensitive bud. 

“A-Ah, oh no~” She said, closing her eyes tightly as she felt the coil in her gut wind tighter, knowing she was getting close. But she didn’t want to release yet, she wanted to keep going. She didn’t want this to stop, but she couldn’t already feel part of herself leaking out. “P-Please, I’m your best student.”

"Maybe you are my favorite student, you're so needy and sensitive already... I can feel you already leaking onto my fingers-" He said, moving his fingers faster and curling them ever so slightly.

“I’m gonna make a mess on the desk~” She moaned, trying to keep herself together.

He couldn't help but let out a seductive and sadistic chuckle as he listened to her needy moans. "You're going to make a mess, huh? Sounds like you need to be punished a bit..." He said as he began to move his fingers faster. 

“B-But I- Ah~!” (Y/n) cried out, her eyes shut tightly as she felt her body tense. The coil finally snapped and she could feel herself release in a gush on his fingers. Her legs twitched as he continued to play with her, overstimulation taking hold.

He grinned lowly, watching her release herself in a gush on his fingers. "That's the first punishment, my favorite student." He smirked as he continued to rub her sensitive bud, wanting to overstimulate her and make her feel more sensations. The math teacher enjoyed seeing her overstimulated, seeing her needy and sensitive reactions.

“Ah~ Mmm~” She said, having mixed feelings on the overstimulation. It was painful, but so good at the same time. She wriggled and bucked her hips into his hands as she craved more of the sweet, torturous, pleasurable feeling.

“Now, be nice and a good girl or your punishment will continue…” His other hand that had been holding her leg in place came and gently gripped onto her hip, not wanting her wriggling while overstimulated. He whispered as he slowed his rubbing, wanting to give her a little break while she overstimulated.*

“I-It feels soooo good~” She said, absolutely drunk of pleasure. So much for a punishment.

“You like being punished? Maybe I’m not being harsh enough…” He teased as he began to rub his fingers harder and faster once again, keeping his grip tightly on her hip.

“A-Ahh~!” She cried out, “Mr. Shinazugawa~ More! I promise I’ll be a good student~ I always have been~”

"Oh? Always have been a good student?" He murmured. He said as he stopped to gently pull away his hand, pulling it out of her skirt. He couldn’t help but smirk as he listened to her beg and whine for more. “I guess you deserve a reward then…”

(Y/N) cried out once more as she came for a second time, making yet another mess on Sanemi’s desk. Finally, he pulled his fingers out before licking them clean. (Y/N) seemed to be in too much of a daze as she tried catching her breath.

“I think that’s enough for today,” Sanemi said, figuring she was far too tired to continue any further. But he planned to come back to this later on, and you knew it too.

[theidiotwhowritesthings]

Take Care of You [9]

Sugar Daddy!Joel Miller x Female!Reader

Overall Warnings: slow burn, angst/comfort, power imbalance, age gap, possessive tendencies, eventual smut, #daddyissues, independent reader learns to let go and relax, emotionally constipated Joel Miller learns to be vulnerable; (more specific warnings to be added to individual chapters if necessary)

Chapter Word Count: 9,950

Mood board and borders by @saradika

Summary: You spent your entire adult life supporting yourself and barely getting by. It’s why a life of ease offered to you by a mysterious stranger sounded so foreign and unbelievable. Joel Miller, dressed in flannels that had seen better days, didn’t look like the kind who could promise you the world on a plate, but he seemed desperate to help out. All he asks is that you let him take care of you. That wouldn’t be so hard. Would it?

[a/n: we back, baby. and we also barely edited so if you catch a typo don't hate me. also this was supposed to end in a different spot but then i got carried away in the middle so i had to split it 🥴]

Chapter Specific Warnings: angst, heartbreak, binge drinking to ease emotional turmoil, mild violence, mentions of blood and injury

09: LET ME TAKE CARE OF YOU

"i still haven't figured out how to sit across from you, and not be madly in love with everything you do." ⏤ william c. hannon

Three years ago, Nima tried to convince you to go skydiving with her. She begged and she pleaded, but you told her ‘no’ on account of thinking she was a crazy person for wanting to jump out of a perfectly good plane. Which was hilarious now considering you were sitting beside Joel wanting to pull open the door and dive out. The irony was not lost on you.

The only reason you hadn’t gone scrambling for the door was because Joel was forced to take a work call a few minutes into the flight. He hadn’t moved away. Joel stayed right next to you with his arm behind you as he spoke, and every few moments he’d glance at you with a silent apology and shake his head. You’d reply with a tight lipped smile and go back to mindlessly scrolling through instagram. 

Unfortunately the mindlessly scrolling was not so mindless. Since leaving Vegas, you had a high pitch ringing in the back of your mind like an endless, echoing siren. Married. A married man. Joel was⏤ Your teeth were clenched together so hard you wondered if Joel could hear them grinding against one another. Yesterday had been filled with so much anxiety, and you had managed to work through it by the end of the night. Mostly. But this was worse. This was so much worse. 

Married?

Your throat suddenly felt tight, eyes stinging with unshed tears, and you hastily undid your seatbelt and stood. Joel glanced your way and you pointed to the back of the plane and mouthed the word ‘bathroom’ to him. He nodded with a soft smile, and you spun on your heel and practically sprinted to the tiny plane bathroom. You struggled to get the folding door shut and the stewardess who sat not far away stared at you in confusion. You gave her an awkward wave and finally got it latched. 

“Fuck.” You shoved your face in your hands, leaning against the wall, and held back your tears. You were confused and frustrated, and you couldn’t even find relief in a good cry because Joel would spot it in a heartbeat no matter how much you tried to put yourself back together. The thought of confronting him about this right now was your worst nightmare. You hadn’t had the time to process any of the wild thoughts pinging around your head yet.

Your mind was at war with itself. On one hand, maybe you were being stupid and naive. For the last month and a half you’ve spent nearly every day with Joel and on the days you weren’t actively seeing him the two of you would talk either over a call or through text. You knew Yo-yo for 24 hours. Sure, she seemed nice and sincere, but what if Rosalind sent her to screw with you? For all you knew, Yo-yo had cruel intentions and was trying to drive a wedge between you and Joel. By taking her word you’d be playing right into that trap. What she said about the other sugar baby and about Joel being married? Maybe it was all fake and you’ve been stressing for no reason.

On the other hand, Joel didn’t kiss you. He didn’t kiss you because he wanted to ‘do right by you’. Joel asked for time. Was it because he needed to get a divorce? Worse. Was he married with absolutely no plans to get divorced and just buying time for something else? 

God, if you kept up this line of thought you were gonna vomit. Quickly, you turned to the sink to splash a little cold water on your face in hopes it would help you get your shit together for the next thirty minutes. Half an hour and you’d be on the ground. But then what? It would be a miracle if you kept it together for thirty minutes let alone any longer. 

You took in a long, slow breath and tried to clear your mind. When you felt steady enough, you stepped out of the bathroom. As tempting as it was to hide in there for the rest of the flight, it would probably be a red flag for Joel that something was wrong. You wandered back over to Joel and at your approach, and at the sight of you, he covered the bottom of his phone and whispered, “You alright?”

“Mhmm.” You nodded quickly and sat back down.

“I’m sorry. Jus’ another minute.” 

You waved your hands at him as nonchalantly as you could and he went back to his call. You leaned back in the seat, phone in hand, and Joel readjusted his arm on the back of the seat so he could settle his hand on your shoulder. As he always did, his thumb was tracing circles on your shoulder. An action you always loved, but now an intrusive thought slammed into you⏤ does he do this with his wife? The question was so startling, so sickening, that you couldn’t bite back the nausea that rolled through your body. You jumped up so fast you nearly stumbled over your feet, and you scrambled for the bathroom. 

Vaguely, you heard your name behind you, but you didn’t stop until you reached the toilet. You fell to your knees and threw up. The taste of acid in your mouth made you wince, but getting it all up did bring some relief. That relief was short lived though as you felt a large, warm hand settle on your back.

“Jesus, sugar.” He said in a soothing voice as he rubbed your back. “What’s goin’ on? Have you felt sick all mornin’?”

You spat into the toilet bowl, trying to get the taste of bile out of your mouth, before reaching out and flushing the toilet. You tried to stand, and Joel hooked his arm around you to help you up. He called out of the bathroom and a second later the stewardess brought in a cup of water and a ginger ale. Joel handed you the water and kept his hand rubbing up and down on your back.

“I’m⏤ I’m fine.” You shook your head and took a sip of water to swish and spit into the sink. “Really.”

“Obviously not.” Joel replied. “C’mon, let’s sit you down.”

“Joel…” You tried to argue, but he wasn’t hearing it. He kept an arm around you as he carefully led you back to the seat. He brought the bottle of ginger ale with you and the moment you finished the water he took the cup out of your hand to replace it with the soda. “I feel better now. It’s fine.”

“You’ve been off this mornin'. I was worried.” Joel lifted a hand to feel your forehead. It made sense that Joel picked up on your distress. He had always been so good at reading you. “You seemed fine when we first woke up. When exactly did you start feelin' sick?”

You took a sip of the ginger ale, “I…I don’t know. After breakfast maybe.” You lied. The sincerity in his eyes, the concern in his voice, it was both bringing you comfort and making you sick again all at once. You felt so stupid. Either you were freaking out over a lie a woman you barely knew told you or you were being tricked into feelings by a married man. Either way, you felt pathetic. “Your, um, your work call, Joel.”

Joel shook his head in response and didn’t even bother addressing the work call he stopped. He set a hand on the back of your neck and his thumb was lightly ghosting over your skin. You closed your eyes and took a slow breath in and out through your nose. “Tell me what I can do, sugar.”

“I⏤” You swallowed the lump in your throat. You forced your eyes open, finding Joel’s furrowed brow and worried gaze already on you, and it made you want to cry. You shook your head, “I, um, I think I just wanna lay down for a while. If that’s okay.”

“Course it’s okay.” He replied. 

The seat the two of you were sharing wasn’t long enough for you to lay down without laying your head on Joel’s lap. You planned on moving to the other couch seats to lay down, but Joel’s hand was still on the back of your neck and he lightly began to guide you down. Too tired to even try and move, you settled your head on his thigh and curled your body up onto the rest of the seat. 

In any other situation, this would be one of the most comfortable spots on Earth. Your head rested on his thick, firm thigh, and Joel’s hand traced where he could reach. Up and down your jawline and neck⏤ his thumb and forefinger would occasionally massage your earlobe. You tried to calm your racing thoughts. The truth was, you didn’t know the truth yet. It was a fact you kept repeating in your head in hopes it would numb the sharp pain of your worst fears, but those intrusive thoughts continued to pummel you.

“I’m so sorry, baby girl.” Joel murmured while his fingers dragged across your skin. “What a shitty way to end this weekend.” You hummed in agreement. This really was a shitty way to close out what started as one of the best weekends of your life.

Avoiding Joel made you realize how involved in your life he was. After landing in LA, Joel tried to drag you to a doctor and only conceded when you told him it was probably a 24 hour bug and you just wanted to sleep. He called you later that night to check in on you, and you managed to talk to him for a few minutes before lying about wanting to go to bed early. Come Monday morning, you went to work despite Joel texting you that you should stay home. Trying to focus at work was physically painful. Enough so that after the nightmare Monday had been, you left midway through the day today claiming to Henry that you didn’t feel well. It wasn’t even a full blown lie. You felt like shit.

Nima threw the folder of papers onto her desk and set her hands on her hips, “I’m gonna hit him with my car.”

“Please don’t.” You mumbled with your chin resting in your palm as you leaned on the other side of her desk. After leaving work, you came directly to Nima’s office. Going home and sitting on your couch, alone with your thoughts, would only make you ten times more miserable.

“No, actually, my car isn’t big enough. I’m gonna commandeer a bus and hit him with that.”

“I haven’t confirmed anything yet. For all I know, I’m being this pathetic over nothing.”

Nima snapped her hand up and pointed at you with a glare, “No. I will not have you shit talking yourself when the only person we should be shit talking is Joel Miller and his wife.”

You groaned and let your head fall to the desk. The words ‘Joel Miller and his wife’ made you viscerally ill. The time you spent not talking to Joel Monday night you spent stalking people on social media. You reached dead ends very quickly though since Joel didn’t have any social media whatsoever. The easiest solution was to just look Joel in the eyes and ask him for the truth, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. You wanted to know the truth, but you were scared to actually seek it out. 

If you asked Joel for the truth, if you confronted him, then he’d give it to you.

What if the truth was something you didn’t want to hear?

“Alrighty, babe, real talk.” Nima said and you lifted your head, keeping your chin resting on the wood, and saw she had dropped down into her office chair. To meet your eye line, she held her chin on the desk across from you to mirror your position. “I can threaten and plot his demise all I want, but I know I’m not allowed to kill him until this is confirmed or denied.” She twisted her lips. “You deserve the truth.”

You pouted, “How am I supposed to ask him about this, Nima??”

Her eyebrows furrowed in concern, “If you did ask… How sure are you that he’d answer truthfully?”

You pushed up and leaned back in the chair. That was a good question, and with anyone else it would probably be a real concern. However, you weren’t worried about that. You truly, deep down, believed that if you confronted Joel about this he would give you the truth. 

“I really think he would.” You answered. “Is that naive of me?”

“You know him better than I do.”

This entire situation made you question that. Did you know him? You knew he grew up in Austin. He had a younger brother, Tommy, and it was just them and his mom for most of his childhood. You knew he attended one year in college when his mom passed away⏤ cancer. Joel dropped out of college to take care of his brother and picked up a job in construction. That’s where he got his start. His first boss saw he had a knack for more than just the manual labor and trusted him with more and more until Joel was running sites for the man. At 27, Joel’s girlfriend of three months got pregnant. They planned to make it work, but she left when Sarah was two weeks old. You knew he adopted Ellie three years later. That he earned his bachelor’s degree in business at home through online classes while raising two young girls and working a full time job. That he started Miller Construction shortly after earning that degree, and it blew up from there.

You knew despite being a tough guy, he didn’t like horror movies.

You knew his favorite whiskey was Lagavulin⏤ neat.

The one thing you didn’t know was if he was married or not.

“I am going to suggest something,” Nima began, “And I want you to listen before you call me crazy.” You shot her confused look and she continued on. “I have this cousin.” You groaned and Nima chastised you to listen. It seemed like she had a cousin available for every situation that arose, and half the people she called cousin weren’t even technically related to her by blood. Anytime you asked her about it all she’d say was ‘Korean moms’ love to talk’, as if that clarified anything for you. “Seriously. He’s dating a private eye. With one text, we can get some answers.”

You shook your head, “Nima, that’s insane.”

“Is it?”

“Yes, hiring a private investigator is insane.” 

“Look, it’ll get us reliable answers.” Nima argued. “The truth.”

You rolled the idea around in your head. It was literally the epitome of paranoid absurdity, but you were wondering if that’s the point you were at. Would it be better to find out this way? That way when you finally did confront Joel you wouldn’t be blind sided by the answer. Hell, if the answer turned out to be ‘no, he isn’t married’ then you can chalk up the last few days as time wasted and move on with your life. That being said, it did seem like an invasion of Joel’s privacy. 

“That feels…” You paused, “Illegal?”

“It’s not illegal to hire a PI.” Nima countered then tilted her head. “I think. I’m not a lawyer, but people do it on TV all the time, right?”

“Well, that logic is foolproof.” 

“I’m not gonna do it if you tell me you don’t want to do it.” Nima said firmly. She crossed her arms and gave a small little shrug. “But you have to do something. Either this or just call him right now and tell him the two of you need to talk.” There was a protective sincerity in her eyes that felt like a security blanket being settled on your shoulders. “I don’t want to see you get more attached to this guy just to be hurt. I don’t want him to lie to you.”

You knew Nima only had your best interests in mind. Technically, Joel had given you no reason not to trust him. Half the time you thought on this topic you convinced yourself you were overreacting and being a pathetic, paranoid mess. Yo-yo, as nice and fun as she had been, was a virtual stranger to you. Her word shouldn’t trump Joel’s. You knew all of that, and you wanted to trust him. However, it felt like some broken part of you was looking for something to be wrong. Joel Miller was too good to be true. Why would someone like him be interested in someone like you? There had to be something else going on. According to your ex, you hadn’t even been worthy of him and Joel Miller was ten times the man he was. 

“Okay, do it.” You blurted and hated yourself for doing so.

Nima held your gaze for a second, but you pushed to stand and crossed her office to her private bathroom. You took one of the paper towels, dampening it, and set it on the back of your neck in a poor attempt to ground yourself. For a while longer, you just stood there in front of the sink. Not staring at yourself, but staring forward at a singular spot as your thoughts raced. You needed a positive thought. Just one would do, and you were prepared to drag it out of your thick skull kicking and screaming if necessary. 

“Everything is going to be okay.” You mumbled to yourself softly. 

The whispered words did nothing for your anxiety. However, the memory of him did. You found comfort looking back at the soft moments spent with Joel and let yourself fall down that rabbit hole. The temporary peace was nice, but it didn't last. Finding strength you didn’t know you had today, you splashed your face one more time and then left the bathroom.

Your eyes immediately landed on Nima who stared back with wide eyes. Nima spoke first, “What?”

“What?” You repeated. “I didn’t say anything.”

“Oh, I thought you said something.” Nima flipped her phone over and settled her hand on top of it. You glanced from her face to her phone and back again. A look of misery flickered across her features. You tilted your head in question. “Are you hungry? I’m hungry.”

“Nima.” You crossed the room quickly. “Did they already text back??”

“No. Yes. Maybe?” Nima shook her head. “Not exactly.”

“Nima.”

She twisted her lips and drummed her nails against the plastic case of her phone. You shot her another look and she blew out a sigh. “He sent me a response, but it’s like half an answer. Half a report. We should wait until he can⏤”

“What did he say?”

“Apparently, he’s working on a case for someone else right now and had a database right in front of him so all he had to do was type in⏤”

“Nima, please.” You blurted. It felt like your heart was caught in your throat. You couldn’t breathe and you didn't feel coherent enough to string together a thought. Her hesitance was an answer in and of itself. You rubbed your throat, your other arm wrapping around your torso in a poor attempt to hold yourself together, and gasped. “Just say it.”

“He’s married, babe.” Nima mumbled. You knew the words had been coming, but they still overwhelmed you. The air left your lungs as if someone had gut punched you and you fell back into the seat in front of her desk. “He said he’d send me the certificate when he could, but he has to finish this job first. I’m so sorry. I am so, so sorry. I⏤”

Nima stopped herself from speaking as she came around her desk and wrapped an arm around your shoulders. You sat in her embrace for as long as your shattering mind could endure and then shook your head, “I need a drink. Drinks. Plural.”

“It’s three in the afternoon, babe.” Nima mumbled in concern. You shot her a dry look and she offered you a tight lipped smile. “Drinks it is! Let’s go. We can go back to my place and⏤”

“No.” You pushed to stand. “I wanna go out.”

“Oh… kay. Where?”

“Anywhere.” You turned and began to leave.

Nima was scrambling to gather her belongings into her strawberry shaped purse before rushing out after you. “Just one drink though. I hate being the voice of reason, but we should limit ourselves to one drink.”

One drink turned into two which turned into three which turned into twelve.

By 6 PM, you were borderline wasted. It was by no means the best decision you’ve ever made, but you couldn’t classify it as your worst considering that, for the first time since leaving Vegas, you didn’t feel sad or defeated. No, those blue emotions had turned into a burning shade of red. You had finally found your anger and all it took was copious amounts of alcohol. 

“I mean, married?” You scoffed as you stood at the bar with Nima at your side. “That’s⏤ That’s illegal.” Nima nodded in agreement as she blindly tried to find the straw in her drink with her tongue. You reached out and pushed it toward her lips. “And worse than illegal! It’s fucking rude.”

“So rude.” Nima slurped at the last of her drink and all you could hear was the rattling of ice in her glass. She pulled away to slam the cup down and pointed at you⏤ her pink hair had been let down from the braid to messily rest around her shoulders. “You should get a new sugar daddy!” You stuck your tongue out in disgust and shook your head. “No! This is such a good idea.” Nima began to look around the bar. “Let’s find you a super hot, super not married sugar daddy.”

“I don’t want a new sugar daddy. I want another drink.” You leaned on the bar and waited for the bartender to look your way. Nima and you had bounced to a few bars. The two of you, back when you were sober, decided to start drinking in an area that had multiple bars all within walking distance. The one you were in now wasn’t familiar to you⏤ it wasn’t a place you and Nima had been to before. It was a bit too upscale for your liking. Sober you would not have been a fan. Drunk you? Loving it.

Nima was tapping on your shoulder rapidly and when you looked her way she was pointing across the bar to God knows who. “He looks like he wouldn’t marry someone without your permission.”

“That’s,” You shook your head, “not my situation.”

“Isn’t it?”

“I don’t know.” You shook your head and looked back toward the bartender who was busy with a group of women further down the bar. The sound of vibrating vaguely filled the air and you leaned closer to Nima who immediately wrapped her arms around you in a hug. “You’re vibrating.”

“You’re vibrating.”

You found her purse and opened it so you could rifle through it. It dawned on you then that somewhere around bar two and drink five you had shoved your phone in her purse for safe keeping. When you finally managed to pull it out, Joel’s face was flashing on the screen and you yelped in surprise. You tossed the phone onto the bar and held your face between your hands.

“Oh, no. Oh, no, no.” You shook your head and the vibration stopped. Joel’s picture disappeared and was replaced with a notification of a missed call that joined the notification telling you that you had unread messages. Your eyes snapped to Nima who was trying to drink out of her empty cup again. “Joel.”

“Bastard man.” Nima edited.

“Dinner.” You grimaced. “At 7. I’m supposed to get dinner with Joel at 7. It’s 6:35.”

Nima shook her head and crunched the ice she had shoveled into her mouth, “Bastard man can go to dinner with his wife tonight.”

 You grimaced, “I hate all the words you just used.”

The bartender began to wander over and Nima turned to order more drinks. You picked up your phone and leaned against the bartop with your elbow. With a frown and furrowed brow, you opened your text messages. Every unread text was from Joel unsurprisingly. The first came in at 4:29 and it was a simple, ‘Hey sugar, I’m excited to see you tonight’. The next was almost exactly an hour later and it said, ‘Hope your day’s been alright. We still on for tonight?’. Finally, the most recent at 6:15, was just your name with a question mark.

You set the phone back down before the temptation to reply could overcome you. It only sat on the bartop for a second before it began to vibrate violently as another call came in. Joel’s face filled the screen and you felt a wave of sadness drag you under. The fact that you were mourning the lack of his presence to this degree was probably a sign you were doing this ‘sugar baby’ thing very wrong.

“Maybe I should answer it.” You voiced the thought aloud.

Nima caught it and gasped before slapping her hand on top of the still buzzing phone, “No, ma’am! You will not be doing that.” The bartender set two new drinks between the two of you. Nima pushed one in front of you and moved the straw to point directly at you. “Drink.”

You took a sip then spoke, “I don’t even know the whole story⏤” Nima pushed your face back to the straw so you took another long sip. “Maybe it’s a misunderstanding…” This time your lips found their way to the straw on their own accord and you took a sip that could be argued as dangerously long. “I need to talk to him. Confront him. Demand answers.”

“Yes. To all of that. Eventually.” Nima replied with a nod. She reached forward and bopped you on the nose with her finger. “But not tonight.”

“Why not?”

“Because I know one thing in life,” Nima held up the one finger she used to bop your nose, “You do not have serious conversations while drunk.”

You shook your head with a pout, “I thought you said you don’t like being the voice of reason.”

“If it means helping you, I’ll always lean toward reason, babe.” 

The two of you went back to drinking. Your vibrating phone stopped and a few seconds passed before a notification for a voicemail popped up. You turned to Nima, “Can I listen to it? That’s not talking. That’s listening.”

Nima chewed on her straw slowly before bobbing her head in an affirmative nod, “I shall allow it.”

You picked up the phone to listen to the message he left you.

‘Hey, sugar.’ Joel’s voice rumbled over the line and you felt your chest physically ache at the sound. You closed your eyes in annoyance with yourself. If you hadn’t fallen so hard, so fast for this man you wouldn’t be in this scenario to begin with. ‘Gotta say I’m a little worried. Haven’t heard from ya all day. Gimme a call when ya get this.’

You groaned and set your head down on the bar. Guilt gnawed at you. It felt childish of you to be ghosting him like this, and that wasn’t your typical go to move. You had enough respect for the people in your life to address them when needed rather than hide behind voicemail. With the guilt was a swirling vortex of anger. You were angry at Joel for not being up front with you. You were angry at Yo-Yo for being the one to plant the initial doubt that started all this. You were angry at yourself most of all. Angry that you felt guilt at all, angry that you had foolishly placed so much trust in a man you barely knew, angry that despite everything there was still a part of you that craved his presence. You missed his touch and his voice. You missed those burning brown eyes and the way his very glance could melt you into a puddle.

“You okay, babe?” Nima’s voice asked softly. You shook your head without lifting it. “I’m sorry. I can break his knee caps if you want?”

“What?” You lifted your gaze.

“What?” She replied innocently. 

The phone began to vibrate again startling you. He had just called so you didn’t expect him to call again, but then again you were supposed to be in your apartment waiting for him to pick you up for dinner. You pictured him standing at your door dressed up and holding a bouquet of flowers. Nausea rolled over you in waves, and you grabbed your mixed drink thinking it could cure your troubles.

A few minutes passed before another voicemail was left. You snatched your phone up and shoved it back into Nima’s purse so it would be out of your line of sight⏤ not even bothering to listen to the second voicemail. Tomorrow, you decided. Tomorrow you would confront Joel and have this difficult conversation. You both finished the drinks in front of you as the lively bar continued to thrive around you.

“Why is he married?” You asked suddenly. Nima must have known it wasn’t a question you expected an actual answer to as she stayed silent. You rested your face in your hands and sighed. With your eyes closed against your hands like this you began to feel dizzy. A sure sign that you should stop drinking. Nima rubbed your back soothingly and you dropped your hands to shoot her an appreciative glance. “You’re the best best friend a girl could ask for.”

“I know, babe. And you know what else I know?” Nima squished your cheeks together with a wide grin, “You deserve the universe in a gold hand basket, and any man who can’t see that or who would play games with your big, loving heart doesn’t deserve you.”

You laughed and Nima chuckled herself before letting go of your face to pick up her empty glass. Her tongue struggled to find the straw but once it did she tried to take a big gulp only to get drops and air. Nima pulled away from her straw and furrowed her brow, “Who finished my drink?”

With another laugh, you raised your hand to order two more drinks. At this point you’ve already had so much to drink, what would one more hurt? You knew the hangover tomorrow was going to be a bad one, but a part of you was looking forward to it. There would be no mourning Joel tomorrow if your head hurt too much to even think his name. 

Nima successfully managed to distract you again as she drunkenly delved into a story you weren’t quite following, but you enjoyed the way she told it. A low whistle interrupted the moment of peace the two of you had found. You glanced past Nima to see two men in business suits wandering over. Nothing about them stood out to you. One was brunet and the other blond, but they both looked like they never grew out of the frat lifestyle on a college campus.

“We saw you two pretty ladies from over there and wanted to come and offer you our company.” The blond greeted smugly.

Nima turned in her seat to face him and waved her hand at him while taking a long sip of her drink until the ice rattled in the glass. Then she pulled the straw out of her mouth to finally speak with a shake of her head, “Sorry, we don’t speak english.”

“You just said that in English.” The blond chuckled.

“Sorry, sorry.” Nima waved her hand once more. “I don’t understand your accent.”

You snickered under your breath while chewing on your straw. The brunet stepped forward to stand side by side with the other and shook his head, “No need to be a bitch. We just wanted to talk.”

“Oh, you haven’t even begun to see bitchy yet.” Nima pointed her glass in their direction⏤ a bit of ice sloshing out with the exaggerated movement. “I can show you bitchy.” She reached back to swat at your arm. “Tell them, babe.”

“She can.” You nodded in agreement.

The blond set a hand on his friend’s shoulder and tugged him back, “Let’s just go, man.”

The brunet reluctantly let himself get dragged away, but he continued to stare at you and Nima the entire time. Nima spun in her seat and scoffed, “Where was I before I was interrupted by douchebag one and douchebag two?”

“I’m not gonna lie,” You shrugged, “I have no idea.”

“I’ll pick a place then.” Nima said and jumped into the middle of her story. “So, there I was covered head to toe in honey.”

Same as before, you really couldn’t keep track of her tale but it amused you all the same. The two of you chatted for another minute or two before a new face came across the two of you again. Nima had bounced in her seat, excited, and it knocked her strawberry shaped purse to the floor. Your phone clattered out. Before you could climb off the bar stool to grab it, a man passing knelt down and scooped it up. In one tanned hand he grabbed the purse and in the other your phone. The phone’s screen lit up and you swallowed at the sight of the multiple missed messages all from the same person. 

“Oh.” The man cleared his throat and straightened his stance. He was handsome with a kind face. Dark hair, a bit on the longer side, was messily pushed back and it matched the scruff on his upper lip and chin. The man wore a pink button up shirt, all the buttons undone, over a white t-shirt. “I suppose this is yours, miss?”

You begun to reach out, “Thanks⏤”

“Hold it!” Nima pointed at the man making his dark, brown eyes widen. “State your intentions, sir!”

“To…return your purse?” He lifted up the strawberry bag.

Nima narrowed her eyes at him and snatched it away, “Likely story.”

“Thank you.” You reached out and he handed the phone over to you. A glance down revealed four missed calls, two unheard voicemails, and five texts. You winced at the sight and set your phone face down on the bar. You were surprised to see the man still standing by your stools. “You…” You narrowed your eyes at him. “You look familiar. Have we met before?”

He chuckled and shook his head, “Afraid not, ma’am.”

It was sitting on the tip of your tongue, but your foggy brain just couldn’t quite grasp it. Nima snapped her fingers and pointed at him. “I got it. He’s that guy.” You lifted an eyebrow at her words and she nodded frantically. “Yeah, he’s that actor! You play in that one show with, like, the zombies or whatever, right?”

“Not at all.” He laughed with a shake of his head. “I ain’t no actor.”

“Well then, I’m out of guesses.” Nima grumbled. She tilted her head, looking him up and down once more, “You seem nice enough. Got a pretty face. You rich? You wanna be a sugar daddy? She’s in the market.”

You rolled your eyes, “Nima.”

“You’re in the market for a sugar daddy?” The man asked in shock. You could hardly blame the man for his confusion and disbelief. This was hardly a normal bar conversation. “Really?”

“No. She’s just drunk.”

“Irrelevant.” Nima argued.

You chuckled then introduced yourself and Nima. The man paused for a beat before nodding and offering you his hand. “Nice to meet you both. My name is Tommy.” It took a second to click, but once the name finally wormed its way through your mind your eyes widened. Tommy chuckled and answered your unspoken question, “Yeah. I am.”

Nima glanced between you two with a frown, “Hold on, I’m not following. You are what? You’ll be her new sugar daddy?”

“No way in hell.” Tommy grinned. “If I even thought 'bout it, my brother’d skin me alive.”

The look on Nima’s face stayed confused until you swallowed the lump in your throat and finally spoke, “It’s… Nima, this is Joel’s brother.”

Her face remained frozen before morphing into one of shock. She gasped, almost comically, and pointed at him. “Oh, fuck.” Her eyebrows furrowed into a glare. “You son of a bitch, your brother is a son of a bitch!”

Tommy didn’t pay her outburst any mind, but his eyes darted back to you. “I asked my brother to come out drinkin' with me tonight, but he said ‘no’ cause he had a date with you.” Tommy stuck his hands into his pockets. “Funny I’m findin' you here without him.”

“That’s because your brother is too busy with his wife to be with my girl!”

Tommy’s eyebrows furrowed in surprise and he glanced back to you, “He already told you about her?”

It was quite possibly the worst string of words you could have heard all day. Only in competition with Nima’s ‘He’s married, babe’. You felt nauseous and dizzy⏤ the breath stolen from you again. Nima was arguing with Tommy, you could hear her voice, but you couldn’t concretely understand a single word that was said. When you finally managed to get a handle on reality, you looked back to see things had fallen apart and more time than you realized had passed in your mental breakdown. 

The blond and brunet from earlier, in the suits, had come back and were somehow arguing with Tommy and Nima now. You suddenly began to regret the last two drinks you had. Maybe if you had gone with a couple glasses of water instead you’d be able to puzzle out exactly what was going on right now.

“Get the hell outta here. They ain’t interested.” Tommy snapped.

“Just curious as to why we weren’t good enough for these bitches and you were.” The brunet slurred his words. Tommy stood a step in front of Nima who had slid off her bar stool to stand in front of you with her hands on her hips. “What’s so special about you, bub?”

“Ugh. How about the two of you run off to the bathroom and jack each other off, huh? Then leave us the fuck alone.” Nima sneered.

“Shut your damn mouth!” 

The blond tried to push past Tommy toward Nima, but Tommy shoved him back immediately. He grabbed the guy by the collar. “You gonna charge at a woman like that? Fuckin' coward.” Tommy’s voice came out in a gravelly growl that reminded you so much of Joel that it was staggering. “You got a problem, you take it up with me.”

The next moment happened fast. The blond tried to swing out at Tommy so Tommy blocked it with his elbow before tackling the man to the ground. The brunet grabbed Nima and wrapped his arms around her. She howled in anger and squirmed in his arms trying to find purchase to hit him. The brunet spun so his back was to you and you slid off the stool. Without pause, without thought, you picked up your empty glass and smashed it to the back of the man’s head. He released Nima, crumpling to the ground with a groan, and any shred of a fight stopped⏤as did the entire bar.

Tommy was kneeling on the ground pinning the blond while Nima stood off to the side.

“Oh my God.” Nima squealed, amused.

“Oh my God.” Tommy blurted, impressed.

“Oh my God.” You gasped, shocked at your own action.

You were panting, damn near hyperventilating, as the brunet began to rise on shaky limbs. Other patrons nearby converged on the scene to help out and before you knew it you were being ushered off to the side where a few couches and seats sat in a lounge area. 

“You’re such a badass.” Nima gushed from beside you. "How’s your hand??”

“Hurts.” You mumbled and stared down at the white cloth wrapped around your hand. Bright red was beginning to seep through. The consequences of smashing glass against the back of someone’s skull. Police had shown up and you knew Tommy was across the room talking to them. But still, your eyes stayed glued on your hand. The cuts weren’t terrible but they stung something awful.

“Babe?” You finally looked up and met Nima’s concerned eyes. She nodded, “You alright?”

You shot her a small smile, “Yeah. Are you okay? I can’t believe he grabbed you.”

“I’m fine.” Nima peeked at your hand then stood. “I’m gonna see if this bar has a real first aid kit we can use. Be right back.”

She jumped up and jogged over to the bar. You sunk in your seat with a sigh and leaned your head against the back of the couch. There had been something very sobering about smashing the glass against that guy’s head. The adrenaline and pain cleared any lingering fog from your previous drinks right out of your head. It left room for you to think about Joel. Meeting his brother certainly didn’t help. Tommy clapped one of the officer’s on the shoulder with a smile and they went separate ways. You lifted your head when you heard his footsteps draw near.

“Well, I spoke to the police.” Tommy stuck his hands into his pockets. “You’re not gonna get in trouble for the, you know, the glass. Won’t have to go downtown with ‘em.” You breathed a sigh of relief. Tommy held your gaze for a few more seconds before scrunching his nose and bobbing his head toward you. “And Joel is, uh, on his way.”

You covered your face with your good hand and groaned, “Can I please just be arrested instead?”

“Sorry, no can do.” Tommy sat down beside you. “You know, I didn’t say it earlier, but it’s nice to finally meet you. Joel never shuts up about you.”

“Please. Don’t.” You blurted. “I can’t… I can’t talk about him right now.”

Tommy nodded, “Right. I, uh, when I called him we didn’t talk much.” He laced his fingers together and rested his arms on his knees. “I mentioned you were hurt and things kind of spiraled from there. That’s probably for the best though. I don’t wanna get in between a lover’s quarrel⏤”

“I’m not his lover.” You snapped, and you hated the way your voice cracked. You shook your head, “Not if he’s married. Not…” The adrenaline was beginning to wear off and you were exhausted to your very bones. “This is so fucked up. I never should've agreed to…

Tommy didn’t immediately reply. He sighed, “I don’t know you, and I don’t got the exact details of what’s going on right now, but… I’m glad you agreed.” He turned and met your gaze with a tight smile. “Joel’s been… He’s been better. Joel was in a rut for a long time. So long that I kind of forgot he was in one. For a while, that was just Joel.” Tommy’s smile grew as he chuckled. “But ever since the two of you met, it’s like this weight has been lifted from his shoulders. We’ve all noticed it, and we’re all thankful.”

  “He’s married.” You whispered. “And he didn’t tell me.”

Tommy rubbed the back of his neck, “I know, but it’s⏤ it’s not that simple.” He nervously chewed on his lower lip. “Can you just give him a chance to explain?” You flexed your hand and sucked in a sharp breath as pain lanced up your arm. “Consider it a favor for me.”

“A favor for you?” You snorted.

“Yeah. I kept you out of prison, remember?” Tommy joked.

You cracked a smile and Tommy’s smile widened in victory. Nima skipped back over and dropped into the seat on your other side. She pulled your hand into her lap and carefully unpeeled the cloth away. As Nima rewrapped your hand while Tommy criticized her technique and the two bickered over you. You couldn’t help but flex your hand when she finished.

“Come on, pinkie.” Tommy stood. “I’ll take you home.”

“Uh, I am not leaving my girl here alone.”

“Joel will be here soon.”

“Then I’m definitely not leaving her alone!”

You reached out to squeeze her wrist and gave her a reassuring nod, “I’ll be okay. Gotta talk to him eventually, right?”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t have to be right now.” Nima argued. You pulled her into a hug to reassure her once again. Maybe this was a bad idea, but you had just smashed a glass against a guy’s head so the degree of your bad ideas couldn't possibly get worse. Nima sighed and stood up too. “Okay. You’re sure you’re fine?”

Tommy clapped his hands. “Joel’s a few minutes away. But we can stay until he gets here if you want.”

“No.” You shook your head. The thought of being alone for a minute was kind of nice. “You guys go.” Your eyes locked onto Nima. “If you’re okay with him driving you.” You glanced at Tommy. “No offense.”

He held his hands up in surrender and shrugged nonchalantly. Nima nodded, “We survived a bar brawl together. We’re bonded.” She grinned and pulled her strawberry purse around her shoulders. “Plus, worse comes to worse, I can stab him.”

“You can what now?” Tommy questioned.

“You’ve already offered me a ride. It’s too late to back out now.”

“Fine, pinkie.” Tommy waved her to follow. 

You watched them go and sunk in your seat. The sounds of the bar was decent background noise, but it wasn’t enough to drown out the noise in your head. You picked at the edges of the gauze wrapped around your hand. Your eyes felt heavy and if you weren’t careful you were going to pass out on this bar couch surrounded by strangers. It was the sound of a crash that startled you back into the moment, and when you looked up from your hand you realized the door had been thrown open hard enough to hit the wall. Joel stood in the doorway panicked and wild eyed. He wore a suit without the tie and his shirt was unbuttoned at the top.

You stayed silent, sinking further into your seat, and watched as Joel’s wide eyes scanned the room. His gaze finally landed on you, doing a double take, and when he realized where you were you saw his shoulders slump in relief. Joel jogged across the room until he was able to kneel down in front of you. Joel’s warm hands found your face, cupping it softly, as he sighed, “Sugar, what the hell is goin' on? Are you okay?” Joel’s eyes studied your face then glanced down at your hand. “Jesus, your hand. Tommy called me. Sugar, I⏤”

“I’m okay.” You whispered, throat growing tight, “I just wanna go home, Joel.”

Joel tensed and he nodded, “Yeah. Alright. Let’s get you home.”

The ride in the truck beside Joel may have been the most awkward and tense ride of your entire life. It was silent. The only sound coming from the road outside. Joel’s hands were white knuckled around the steering wheel. You assumed his tension had something to do with you ghosting him this evening. His truck pulled up outside your apartment complex and your alcohol soaked brain realized not only did you not have your keys but you also no longer had your phone. Both were sitting in Nima’s purse right now.

You opened the door fully prepared to sleep outside your apartment on the welcome mat like a lost dog, but Joel grasped you by the arm cautiously to hold you in place. “You got your key?” You twisted your lips knowing he wasn’t going to fall for a lie. “Where is your key?”

“With Nima.” You mumbled. “She has my phone too.”

Joel sighed and let go of you to instead grab the truck door and shut it. He buckled you back into the seat and began to drive once more. You wanted to ask where he was taking you, but none of the words would come out. You drowned in your indecision while picking at the bandage on your hand. Joel suddenly reached over and lightly pushed your hand away from the injury.

“Stop pickin' at it, sugar.”

“Where are we going?” You blurted.

Joel shifted in his seat, “My place.”

“I don’t wanna go to your place.” You mumbled.

“Don’t care.” Joel replied gruffly and you lifted your head to glare at his side profile. 

The tone of his voice stirred something inside you, and you felt the dormant anger start to reawaken. It had gotten buried under everything that happened, but now it was back full fledged. You sat up, “Take me back. I want to go home.”

“You don’t have your key.”

“I don’t care.” You snapped. “Take me home, Joel!”

“You’re comin' to my place where I know you can safely sleep it off, 'nd then tomorrow we’ll figure out how to get ya back into your apartment. Understood?”

You scoffed, “Don’t talk down to me. I’m not a child, Joel.”

“Oh, you’re not?” Joel scoffed. His tone was angry and frustrated. “Cause you’re sure as hell actin' like one.” He shot a glare in your direction before focusing back on the road. “Are you outta your goddamn mind?! Do you know how worried I was?” You crossed your arms and stared out the passenger window. “I don’ hear from you all day long. You disappear on me with no explanation 'nd then I get a call from my baby brother that you’ve been in a bar fight? And that you’re hurt?!” You stayed silent and Joel scoffed. “And now I get the silent treatment? Very mature.”

“You don’t want to argue with me on what’s mature, Joel.” You said, head whipping back to glare at him.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean??”

“You’re a hypocrite!”

“Excuse me?”

You scoffed, “It’s not very mature for a married man to pay a sugar baby for attention.” Joel hit the brakes and the seat belt caught you as the truck screeched to a stop. You glanced out the window to see his truck had reached a neighborhood and the streets were mostly void of other vehicles. When you turned back to Joel, you found him staring at you in a mix of shock and horror. You shook your head, “What was I, Joel? Some kind of midlife crisis?”

Pain could be seen through the horror, and he reached out to grab your wrist again. “No. No, that’s not…” Joel’s voice was hoarse and broken. He whispered your name. “Please. That’s not what this is.”

You tugged your arm away from his grip. “I don’t wanna talk about this right now, Joel. Either start driving again or I’m gonna get out.”

Joel kept his hands to himself as he slowly went back to driving. As if the awkward silence hadn’t been painful before it was downright agonizing now. You were pressing your thumb into the wounds of your palm just to try and keep from crying. Joel pulled into the driveway a few minutes later, and you couldn’t even get your brain to collect a single feature of the house in front of you. Joel jumped out of the truck and you stayed frozen. The passenger door opened but Joel didn’t move to pull you out. He held the top of the door frame and a foot rested on the running board so he could lean in just marginally.

“Sugar…”

“Don’t, Joel.” You said firmly. “Don’t.”

“Please just let me⏤”

“Are you married?”

Joel’s face crumpled in agony and he hung his head, “It’s… It’s not that simple. Just let me⏤”

“It’s a yes or no question.” You shrugged and tried to ignore the tears welling up in your eyes.

Joel looked like he was on the verge of a panic attack. His eyes were squeezed shut, but he still refused to answer. You whispered his name. Finally, he lifted his gaze back to you and opened his mouth. His jaw hung open silently for a second before he could speak. “...Yes.”

You felt the tears lingering at the waterline drip down your cheeks and hastily began to wipe them away with your hands. Joel gasped and began to reach out but when you flinched he held back. He shook his head, “You’re bleedin'.”

The bandage around your hand was soaked with blood, probably from digging your thumb into the wounds, and when you felt your cheek with your fingertips they came back tinted red. You must have smeared it across your face. 

“Sugar, let me… let me take you inside.” Joel murmured. “Please. I know you’re… upset, 'nd you have every reason to hate me right now, but… just let me get you inside.” His hand reached out for you once more, but he stopped himself. “You can leave in the mornin', but for tonight just⏤ just let me take care of you. Please.”

You gave a small nod. It felt weak of you, but you reassured yourself that you had little to no other option. Your hand hurt, your head ached, you were exhausted to your very being, and deep down you were torn between wanting to yell and scream or curl into a ball and cry. Joel took a few steps back to allow you to climb down yourself, but when you wavered his arms shot out to try and steady you. Joel herded you toward the front door without actually touching you. 

Your eyebrows furrowed when you studied his front porch. The entire front of his house didn’t look like the typical rich LA style you were accustomed to seeing. In fact, his porch and front door reminded you of a quaint farmhouse. Joel unlocked his front door and held it open for you to walk in. Right inside the house, the foyer had an open style with a set of stairs pressed against the wall just up ahead. It opened straight into a large living room that evolved into a dining room with a matching open kitchen to the side. The entire back wall by the kitchen and dining area was made of glass but the back porch lights were off so you couldn’t see the view. 

Joel tossed his keys into a bowl sitting on an accent table against the wall right by the door. You glanced over to a little bench built into the wall on the other side beneath a set of bay windows. The rest of his furniture from what you could see was modern and plain. You were drunk off alcohol and misery, but your brain was still able to take the time to note that Joel’s furniture didn’t match what you imagined him to have.

“C’mon.” Joel motioned you up the stairs. He followed after you and when you reached the top of the stairs he pointed to the left. You stepped into the master bedroom and Joel slid in past you moving straight toward the master bath. While he rooted around for something, you glanced around his room. There was a king sized bed sitting in the middle of the room covered in dark green sheets. A window sat on either side of the bed. The wall to the right was where the bathroom door and the closet door sat, but on the left was a single loveseat pushed against the wall. All the furniture was dark brown including the large dresser against the wall by the door and the smaller bedside drawers on either side of the bed under the windows. You drifted toward one of the bedside drawers where a photo was propped up. It was of Joel and two young girls. Joel had shown you enough pictures of Sarah and Ellie for you to recognize them, but in this photo all three of them were significantly younger. 

The sound of a throat clearing made you look up to see Joel standing there with a first aid kit in hand. “Sit down for me?” You sat on the side of the bed and Joel sat beside you. He opened the kit then carefully unwrapped your hand. When he saw the three lines haphazardly cut into your palm he let out a soft hiss. “You hurtin' much?”

“It stings some.” You mumbled. He hummed in response and used an alcohol swab to clean up the cuts. Joel did so with soft touches and his eyes flickered to your features every second or so to check in on your status. You locked your jaw to bite back any sounds of pain that tried to slip out. 

“They look bad, but I don’ think they’ll need stitches.” Joel thought out loud. 

“Good.” You said. Joel grabbed some fresh gauze and began to wrap it around your hand. You studied his features as he focused so intently on the task at hand. His warm gaze was burned into your skin as his eyebrows furrowed in concentration. You had the urge to trace your fingers through the scruff along his jawline. When he finished, he lifted his gaze and his eyes locked with yours. The two of you stared at one another in tense silence. Pain and longing filled his brown eyes, and you wondered if it could somehow just be a reflection of your own. It made no sense for you to both be so miserable right now. “Where is she?”

Joel tensed, “What?”

“Where is your wife?” You asked more firmly. 

“Are you sure you wanna get into this tonight?”

“I just want answers, Joel.” You sighed. “I need something. My mind has been a mess since we left Vegas.” Joel’s face crumpled as he closed his eyes with a sigh. “Yo-yo told me I wasn’t your first sugar baby and then she said you were married to your first sugar baby.” The words were falling out like pouring water now. “And then Nima has a cousin who has a cousin who has a friend or something that was able to find your marriage certificate⏤”

Joel murmured your name in reverence and opened his eyes. He shook his head. “I’m sorry. I should’ve told you from the start. That way there’d be no miscommunication or confusion. I meant to. But… I kept puttin' it off 'nd it got to the point where too much time had passed…” Joel hesitantly reached out for you and when you didn’t shy away he settled his hand on your arm. “I did have a sugar baby before you. It’s a… long story, but I am not married to her.” 

Your eyebrows furrowed, “You didn’t marry her?”

“No. Absolutely not. She was… Like I said, it’s a long story.” Joel squeezed your arm. “One that I promise to tell you. In the mornin', when you’re not half drunk 'nd half hungover all at once.”

“Then who the hell are you married to, Joel?”

“I… I am technically still married to Celina.” Joel finally spat the words out. You shook your head in confusion. The name was foreign to you, but Joel heaved another sigh and added, “Sarah’s mom.”

taglist (closed):

@weddingfairy @bfences @jasminedragon @biwitchy @huffle-punk @shelbyteller @anoverwhelmingdin @aheadfullofsteverogers @stagerightlauren @basicoccult @boofy1998 @farintonorth @thepascalofus @amatis-gray @casa-boiardi @northernbluess @jettia @sapphicsoie @spidey-3 @hrtsforpascal @gingersince97 @sentients17 @bigboiseason123 @lunxramour @ktheunready @heyheyheygaypay @keepingupwiththeskywalkers @adoringanakin @come-hell-or-eldren-fire @cherriebat @whitewolfstar01 @alyssa121611 @asreadbyaj @painfullyandprettypoetic @cantobightcafe @str84pedro

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✨J.M. Masterlist✨

[kissforyouu]

𝙲𝙰𝚁𝙳𝙸𝙶𝙰𝙽 . 𝚓𝚓𝚔

pairing : jungkook x reader

genre : college boy!jungkook , fwb , so much fluff , situationship , confusing relationship

warning : angst , strong language , smoking , masturbation , use of weed and drugs , getting high , lots of kisses🤭 , oral sex ( f recieving ) , doggy , unprotected sex , situationships. (trigger warning😓)

Inspired by Cardigan - Taylor Swift

unedited.

> read pt. 1 here

It's been about three weeks since Jungkook had left my door. I try, but I still can't make up my mind with the fact that it's all over. It's even harder, because Jungkook was always apart of my daily routine. We'd go get our groceries together, drop eachother by our respective classes, study together, hangout and so much more. It's not just the fucking, or the kissing, he was also my best friend. Losing my bestfriend was even worse. Sometimes I'd wonder how it would've been if we never had sex. Would we still be friends? Best friends? Would it have been better? It would have been better, I think. Maybe. Or maybe not. I don't fucking know.

Or maybe we'd just be strangers and I would've never gotten to experience this love from him? Or maybe—it wasn't even love. Well, obviously, it wasn't. He made it clear. Very clear.

Although it's been a week, Jungkook has never tried to contact me. It hurts, but whatever. Clearly he's enjoying his time though, judging by his instagram stories. Party after party. I always see him either drinking or going out with his friends on social media. Okay. I might be stalking him on social media. But hey, it's not exactly stalking when the information is public and accessible to anyone, right? So, I'm not stalking. I'm only making use of my rights as someone using social media.

It's whatever. Jungkook's whatever. I'll move on. Of course, I will. It's nothing a bit of journaling and music can't fix, right? Yeah.

I hum to my music, continuing to write on my journal. This was my way of letting all my feelings out. I'd journal, write and doodle about it. It was calm, and it also helped me open up and learn more about myself. I liked it.

I continued to write...

I still want him. I want him so so much. I really hate to admit that, but I do. I don't know what's gotten over me. I have to make up my mind, I really really do. Jungkook proved to me that I was nothing but some fuck, but why can't I think the same? It's slowly driving me insane. In addition to that, I really really really really fucking hate the fact that I'd go back to him in a heartbeat if I could.

I let out a sigh, closing the journal. This is what I've been doing for the past three weeks. It's stupid, really, we weren't even fucking dating! I keep thinking about that, and it's driving me crazy. Whatever. I placed my journal and headphones back on my table, then getting back on my bed. Covering myself with my soft pink sheets, I made myself comfortable enough to fall asleep.

I hated this so much.

Everywhere I looked, it always reminded me of Jungkook. I hated how every corner of my room had some sort of memory attached to him. Whether it was just him holding one of my belongings, standing in a specific area, or him just doing something—it always reminded me of him.

The worst was my bed. Everytime I got on it, I just couldn't help but think of all the things we did on it. I couldn't help but think of the places his hands touched me, the feeling of his lips on my skin, or the feeling of his cock going in and out of me. I hated this because sometimes—sometimes! Just sometimes I'd feel myself getting hot down there.

I hate to admit this but—

"Mm..." a whimper leaves my mouth at the feeling of my fingers pressing onto my clothed clit. All that thinking got me wet. I slowly drag my fingers up and down, caressing my folds. I imagine it's his fingers, Jungkook's, teasing my folds slowly.

What would he do right now? He'd subtly touch me everywhere to get me soaking wet.

My other hand reaches down to my left breast, rubbing my nipple through the material. A few seconds later, the material of my top was now discarded on the bed. I continue to rub my nipple slowly, just the way he would. My other hand was caressing my thighs slowly, letting my fingertips subtly touch the surface of my skin. I gather a good amount of spit in my mouth, then bringing my fingers to my lips, then my nipples. I spread the liquid all around my nipple, flicking it too.

A heavy breath is heard, my fingers creeping inside my panties this time. It was a new sensation. I never masturbated. I didn't need to. I had Jungkook.

A small whimper echoes within my mouth as my fingers come in contact with my folds, spreading the arousal around. Shit, I was so wet. Not as much I was whenever I was around him though. I gather some of the arousal, rubbing my clit with it next. I moan, continuing to rub myself. It felt awfully good. I imagine it's him. His fingers teasing and rubbing my clit while his face was squished in between my tits. That's how it'd usually go.

An embarrassingly whiny moan slips past my mouth at my thoughts, fuck I want him so bad. I continue to rub myself faster, my back now arched a little. I rub my bud in the motion of an 8, hoping for a release. It feels good, but not that good.

I then run my middle and ring fingers up and down my folds. I imagine it's his tongue, sliding up and down on me as he savours the taste. "So good..." I hum. I retreat my fingers back to my clit, rubbing it again. About a minute later of continuous rubbing, heavy breaths and small whines, I slowly feel my high approaching. I squeeze my eyes shut, imagining it's him, as my body shudders.

I don't rub myself further, stopping myself right there. I was now sensitive down there. I didn't cum. Fuck, this is annoying.

Groaning, my body sits back up on the bed. I put back all my clothes on, pee and get right back to bed. This was unsuccessful and very annoying. Embarrassing, too. What have I done? Fuck, really, Y/n? Over Jungkook. Yes, Over Jungkook.

Okay, just sleep it off. I tell myself, trying to convince myself that what I had done just now was totally not embarrassing.

I groan at the sound of my annoying alarm beeping on my nightstand. "Fuck you", I turn the alarm off, groaning once more as I roll off the bed. I grab my phone, my eyes still blurry, and then— FUCK. IT WAS 12PM. MY CLASSES START AT 11AM. FUCK, FUCK, FUCK. I rise up from the bed, running to my bathroom. I have to make this very quick. I grab the toothbrush and get in the shower, washing my body while brushing my teeth. 5 minutes later, I run out of the bathroom to open my closet. I throw a pair of jeans and a hoodie before quickly putting them. I don't bother to style my hair or to eat, I just grab my bag and laptop before running out of my dorm. Mina, my roommate, didn't even wake me up. Where even is she? I didn't see her coming back home yesterday? Whatever.

I speed walk to my class that's already started one hour ago. Shit, hopefully the teacher doesn't give me a bad grade or note this down. I had a record of being one of the top 10 students in each class I took. I wouldn't want to drop it because of something so careless and small.

I hesitantly walk inside the door, my foot taking small nervous steps. The teacher looks at me, her eyebrow raising up to a confused look on her face. "Y/n, you're late" She taps her pointer finger on her chin repeatedly.

Bringing my lip in between my teeth, I nod my head in return. "Uh, I'm so sorry, Ms. Kim"

"Any particular reason you got late, Y/n?" She asks.

Oh yeah, I miss my ex - ex best friend - ex talking stage - ex fuck buddy— or whatever, and then I rubbed one out for him and passed out on the bed right after.

"Um, just overslept"

"Ah, pity. As a punishment, stay after class and help out the librarian please. New stack of books incoming!"

I press my lips into a thin line, nodding. It's not like I have another choice.

"Yes, madam."

She giggles in return, then directs me to my seat.

Another hour has passed, the bell has rung. After class. A groan echoes out of me as I rise up from my seat, clutching onto my bag. My friend looks at me, then giggles before patting my shoulder twice in hopes of comforting me a little. She leaves the room.

"Y/n, I hope I see you tomorrow on time. You're a good student, don't lose that reputation." Ms. Kim flashes a bland smile as she exits the classroom. Shrugging, I walk out of the classroom as well, heading to the library.

"Hi, Ms. Kent! I wave at the librarian.

"Y/n, isn't it? Ms. Kim informed me about you." She responds as she adjusts her glasses.

I nod my head back at her, my hands holding on to eachother at the back.

"Great! You can help me by taking out that stack of books and putting them inside this box" She hands me a big cardboard box.

I take it as I walk to the book shelf she pointed at. I turn around to look at the librarian, desperately hoping that she'd come help me out. But no, nevemind. She was on her chair, legs resting on top of her table as she took a nap. Okay, fine, take your rest. She probably deserves it, anyway.

I turn back, my hands now on my hips. "Good luck, y/n" my eyes scan the big shelf.

I start by taking out the books at the lowest layer, then gradually making my way to the top. "Hmm..." I hum, looking around the library for a tool. In order to reach the top, I needed something to get on. As I scan the room, my eyes land on the small tool in a corner. "Ah!"

Getting on the stool, my spread out my arms in order to balance myself. I grab a few books, then slowly lowering myself down to the box to drop the books. It's a bit of a risky task. I could break a limb. "Good", words of relief leave my mouth. I repeat the process, slowly and watching each of my steps.

I bend down to drop another book then lift myself back up, my feet doing a 60° degree again to align myself perfectly in front of the shelf. I grab one of the last few books on the shelf, turning around to drop it into the box. Uh, oh. There we go. I fall to the ground with a yelp. I lost my balance. Groaning, I close my eyes. Maybe I'll just lay here for a few minutes till the pain goes away. It really hurts though, I rub my hip and waist area. I'll apply some balm when I get back to my dorm.

"Y/n?"

I want to drown myself in a river.

I know that voice better than anyone else's. What the fuck is he doing here.

In the other hand, it felt really nice hearing my name coming out of his mouth. I missed his voice.

I gulp at the feeling of two fingers patting my shoulder. I don't want to open my eyes because I know I'll come eye to eye with the person I seriously do not wanting to be talking to right now. But I do it anyway.

"Y-you good?" He stutters.

I nod, slowly raising myself up. I flinch, wincing at the sudden jolt of pain on my lower back. My hand grips onto the closest shelf as I slowly lift myself back up on my feet. Jungkook offers me his hand for support, but I deny it. I just want to walk away.

"Y/n—

I walk past him with the now full cardboard box, ignoring the stabbing pain I'm feeling. Lifting this is so hard, fuck, especially with my now broken back. Broken is probably an exaggeration, but whatever.

I place the box in the small room right next to the library that's filled with stacks of books and other material. I'm done!

I go back inside the library to grab my bag and other items. As I put my pair of glasses inside the bag, I feel the soft honey-like voice from before say my name again.

"Y/n" I'm done.

Ignoring him would be too immature and would cause even more problems. So it's better to say something, right? Totally not because I want to talk with him, maybe, kind of.

"Jungkook." I gulp.

"Let me talk to you." Oh.

"About?"

"Us" Oh.

"There's nothing to talk about us, Jungkook."

"Yes, there is."

"No, there isn't. You made it clear."

"Jesus, Y/n. Can we move on from that, please?"

I scoff. "Fuck, no."

His hand immediately catches my wrist just when I try to walk away.

"Please, let me make it up to you—

"Jungkook. No."

I make it very clear to him that I don't want anything with him anymore. Maybe I do. But maybe I'm scared to get hurt again. Doesn't matter.

I pull my wrist away from his grip. I don't look back but walk straight out of the library.

If you wanted to talk to me and make things right, you should've done it two weeks ago.

Stepping into the safe space of my dorm, I sigh, plopping myself on the bean bag. My fingers go through my hair, softly caressing it and massaging my scalp. Shamelessly, my mind drifts away to the moment where Jungkook's fingers were tangled in betweens my locks, massaging my scalp and stroking my head. Or the times where he would fist my hair, using it to guide my head up and down while I choked on his dick. Unconsciously, my thighs rub against eachother just a little to bring me back to my senses. I look around my room, cheeks flushed and embarrassed. I can't be doing this again, god no.

Deciding to make myself a cup of ramen, I make my way to my little kitchen. I add boiling water to the cup, waiting for the noodles to be ready. Now back on my sofa with my noodles, I was so so ready to dig those chopsticks in and take a bite on my noodles. But my phone suddenly dings, the screen showing a message. It was Jungkook. What, Jungkook? Why's he messaging me? Oh fuck, was it about early? I gulp, reaching down to the coffee table to grab my phone.

jungoogie💌: haiiiii😆😁😁

jungoogie💌: Y/NNNNN!!!! ansehwr mem

My eyebrow slightly raises at the texts, noticing how messy and chaotic they were. Is he was drunk? I began typing my reply.

No, what.

I immediately press the call option then and there after reading the message of him saying he was going to take another gummy. What was wrong with him?

The call answered fast, the first thing I hear being him giggling.

"Y/nnnn?"

My name is heard in a slurred speech, a set of small giggles being heard once again after.

"Jungkook? Where are you?"

He hums into the phone, then small wet kissy noises being heard after. Is he kissing his phone?

"Miss you...so much..."

My heart warms up at his words. I know I shouldn't let it affect me, but I felt the same. It's been weeks since I had last seen Jungkook, and I've wanted nothing more than to be in his arms and hold. I clear my voice a bit before speaking again.

"I miss you too. Can you tell me where you are, please?"

I need to make sure where he is. Back before I met him, he used to go around the street and get high for fun with Yugyeom. I stopped him later on. But he's back at it again, I guess.

"You do?!" His voice suddenly escalates from tired and slurred to hype pitched and excited. He is being so adorable right now.

"Baby, I...miss you too!" Jungkook groans, then a small thud is heard. I hear Jungkook sigh, sounding very relaxed and calm.

"Mm, are you in your dorm?"

Jungkook hums in confirmation. And just at that, I get up from my bed before walking out the door. I cannot let him get even more high. Even more so, who knows what else he'll do in there.

"Jungkook, keep talking"

"Can I sing?"

"Yeah"

"Vintage tee, brand new phone, high heels on..."

He knew I liked that song. He's doing this on purpose. As he continues to serenade me, I slowly make my way upto his dorm. We weren't allowed to be here. One of the rules in our university was that no one of the opposite gender should be seen at another's dorm. That's a rule me and Jungkook had broken way before. He was always there in my dorm. I'm surprised he was never caught.

Too lost in Jungkook's voice, I forget that I was already near his dorm. Snapping back to reality, I hesitantly ask Jungkook to stop singing.

"Kook, open your door. I'm there."

I'm sure of this, right? Yeah, yeah I am.

"Oh?" His singing stops, his voice switching to a more confused tone. Next, I hear small sounds, then thuds on the floor as they got closer and closer.

The door shoots open in a hurried manner, his eyes falling onto mine. But his eyes are not the thing I'm looking at, it's the weed roll in his hand. I look back at him, my eyebrows now furrowed.

"Baby—"

"When did you start smoking again?" I cross my arms against my chest.

Jungkook rolls his eyes, bringing the blunt upto his mouth to inhale some.

"A few days after we stopped talking" He admits. He looks guilty, but I try to ignore it. I was still mad at him. For everything. In addition, about this too.

Jungkook angles his body to the side, making space for me to walk in. I walk past his body towards his room.

Once I enter, I let out a small gasp at the state of his room. It was so fucking messy. Clothes here and there on the floor, his books scattered across his table alongside empty cans of frizzy drinks and empty ramen cups, bed fully messy and sheets on the floor included.

"What the fuck happened here?" I ask, concern flowing through me.

I feel his hand snake around my waist, cold fingertips giving me chills as they traced my belly. My body instinctively leans back into his, my back pressed against his chest. Jungkook's sighs into my neck, the tip of his nose caressing my collarbones.

"Missed you..." He was holding me so tight that I almost couldn't breathe. He was holding me so tight as if it's the last time he'll ever be able to do so.

I don't say anything else while I lead the both of us to the top of his bed. Jungkook doesn't allow me to move much, caging me in between his body and the bed right away. I lay flat as his body settles in between my legs. I run my fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp.

Jungkook takes one look at me, then another inhale from his weed roll. I forget he even had it.

He blows the smoke away, eyes still on mine, staring into the deep the corners of my eyes. Suddenly, I start coughing, my hand on my chest as I tried to calm down my breathing. The smoke was making me cough.

Jungkook sits on the bed, alerted as he starts to mutter sorrys over and over.

"Fuck, fuck, I'm sorry, baby"

His hand rubs up and down my back in a soothing manner in an attempt to calm me down. It works, of course. My breathing slows down to my normal pace. Jungkook looks at his blunt, getting up from the bed before taking one last inhale then throwing it in the bin.

He groans, now inside his bathroom. I hear the sound of the water running down.

The light is turned off again as Jungkook exits the bathroom. He looks at me sitting on his bed. This time he notices the outline of my breasts, clearly visible from the thin material of the shirt I was wearing. His eyes trail down my body, from the outline of my breasts to my nipples, then my waist.

"No bra?" Jungkook breaks the silence.

I shook my head, pushing my shoulders back so I could lean against the headboard. And also that my tits were even more visible to him, but I don't want to admit to it. I watch Jungkook's eyes shift from my face to my tits. He walks towards the bed and gets on it.

Sitting on the bed right in front of me, Jungkook sighs, gripping onto my thigh before pulling me towards him so that I'm laying flat on the bed.

We lock our eyes together, our breathing suddenly syncing in as Jungkook hooks onto the edge of my shirt. He looks at me, for approval.

Fuck, how could I not? I've been wanting to feel him so bad.

I nod, gulping.

He raises the shirt upwards, exposing my tummy. Jungkook leans down to place a few kisses all over it. He continues to kiss my tummy in circles, causing me to let out a few giggles at the ticklish feeling here and there. And each time I did, he would raise up his head to look at me, his eyes big and sparkling.

Jungkook moves the shirt more upwards, my tits now out and bare as the end of the shirt laid right over them.

His hands immediately fly to cup my breasts, holding them. He sighs.

"So warm..."

Jungkook crawls further, so that his head is laying on my breasts. He nuzzles himself deeper, cheek pressed against my chest and hands groping my breasts. I watch him attentively, finding this moment comforting.

He slowly turns around to look at me, and this time, I notice how his eyes are half lidded, reddish with veins visible. It's from all that weed and gummies. Jungkook says nothing though, he just looks at me in awe, but also guilt.

I glide my thumb over his cheekbone, stroking it. Jungkook leans in to my touch, then colliding his lips and my palm, small smooch noises being heard after.

This is nice. I want to have this everyday.

He proceeds kiss my fingers, trailing them up wrists to my arms, then collarbone, my throat and upto my face. I close my eyes, focusing on the feeling of his soft thin lips on me and the small smooch sounds they create. Right then, he kisses both of my closed eyelids, then nose, cheeks, chin. The only area left were my lips. My eyes open to look at him.

His breath was fanning against my lips. We were inches away from kissing.

Jungkook cracks up a small giggle,

"I think you sobered me up a little."

He pulls away to sit up on the bed again.

No, kiss me. I want you to kiss me.

I clutch onto his shirt, pulling him back to me. Jungkook was surprised, his hand gripping onto my arm for support. I lean in to peck his lips once. I pull away, my lashes batting as I stare at him.

Jungkook looked shocked. He shouldn't be, I just let him kiss me all over. His expressions change, turning into a more soft and relaxed look on his face. His big eyes stare back at me as he leans in, going for another kiss.

The kiss feels passionate, deep and so — real. It feel real.

Jungkook's eyebrows furrow, head tilting to the side to deepen the kiss more. Our lips move against eachother so perfectly. The kiss wasn't rough, neither was is soft. It was perfect, filled with longing and love.

He settles his legs down next to my thighs, caging my body. I grab his hand, holding it with both my hands to my heart. I'm sure he could feel how fast my heart was beating. He whimpers, sending vibrations through my mouth. The kiss was getting sloppy and air was running out. But we continued kissing. I missed his lips so much. His soft lips against mine, moving in a synchronised rhythm. Even our breathing was synchronised.

After one final smooch, I pull away with a gasp in a serious need of air. My head arches onto the pillow, hair messy and arm thrown over my head as I catched breath.

I lower my eyes down to look at Jungkook, who was looking at me as if I was the only thing that mattered to him. If I could, I'd hit replay and live this moment over and over again.

He cups my face, squishing my cheeks while he left small pecks all over my upper and lower lip. My lips turn into an uncontrollable smile, so big and bright. He continued to peck my lips, teeth even, then my cheeks.

I don't know what is making him do this, is it the weed and gummies he took earlier or is it actually him.

"Mmmm..." I whine once he pulls away.

There is so much tension in the room right now. But nothing sexual, I don't want to fuck him right now. Maybe later. But not now.

Everything we did right now obviously meant we had to talk about it later. Especially about Jungkook's behaviour. The drugs, the weed, the messy room, calling me. Everything. Would I go back to him after this? Yeah.

There is an awkward silence again, and Jungkook looks like he wants to say something so bad. I can say that because he keep tugging onto his lower lip with his teeth, nibbling on it constantly. For a moment, he opens his mouth, ready to say something but closes it again. My eyebrow raises. Patting Jungkook's cheek,

"Say it." I tell him.

"I love you."

Jungkook whispers, audible enough for me to hear. Audible enough to send me into euphoria. Audible enough to make me fucking forget everything for a moment.

I don't say anything back for a few seconds. Jungkook looks relaxed and relieved, maybe glad that he finally said it. Before I could say anything back, he covers my mouth with his hand.

"Don't say anything, please. I don't want to hear it yet. Let's just go to sleep and talk in the morning."

Jungkook lays down on the bed right next to me, his arm wrapping around my waist. His big eyes sparkle, looking directly into mine.

I don't say anything back just like he wants, but I wrap my arms around his torso, pulling him closer to me. I don't know whether it was the weather or something else, but Jungkook felt so warm. The atmosphere around us as well. Everything felt warm and comfortable. Nuzzling my face further into his chest, I hum, comfortable as fuck. My heart skips a beat once I feel his fingers on my head. He run them through my hair, massaging my scalp and patting my head. Fuck, I missed this so much.

I soothe into his touch, my body weight now entirely on him. As my eyes get even more drowsy, I let myself fall asleep in his embrace.

Before even realising, the morning had come already. What did make us realise that was Jungkook's alarm going off.

Jungkook groans, rolling over to the other side to turn his alarm off. When he turns around, he finds my back facing him fully. I had shifted while sleeping. Jungkook giggles, his arm pulling me back to him as my back collides with his hard chest. He thinks of going back to sleep again, but too late, the alarm had already woken me up. Just when Jungkook presses his head onto my shoulder, I pull his hair away so that his head is back on the pillow.

"I'm awake"

"Don't care" Jungkook murmers.

"Jungkook"

"Fucking hell..." He groans.

He rubs his eyes open. Jungkook yawns again, then going back to lay his head on my back.

"My head hurts" he sighs.

"Probably because of the things you did last night. Maybe I could give you a massage?"

Jungkook's eyes lit up at the suggestion. Eagerly, he nods his head already sitting up on the bed.

"Take your shirt off and lay on your stomach"

Jungkook can't help but crack up a small laugh at my comment while I tilt my head to the side, clearly confused.

"What?"

"Nothing" He grins.

"No, say it"

—"Say it." - "I love you" —

"It's just that it's usually me who says it you know, cause, when we have sex..." he giggles again.

I look at him, grinning back. Grabbing the pillow, I hit his back with it. Jungkook pokes his tongue, looking at the outline of my nipples through my shirt when I stretch my arms up to hit him. He snorts at the hit, then taking his shirt off before throwing it on the ground.

I get on top of his back once he lays down.

I take my time to admire his naked back, sculptured to perfect. It was so perfect and built. You could tell that he worked out just by the side of his back.

I begin with his shoulders, gently massaging them to ease the tension out. He hums as I continue massage his shoulders now increasing the pressure. I move down to his arms, squeezing them and sort of punching them to relax them. Jungkook's eyebrows raise up,eyes closed as he nods his head in approval. I then press onto his bones, circling them from time to time as I switch in between squeezing his muscles to massaging his bones.

I loved the feel of his muscles. Touching them felt so nice. I loved it when I felt him relax at the pleasure of my hands massaging him. I take a moment to admire his back again, running my hand up and down his back. Unknowingly, my nails begin to scratch his back. He lets out a long moan at the soothing feeling.

I giggle, leaning down to press a small kiss behind his neck. I get no reaction back from him, so I continue to trail kisses down his back. Jungkook shifts a little in his position, groaning a little.

"Jungkook, turn around" I whisper.

I get off of him for a brief moment so that Jungkook could lay on his back before getting back on top of him again. Now that my clothed pussy was pressed onto his growing buldge, I grip onto his shoulders to massage him more. He moans at the feeling, head thrown back.

"Here, baby?"

His eyebrow is raised because of the tone of my voice—flirty— and the nickname I used on him. I never called him baby. Ever.

"What's up with you?" He asks.

I immediately give in not being to control myself more, I dive in for a kiss. Jungkook understands how I'm feeling, smirking into the kiss while his hands sneakily slide up my legs and inside my shorts. He palms my ass cheeks, rubbing his palm over them. My arms lay on around his head, caging it, as both our mouths working on eachother's. My tongue licks his lower lip, a smile forming on my lips slowly. I feel his hands leave the inside of my shorts to slap both my cheeks, a cocky laugh coming from him next. Jungkook then hooks onto the waistband of my shorts, pulling them down upto my ankles. My ass was now bare and out.

I go back in for a kiss, arching my back as well. I whimper into the kiss once Jungkook sneaks his way into my mouth with his tongue, at the same time — his fingers touching my pussy. I could imagine his smirk right now. Fuck. I feel the tip of his fingers teasingly tracing along my folds teasingly. To spite me up even more, he inserts the very tip of his fingers in, but nothing more. I grunt, trying to grind myself back on his fingers. I was begging for some friction. Jungkook's fingers leave my pussy, only to be back with a small slap on it.

I groan into his mouth, letting him take over me with his godly tongue. His middle finger touches my bud, pressing onto it while my pussy clenches on absolutely nothing. It was so fucking embarrassing but I was dripping wet for him.

Jungkook pulls out of the kiss, now beginning to trail kisses all over my neck. He starts with the side of my neck, then down to my collarbone and back up on my neck again. He nibbles on a spot near my throat, biting it here and there to create a hickey. Jungkook licks over the small purple bruise forming, to then kiss it over and over again. He begins to repeat the process all over on several areas on my neck and collarbones. Meanwhile, I melt onto his touches, just letting him continue kissing and biting me all over. But while being too caught on the moment, I feel his fingers begin to slowly rub my bud. A long moan leaves me as my back arches even more. I'm pretty sure I looked like a fucking cat who was stretching.

"Turn around. Want this pretty pussy on my face" He pats my bud.

Shit, I was so turned on.

Immediately, I turn around, my ass now in front of Jungkook's face. I feel his hands on my cheeks, squeezing them and feeling them all over as he slaps it a few times.

"Sit on my face"

I felt myself clench around nothing.

I turn my upper body around to make sure I won't hurt him, I slowly lift my thighs up to sit on his face. I wasn't exactly putting my whole body weight onto him, more like hovering over him.

"Sit" He commands.

"No, you'll be crushed and my thighs are too big. This is good enough"

I hear him sigh. Next thing I know I feel his hands on my thighs, bringing me down so that my ass was entirely on his face and thighs around his neck and shoulder. My entire body weight was on him.

"I'm not dying, see?" He scoffs.

I whine in defeat, nodding to his words.

Jungkook begins by swiping his tongue up for a long stripe on my pussy, then going in again. He repeats the process, but much rougher, with his nose pressing onto my flesh. Meanwhile, his hands rub and squeeze my thighs, delivering a few slaps here and there. I lean forward a little balance myself out, but suddenly jolt at the feeling of his tongue entering my pussy.

"Shit!" I moan.

Gripping onto his shoulders for support, my back arched and pussy on his face. His face was smothered all over my dripping cunt.

"Baby, you're so wet. This pussy must've missed me, huh?" I feel his thumb dipping in to gather arousal. Jungkook sucks on his thumb, pulling it out again to enter two fingers in my hole at once.

"Fuck!" I wasn't even stretched out to begin with.

He kisses my clit, lips softly sucking on it while his fingers went in and out of me slowly. So slow, that it felt like he was just caressing my wet folds. His teeth gently tucks on my clit to pull on it a little, earning a long moan from me return. He sighs into my pussy, groaning right after, sending vibrations through me adding even more pleasure.

Shit, this was heaven.

He was so mindful with what he was doing. He knew where to touch me, where to kiss, how to tease me and make me like it. He knew my body so fucking well, better than I ever could.

Jungkook pulls out both of his fingers to replace them with his tongue. I feel his tongue swiping through my folds, gulping down all of my juices. His room was filled with nothing but my filthy moans and his slurping noises.

His tongue enters my gaping hole, making my eyes roll back in pleasure. Shit. He saves me no mercy, trusting his tongue in and out of my pussy. Fuck, I was so turned on. I could feel my slick dripping down to his face, smothering it all over.

Panting, I close my eyes just to open them a few seconds later, my eyes immediately landing on the fat dent in his pants. His cock was prominent and big, standing tall even in his quite tight pants. I want to have it. I look beneath me at the man who was currently eating me out like a starved man, biting my lip at the erotic sight.

I groan a little, moving my hips at the same pace as his tongue.

"Jungkook, I want you in my mouth!" I cry out.

He doesn't respond, continuing to eat me out. His finger was now pressed onto my bud, circling it. I whine, desperately wanting a response from him.

Still no response. I then grip onto his shoulders with my hands, leaning forward. I crawl my way over his body, my face right in front of his cock now. I hear Jungkook groan at the lack of my pussy on his face. I turn my upper body around to look at him, giggling at him. Sticking my tongue out playfully, I turn back around only to get dragged back to Jungkook by his arm.

My back collides with his chest, a series of giggles and laughs leaving us. I throw my head back, still laughing, as Jungkook holds both my hands tightly to my chest while not letting go.

He presses his cheek onto my neck, whispering things.

"You want me dick? Yeah, you're gonna get it"

He easily turns my body around so that I was laying on my stomach again. Jungkook now gets on the bed, on top of me as both his thighs are caging mine. He pats my ass cheeks with both his hands while I got myself back up so that my ass was displayed to him clearly with easy access (doggy style). Jungkook releases his breaths, fondling with my ass cheeks, slapping it a few times.

"I could do this all day everyday" He comments.

"Jungkook, I missed you" my voice cracks.

He scoffs. "You missed me or you missed this dick?" He slaps my cheeks again.

I whine, sighing afterwards.

"Both" Jungkook laughs, almost mockingly.

"Wonder how you got yourself off without me, hm? Did you use your hands? Were you even able to make yourself cum?"

I could feel that cocky smirk behind me.

"S-shut up, just fuck me" I could feel the heat in my cheeks growing more each second.

"Did you cum?"

"No"

Jungkook hums, fingers inching towards my pussy.

"You want me to touch you here and make you cum?" His fingers circle my wet clit.

"Mmm-hm" my voice sounds more relaxed, but desperate.

"Here? Touch you like this, baby?" He then pinches my clit and twists it, earning a whiny whimper from me. I was so fucking wet and each touch he gives me got me dripping even more. After, I feel his hand palming my pussy, juices smothering all over his hand while he rubbed my clit painfully slowly.

A long whine leaves me, back arching even more. Fuck.

"Jungkook, p—please... please"

I was a big fucking mess and Jungkook loved it so much.

"No more, please... Just fuck me, mm!"

My hair was messy and all over, head buried into the pillow while Jungkook's hand worked slowly on my pussy. He lets out a little laugh, stopping his movement on me. I don't feel his hand on me no longer, but not even a second later, I gasp at the feeling of the tip of his cock pressed onto my folds.

"Shit, Jungkook" I cuss.

"You're on birth control?"

"Mhm"

We were too fucking horny to even care at this point.

He glides the tip along my folds, coating it nicely with my slick. I hear him pumping himself a few times — not that he wasn't hard enough, fuck his cock was standing so fucking tall — but to bet my slick all over. He aligns himself with my hole once again, patting my ass afterwards.

"You ready?"

"Just put it in!"

He thrusts himself in rough, a big wet noise echoing through the room.

"Fucking hell, baby, you're dripping"

Jungkook begins from just grinding his cock into me while being inside, then gradually increasing his pace. He then stops for a moment to pull his cock out for a second to slam it back in a rough pace. He never stops, repeating the same process over. The sound of his thighs clapping into the back of my thighs echoes through his room alongside the wet mushy noises my pussy made.

"S—shit, so good, taking this cock so well, baby"

He repeatedly slaps both my ass cheeks mid process, enjoying this moment to the max. My whole upper body had collapsed to the bed already, and it was the pillow that Jungkook placed under my stomach that was holding me up.

I was this close to passing out. My mouth was open, saliva spilling to the pillow while he continues to drill into my pussy.

Jungkook leans forward to press his chest onto my back, hands enveloping my breasts to flick and pinch my nipples.

He circles his hips in circular motions, just to pull out and slam back again inside.

I was such a moaning mess.

"Mm, mm, mm! Y-you fuck me so well!" I scream out.

"Oh, baby" He groans.

I feel myself clenching around him repeatedly, about to cum.

"J–jungkook, cumming!"

His thrusts slow down a little but he picks it back up, slopping but fast as he fucks me through my high. I feel my pussy clenching around him tightly, making the man behind me cuss and moan as I finally released all over his cock. Panting, I moan into the pillow as Jungkook kept going on.

His lips leave a few kisses on my back, his thrusts getting sloppier as he went on.

He lets out a long moan, finally releasing myself in my pussy.

"Shit, shit, shit—" a series of moans and cusses leave his mouth.

We both lay there, breathing synchronised and fast. Jungkook then slowly lifts himself off of my body, slipping himself out.

"You look fucked out, baby" He laughs.

"Of course, I would be. You just fucked me rough and I'm stuffed with your cum" I respond.

He puckers his lips, leaning down to place small kisses all over my face.

"Ah, my babyyy. Tired?" I could tell he was teasing me from the little baby voice he's using on me.

I turn my head to the other side, a smile forming on my face, completely forgetting about the fact that I was filled with his cum to the brim.

I feel his hand on my head, fingers twirling my curls at the end. He then holds my chin, gently, moving my face so that I'd face him.

His nose scrunched, Jungkook smiles wide before leaning down to place a soft peck on my puckered lips.

"Cute" He mumbles, and I swear my heart just did a flip.

"Let's get you cleaned"

We both were now on his bed again, cuddled up against eachother after a nice shower together. Both our classes start around 2pm, thankfully, and it was about 9am right now so we had a plenty of time left to just be in eachother's presence. I still had so many questions to ask Jungkook regarding yesterday. But not right now, I wanted to enjoy this moment.

I was currently laying in his arms, my head resting on his hard chest and both arms securely wrapped around my body while we watched whatever show that was on the TV. From time to time, he would lean forward to press a kiss onto my body or just talk about the show we were watching.

"I honestly don't like her character. She's so...ugh" I comment on the TV show, my face scrunch up in disgust.

Jungkook just hums, hand massaging my scalp. He seemed to be out of space a little. Deep in thought. Wonder what he was thinking about. Eh, I could think of a few possibilities.

"Jungkook?" I pat his cheek.

He hums in response, glancing at me.

"You good?"

"Mm, just — ah, yesterday, you know. I'm sorry, baby"

Awwwww.

"No, it's okay. I'm sorry about earlier, though"

"Baby, there is nothing for you to be sorry for, okay? In that case, it's me who should say sorry for anything. I really did care about you right from the start it's just that...I didn't want to admit it, you know? I didn't know whether I was ready for a relationship or not. I know in that way, I was leading you on and I'm sorry for that. But I truly did enjoy and care for you from the bottom of my heart. I just kept trying to convince myself that I didn't want anything else from you..."

I listen silently. He continues...

"...And also, I'm sorry about the café. But we weren't anything to begin with. You were the only girl I talked with throughout the whole time I was sort of seeing you. But after the incident, I started to realise how much of a fucking douche I was to you. But the more realising I did, the more I realised how much I actually cared about you. And that's when I started taking all the gummies and weed again because I needed something to get my frustration off on. But I also worked hard to stop using them because of you. That's when I realised I was in love with you. I was so fucking in love with you that I started to dig up old unhealthy coping mechanisms to cope again which I stopped doing solely because you told me to do so. I felt back because I felt as if I was betraying you but I had already betrayed you so what was the point, I thought. I tried to go to parties to find girls to release my stress but non of them were you so I'd end up disgusted and leave. I'm so fucking sorry, I became a mess"

He stops talking, releasing a sigh. We stay in silence for about 10 seconds before I break it.

"Jungkook, it's alright. I'm glad you told me and everything is fine now, hm? Thank you for telling me. I understand your side and I also forgive you. I'll help you clean your room. I'll help you with everything. And I can't give you an answer for your confession right now, okay? But we can definitely go on a date" I smile, tilting my head to the side.

Jungkook squeals out of happiness, pulling me into his embrace.

"Thank you so much, baby. Take all your time and thank you so much." He responds, the shaking of his voice from earlier now nowhere to be heard.

He leans down to place a kiss on the top of my head, pulling me closer into his embrace while we continued to watch TV.

Maybe this is for the best. This feels right. And I want this. Yeah.

"I like this" I say

"I like you"

I know you'd miss me once the thrill expired, and you'd be standing in my front porch light. And I knew you'd come back to me.

a/n : hii sorry this took a while to post 😭🙏🏽 i been busyyyy. thank you soo much for reading and hope you liked it :)

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt behind the cut; “Cassie has a sexuality crisis, Kon has a gender one, and Circe makes everything worse”. tw: internalized homophobia, unintentional misgendering of a closeted character. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

This mission sucks in a lot of ways, the least of which is trying not to make eye contact with Tim during any of it, which the whole “being stuck in a small room with someone wearing a mask with opaque white lenses” thing makes way, way harder than it has to be, in Cassie’s opinion. 

“You do realize that blatantly projecting anxiety in every single conversation and constantly overcorrecting your behavior to try not to hurt Superboy’s feelings will upset him worse, right?” Tim says, which is another way this mission sucks. 

Stupid Bat-psych profiles.

“This seems like a conversation to have while we’re not breaking and entering for justice,” Cassie says to the door she’s watching for intruders, her arms folded and eyes locked on the doorframe. She wasn’t even weird this time, dammit. Like–not loudly weird, anyway. 

“Well, I tried to get you alone for it four times already and you dodged all four attempts with noticeably not-thin excuses, which means you’ve definitely been planning ahead to do said dodging, as opposed to actually just being busy,” Tim says. 

Dammit, Cassie thinks, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment. 

“You are literally his best friend,” she says as evenly as she can, digging her fingers just a little tiny maybe-kinda-bruising bit into her arms.

“I’m your friend too,” Tim says. 

Stupid Bats. 

“When I went to Themyscira last month I met a girl that reminded me of Superboy without realizing that she reminded me of him until after I’d already screwed her,” she snaps flatly. “And yes, specifically all the things about her that reminded me of him were the things about her that I was attracted to, except because she had a huge rack and a big fat launched-ten-thousand-ships ass that her barely-tied peplos barely covered, well, this time those things actually turned me on. So also-yes, I am the worst and I am going to keep feeling like shit about this, thanks for asking.” 

“I didn’t even know I liked guys until I ran into you-know-who again,” Tim says. “Genuinely did not realize it was a thing, despite definitely having had a weird obsession with what, in retrospect, is a truly embarrassing amount of dudes for a straight guy to be weirdly obsessed with.” 

“Is this about Nightwing’s V-neck era?” Cassie assumes. 

“I mean I think I actually was crushing on him when I was, like, a literal toddler, which was much earlier than that, and also I was probably a little bit too interested in literally everything Robin 2.0 ever did in his career ever,” Tim says. “And, like, the time Red Hood beat my face in while wearing Robin’s colors was an interesting experience that I learned absolutely nothing about myself from.” 

“Um,” Cassie says. 

“Also I wasn’t trying to clone Spoiler in the basement,” Tim adds, half-tilting his head.  

Cassie . . . blinks. 

“What?” she says. Tim’s currently occupied with whatever he’s doing to the terminal, apparently, so just shrugs without looking up at her. 

“Ninety-nine times really does not seem like a platonic amount of times to try to bring someone back to life, I think,” he says. “Like, platonic cloning probably only covers about the first fifty attempts, max.” 

“Robin, I would believe your insane abandonment issues would try to clone literally anyone you were even passingly fond of ninety-nine times minimum,” Cassie says blankly, trying to . . . process that, kind of. Is that–like, that was not a subtle thing, what Tim just said. 

“I mean, I thought about it a few times,” Tim replies with another shrug. “But I only did it the once.” 

“. . . ‘the once’ times ninety-nine, you mean,” Cassie says, and Tim smiles wryly and finally spares her another glance. 

“That, yeah,” he says. “And I built an entire illegal cloning lab, memorized literally every single detail of the night I met the original Robin before the violent trauma happened, stole a codename and costume from the subsequent Robin not once but twice, and still genuinely just assumed I was straight ‘til a dude who I knew for less than six months in high school showed up out of nowhere and actually, you know, directly asked me about it.” 

“World’s second-greatest detective, huh,” Cassie says, then has to repress a grimace, because–well, that’s the joke Kon always makes, obviously. 

“I mean you don’t have to have your whole identity figured out from day one,” Tim says. “Superboy definitely understands that, if anyone does. All of us do. Impulse tried to make himself be Kid Flash and hated it, I assumed things about myself instead of actually thinking about myself, Secret was afraid enough of herself to end up becoming a supervillain over it, and Superboy’s been having an identity crisis since the day his cloning tube got cracked. Also, literally Arrowette’s entire life experience. Just . . . literally everything that’s ever happened to Arrowette. Ever.” 

“You didn’t mention Empress,” Cassie says a little lamely, trying not to grimace at herself, because–that’s all true, yeah. She knows it’s all true. Just . . . just it never felt . . . 

“I think Empress might’ve actually sprung into existence fully-formed just to embarrass the rest of us over the course of our respective self-discovery journeys, but all my supporting evidence is technically conjecture,” Tim says, which may or may not be a joke. Who knows, with Tim. “But the point still stands. Superboy’s not mad at you for not knowing something about yourself. None of us are, but especially not him.” 

“I knew,” Cassie says tightly, digging her fingers into her arms a little harder and staring at the wall. “Part of me, anyway. I just thought . . . he’s the perfect guy. I thought if the perfect guy liked me . . . I thought that’d–fix it. I thought that’d be . . . enough. Like–he was already the celebrity crush I lied to all the girls at school about having, just because I thought he was–you know, cool and everything, and so–and then when I actually got a chance to meet him, and then we all wound up teaming up . . . I just thought . . .” 

She’d thought a lot of stupid things, but the stupidest ones had probably been about Kon. 

Those were the things that’d actually gotten somebody else hurt, so . . . yeah. Definitely the stupidest things. 

[manicpixiefelix]

head, heart, hand. {Felix Catton/Reader/Oliver Quick}

Part 12.

Summary: Reuniting with Venetia was always an interesting experience. Many people - everyone else who lives at Saltburn included - wonder why you put up with the way she speaks to you, the way she treats you. You wonder how they can't see that it's so much more than that.

{ masterpost }

Need to Know: They/Them. Explicitly NB Reader. FWB!Reader/Felix. Reader is from a well off family but has pretty much been adopted by the Cattons.

Warnings: suggestive themes, implied pseudo-incest, nonsexual intimacy with Venetia but no smut

A/N: 3644 words. i know i said there's be ollie this chapter, but i needed to set up a few more things around the house; specifically venetia and what her whole deal is with the reader. i love her, she breaks my entire heart. i know i should have edited this one but oh well, here, eat up friends.

TAGLIST IN COMMENTS!! // TAGLIST ALWAYS OPEN ! (just message or comment to be added)

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Never once has Venetia been gentle with the way she speaks to you; she is sharp lines and bitter tongues and laughs and moans that edge on jagged. Nothing about her seems capable of regarding you, or sometimes even treating you, with gentleness, yet she demands it from you in everything you do.

She picks you apart the moment she sees you again, like nails over every inch of your being she pries apart who you've become in her absence, but ends it all by telling you that you're still frustratingly attractive.

"Thought that would change."

"Do you think that every time?"

"Prepare for the worst and hope for the best," she sighs with a wry smile.

"My potential descent into unattractiveness is... hope?"

"Preparing, obviously; I'm very fond of you, I don't hope you get ugly," obviously, says her eye roll. Its a compliment, says her eye roll.

Still, you know Venetia well enough, know her bitter tongue belies a sweetness she could never speak out loud.

All you'd come down in is your bathers, and an old, large button down that Felix liked to swan around the house in. Which Venetia insists you leave on, lest you get yourself burnt, though you roll your eyes and shrug it off anyways, draping it over the parasol-protected banana lounge that Venetia had claimed with her towel. Venetia herself looks like something out of countless fantasies, and even more Summer magazine centre folds, the sequins of her silver bikini shining in the sunlight.

Venetia is a shiny, pretty thing, eye catching; large sunglasses and shiny lip gloss and a body that glows and shines with what you hope is sunscreen but know is just moisturiser and tanning oil. Untouched by anything but the sun and herself on this searing afternoon, wanting and waiting for her entertainment, for you.

Venetia's gentleness lives and dies in her desires, in the way she wants. Her needs, her demands are always met, but her wants she'll never be able to put to words. So you learned to figure her out for yourself; if she loves you for it, she'll never say it out loud.

Wading into the water, towards the floating chair she's so elegantly draped herself across, you keep your hands above the water's surface, keep them dry as you reach her. With every step her smile grows wider, and you place your hand on her ankle, hand gliding up her warm leg in casual greeting. Calf, knee, thigh, soft and warm and dry, and your hand comes to rest on her belly, your fingers splayed out, cooler than her sun-soaked skin, and she giggles. The anticipation makes her giddy. Her hand comes to rest on yours, though never to take your hand; she wants to be touched more than she wants to hold, that's why when she shifts carefully on her buoyant seat, she makes sure that it's not so drastic that you'd have to move your hand from her skin.

"You kept me waiting," already there's a hint of faux disapproval on her tongue when she greets you properly, or as properly as you were going to get from her. Instead of dignifying that with a real response, you roll your eyes, and lean in to kiss her on the cheek. Giving a huff at your non-answer, she does however take your face in her free hand before you can pull away, giving you a kiss on the cheek in response.

"Hello to you too, Ven," you half laugh, but she's still holding your face, holding you close, for longer than was necessary. Letting you go, she lifts her glasses with that same hand to finally get a proper look at you. A strange, accusatory glimmer there amongst the mirth and mischief.

"I thought you kept me waiting because you were freshening up," it almost sounds betrayed, settling the glasses on top of her head. How could she have known that kind of thing? Why would she care if you hadn't?

"Didn't think it would matter; I was getting in the pool anyways," you pointed out as nonchalantly as possible, but she just reiterated that you'd kept her waiting, like it was the end of the world. Something about her suddenly intrigued gaze had you growing flustered, wondering what it was about you that had her so incensed.

In the next instance, she's slid from her seat and into the water beside you without hesitation. There's now something determined in her eyes when she takes your face in both hands, kissing you. Venetia has always been direct, has always taken for granted that you'd bend to her whims in most instances. Like this one. Your arms wind around her as if on instinct. There's nothing sweet about it, nipping at your lips insistently, tongue in your mouth -

"Oh my god," she pulls back, eyes wide with what you're pretty sure is disbelief, like she's come to an urgent realisation.

"It's so good to be home; how have you been lately?" You ask breathlessly, deeply confused about her attitude and trying to give her a hint that even for her this is a strange greeting. But then her lips are on yours again, pulling you in, all teeth and tongues and gasping furiously into your mouth. Somewhere in all of this, you pull her close, hands beneath her thighs and letting her wrap her legs around you under the water.

"It hasn't even been an hour!" She cries this time when she pulls back from you, looking almost like she's on the verge of laughter or perhaps screaming, "wash your mouth out! What is wrong with you?" Despite the fact that she'd just given you the kind of kiss that would put Hollywood to shame. Twice.

"Not drinking chlorine for you, Ven," you tell her, amused, while still holding her secure against you. Displeased with your answer, she pushes away from your chest with both hands, and you let her go, let her splash you as she makes a face.

"Don't drink it, christ," she rolls her eyes, as if she believes you're being wilfully stupid about the whole thing.

"Then I'll just taste like chlorine," you pointed out, wading over to her. The answering smile you get is particularly mean.

"I'd rather you taste like chlorine than Felix," despite all the questions and implications her disdainful words raise, you match her energy, smiling back with a blithe confidence as you approach her once more.

"You sure you mean that, Vennie?"

Immediately, Venetia is scarlet, spluttering, playing exceptionally well at being horrified by your implications, if not for the ease with which she lets herself get wrapped up in you once more.

"You're gross, you're awfully gross, you both are. I can't believe -" she tells you, looks in your eyes like she's determined to make you believe it, "I'll wash your mouth out myself," she threatens, and you nod while not trying particularly hard to hide your amusement. With a childlike scowl she dips herself mostly underwater, still encircled loosely by your arms, scowling at you all the while. Like a little, blonde crocodile, nose and eyes making sure you're watching her every move, taking her and her threat seriously.

When she surfaces, cheeks puffed out and presumably filled with water, you have to let her go for how hard your laughing. Then the chase is on.

The first mouthful of water she loses to her own laughter, and shouting at you to stop trying to get away, while you thrash through the length of the pool. Every so often she almost catches you, but you splash her and wriggle free and she shrieks with faux offense. Until she's got you pinned to the side of the pool, water just up past your waist, and a devilish look of triumph in her eyes.

At first she taps her lips expectantly. Of course her mouth is once again full to bursting with pool water. Shaking your head adamantly, you try and lean away, still faintly laughing, but Venetia changes tact.

Instead of caging you against the side, she carefully wraps her arms around your neck, gaze turning soft and fond and amused as she leans in. You know what she's doing, but you let her have it this time.

Winding your arms around her waist, you let her shotgun a mouthful of pool water into your mouth, and try not to laugh to keep it from going down your airways or up your nose. Venetia, in triumph, the moment she knows the water is in your mouth, she pulls back and clamps her hand over your mouth, looking altogether too proud of herself.

Drenched, beautiful, and grinning from ear to ear, the look in her eyes betrays just how into you, or at the very least into this moment, she is.

"Wash your mouth out before you come anywhere near me next time," she orders in a firm whisper that's definitely doing more for you than you'd like to admit. Possibly for Venetia too, considering how she's unable to wipe the smile off of her own face, "you filthy, little doggie."

No-one, maybe not even Felix, is ever allowed to find out how quickly those words have you all but melting at her command. The fight drains from you, and God all you want is to be good, good, good. Judging by Venetia's pleased reaction, she can feel the moment you start to submit, can probably see it in your eyes. Her hand stays over your mouth until she's satisfied you've swished the water around enough, and you spit the water back out to the side, instead of at her like you'd been intending to before she'd called you out.

"Can't believe you said that to me, really, Y/N," she sighed, shaking her head. Neither of you moved; you flush against the side of the pool, and Venetia pressed flush to you.

"So you're the only one who can say things in the hopes of getting manhandled?" Giving a sheepish grin, even if you don't fully believe what you're saying, there's a semblance of self-satisfaction when Venetia gives in. She grabs your chin and pulls you in for one more rough kiss, pressing against you, trapping you in this moment. A rare instance in which she gives you what she thinks you want.

But some of your bite is coming back.

"So does the chlorine taste better?" You smirked. Immediately she splashes you with a wave of water to the face. By the time you've spluttered through a recovery, she's halfway to the stairs.

"I hate you," is not a real answer to the question, but that's okay, you weren't really looking for one as much as you had been looking to rile her up, "and you've made me all wet - shut it -" she warns, cutting off the crude joke you both knew you were about to make, as she starts up the pool stairs with determination, "and you've ruined my beautiful afternoon plans."

Waiting at the top of the stairs, she turns back to you, simply watching her with a grin, giving you an impatient gesture. Your smile widens, but still, you obligingly follow her.

Even while mad at you, Venetia was a creature of predictable desires. Very rarely did her frustration with you outweigh the benefit of your company to her, and now was no different. Drying yourselves off with her towel, the only one either of you had brought down, it seems her mood is already lightening once more, letting you know that she'd gotten her hands on the latest Harry Potter novel. When she pulls the book out from where she'd stashed it under the long lounge, she picks up Felix's shirt and tosses it to you.

You know to put it on, just like you know not to comment on it.

Without asking, nor having to be asked, you settle yourself on the lounge chair and insistently pat the space beside you; almost enough for Venetia.

"Let me read over your shoulder," an incredibly flimsy excuse that you both see through, but she still settles herself on the lounge chair too. There's not quite enough room, so you're almost on your side, arm around Venetia's shoulders, head resting against hers, pressed up against her whole side. Legs curled up together, your other hand once more comes to rest on her lower belly, casually intimate, warm, tips of your fingers just barely tucked into her bikini bottoms. You're not reading; your face pressed so close to her's is proof enough of that.

"Your eyelashes are tickling my cheek," in these moments she sounds so much younger than she is. The peel of laughter that rings out from her as you nuzzle your face further against her cheek, pointedly fluttering your eyelashes, it reminds you of the way she'd laugh at the sleepovers the two of you shared in the first few years of meeting each other.

And you settle back down, angling your face only slightly to keep your lashes from bothering her, and rub faint circles against the soft skin of her stomach with your thumb. Venetia opens her book, and finally relaxes.

It's been a long time since you'd seen Venetia fully relax around anyone who wasn't you. You wonder if anyone else has noticed, has wondered, has thought to figure out the how and why of the girl beside you. Contrary to popular belief, it's been a long time since Venetia's actually sought you out for sex. Constant lewd flirting and suggestive texts aside.

So much of Venetia's self worth was tied to being sexually attractive. Pretty and fashionable and fuckable. Needed biblically, carnally. Pick up, use, put down. There was such a thrill in being wanted that it took her too long to understand why she was hollow; don't let me go felt selfish for her to even think. But you'd learned to read through the things she leaves unsaid.

Sex she could get anywhere, but the touch-starved Venetia knew you understood the truth of what she wants. It's why she treated you like furniture, like she was entitled to your personal space.

You often find yourself wondering if Venetia only touches you in ways she wishes she could touch Felix. More casually than even now, and many still would consider their relationship too close. You are kind and loving and playful and a wonderful friend, but you are nothing of real substance to her; you are a warm body and the closest she can be to Felix half the time.

For anyone else it would be too hot for this kind of proximity, but never for Venetia. So you drown in the heat of her skin pressed against hers, and let yourself drift asleep in the peaceful afternoon.

It's a sleep so peaceful that you don't even properly wake when her soft chatter infects your hazy mind. Farleigh's voice drifts through your head and this haze -

"- no-one tells me anything," you can hear Venetia pouting without even opening your eyes. Her book must be closed because she's got a hand on your thigh, bringing your leg further over her.

"Of course they don't, you should have seen both of them earlier when I accidentally implied -"

"Careful, Farleigh," you yawned, carefully snuggling further against Venetia. The pair are quiet for a few long seconds, but your eyes remained closed.

"See what I mean?" Farleigh eventually breaks the rather tense silence with a wry, pointed comment.

"Can't believe you didn't tell me we were having a guest," Venetia sounds like she's sulking, but you just make a noncommittal hum in the back of your throat, "feeling possessive of our impending Mister Quick, are you, pet?" And you feel her fingers gentle on your cheek, taking your face in her hand and lifting you to look her in the eyes. Cracking your eyes open, you level a flat gaze at her. Also, you realise how long you must have been sleeping; it's sunset.

"Simply giving you space to form your own opinions of him, Ven," you told her, gaze sliding pointedly to Farleigh, who had splayed himself out on the opposing lounge chair. He stuck his tongue out at you.

"I'm a big girl, pet; I just want to know what you think, what I should expect."

God, the Catton siblings are phenomenal at playing innocent in a way that's completely and utterly unconvincing.

Venetia's still holding your face close, gaze sharp and demanding an answer. Maybe you should untangle yourself from her, from this conversation, but something about being around her always made you want to play along, even if out of spite.

"I think it doesn't matter what I say," you tell her softly, speaking with an honesty you don't often allow yourself around most of the Cattons, or even Farleigh, "nor do I think it matters what Farleigh says, no matter how cruel he is about Ollie," everything about your tone, your expression, the way your grip on her retracts as much as you're able, it comes as a surprise to her, and judging by your peripheries, Farleigh too, "you're going to want him, adore him; Oliver is unconventionally wonderful, and you are Venetia Catton."

"The actual fuck do you mean by that?" She pulls away, struggling to her feet with a scowl, and you relax fully into the spot she'd just abandoned. By this time you smile up at her, warm, adoring.

"I mean it is in your nature to love," it's not entirely a lie, but Venetia only sees the truth in it, the fondness. Her irritation softens, "I mean no opinion will ever matter above yours, and I know you, Ven; you're hardwired into your own brand of love at first sight." It's an incredibly, meticulously diplomatic cover for your earlier, far harsher statement. Farleigh's watching you like you're a magician before his very eyes; Venetia, thankfully, doesn't look at him.

Sitting back down gingerly on the edge of the lounge, she gives into your sweet words when you softly tell her you love her. She doesn't say it back - she never will - but she kisses you on the forehead before standing again.

"Almost thought you were being a bitch again," she tells you loftily, wrapping her towel around her waist like a skirt, cocking her hip, "and I've about had it up to here with you and your -"

"Yapping?" You supplied, playing up the canine allegations just to see the way she fails the hide the quirk of her lips, the dead give away that she's desperate to smile.

"Yapping, exactly." And she turns swiftly on her heel, trying her best to storm away. When you call out that you'll see her at dinner, she flips you off. If you look to Farleigh, you think you might be able to see the cogs turning in his mind. Slowly, his mouth opens, then there's a distinct look in his eyes that says he thinks better about whatever he was going to say, and he closes it once more.

"Spit it out."

"I actually don't think I will," at least he admits it, "I think I'm in awe of your way with words and I'm gonna keep the rest to myself," he looks out at the pool, at the grounds beyond it, tucking his hands behind his head.

"Farleigh -"

"No," he says firmer, and looks at you, but his expression isn't harsh, "I think you're right; I think we should have our own opinions, and I don't want mine to get in the way of our friendship," surprisingly, he sounds very genuinely sincere; it hits the centre of your chest, and you take a moment to consider his words. "Oliver Quick," still the barest bit of disdain, but he's clearly trying, "is someone you and my cousin clearly care about; end. Of. Sentence." It does look like it pains him to say, but you're grateful nonetheless.

For a very long time, the two of you lay in comfortable silence, side by side, as the sun turn the world gold-red-lilac-blue around you. Just as you feel like you should go and get dressed for supper, you can't help but try again.

"Come on, what were you going to say -?" You don't even finish the teasing question before Farleigh blurts out -

"Just how good was Oliver's dick for you to actually be this possessive of him before he even gets here?"

And the question makes you absolutely burst out laughing, a sound which Farleigh thankfully echoes. The cathartic release is greatly welcomed as you both stand. Wrapping your arm around Farleigh's waist as the two of you head back, but he's still waiting for the answer he knows you're not nearly too shy to give.

"I'm not possessive," you justify immediately, though Farleigh's snort gives away that he doesn't even begin to believe you, "but you can never ever, ever, ever, ever, ever tell Venetia -"

"That good?" Farleigh sounds incredibly sceptical, but you go quiet; you wonder if he can tell how smug you're being right now. Clearly, after a moment of silence, the disbelief in his voice gives him away; "seriously; that good?" You make an affirmative noise in the back of your throat, "okay," Farleigh actually sounds a little impressed, "Felix's jealousy makes a little more sense; I assume he knows?"

"Of course he knows," you shake your head dismissively, "and he's not jealous," anymore, you leave off the end.

"Am I jealous of you?" Farleigh murmurs, mostly as a joke, but knowing him there's at least part of him considering it, "who would have guessed; Oliver Quick."

For the first time when Farleigh says his name, there's only intrigue on his tongue.