#you had to spend three dollars on a card

[backwzzds]

ೃ⁀➷ spoil you, plug!eren

eren hated when you spent your own money, but you don’t listen.

thinking about the way plug!eren would take you on his drops with him. you were so quiet and in your own world, he never minded the fact that you had your freshly white painted toes resting against the dash of his mercedes AMG coupe. the entire car was blacked out with expensive ceramic tints, protecting you both from your usual…late night activities.

your glasses rested on the cute bridge of your nose as your left leg was sat in eren’s lap while your right rested against the dashboard. eren was lucky that he fucked with most of his customers heavy…you two had been waiting for the dude to meet y’all for nearly thirty minutes now, and had it been someone else, eren would have sped away long time ago.

eren comfortingly rubbed your baby soft feet in the grasp of his tattooed hand, one with beautiful realism art of your own eye. with a turn of his head, he could see you practically nose deep in the bright screen of your phone illuminating through the car. “you growing bored mama?” his voice is concerned. “ian think we was gonna be waiting this long on dude…my bad baby.”

you hadn’t said much since you’d gotten in the car, just wanting to hurry and add all of your things to your shopping cart on the skims website. “nah, ‘m just…trying…to do somethin’ real quick,” you bite your lip as you tap away on your phone. you were trying to add as many things to your cart before it was gone. “before this shit sell out.”

eren being the nosy boy he is leans against your shoulder to see what you were doing. but the moment he’d seen you type in numbers that belonged to what he knew as your own debit card, he kissed his teeth in annoyance. “man how many times i gotta tell you to stop using your card to go shopping bae?” you roll your eyes at his words. “i’m serious, you got all three of my cards on ya phone for a reason. fuck is you typing in your info for?”

don’t get him wrong, eren loved the fact that you were independent and knew how to handle money almost perfectly now that you were in your twenties. but being together with you for so long, he continued to step up with his provider capabilities by always taking care of you. whether it was paying your bills, rent—everything in between.

but of course it was a struggle when ms. i can do it all by myself meets mr. i know you can but let me do it for you

“because i’m spending like 600 dollars,” you point out to his previous question with an obvious scoff. “i’m not asking you for that.” eren mirrors your actions and rolls his eyes again.

eren looks at you as if you’re insane and suffered memory loss for the past four years you’ve been together. “babe…i make that shit in one night. actually—fuck a night—i make that shit in two hours!”

it wasn’t like he was lying either, with the way that eren was one of the only trusted plugs in town, it was very easy that he’d bring at least a band a night on a consistent basis. selling for almost six years was finally paying off.

you two hardly ever fought, but if you did, it was always about money. eren knew how long you’ve had to do things on your own physically and financially. you couldn’t go to your mom for help, you didn’t have a dad to beg, so it was all on you since you’d been 16. but now that he had eren, he’d just wish you’d let him take the burden of money of your shoulders and take care of you the way you take care of him.

after a few minutes, your boyfriend holds his hand out. you give him crazy eyes, but eventually follow orders by putting your phone in his hand. “don’t know how many times i gotta tell yo stubborn ass, forreal,” he grunted. “‘s never a problem spoiling my baby. you don’t ever ask me for nothing. let me feel useful and get you stuff, mama.”

with a sigh, you nod your head, like you always did. there was no way eren was gonna take no for an answer when it came to spoiling his wife.

in response, eren uses his free hand to delete your information and instead place the correct numbers—the information to his amex black card. all the money he has, he sits and does nothing with it, so why not buy you all the things you’ve never had before?

when you hear the chime of your phone confirming your order, eren hands you the phone back and goes to look out his dark window.

with your acrylics, you grab eren by the neck and slowly turn him back to face you. “thanks papa,” you gave him genuine eyes.

eren leans forward and pecks your lips. with a serious face, he pecks you one more time before wrapping his tatted fingers around your neck erotically. with a look in your eyes he tells you, “always tell me what you want, no matter how much, mama. you know daddy gonna get that shit for you one way or another, regardless.”

[eternalxvenus]

˚ ༘♡ ·˚꒰ birthday girl ꒱ ₊˚ˑ༄

summary: since it's my birthday i can't get the idea of spending your birthday with rafe out of my head so here's a little blurb about it. (angst version)

cw: smut 18+, rafe x f!reader, rafe spoiling you like crazy, fluff

wc: 0.5k

notes: im obsessed with this man like i need him so bad 💔

Rafe would wake you up with kisses and a quick orgasm to start your day. He'd just keep saying how much he loves you and that he doesn't deserve such an amazing girlfriend. Then he'd take you to a fancy breakfast/brunch spot. He wants to begin the day on a good note. You'd get all dressed up and do your makeup so he could take some pictures for you. And best believe he paid for the hair, nails, lashes, eyebrows, everything. He was completely spoiling you rotten. You offered to pay for some of it or at least half and he looked at you like you'd grown three heads. "It's my job to spoil you. You shouldn't have to pay for anything. Ever."

After breakfast, he'd take you shopping (obviously). Handing his card to the cashier every time while giving you a smile and telling you how beautiful you are, and he can't wait to see you wear all the different outfits (and take them off you later). Many clothes, jewelry, and designer bags later, you figured he probably spent thousands of dollars on you today alone. And the entire time all he did was watch you with such adoration as you tried things on and looked at stuff you liked.

He'd come along to dinner with you and your family, putting up the sweet innocent boyfriend act. You knew he was getting antsy though. His hand would start to caress your thigh underneath the table, squeezing occasionally. While your family was busy talking he leaned in and kissed your cheek before whispering, "I can't wait until I have you in my bed moaning my name."

Dinner wrapped up shortly after and once you were both in the car on your way to Tannyhill you could see his bulge straining against his slacks.

"Aw Rafe, do I look that good? You can't even control yourself?" You hoped he'd excuse your teasing since it was your birthday. In reality, though you wanted him just as bad.

You were barely able to get inside before Rafe was all over you. Luckily his family was on a trip, so you had the house to yourselves. He got you to his room and practically ripped off your new and very expensive dress. Mumbling out "I'll buy you a new one." In between your fervent kisses.

Once he was inside you, all that could be heard were the sounds of skin, arousal, and moans. He was so rough yet passionate with his thrusts. "I couldn't wait to give you this birthday dick. Fuck, baby... I fucking needed you." At that point you couldn't yourself as you started babbling out whimpers of his name and 'I love you'. He wasn't gonna last much longer as his rhythm was lost. Even as your orgasm came and his following shortly after, it was obvious more rounds were in store for you, Rafe saying a breathy 'Happy birthday baby' before flipping you over and sinking into your heat again.

likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[cupcaketeddybehr]

when your credit card declines pt. 1

featuring: nanami and toji (pt. 2 with sukuna, geto, and gojo coming soon!! i was going to include it all in one but wanted to feed you guys because its been soooo long!)

thank you so much to @luvxoxo for the request!! i loved writing it and hope this is what you had in mind!! for anyone that has a request/just wants to chat, my ask box is open!!

so sorry this took so long! i promise i'm back 💗

Nanami

you decide to take yourself on a little shopping spree after surviving this week (or most of it anyways). today’s entitled customers pushed you over the edge, with the workday ending with a screaming match and the bakery closing early. after running it for the past five years, you hadn’t gotten a customer as rude as the one you got today. upset about their iced tea having too much ice, they proceeded to throw the entire glass on nobara, one of your employees.

after trying to call your boyfriend, kento, and his phone going to voicemail, you started to lose it. practically glaring a hole through your phone, you waited for the voicemail beep. when it went off, so did you.

“kento i’m so fucking annoyed right now. i hate everyone and i just need to go shopping. don’t wait for me for dinner, i’ll be at the mall.”

angrily speeding out of the bakery parking lot and to the mall, you slam the car door as you take out your credit card, ready to spend your entire life’s savings on retail therapy. you weren’t even sure how much you had in your bank account, but you were ready to test it.

you walk into onitsuka tiger and begin pulling things off the rack. after eying their newest runway collection in your favorite youtuber’s videos, you have your heart set on their winter coats and midi dresses. you also need at least two of their shoes in different colors.

too bothered to try anything on, you walk to the counter with everything in your arms. people glance over their shoulders at you, watching you periodically drop things on your way to the cashier. you grumble and bend down to pick the clothes up, still too annoyed to care about anything besides your shopping. as you approach, you spot a familiar blondie talking to the cashier.

he turns around with a concerned look in his eyes and a gigantic onitsuka tiger bag in his hand. he walks towards you after glancing behind him to thank the cashier. “sweetheart… i listened to your voicemail... are you okay? do you want to get some wetzel’s pretzels and talk about it?”

while you look at him, confused, he takes all the clothes from your hands and walks around the store to put them back. “we can get the cinnamon kind you like” he tries.

“ken, I was going to buy those.” you snap, mildy infuriated.

he pulls your resisting body into a hug and kisses your forehead. “honey, you spent almost the entirety of your bank account on those three pairs of gentle monster sunglasses last week” he chuckles.

you glare at him. saying “no i did not,” knowing full well that you did. your ‘entire life’s savings’ was currently at a grand total of 50 dollars.

he takes your hand and brushes your fisted knuckles with his thumb as hands you the giant bag in his hands. “text me next time you run out of money, okay? i want to provide for you.”

“but you never spend money on yourself, ken.” you say, slowly looking through the bag. in it is every single thing you had in your hands earlier and more. the black denim dress, long brown coat, navy blue shoes, and much, much more. you look up at your boyfriend, eyes watering at his gesture.

he shakes his head, “you and what you want matter more to me than anything else.” he runs his hand over the back of your head, fingers gently caressing your hair. “i know this week was especially hard for you so i had these waiting here for pickup since wednesday. you just beat me here.” he chuckles. “i know this doesn’t make up for those shitty customers, but i hope it makes you feel better.”

you hug him tightly, “how did you know?”

he kisses the top of your head, “i’ve been looking at your pinterest boards for inspiration”

you pull him in for a kiss, “genuinely, honey, I don’t know how i got so lucky with you.”

“i’m the one who’s lucky, sweetheart.” he says.

Toji

you walk through the mall with your boyfriend, squealing with excitement as you spot the new jellycat diner. “TOJI! look!” you point happily. “which one should i get? should i get the pizza? no wait, maybe i’ll get the hot dog… no WAIT-“

he chuckles, “doll, didn’t your paycheck just come in? you can probably get a bunch.”

you look at him with giant puppy dog eyes, “wanna buy it for me?”

he scratches the back of his neck, “uhh… i might’ve spent my entire paycheck at the casino… sorry, ma”

“oh my god, ‘ji, how are we supposed to eat?” you rub your forehead, “you promised no more casino.”

he pulls your hand closer to him, “i know… shiu wanted to go for his birthday and i got carried away. i’m really sorry, doll.”

you huff, “if you go again, i’m going to shoot you.” stomping off without him, you pick up the two jellycats you want and bring them to the counter. “just these two, please!” the cashier bundles them up for you and motions for you to swipe your card.

“your card declined, could you try swiping it again?” the cashier asks.

you internally panic. “sure!” you say, swiping it again. you’re starting to doubt the fact that you cashed your paycheck in. unfortunately for you, your card declines three more times and you end up walking out of the store embarassed and empty handed.

after listening to toji’s endless apologies on the way home, he promises to make it up to you when he receives his next paycheck. you nod, deciding to forgive him before heading out to dinner with your best friend, shoko. with the amount of money in your card, you’re pretty sure that all you can afford is an onigiri from 7/11.

as you pull out of the driveway, you think you hear the whirring of your ancient sewing machine, but you’re not quite sure. you’re not even sure if that thing works anyway.

when you return home, toji’s nowhere to be found. knowing that he didn’t have plans to work today, you wander through the rooms of your apartment, calling his name. when you get to the dining table, you spot a half-crumpled post-it and concerningly ugly plushies that you think are kinda ugly-cute.

as you get closer, you realize that they kind of resemble the pizza and hotdog jellycat plushies you almost bought at the mall. their drawn-on sharpie eyes stare back at you as you take in their half-sewn and half-glue-gunned appearance. they have hot glue strings and threads poking out of the sides, but you’re falling in love with them nonetheless. you laugh as you think about toji giving up on using the sewing machine halfway through. hugging them tightly, you read the post-it toji left on the table.

"hey doll, i’ll be back in a bit, just finishing up something real quick. love you" it reads, with a hastily scribbled heart.

fifteen minutes later, toji walks through the door, hair tousled and the real jellycat pizza and hot dog plushies in one arm and chinese takeout in the other.

he grins, “hey doll.”

you run up to him and throw your arms around his neck. “did you make these?” you ask, referring to his handmade plushies.

he grimaces a little, “yeah, they’re kinda ugly, huh?”

you laugh and shake your head, “no, ‘ji, i love them, thank you so much”

he hands you the jellycats in his hands, “i got the real ones for you too because i can’t fuckin’ look at my ugly ones”

when you look at his hands, you see that they’re covered in glue gun burns and bandages. you run your hands over the sewing machine and glue gun damages asking, “i thought you didn’t have money?”

“i pickpocketed people on the street.”

you look at him, “toji, please, for the love of god, tell me that you’re joking.”

he just laughs, “yeah sure doll, i’m just jokin’” he says, knowing you don’t believe him in the slightest.

thank you so much to @saradika-graphics for the beautiful dividers and support banners 🫶

and thank YOU so much for reading! i appreciate you!

[disgustingtwitches]

**MDNI**

"The closest to heaven we'll ever get"

Saw a lot of stuff about Simon helping out a s*x worker. Anyways, it reminded me of a personal experience I had so... Here I am 😃

5.5k words

*This is kind of Simon needing company and being a weirdo who needs constant validation.

Not gonna lie, it gets blasphemous at the end!

~

I always played around with the idea of being an escort. I was offered to do things while working in the strip club, but I always turned it down. I was spending every dollar I made because I could always make more, right? But when I broke up with my ex and realized I didn't have the credit or rental history to get my own place, I started panicking. The only option was to put down at least three months rent cash upfront, to even be considered. Suddenly, money was drying up at the club for me, my regulars were being whisked away by girls who would do more for less. I couldn't really get mad, it's just a part of the game really. So I knew what needed to be done.

I hit up one of my girlfriends and told her that I needed the extra cash and what I was willing to do for it. She helped me set up a website, took professional photos of me, made me business cards. The whole nine yards. Now all I had to do was wait. About a week in, I finally get my first client. It was awkward and surprisingly, both of our first times in this situation. I was sent back home in a black car and a few hundred bucks richer for just 30 minutes of my time. I felt a rush I never felt before.

As the months rolled by, the money came. Luxury was the new standard for me. Designer everything, nice dinners, even nicer dates. To my surprise a majority of my clientele were, at most, 10 years older than me, and even more surprisingly, good looking. Finance bros, guys with daddy's money, or just men who had the money to spare. They always talked about how it was more fun and less work to hire me than get a girlfriend. To get a pretty girl in their arm to parade around that wouldn't bicker and give them a hard time at the end of the night. No feelings attached, just company and good sex.

So here I am Saturday night. Instead of going out to the club like a normal woman my age in Manhattan should be doing. I am in my hotel. Waiting for a call or text from someone. Anybody. My hair in rollers, makeup half done. Just waiting. My phone lights up, a text coming in:

Hi, Gia. Was interested in spending an hour with you tonight, 11pm.

I smiled to myself. Finally, someone who reads my ad properly. Follows the instructions on what to text to me. Straight to the point.

Wonderful, just need a picture of your ID or passport.

I reply. Always a rule my girlfriend drilled into my head. Safety first. If they don't do it, then what could they be planning? Anything goes bad and all you have is a name that couldn't even be real. Any client worth your time understands your safety is a priority. So this was my way of feeling safer. A moment passes before my phone dings again.

A picture of a passport, full name and age. Along with a picture. He's cute. A little older than what I usually get but I'm not complaining. I quickly look him up, nothing out of the ordinary. Good.

Great. Thank you, Simon. I'll send an address for you to send a car at 10:20. Reach out to you then❤️

Before I start to get ready he texts,

Wear something casual.

Not an odd request. Actually most clients prefer it. Want more of a girlfriend vibe rather than an escort. I finished getting ready, helping myself to a glass of wine. Playing my usual bad bitch songs, it helped me turn into the woman I needed to be- from me to Gia.

10:25 rolls around. I get a screenshot of the Uber from him. 5 minutes out. I grab my purse and strut out of my hotel, to a nearby park. Never give your real address. Always make sure you're not being followed.

A black SUV pulls up, I slide in. Exchange pleasantries with the driver and I'm off. Headed to midtown. I share my location with a friend and how long I should be gone. My phone goes off.

Walk into the building and head to the elevators on the left. 36th floor. Apt. 4A.

I nod to myself before shooting a text of confirmation.

Got it. See you soon ;)

I pull up to the building, it's huge. Nicer than most places I've been. He must have some serious cash. I walk into the building and follow the directions he gave me. A little adrenaline rushes through me as I walk up to the door, always did when meeting someone new. I knock. He almost immediately opens the door, as if he was standing in front of it. Waiting.

Simon!

I say with a wide smile. He steps aside as I walk in, looking around. Nice place. Really nice place. Ceiling to floor windows, minimalist decor, the lovely smell of something masculine and expensive. He looks me up and down as I turn to him.

You look just like your pictures.

His voice is deep, alluring, unreadable. Sends a chill up my thighs that shoots straight to my core.

You do too.

I reply playfully. A small twitch plays at the corner of his mouth before disappearing. His face inscrutable. I shimmy off my coat before he takes it, hanging it up in a closet near the entrance. I wait for him to move. He stands, hands in his pockets, studying me. An awkward minute passes before he walks to the living room. I follow.

Really nice place you got here.

I try to make the moment more comfortable.

Hm.

He responds. He wasn't like the other men I've seen before. They are sociable, or at least try to be. I take a seat on the couch next to him, our knees barely touching.

Money's there.

He gestures to an envelope on the table. I nod, grabbing it.

Do you mind if I...?

I ask, opening it up. He nods and stands to pour himself a drink. My eyes widen. This is more than my usual rate. Much more. I'm quiet, trying not to show my shock.

Was hoping to do an overnight, if that's alright.

It was less of a question and more of a statement from him. It was more than enough for a night. I nodded.

Of course, I do wish you would've told me; I would've packed a bag.

I smiled, putting the envelope down on the table. I grab my phone and update my friend on how long I'd be gone for. I put away the phone quickly and look up at him. God, was he hot. And the way he carried himself made him even hotter, so nonchalant. He shrugged, sipping his drink before sitting next to me again, some space between us.

How long you been doing this?

He stares at me, gaze so intense I squirm a little.

Just a few months.

We're quiet again. Usually I try to carry a conversation if the other party can't hold one, but he makes me nervous. I talk again, asking mundane questions. It's like pulling teeth trying to have small talk with him. Maybe he's just not much of a talker.

I scoot closer to him, our knees barely touching. He puts his drink down, and rests his arms on the back of the couch. I lean in closer to him, resting my hand on his thigh before kissing his lips. He kisses back softly. We exchange light, almost timid kisses for awhile. He finally moves. A hand reaching up to grab at my hair, gently pulling. I moan faintly and that seems to set him off. He grabs me by the throat, not hard, just enough to stand me up and guide me to his bedroom; our kisses getting more intense. We strip each other of our clothes. I unbuckle his pants and pull them down, it feels like I'm opening a gift on Christmas. He's big. I smile up at him. He just looks down vacantly. I pull down his boxers and his erection springs up, tip drooling. He opens a drawer next to the bed, pulling out a condom and rolling it on himself.

Lay back.

He commands. I obey, opening my legs. I've done this so many times before, but this time it's different. As unceremoniously as he's treating this, I can't be more excited. His body is amazing, tattoos and scars just adding to the mysterious aura. His natural scent drives me wild. I look up to him as he crawls over me, lining himself up with me. He gives a couple lazy slaps on my slick. I take a sharp breath. He watches as he slides himself in, I tense up. Most guys are well... average. And he's well... much more than that.

Relax.

He huffs. Sliding himself in more, not giving me any time to adjust. I grip the bedsheets, clenching my jaw. I stare up at him, he doesn't even look at me. His face emotionless as he watches himself slide in and out. I try to unclench, opening myself up more to him.

Mhm...

He grunts. My nipples harden at his voice. I moan as he slams into my cervix repeatedly. It makes him shoot his eyes up at me, glaring into mine. His eyes dark pools, intense. He roughly hooks his arms under my knees, pushing them up to my chest. He digs even deeper into me as I whimper. He takes quick, shallow breaths.

You're so deep.

I say panting, the breath getting knocked out of me. I reach out to touch his muscular arms. He grunts and pounds harder into me. I throw my head back, whining. Trying to not wince in pain. He slows for a moment, pulling back, keeping my legs on his shoulders as he slides in and out. My breasts bounce up and down with each thrust.

You're hot.

A hint of emotion in his voice, he reaches down to knead my chest. My face gets hot. I tighten around him.

Fuck...

He makes a sound that almost resembles a moan. I smile up at him, almost proud of making him show any emotion. He looks down at me, a flicker in his eyes, a small smirk on his face that leaves as quickly as it came. He parts my legs and rubs at my clit in rough circles. I squirm under him.

Say my name.

He orders. His strokes picking up as I get used to him.

Simon~

As soon as his name leaves my lips, a deep rumble from his chest fills my ears. He leans over me, arms on either side of my head. I reach up to run my hands up and down the back of his neck.

Say you love me.

His request takes me aback. I pull him closer, my lips just under his ear.

I love you~

He immediately tenses up and takes a heavy breath. I could feel him twitch inside me as he finishes. He pulls away quickly, going to the bathroom to throw out the condom and clean up. He brings back a wet towel, wiping me down.

What's your name?

His tone as flat as ever.

Gia.

I responded. I know what he's actually asking me. Never, ever tell a trick your real name. Hell, he shouldn't even know your real age.

You know what I mean.

He glares at me. I shift awkwardly. Don't do it. He doesn't say a word, just stares in a way that makes me uncomfortable. Why should he know your real name anyways? I tell him my name. Stupid. Fucking dumbass. I kick myself. He nods and slides into some sweats, throwing me his shirt.

Let's watch something.

I throw on his shirt. Now this is what I'm used to. Being a temporary girlfriend. Pretending to be affectionate. Giving much needed companionship. He splays out on the couch as I lay on top of him. He turns on the TV, resting a hand on my ass and squeezing it. Maybe this is why he hires girls. Because of how distant he is. The man can't even hold a conversation. He flicks on some show he was in the middle of, a business dramedy that I couldn't care less about. I rest my head on his chest and he runs his fingers through my hair. We're like this for a while, quiet.

Tell me you love me.

He says dryly, looking down at me. I look up and kiss him.

I love you, Simon.

He gets hard immediately, rubbing himself on me. He gets up, lifting me up effortlessly, and throws me on the bed. He lays on top of me, pinning me down onto the bed. Kissing me much more passionately this time, like he was trying to taste every inch of my mouth.

Keep saying it.

His voice gruff. He moves his kisses down to my neck, pawing at my bust.

I love you, Simon.

I moan. I wanted him so badly. I don't care how I got him, I just wanted to take him. Something about him made me go crazy, deep inside. He yanks up the shirt I was wearing, moving his kisses more and more south.

You fuck other people raw?

I shake my head. I might've been a whore, but I wasn't reckless.

Never.

He nods.

Can I eat you out?

I look down at him. Something about seeing him between my legs makes me wanna say yes. The way his eyes looks almost as if he's pleading, desperate. No way. Never do that.

Yes.

I allow him to keep going. What the fuck am I doing? Why am I allowing this? Before I can think more, he plunges his tongue between my lips. Lapping up desperately, burying his face into me. I roll my eyes back, running my fingers through his hair.

I love you, Simon.

I gasp. It's the only thing he wanted me to say. I saw something in him, the way he reacted when I said that, it made me want to stay in his place forever. To never leave. Make him happy. It's just the good head talking, you'll snap back to your senses afterwards. He moans so quietly I can barely hear it. Barely. My legs on his shoulders, his arms wrapped around my thighs. Digging fingers into the soft flesh. He sucks on my nub repeatedly. It's a tortuously delicious feeling. I grip his hair a little.

I love you, Simon.

I look down at him, watching him devour me. He looks up at me, his eyes showing an emotion I can't decipher. He moves one hand down to slide two fingers into me.

I love you, Simon.

I moan, throwing my head back and smiling.

Hmm...

He mumbled into my heat. Pumping in and out before bending his fingers in a way that presses against my sweet spot. I hiss, pleasure flashing through me like a strobe light. I'm dripping wet. He pulls his fingers out and plunges his tongue into my entrance, trying to suck out every drop of my juices.

You taste good.

Voice as flat as ever, as if he isn't lost in between my folds. He drags his tongue up between my lips, from my entrance to my nub again. He slips his fingers in again, pressing up against my sweet spot repeatedly. I get lost in the feeling. God I could stay like this forever. He looks up at me, like he's looking for validation.

I love you, Simon~

I slip out between heavy breaths. He picks up the pace of his fingers and tongue. My face gets hot as I get closer, grip his hair a little harder. He goes even faster, harder, almost feverant. I roll my eyes back, panting. I whimper before crying out, tightening around his fingers in a vice grip.

I love you, Simon~

I force the words from my throat as I spasm under him. He continues, seemingly determined to draw another climax out of me. I mewled, trying to push his head away. He was unmoving for an unbearable moment. The only sounds were my pants and his slurping.

I love you, Simon.

I wailed, almost hoping it'll make him stop. He does thankfully. He pulls away, tearing off his sweats, beating off himself. Staring at me, his gaze is intense as ever. He grabs me by the thighs and drags me into his lap. He continues to stroke himself, staring into my wet core as if he was hypnotized by it.

Can I...

He starts, almost knowing he shouldn't ask the question.

Can I fuck you raw?

His voice is uncharacteristically soft and unsure. I blink at him, mind racing. ABORT! ABORT! THIS IS LIKE RULE #1 IN HOE-ING!!! He looked so delicious from this angle, his eyes still glued on my wetness. ARE YOU INSANE?? NO!! His throbbing, beautiful dick is twitching.

...yes.

I nod. You're the dumbest person on the planet. I insult myself a million different ways in my head. A brief moment of regret is replaced with pleasure as he slides his tip teasingly in and out of me. His jaw clenches, chest rising and falling faster. His voice cracks as a moan escapes him, his eyebrows furrow.

I love you, Simon.

I stare at him, eyes half lidded. The smallest smile spreads across his face, still looking at himself entering me. He inches his way in. Pulling in and out, going deeper each time. I squeeze him, make him bite his lip.

That's good.

He stated, voice quavering. He clears his throat before grabbing one leg and lifting it to my chest, digging deep into me. I take a sharp breath in. He hovers over me, arms on either side of my head again. He slides in and out, slowly at first then picking up to a punishing pace. I whimper and wiggle under him. He grabs my face, forcing me to look into his eyes that bore into mine.

I love you, Simon.

I stare right back at him, passion shooting right out of my eyes. His eyes flutter for a moment before blinking back into his cold, unnerving self. He continues to dig himself into me, slamming and grinding himself into the deepest parts of me. It's a painfully addicting feeling. I take his hand and press it up against my lower stomach so he can feel how much he fills me. He clenches his jaw so hard, it looks like his head could pop.

I love you, Simon.

I whisper. He drops down on top of me, snaking his arms around and behind my back to grab my ass. His mouth right next to my ear, I can hear his fast and shallow breaths. Little groans that slip out every now and then. I wrap my arms around his neck, holding him tighter.

I love you, Simon.

I hear him groan under me as I said it again. He goes faster than before, pretty much jackhammering me into the mattress. My mouth is agape and head thrown back. Only grunts escape my throat as I get fucked senseless.

Mhm...like that?

His words bounce around in my empty head. I replay it in my head over and over until I clench around him, he doesn't stop though. It only seems to spur him on even more. His warm breath tickling my ear as it gets more ragged.

Keep saying it.

He demands through gritted teeth.

Fuck... I love you, Simon.

I squeak out the words. He huffs and continues to rampage my body.

Can I come inside you?

He asks- No, begs. No use in turning back now. Just the thought made me close again.

Yes.

I nod and he breathes harder and harder until he pleads in a strained voice,

Say it.

I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper inside me.

I love you, Simon~

He spills inside me. His stammered breaths and moans driving me crazy. The feeling of him pumping into me driving me over the edge. I pull him closer, practically squeezing him.

I love you, Simon.

I tenderly kiss the top of his head as he nuzzles into my neck.

How often do you do this?

My head clears, a wave of regret coming over me.

Never. I never even hired anyone before you.

He says in a way so sincere I honestly believe him. How do you know when a trick is lying? Their mouth is open. Rules. Rules to live by, to be able to survive doing what I do. Rules. They all meant nothing as soon as I laid eyes on him. Somehow saw this coming a mile away in the back of my head. He pulled away from my grasp, disappointment flooded me. He leaned back, opening my legs: watching both of our cum dripping out of me.

Say it.

His eyes so focused, as if he were trying to take a picture with his mind; so he would never forget this moment.

I love you, Simon.

I say with a tender smile. His dick jumps. Good lord is this man insatiable. He stands up and does the same routine as before, cleaning himself up and then me. He hands me his shirt:

Here.

I throw it on and he leads me to the bathroom, grabbing me by the shoulders and making me face the mirror. He gently pushes my back, I lean my elbows on the countertop. I stand on the balls of my feet, trying to get my hips to meet his. As I look in the mirror, his face looks almost tender watching me sway my hips.

I love you, Simon~

I sing softly. He bites his lip, entering me again. God, I never get used to the feeling. He grabs my hips and pulls me onto him, he bottoms me out. Groaning louder this time, he pulls my hair back so I'm looking directly at the mirror, locking eyes with him.

S'it, pretty girl...

A corner of his mouth upturned just enough to know he's enjoying himself. His words make me flutter around him. He groans and starts to pound into me. The bathroom is filled with the duet of our breaths and groans. He pulls my hair so my back is pressed against his chest. He rests a hand on my throat, squeezing just enough. Moves his lips to my neck, still sliding in and out of me.

You love me? Huh?

He grunts, warm breath on the pulse of my neck.

I love you. So much.

I moaned. I repeated the phrase so many times, it started coming out of my mouth naturally. He moved his hand from my hair to my lower stomach, pressing against it so he could feel himself hitting my walls.

You love this dick, yeah? Say it.

His voice getting more demanding and urgent. I nod and look at him through the mirror, smiling.

I love it, I love this dick so much, Simon~

He nips at my neck as he continues to fuck me. His nips turn into bites. Bites that definitely leave marks. I didn't care, that didn't matter right now.

You're never fucking leaving, you know that?

A threat that sounded like heaven to me. He could keep me chained to the bed and I wouldn't care, just as long as he kept fucking me like this. I giggled with excitement.

You like that, hm?

He smiles against my skin before continuing to lick and bite my neck.

I love it~

I truly did. It felt heavenly. Better than anyone I've ever had. Ever. Something felt so familiar about his touch. As if I belonged there.

I love you, Simon~

At this point I feel like I'm reciting a prayer, the words flowing out of me like a stream. I was melting in his arms.

Turn around, wanna see that pretty face.

I did so eagerly as he lifted me up on the counter and slid inside me. I smirked up at him. He, as always, was watching himself impale me.

Looks so pretty...

He seemingly mumbled to himself. He leaned down and pressed our foreheads together, a firm hand on the back of my head. Hitting a spot so deep inside me I never knew I had. We were like this for a long minute, sloppy sounds of our sex bouncing off the walls.

I love you, Simon.

I stared into his eyes. They seem to soften for a moment before he tightened the grip on the back of my neck. A huff, and then he came undone. He stayed inside me until he was soft. He pulls out and pushes his fingers into my cunt, stuffing his seed back into me.

Hm.

He grunts in a way that sounds like approval before helping me off the counter. He leads me to bed and slips under the covers.

In my arms.

Commanding as he usually does. I press my head against his chest, his heart beating hard and fast. He wraps an arm around me, his touch much gentler than before. I fall asleep. Not too sure if he does too.

Morning comes and I'm woken up by the sun shining in my face. Sitting up, I'm in his bed, still wearing his shirt. Alone. I walk out to the living room and see him setting up breakfast on the coffee table.

You made this?

I question, surprised.

Ordered it. Good morning.

He turns to me, shoving his hands in his pockets. He looks at me expectantly. I blink at him.

Good morning.

I say. He looks at me as if he was anticipating something else. I think for a moment before suddenly remembering.

I love you, Simon.

He steps to the side, inviting me to sit on the couch. I help myself to a seat and look at the plate in front of me. It's simple, French toast and eggs. I help myself.

Are you gonna eat anything?

I look at him quizzically. He shakes his head, staring like always. We're silent as I finish my plate. I grab my phone and check the time. Almost time for me to leave.

Can I book you for longer?

His voice is gruff. An underlying tone, pleading?

It'll be expensive.

I didn't want to say that. Wanted to say I'll stay as long as he likes. But I already made too many mistakes. Gotta get back on track.

I don't care.

Of course he didn't. He could probably buy me out for the rest of my life if he wanted to. He pulled out his phone, asking for my personal number so he could send the money straight to my bank account. Hesitantly I gave it to him. He probably could find out that stuff if he wanted to anyways. My phone dings, I check my bank app. My eyes pop out of my head. I look up at him bewildered.

How long would that get me?

He asks, as if he didn't send me an ungodly amount of money.

It's enough for a whole week...

Shock still overwhelming me.

You wanna stay that long?

He doesn't really ask. He knows I'll say yes. Doesn't even wait for my answer.

I'll let you get your things.

He throws some of his clothes my way and sends me back in a car to the hotel. I grab my bags and checkout. Is this really happening? A call from my girlfriend. I tell her about his extension. She says something about making sure he's not a serial killer. We laugh, tells me to have fun, don't fall in love. I scoff as if that was the stupidest idea I've heard. As soon as I know it I'm back at his place, he's grabbing bags from me, setting them to the side. Turning to me and running a hand up the side of my waist.

I love you, Simon.

We spend the whole week tangled up in each other. Taking a break before I say those four words and he has me pinned against a wall or over a dresser or kitchen counter. Any flat surface, really.

It's Saturday night and we're showering, cleaning off sweat and other bodily fluids from each other. His touch is so gentle, handling me like I was a piece of china. He liked me. It was obvious. Seemed like the only way he knew how to show it was by fucking me, though. I liked him too. Maybe not to the extent he did.

Seemed like he found something he needed for a long time. He was hungry. Famished. He couldn't just let go of me. He's not satiated yet. Don't know if he'll ever be. It was a looming feeling. Dark and heavy. A little scary. But it made me feel more desired than I've ever been before. And not just a carnal desire. It made me feel coveted.

We're laid up on his couch. Watching the show I didn't care for before, a little more invested. My phone lights up, buzzing. The name of a regular of mine across the screen in big bold letters. This is usually the time of the month he calls to set up a date. A reminder that this is all temporary. I let it go to voicemail. He tenses up. Jealousy and disappointment radiating off him.

How much for the whole month?

He doesn't even let me think of an answer before speaking again.

How much to make you quit for good?

I'm a little shook, sure I've heard it a dozen times before. Always said in jest. But he's serious. The few words he said, he always seemed to mean. No need to waste his breath beating around the bush. My heart races. I can feel his pound against mine. A number doesn't come to my head.

Let's just see how this goes.

He doesn't like that answer. He wants something solid. A promise that I'll never leave. More than a promise. But that's as good as he can get right now. There's a tense silence between us.

I love you, Simon.

The only thing I can think of saying right now. He takes hold of me, climbing into the bed and sits me in his lap. His back against the headboard.

C'mon love.

He says frigid. An underlying tone of disappointment and hurt. I slide myself down on him, a little more adjusted to his size now. He wraps strong arms around my waist, pulling me so close it seems like he wants to coalesce into my very being.

Give me a number.

A demand that seems more like a plea. We hold each other. Unmoving as he is still buried deep inside me.

Maybe it is a little toxic to spiral into the addiction to fast money. Maybe I'm a little sick of pretending to be the perfect woman. Maybe it is a little exhausting to be a fantasy and nothing more. Maybe it is a little lonely when it's just me lying in bed, when I have to comfort others. Where's my comfort in all of this? Where's my happiness in all of this? No more fake smiles. No more fake orgasms. No more fake feelings. I don't care if he's lying. I want to indulge in delusion. Even for a moment.

Ok.

I give in. He leans over, placing me on my back before adjusting himself on top of me. Touches my face, his showing an emotion that is genuine and staggering. Devotion? It feels like it.

I could almost cry, the way he takes me like I'm his. The way he talks to me like I'm not someone he hired. That didn't matter anymore. I wasn't an escort to him. I was his girl. The sex was different. Transcendant. Divine. Did I know I wanted to be saved? Of course I didn't know; for the life of sin and suffering is simply a thing to toil in until you are shown salvation. Every time he came, he baptized me. I was born again in his eyes, I was perfect and clean. Absolved of my sins.

He looked at me with so much adoration. I looked up at him, much in the same way Magdalene did to her Redeemer. He had turned a prostitute into a Saint. The unshakeable feeling of deliverance washed over as he touched me, no longer a leper. I was saved by him. His body. His sweat. His seed. Akin to taking Communion. The closest to heaven we'll ever get.

[luvyeni]

MY SHY NEIGHBOR ( chapter 3. )

— CHAPTER THREE: lovestreams …

— 𖦹 warnings? 18+, cursing, masturbation, jeongin is down bad ( this is told in jeongins pov )

previous chapter - next chapter - my shy neighbor masterlist

jeongin genuinely was gonna go to sleep, but han jisung put the thought into his head. “fuck it.” he got up — sitting at his desk, opening his laptop. “oh that’s right.” he grabbed his headphones, sitting back down.

after plugging his headphones in, he typed in his favorite sight, scrolling through the main feed, searching for his favorite cam girl. “shit.” he cursed realizing she wasn’t streaming that night. should he just go to bed then? but he was already hard.

he was about to head to twitter, when he got a popup ad. “hm?” he read the words on the screen. “love streams?” he never heard of it, he shrugged, clicking the ad — what’s the worst that could happen.

he rid himself of his jeans while waiting for the page to load. his eyes widened at the new selection of girls, this sight was much bigger than the previous one, his cock twitched at the all the content.

he scrolled down, palming himself until he came across the top streamers selections. he scrolled over searching for the best one until he stopped at one. “lovergirl?” he clicked the screen, your body coming into frame, the camera off your face — you must want to keep your identity hidden.

“hi everyone!” your voice low and seductive, but also had a sweetness to it — that was what he liked the best.

“did you guys miss me?” you asked, your white robe hanging off your shoulders along with your bra strap. “yes? good i missed you guys to.” you chuckled, his cock was begging to be freed. “oh you want me to take it off?” you pulled at the robe, he nodded his head, like you could see him.

“if i do something nice for you, doesn’t that mean you have to do something nice for me?” he knew what that meant, so did the other viewers, because soon your tip jar was filling up. he reached for his card, typing in his credit card information.

he typed in $50 without flinching, you smiled at all the donations. “you guys are too kind.” you said, coming closer to the camera, he could now see your plump lips, your boobs about to spill from your bra, he bit his lip. “i guess i owe you guys something.”

you slowly undid your robe, letting it fall, your bra was next, you slowly pulled down the straps, undoing the latches, watch the bra fall into your lap, your boobs bouncing from being freed, he could hold it anymore, he stood up, pulling his underwear down, he cock sprung from his boxers, hitting his abdomen. “shit, he hissed.”

“is this what you guys wanted?” you chuckled , squeezing your boobs together, they looked so soft, he could only imagine what they felt like. “fuck.” he squeezed the base of his cock, teasing himself.

“no? this isn’t what you want?” your lips formed a pout, he thought about what they would look like covered in his cum. “well what is it you want?”

he quickly typed into the chat box. ‘your pants, take your pants off.’

“my shorts?” his heart fluttered, he knew there was thousands of comments saying the same thing, but it felt like you were personally answering him. “don’t you like them?” you teased, pulling at your waistband, a whimper emitting from your lips as you let it go, the elastic snapping against your waist.

“i wore them especially for you.” for him? that made him squeeze his cock, he for sure found his new favorite streamer.

“i guess you have to do something else for me.” he quickly typed in $100 dollars, he knew he shouldn’t have spend that much, but he was desperate — clicking the send button. “oh? 100 dollars, you must be really eager.” he froze, you were talking about him.

“what’s your name?” you said. “thank you FOX.YJN, everyone say thank you to FOX.YJN.” he smiled, the way you said his name, fuck he was gonna cum, he had to stop himself, you hadn’t even done anything, yet you had this hold on him.

you sat back, your legs fully on display, as you took off your shorts, revealing your white matching lace underwear, a wet patch in the middle. “shit.” he whispered, as you rubbed yourself through your underwear. “fuck.” you whimpered.

he seen the tips go up, and the comments telling you to remove your underwear, he didn’t hesitate to type in another $150, hitting send. “o-oh, YJN seems to want it more than any of you tonight.”

you slid your panties down your leg, spreading your legs, your wet cunt on display. “i’m so wet right now.” you moaned, rubbing your folds slowly. “f-feels so good.”

jeongin began to move his hand up and down his cock, moving slowly with you. “fu-fuck please speed up.” he groaned to himself, but it seemed like you answered his prayers, your fingers slowly entering your cunt, you moaned.

the noises from your pussy filling up his earbuds, as you sped up. “fu-fuck my fingers aren’t enough.” you moaned. “i wish it was yours.” he moaned, probably louder than he should’ve, but hearing you say that, in that whiny tone drove him crazy.

“fuck i’m gonna cum.” you whimpered. “m-me too.” he sighed, squeezing his tip. “fuck, please cum with me, cum with me please.” your begging really pushed him over the edge.

“fuck, i’m cumming!” you screamed, cumming all over your fingers. “shit.” he came right after, cum spurting from his tip, covering his hand and shirt. “oh fuck.”

you were talking to the camera as he came down from your high. “wow you guys tipped a lot tonight.” you giggled, your lips swollen from biting them.

“i should show my face next time?” you read the comments. “i told you guys already, maybe one day, but not right now.”

you interacted with a few more comments before, you slid your robe back on, covering your body. “i have to go now guys.” you pouted. “i know, i wish i could stay with you guys longer, maybe next time.”

you blew a kiss to the camera, before the stream cut off — leaving jeongin to sit with his thoughts, fuck it was his first time watching you, yet you left this impact on him, he had to see more of you.

he closed his laptop, grimacing at the sticky mess he created. “i guess i should get cleaned up.” he got up from his chair.

it hadn’t even hit him that he spent 300 dollars.

— ( taglist. OPEN ) @soulsbbg @k-poplv @yourmomscuntis2tighy @bbokarimenu @enczen @queen-in-the-shadows @thesweetesttattoo @ririlinoriri @aloverga @ashiitex @ddazed-lhs @heartsforhyunjin @chlodavids @simp4myself @surefornext @lostwonderwall @xxr-s4sha @charmer-c @vixensss @frobin4ever @bmnyy @semi-semiisbae @m111nho @i2innie

©LUVYENI

[icyg4l]

PAC: Is Your Circle Trustworthy?

Hello beautiful people! I am so sorry for the wait, I've been busy with just enjoying what life has to offer. I really hope that you all are doing good! Today's reading is inspired by the people that are/were in my life that I've considered friends. I think that we all go through a period of time where we're questioning the people in our circles. Maybe it's because we're going through a period of transition, experiencing successes, experiencing painful moments, etc. I think that there is nothing wrong with this because we're all human at the end of the day. What aligns with us will stay, what doesn't will go. Also, please check out my Five Dollar Friday sale. It would mean a lot to me! Thank you! So with that being said, please pick the quote that resonates with you, my dear!

Top Left-to-Bottom Right: (1-4)

Pile One: I think some of you work in an elderly home/nursing home. Maybe you’re working on getting your degree in nursing. I heard the line from Beyonce’s ‘Hold Up’ where she says “Something don’t feel right / ‘Cause it ain’t right”. I don’t think you guys have a good discernment. You don’t trust yourself so in return, you attract some questionable people. I get the feeling that you guys are like the friend that doesn’t know how to say no, so you end up getting taken advantage of. You guys remind me of a friend that I had once. I think that you need to start owning your power, realizing your worth. You can do this by spending more time by yourself. Once you start seeing how people interact with you as you step into your true self, you will see who stays and who will go. There is nothing wrong with a fresh start. You need to get real though. You need to clean house, babe. Nothing is permanent, so don’t force yourself to stick in a situation that you don’t need to be in.

Cards Used: 8 of Swords (RX), The Moon, The Devil, Queen of Discs, Strength, 4 of Swords, The Chariot.

extras: “the underdog”. independent not by choice. meditation. saturn in the 1st house. looking at the moon. empire (2015). solar system. planetarium. “they don’t wanna see me smile”. oh happy day.

Pile Two: I feel like you guys are going to a concert soon. You could have made up with a friend that you fell out with and now you’re wondering if they have good intentions this time. They have changed for the better, I see. It takes two to tango is the energy that I am getting from this. There’s no fingers to point here. You both did your dirt but after some time apart, you’ve come to acknowledge your part in the ending of the friendship. I think that you guys have a good circle around you within this friendship and outside of your friendship. But you guys do not need to befriend your co-workers. Keep that to a minimum. This goes for any classmates that you think are cool too, lol. I see that you’ll be turned off by their behavior very quickly. But you have a good circle overall, just don’t let your ego ruin your friendships. Check yourself before you wreck yourself.

Cards Used: 5 of Swords, 6 of Swords, Ace of Cups, 9 of Cups, Temperance, The Sun.

extras: childhood best friends. autism. “stand back!” thumbs down. 2009. new boyz.

Pile Three: For this pile, I heard “divinely orchestrated”. I think your circle is perfect just the way it is. You are spiritually bonded to the people that are your friends right now. They have pure intentions. This could be your chosen family. You’ve chosen correctly. For some of you, your circle consists of mostly your biological family. Your guides approve of the people around you so much. I think that you will be lifelong friends with these people. I am seeing some distance between you and these people though, physical distance to be exact. Did you move or are you planning to move? I feel like your circle wants you to make the move if you haven’t. They see that you are bored and fed up with your current environment. They will always be there for you. You’re right where you need to be and you have the support around you, just do it!

Cards Used: Temperance, 10 of Pentacles, 7 of Discs, King of Cups, The Hierophant, Ace of Discs.

extras: polaroid cameras. divinity. todrick hall. twitter memes. “fall flat”. chasing fame. smalltown girl.

Pile Four: At one point, your circle was perfect for you. But I think that you have outgrown it. I feel like at the beginning of this friendship, you were insecure. Perhaps, you and these other people bonded over traumas or a common enemy/disdain for something. Maybe you were both impulsive teenagers who hated the world. Now, you don’t want this friendship in your life anymore. You’ve done some soul searching. This person is still on the same shit. Now there is some tension that has risen between the two of you. You want more for yourself, but this person doesn’t. If you don’t cut this person/these people off, they will take you down with them. I feel like this person is immature. They lack the emotional maturity to see how their lack of growth is detrimental to this friendship. They don’t really appreciate it like they should. I feel like this person has ego trips that you’re just now noticing. I heard, “Don’t save her / She don’t wanna be saved”. This person is judgmental and it’s best that you get away from them for your own good. I am channeling the energy of Nancy from The Craft. This person could be doing witchcraft on you if you know they engage in that stuff. Be careful, Pile Four.

Cards Used: Judgment, The Empress (RX), Justice, 2 of Discs, The Moon, The Hierophant (RX), 10 of Discs, The Hermit.

extras: beignets. spiritual/religious awakening. take me to church by hozier. army-bound. powerful.

[dstryvampres]

Lab Assistant

MINORS/AGELESS BLOG DNI !

Pairing: Jonathan Crane x Reader

Warnings: smut LOL, dub con, pnv, unprotected sex, use of fear toxin on some dude, he smacks your ass like once

Word Count: 3.1k

A/N: this is my first time writing just pure smut, sorry if the set up is super long.

For the past week your heater had been broken, and despite multiple calls to your landlord which always ended up with the promise that he would come over to fix it eventually, you were still freezing. Though you could escape the biting cold throughout the day by taking up a second home at your university, you always had to eventually come back to your shitty studio apartment and suffer through the night. You’re excess time spent on campus was well spent, studying in the library, napping under stairwells or in-between shelves in the library, stirring around coffee you didn’t even like but knew you have to drink to stay in the cafe, or staring longingly at your psychology professor Dr. Crane. The lack of any privacy throughout your day had started to get annoying after the first three days, not helped by the fact that because you saw Dr Crane more than you usually do, leading to you feeling more high strung. Gotham was not treating you kindly.

“Excuse me,” a voice called out quite loudly above you, forcing you out of your final exam induced coma. You gritted your teeth, knowing that you were likely overstaying your visit to the campus library, especially since you had just finished your last exam of the season, who knows how many hours ago.

Looking up you were met with the face of your favourite professor, Dr Crane. Another horrible coincidence, it was embarrassing for someone so put together and professional to find you so vulnerable, especially someone who you had in mind when your hand was shoved down your pants most nights. 

“The library is closing soon, I would recommend getting your stuff and heading out,” Dr Crane says, his voice oddly empathetic. A jarring contrast to the usual mix of hostility and boredom his voice held during lectures. He sighs and takes off his glasses, pinching his eyebrows together, seeming conflicted over what he wants to say next, so instead you fill the space with your own voice.

“Of course, I’m so sorry sir. I seemed to lose track of time, and was too exhausted to walk home. Again, I am so sorry. I should have set a timer or just maybe not sleep in the library, that was so-“

“You have been spending a weird amount of time on campus for the past week,” Dr Crane interjects, giving you a once over. “Is everything okay at home?”

The question was so genuine it made your brain short circuit. Why would he even care about you?

“Not really,” you laughed, the two words coming out of your mouth before you had time to think. A habit only recently picked up due to sleepless nights.

A smile crept over your professor's face, one that didn’t seem to reach the rest of his face. You couldn’t tell if it was from the shock of your honesty or something more sinister. He sat down in front of you, scratching his nose, letting a silence stretch out. Just long enough for pricks of discomfort to stir.

“Well, I’m running a program here at the university over the winter break. Just need an assistant to help me over at Arkham for an experiment I’m conducting. The job would include housing closer to Arkham, since it’s a little out of the city, and it pays about a dollar over the minimum wage. If you’re interested,” he slides a business card over the table, smile now dropped, “just email me in the next 48 hours.”

Taking the card eagerly between your fingers, mumbling a small ‘thank you’ under your breath before pocketing it. When you look up he’s already halfway gone. Packing up your things as fast as you can, you leave the library and hop on the train back to your shitty apartment. An email is sent to Dr Crane that night, and the following day you are confirmed as his assistant for this experiment the next day.

𝜗𝜚

The space provided for your three week stay was slightly better than your studio apartment, mostly because it had heating, but also because you shared a wall with Dr Crane. Besides the housing, the internship also came with an average pay, some work experience, and enough credits to compensate for one class. Your first week there had mostly been mundane tasks, taking notes outside of interrogation rooms while Dr Crane interviewed patients, making coffee for the two of you, making patient profiles, and making sure no one took any of Dr Crane’s “special medicine” for the experiment. Despite the easy work and the decent benefits, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something more sinister that Dr Crane wasn’t telling you about the experiment. With a thesis based around the concept of fears, you had yet to notice any great dive into the topic beside a few one-off questions.

“Before we start this week,” Dr Crane starts, sitting down in the chair opposite to you, “I want to just warn you that this is when the experiment starts to become a little more intense.”

He holds a coffee mug in his hand, as he talks the liquid sloshes around the cup. It's all information you already know, you signed an NDA, he trusts you, do what he says, and that he needs you to stay out of the room no matter what. Last week you learned just how Dr Crane enjoys his coffee, no milk and one sugar, you can’t understand how he can drink it. One sugar can’t mask the bitter taste. He drinks it quickly though, remembering the taste makes you gag.

“Before we begin today, can you prepare the variable today in syringes? I will be introducing it into the experimental group today.”

He sets down the now empty mug, a loud thump echoes through the room, startling you. Dr Crane smiles at your reaction, it’s the same one he always gives you, the one that doesn’t reach the rest of his face. You ignore the stone that has formed inside your stomach, picking up your clipboard and pen.

“I’ll meet you in room 283B,” your professor puts a hand on the small of your back, leading you both out of his office. A shock is sent through your body at the contact, once out of the room you turn to look at him, but his hand is gone and he’s headed in the opposite direction as you.

Something else that you have noticed throughout this week is just how close Dr Crane is now. He’s more touchy than you would pinpoint him as. Which isn’t saying much, but the small lingering touches he lays on you, a hand on your shoulder, maybe on the small of your back, doesn’t seem to be too professional. One… two… three millilitres of solution per syringe. The questions he asks also seem to be a little weird, especially due to the matter of the study. A common thread being his prying into your fears, and a look of hunger when he asks the questions. Soft thud of the storage container hitting the ‘chemical waste’ bin. Though you can’t really complain, this past week has given you enough content for your late nights to satisfy you for your whole university career, Masters program included. Laying out each of the syringes in a row on the tray, and counting them out. Three syringes on the top tray, six needles on the lower tray. Rolling the tray out of the room and over to the elevator to head up to the second floor.

You softly knock on the door, waiting for Dr Crane to open up the door to the observer section. The door opens in a matter of seconds, only a crack for a couple more seconds, before it is completely opened. 

“Thank you,” Dr Crane says, looking down at the tray of syringes. He takes one in his gloved hand, holds it up to the light and nods, a stamp of approval given to your handiwork. “Remember: that if anything goes wrong, do not enter the room, just call security, and take as detailed notes as possible on the patient’s behaviour and the levels on the monitor.”

You nod, taking a look at the monitor set up beside the one-way glass, all vitals seem to be steady at the moment. The door to the room holding the patient opens up and shuts quickly, Dr Crane slipping in and greeting the patient, thanking him for his time. The patient seems to be a middle aged man, scars run across his arms, roughed up from whatever he did before his time in Arkham, he’s bald and seems to be displeased with his situation. Still, when Dr Crane comes to insert the syringe into his arm he stays still and takes it. The opaque liquid disappears as Dr Crane pushes down on the syringe, removing it once all the liquid has entered into the man’s system. A ‘thank you’ is expressed by Dr Crane before he exits the room, syringe in hand. Once the door is locked, Crane disposes of the syringe in the toxic waste bin in the observer’s room.

“The solution will take about five minutes to kick in,” he says, looking at you and it’s now that you realise just how excited he seems to be. 

The heart rate on the monitor starts to speed up, taking your attention away from Crane, and noting it down.

“Are you sure you estimated the time correctly?” You ask hesitantly, not wanting to offend your professor.

“I did. No worries. Injections can do this to people.”

The next five minutes pass by slowly, Dr Crane behind your chair, his breath tickling your ear. It’s almost impossible to focus like this, you just want to do something about the growing wet spot in your pants. Screaming immediately breaks through the tension you were feeling, you look at the patient. His eyes are wide, his pupils expanded, and his heart rate reaches around 140 bpm. Alarm sets into your own heart, you didn’t expect this big of a reaction from the patient. Dr Crane nudges your shoulder, reminding you to start writing your observations.

11:06: patient’s heart rate reaches 140 bpm

11:07: patient starts uncontrollably screaming at seemingly nothing

Your continued scribbling of notes doesn’t seem to discourage Dr Crane from talking.

“I didn’t know it would be this effective. I’ve been waiting years for this to be approved and this is better than I could’ve ever expected.”

Nausea settled from the mix of pleading for mercy and screaming from the patient, and Dr Crane’s glee from his reactions. Unsure how you could continue on with doing this almost every single day for the two weeks. Writing soon became sloppy due to your own lightheadedness and nausea, every moment you begged someone to make this stop. It was too much. It stretched on for over fifteen minutes before the patient finally came back from whatever drug induced hallucination he was forced into, yet he was still crying. Wanting to distance yourself so far from this experiment, you place the clipboard down.

“Wonderful isn’t it?” Dr Crane asked you, placing a hand on your shoulder. Whatever response you thought you could muster was stuck in your throat, so instead you nodded. “I call it my ‘fear toxin.’”

Once his hand left your shoulder, you immediately stood up, head spinning so much that you stumbled right into Dr Crane.

“Are you okay? Did the ‘fear toxin’ effects startle you?” He asks, putting his hands on your shoulder to stabilise you, his voice bridges between mocking and actually concerned.

“I just need to go to the bathroom,” You squeeze out, stumbling into the hallway and waving goodbye.

Stumbling around, unable to find the bathroom, you slide down the wall of an empty hallway. Sitting on the floor and curling up into the fetal position. Nausea slipping out of you slowly, eyes closed, just wanting to forget about the whole experience. What substance could even make a man react so horribly? Why would anyone make that in the first place? What purpose could a substance like that even serve? How will this even help-

“There you are,” a voice comes from above you, Dr Crane. You open one eye up, becoming flustered at your unprofessionalism, and enraged at the sight of your cruel professor.

He kneels to your height, offering you his soulless smile. “I’m sorry if that startled you, but I thought you would be better than them. I thought you could fully see my vision, look past the gruesome bits and understand what I’m trying to do here.”

His words both enrage you even further and make you feel even more embarrassed. He created a horrible substance, tested out on a man that, from what you know, didn’t deserve it, and essentially tortured him. On the other hand, this is a man who you have dreamed about and only want to please. For the past three years, you have sat in his class and dreamed about only him. For him to think that only you could understand his plans and dreams, is a flattery you could only dream of.

“Maybe I just didn’t prepare you well enough for this. Can I make it up to you?” Dr Crane asks, offering his hand to you. It takes a couple seconds, but you take it and he leads you upwards. 

His hand is oddly cold, his grip on your own hand is firm, but not harsh. His skin is smooth. It’s embarrassing that he has to lead you out of this room, has to coax you to continue.

“Let’s go to my office, hm?” Quirking an eyebrow, but not waiting for a response he led you down the hallway.

Everything seemed to blur together for you, the trip to the elevator, down the elevator, and into his office. He clicks the door shut, locking it, then turns to you. Stepping forward until he’s cornered you onto his desk.

“You think I don’t hear you at night. Calling my name. The walls in that place are very thin,” Dr Crane whispers into your ear, his hand slithering up your thigh.

A gasp escapes your lips, both at the hand now dangerously close to the warmth growing in your pants, and also because you didn’t think he would be able to hear your late night pleasure sessions. Soon he’s cupping your sex and you moan into his ear softly, earning a hum from him. Finger wander up from your sex to cup your chin, he brings you into a kiss. It’s bruising and hungry, he’s biting at your lower lip and you swear you can taste your own blood. His fingers make quick work unbuttoning your pants, sliding them down your legs until they drop to pool around your ankle.

“You're so wet already, how interesting,” He teases, tracing a finger over your clothed slit. Moaning in response you chase after his lips, but he pulls away. 

Your underwear is pushed over to the side, and his middle and ring finger breach your entrance. A loud ‘oh’ comes from your mouth, crane presses his lips to yours again to silence you. His fingers move slowly in and out of you, he catches each moan you let out with his mouth. His lips are soft, but the kiss is rough, his fingers speed up. They stretch you out so nicely it stings a little bit. It’s been so long since someone else has pleasured you, at all.

His fingers pulled out of your sex slowly, deliberately. A painstaking motion that left you close to pleasureless as he pulled out of your kiss. Quickly flipping you around and pressing you into his desk, the shock between his warm body behind you and the cold desk pressed against your front sent you spiralling. There was shuffling behind you, before you felt him lineup his cock with your cunt.

“Beg for it.” 

Your mouth opens and you spew out a string of ‘please’s and ‘need it’ that seem to satisfy him enough for him to push inside of you. He’s girthier than you expected, but not as long as you expected, which is fine for you. The stretch makes you ache and he won’t be bruising your cervix. Without giving you a moment to adjust he starts to move in and out of you.

“You have to be quiet, okay?” He says, before picking up his speed.

He sets up a consistent speed, hitting a spot inside of you that makes you grip the edge of the desk so intensely that your knuckles are turning white. The desk creaks as he moves in and out of your cunt, his breathing speeds up, one hand twists into your hair pulling your head back and you can’t tell if it’s to ground himself or as a reminder for you not to be too loud. Another hand comes to smack your ass, it's a swift hit, but it makes your knees buckle. 

“You're so much better than I thought you would be,” Dr Crane strains out between grunts.

He presses his front to your back, the hand in your hair softening its grip but not leaving. His breath tickles the back of your ear, the grunting coming from him makes you bite your lip to suppress your moans so hard there will be an indent left there tomorrow.

“Dr Crane, can I cum? Please, I’ve been so good, please let me cum,” you babble, the side of your face pressed into his desk making your words slur a little bit.

“Cum for me,” he says, moving the hand not tangled in your hair to your clit. Pressing small circles into your clit, he starts to speed up. 

Soon the pressure in your stomach releases and it goes black for a couple seconds. You feel Dr Crane’s hand press into your mouth to silence you as your legs buckle. Once you’re conscious again, he has already pulled out of you and you can hear him zip up his pants. You stand on your shaking legs and follow suit, trying to press your hair down into a more professional shape.

“I would recommend you get cleaned up,” Dr Crane says, giving you a smile, “Was that enough motivation to continue aiding me in my experiment?” “Uh- Yes,” you answer, not fully aware of what you were even saying, too embarrassed and lightheaded to even compute anything he was saying besides ‘getting cleaned up.’

“Perfect. After you get cleaned up, please meet me in room 256B. We can meet again here tomorrow during our lunch break if you continue to need the motivation provided,” He pats you on the shoulder, and leaves you in the room alone.

[cherrychilli]

18+

Steve Harrington x AFAB reader, lots of shameless teasing by reader, slight exhibitionism, allusions to sex, teeniest tiniest smidge of perv! Steve

A/N: Inspired by the only scene of Cool Hand Luke I've seen. And that one short scene from Elvira: Mistress of the Dark. Just wanted to write something fun and a lil bit silly.

"C'mon sugar, chop chop - 's not gonna clean itself", he sing songs from the driver's seat of the BMW where he's been toying with the radio, scratchy static fading into a chorus of Scorpions' No one like you when he tunes into a station that suits his liking.

On a regular day a quip like that would have had you pinching one of his triceps, twisting the skin until he crumbled to his knees with a litany of pleas and apologies tumbling past his lips. But today was different because you both knew he was exempted from any retaliation. And boy, was he enjoying it.

Steve had been like this all morning, painfully smug, grin stretched Cheshire cat wide ever since you'd come over to make good on the card game you'd lost the night before.

It began as a casual game of poker over a few beers to make the lazy evening more interesting. You never played for much. The white chips were always worth 25 cents, the reds 50 cents and the greens were a dollar but he had you perking up when he suggested sweetening the pot that night.

"Oh yeah? what do you have in mind?", you'd asked this with subdued interest, munching down another mouthful of sea salt and vinegar chips, half expecting him to float the idea of strip poker as influenced by your viewing of The Wanderers earlier that night.

It wasn't unlike Steve to suggest something like that after he's had a few drinks and it wasn't unlike you to happily go along with whatever he's proposed after you've had a few drinks of your own. The two of you made quite a pair that way.

The last time it was skinny dipping down at Lovers Lake. A shared bottle of Gin bore the blame for the idea but by some miracle of intervention (or was it interruption?) Jim Hopper happened to be cruising by to put a stop to it before things could go any further. Nothing like the fuzz rolling up on you in your underwear to dampen the mood.

But last evening didn't take that kind of a turn and you didn't have to sit there cursing yourself for not having the foresight to wear sexier underwear for very long.

This time you laid blame on the beers and that one swig of sickeningly saccharine Pineapple Schnapps left over from a party the week before for impacting your judgement, agreeing to raise the stakes to include the winner getting to delegate their weekend chores to the loser.

Steve went all in, chips tossed into the middle of his mother's new and perfectly lacquered walnut table, too buzzed and wound up in the competitive tension in the room to worry about accidentally scuffing it.

You considered your cards for a few short seconds, poker face perfectly unreadable. A full house, Queens over Jacks sat burning hot in your hands, making you call, pushing your chips over into the pile with more care than Steve had shown his own.

For a moment, you thought you had it and he let you think as much, his pink lips drooping into a frown with his head bowed, hand carding through his hair to mimic defeat when you slid your cards over.

But the thrill of not having to spend half the day mowing your lawn and weeding the garden was extinguished after three glorious seconds. He placed his cards down quietly though when you read them, the impact felt more like a gavel coming down, sentencing you to a day of doing his bidding.

Four of a kind. Kings.

Shit.

The Schnapps and the beer picked that moment to start sparring in your belly, adding to the bitter flavor of defeat washing over your tongue like an oil spill.

And then came that smirk which hasn't left his lips since. "I'll see you in my driveway tomorrow bright and early, sunshine", he winked at you in that way that had you torn between wanting to flip his mother's stupid table and climbing over it to kiss her stupid smarmy son.

And now here you were, greeted by the same insufferable smirk as you trudged up to his driveway on a Saturday morning to wash his car, hangover thankfully averted and with a fresh outlook on the situation since sobering up. He doesn't know it yet but you're not as sore about the loss as you seem.

Strangely, you had Steve's porno collection to thank for that.

You figured him to be kind of guy who preferred a dirty VHS over the classic skin mag especially now that he had an employee discount to abuse but a few months ago you'd found out that you'd guessed wrong.

You hadn't let on about the time you went looking to borrow a pair of spare socks one nippy evening from one of his drawers and found a busty, definitely not a licensed nurse despite the uniform, smoldering back at you instead.

Unearthing the magazine from beneath the pile of tube socks it'd been partially shoved under, you quietly acquainted yourself with the ladies of Genesis Magazine's Girls/Girls Fall 1987 issue. Recalling one page that had been dog eared, you learned the nurse had friends who liked to get naked and soaked when it came time to hose down their cherry red Chevy Camaro.

Suddenly, having you out in the sweltering heat, working up a sweat and scrubbing down his beamer while he watched didn't seem like innocent happenstance anymore. In fact the whole thing made you feel a little inspired.

So you thought to yourself, why not have a little fun?

Granted, you weren't planning on losing your top and straddling the hood like the redhead on page seven. Not in Steve's white picket fence neighborhood of all places, but you did still have something less than savory in mind.

He didn't even suspect anything when you asked to go change into something more comfortable to hose down his precious car, your jeans already feeling more than a little uncomfortable since you'd left your house in this heat.

Another perfectly cloudless azure sky hung over the neighborhood. Too sunny and muggy and at that hour of the morning where everyone else was still inside. Some slept in because it was Saturday while others slept off their Friday night. Those who were awake were already in their pools or in the kitchen, cracking ice cubes out of trays into big, dewy glasses of lemonade, intermittently sipping and holding the chilly glass up to soothe their sweaty temples.

If the heat bothered Steve he didn't show it, one hand resting on the steering wheel, fingers tapping along to the radio awaiting your return. He'd been looking forward to this all night since his winning hand and nothing could sour his anticipation now.

But he couldn't have anticipated what he saw when he catches sight of you through the rear view mirror, his fingers fumbling, losing his composure quicker than if he'd slipped on ice.

You strolled out like something ripped out of one of his wet dreams, shoes swapped for flip flops, snug denim cut offs replacing your jeans, white tee instead of the teal blue you'd shown up in and hips swaying.

His mouth was agape as you walked up to him. "What are you up to?", he spoke in a voice thick with suspicion, stare heavy and darting all over you like there was too much or you on display and not nearly enough at the same time.

"I'm washing your car like you we agreed. Changed your mind?", you challenged him with a hand on your hip, eyes narrowed into a look as sharp as a knife's edge, daring him to question you again.

"No..."

"Alright then", you eased into a smile, more roguish than your usual chaste, bumping your hip against the driver's side door which up until now had been ajar, closing Steve inside. He lets you do this, something about the new clothes coupled with your 'don't fuck with me' vibe making him feel strangely obedient.

Everything you needed was already left out for you. A bucket, a half full bottle of car wash soap, a sponge and the hose nearby.

You start with the hose first, making sure to bend over to pick it up rather than crouch beside it as you turned it on, legs straight, back arched nice and pretty, ass popped out. You didn't spend that extra fifteen minutes stretching at home for nothing!

It's vastly different from all the other times he's stared at your ass. Used to doing it in sneaky glances in the past, Steve can hardly believe the obvious way you flaunt yourself for him now, afraid if you keep it up he might fog up the windshield all on his own.

Running water spouts out the hose and you're not the least bit careful with how you aim the stream into the bucket to fill it up, splashing your thighs and forearms, the sun making your wet skin glow glossy under its rays.

Number 8 on Billboard's top ten singles of the month starts to play on the radio but it goes unheard by Steve over the sound of his own heartbeat thumping in his ears, watching you wrap your fingers around the thick, cylindrical bottle and squeezing it to squirt soap into the bucket.

It's all so calculated and deliberately dirty, even though you try to play it off all innocent. You even plaster on a faux look of surprise when you stand too close to the BMW to rinse it, water splashing back onto your clothes, denim turning dark, white tee turning transparent...

Steve nearly chokes on the saliva pooling in his mouth when he notices that you're not wearing a bra. No swimsuit or even a bikini on underneath. He tears his eyes away long enough to quickly survey the neighborhood and when he doesn't find any of his neighbors in sight he fixes them back on you.

He should stop you, right?

He shouldn't just sit there and watch, right?

It wouldn't be correct to let you parade yourself in front of him like this...

Right?

Turning off the hose, you grasp the sponge and dunk it into the soapy water, pulling it out all sopping and heavy to wring it out over the bucket, purposely holding it close to your chest so the excess water can cascade down your front.

Nothing could have stolen his attention away from the way your tits jiggle in your soaking, skin tight tee as you lean over and put some elbow grease into running the sponge over the hood of his car in soapy circles. Peeking up through your lashes you catch the way his cheeks blend from a subtle mauve to a pretty fuchsia from behind the windshield, deciding you'd like to get a closer look.

He thinks he might flatline when you saunter closer and lean over the side of the hood. Reaching as far as you can to sponge the windshield, you're certain the poor boy's probably straining against his zipper by now as your wet tits press up against the glass.

It's so obvious and indecent. And fun. Getting to dangle yourself in front of Steve like this so unabashedly out here in the open, sticking a pin in that irritating, albeit harmless, cocksure attitude he'd shown you at the start, watching it deflate with a wicked smile.

It was the sweetest torture, watching your body clad in soaked clothes, skin glistening, the contours of your breasts and nipples so evident now that you might as well be topless.

"Can't fucking take this anymore", you hear him mutter when he reaches his limit and exits the car, hand finding your waist to spin you around. He uses the other to snatch the soapy sponge out of your fingers and toss it out of sight, letting it land with a wet plop on the driveway.

"I'm taking you inside", he groans when you lean into him, wet tits pressing against his chest, turning the front of his blue polo a dark navy, thigh grazing his bulge.

"Why?" you ask all coy, not ready to retire the innocent act without batting your lashes at him first, your lips only a breath apart from his.

"Because I don't think they'd let me live here anymore if they came outside and found me bending you over the hood, darling", he replies, a second before his lips come down on yours.

[bakugoushotwife]

kinktober day three: mirror kink

>>> day three already woot woot! i hope you all are loving it so far, because i know i am! this is past me in the notes but it seems like these pieces are gonna get longer everyday at this rate lmfao. i picked keigs for the mirror because birb need luv

>>> starring: keigo takami (hawks) x curvy!fem!reader >>> cw: brief daddy use, doggy, highly emotional tbh i'm actually sorry, teasing, praise, pet names. >>>wc: 3.5k >>> event masterlist

keigo loves planning nights like these. you’re his special person, and his favorite pastime is making sure you know it. every so often, sometime around payday, he’ll come home with bags on bags, a dopey grin covering his face as he sashays to the bedroom of your shared apartment. he just can’t wait to show you what he got you this time, exclusively keeping his high-paying pro-hero job because it allows him to spoil his girlfriend with lavish riches. 

you weren’t high maintenance at all. at least, you didn’t start out that way. you were just you, a simple civilian that worked at the hospital he was brought into during the war with all for one. you were an adorable bedside nurse, sweet and careful in all the ways you tended to his wounds and listened to his nervous ramblings about his friends and students. you talked him through his anxieties, spending precious hours of your shift soothing him and keeping him company. he watched you get in trouble time and time again for messing the shift rotation up with your habit of staying by his side. it was the nicest thing anyone had ever done for him, to genuinely listen and to touch him with care, a worry an affection in your eyes he wasn’t sure he had seen from anyone before. 

it was no surprise that he kept in touch with you once he was discharged from the hospital. and luckily, to his relief, you offered to support him through rehabilitation, helping him with his fittings for his prosthetics and keeping his spirits high when his self-worth was at its very lowest. keigo never had someone to call his, and the first time he met you, that was the last thing on his mind. but you were still there, months later, giving him the idea to try swords and katanas as replacements for his sharp wings. it wasn’t long until he was back on the battlefield using all the support items and your suggestions to make him feel like hawks again. he was still covered with burn scars, but they seemed less mangling than before. it was probably all those salves you put on him, your healing hands doing more for his heart and mind than his body at times. 

so when the war was won, and it was time to say thank you for all the things you had done for him, he found himself taking you on expensive dates and paying for your hair appointments when you casually mentioned a new look you wanted to try. he caught himself picking out nail colors and shoes–at one time they were nike’s but now they were prada or jimmy choo. not that he minded, in fact, it was his insistence that you started expanding your palette to the expensive side anyhow. you were more than content to hold his heart and let him pay for your facials, but your whiny boyfriend practically begs for you to take his card and spend every dollar. 

you learned early on, if you didn’t spend it yourself, he would do this, take the day away from you, raiding the mall for anything new you didn’t already have hanging in your room-sized closet. you could hear the rustling of the paper and plastic bags rubbing against each other, a knowing smile spreading across your cheeks. and sure, maybe months ago you were just a humble nurse. but keigo’s constant babying may or may not have created a small spoiled brat. you sit up on your knees, crawling to the edge of the bed to greet your loving partner, squealing when his excited eyes and crinkled up nose peek around the corner with a wide grin. 

“guess what i got you.” he titters, revealing the evidence of his shopping. he holds his other arm out to accept your waiting hug, stepping close enough to the bed for you to throw your arms around him in greeting. you looked so cute in your silk pajamas, just waiting in your shared bed for him to return to you. you’ve been able to reduce the amounts of shifts you take at the hospital now that you barely have any of your own bills to pay, and that was being generous. he usually paid those too, but you refused to go jobless until you had a ring—and well, let’s just say that wouldn’t be much longer. you had a fresh maintenance day yesterday, the highlights of your hair freshly toned, your brows waxed and tinted, a new set of lashes and nails–you look too good to be true like always, like you deserve for being so good to him. you’re perfect, and he cannot wait to see how you look in the things he bought you, keigo’s special girl. 

you hum playfully in thought, pressing your silken crop-top bound chest against his. he can tell you don’t have a bra on, and the thought delights him. you rarely wore anything but your slutty pajamas or the special selection of lingerie he had curated for you. one he was excited to add to tonight. you giggle and press a kiss to his stubble covered jaw, and throw out your best guess. “hmmm, shoes?” 

he chuckles, tucking some loose strands of your hair back behind your ear so he could admire your saccharine smile. he hums, nodding. you were right after all, that was part of it. “mhm, good, my little dove. what else?” 

you smile under the praises, trying to eye the bags as he snakes his arm around your waist, setting them on the bed for you. “jewelry?” you offer with an arched brow, watching his face for a hint. his amber eyes gleam with pride—and you knew you were right again. he nods, his calloused hand sneaks under your skimpy top and the warm touch makes you press yourself further into his leather and whiskey scented chest. 

“the prettiest. i think you’ll like it, lovebird.” he grins, squeezing your hip. “do you know what else i got my pretty girl?” he coos, reaching for a big black dolce & gabbana bag, containing a pretty bowed box. he always paid them extra to wrap it like a christmas gift, watching your face light up as you pulled the ribbon free always melted his heart a little. he passes the box over to you for that exact reason, returning his arm around your back to watch you open it. 

you squeal excitedly, giving his jaw another quick peck. you tug the pale bow off the box with great care, and his smile grows. inside lays a beautiful black bra and panty set, one he no doubt wants you to model for him. you gasp at the pieces, lacy and strappy, decorated with black dots against the sheer balconette style mesh. the thong was just a pathetic little triangle piece, mostly to say you had something on, if you had to guess. you beam up at him, giving him a proper kiss on the lips to signify your approval. 

“thank you daddy, it’s so beautiful! you’re too good to me!” you sing, freeing the lingerie of their confines to splay it out on your bed. he chuckles and shakes his head. 

“oh i could never even give you what you deserve, sweetness.” he hums, reaching for the tiffany & co bag. he holds it out for you next, letting you fish out the boxes inside. for this, he sits on the bed before you, hands tucked into the pockets of his tan coat, smirking up at his darling love. you peer at him over the pile of little teal boxes in your hand, arching your brow. he only chuckles, urging you to open it with his suggestive glare. he’s undressing you with his bedroom stare already, just waiting for you to put on all your pretty gifts so he could further appreciate you in them. you notice him shifting around, trying to hide the bulge he always gets from watching you jump around and celebrate how much he loves you. it was adorable, he couldn’t help but derive pleasure from it. 

you quickly tear into these three boxes, finding a pure diamond choker, bracelet, and matching stud earrings waiting to be adorned by your perfect body. you gasp at him, shaking your head in shock. you know how expensive these had to be, and you refused to accept such a crazy gift—especially paired with other things! as spoiled as he’s made you, you still look at him in disbelief. 

“what? i saw you looking at these last time. my name is hawks, after all, babygirl.” he winks, plucking the necklace from the box and turning his index in a circle to have you turn around for him in order to dangle the choker around your neck. he clasps the hook and then puts the bracelet on the wrist closest to him, leaving the earrings up to you. he turns you back to him by the shoulders, grinning valiantly–but you can see the borderline hunger lurking beneath. his siren gaze darts over to the dainty fabric still laying stiff and undisturbed on the bed. “open the last box, ‘nd then i wanna see everything altogether.” 

he bites down on his bottom lip in anticipation as he passes you the final bag, a big paper bag from—you knew what these must be immediately, and it has you squealing with joy, as you knew exactly why he saved this gift for last. “keigo, you shouldn’t have, i really cannot believe you!” you shift your weight from foot to foot, pulling the slim black box out of the paper bag, pushing the lid off with haste. 

he still sits next to you, his hands sprawled out behind him so he could lean back now, bionic wings still attached from the day. he would only remove them before sleeping, still incredibly insecure and lost without his real ones. he admired your giddiness, this emotion flowing from you was exactly the reason he would do whatever it takes to keep gifts like these flowing. you dangle the pricey so kate style red bottoms at him, jumping with glee. you nearly tackle him backward with the force of your arms around his neck, screaming your thanks in his ear. he only chuckles and wraps his arms around you in response, lightly slapping your ass to make you yelp. 

“now go and put everything on—been waiting to see you in it all day.” he pouts, jutting his chin towards your walk in closet. in all fairness, it was a second bedroom keigo had converted to a walk in for you. it was decorated with several mirrors along one wall, allowing you to get all the best angles of your outfits and accessories that your boyfriend no doubt provided. you snatched the newest goodies up and scampered off to get changed, feeling the warmth building in your chest and stomach just from the way he looks at you. you knew he had struggled with his own appearance since you met him, and you hated that. sometimes you wish you could spoil him the same way he does you, but he always swears your affection makes him feel like he’s still soaring on top of the world. 

you complete the jewelry trio by putting in the stunning studs he got, simple but huge cut diamonds perfectly accenting your features. then you tug on your new set and slip into your shoes, admiring your own reflection in the ballet studio-esque mirroring. maybe he admired you so much because he no longer could look at himself with the same fondness that you gaze at yourself—or him— with. you were stunning, that was indisputable, but it made you sad that your once notoriously cocky boyfriend now shrunk away from the sight of his own appearance. a physical lightbulb may as well have popped up over your head. “mm, daddy? wanna come help me with the buckle?” 

he should have known it was a set up. you’ve put on much more involved outfits before without his assistance. when he strolls in, ready to lend a helping hand, you’re already on the floor on your hands and knees—and the lingerie he picked looks heavenly. he can see why the louboutins were so sought after, elongating your sexy legs and exposing the signature red bottoms to him from this angle. you wiggle your perky ass, and he salivates, the semi he’s been fighting turning into a full on boner. you’re looking back over your shoulder at him with that devilish smirk on your face, and it’s then he realizes you’ve tricked him into fucking you in front of your mirror wall. and to his surprise, his cock jumps in his pants as he meets your eyes through one of the panes. you’re unimaginably gorgeous, dripping in diamonds that sparkle in the soft lighting. he can see straight down that bra, and before he can doubt himself, he’s yanking his hard cock free from his sweats and tugging on it roughly. his breathing is heavy already, the worry starting to creep in. at times it was hard to be intimate with you, not because he didn’t absolutely crave you in almost a sinister sense, but because of his own insecurities. he knows you were familiar with him before, though you only met him after the damage was done. yet still, he can’t help but worry the scars covering his face and body will gross you out one day. 

“c’mere daddy…wanna look at you like this, make you see how pretty you are.” you wiggle your ass for him again, the globes taunting him into compliance. when he lowers himself to his knees he can tell how needy you are. it must turn you on a bit to think about him taking you like this, though he can’t deny his own curiosity at the idea. his hands smooth down the curve of your back, all the way to the nape of your neck and back down to grasp your wide hips to steady himself. he licks his lips as you wiggle in his grip, making a mewl of anticipation. “please, look…i think you’re so pretty…i like the marks, makes you look all handsome and tough,” you whine so sweetly it makes his cock throb. “‘nd i need you so bad, the you i see in the mirror right now, is the sexiest man alive.” 

he chortles and rolls his eyes, feeling the warmth of blush sting his cheeks. he peels his shirt off, discarding it somewhere in the vicinity.  “yeah, yeah, hush.” he beckons, spreading your cheeks with the help of you scooting your knees further for him. it did boost his ego to hear you talk so fondly of him. you didn’t miss the old pro-hero you looked up to—you love him as is. he knows it, he’s sure of it, it’s why he spoils you relentlessly, but hearing you say it did things to him. 

“nuh-uh, i wan’ you to see…breaks my heart to hear you complainin’ ‘bout how you look…’cause you’re perfect.” you pout, wiggling back on his shaft. he helps guide himself inside, sheathing to the hilt. you do spoil him, you just didn’t realize it. the way you love him was all he needed, with the sweet words spilling out of your mouth and the choking grip your cunt has around him—the view of your face melting in the mirror felt like special treat. 

you moan out your delight, throwing your ass back against him to get him to start moving, the view of your pouty face while in doggy kept him paralyzed and utterly drunk, too busy admiring all of his gifts against your skin and the warmth of being inside you to remember to do anything about it. he chuckles breathily when he feels your recoil, giving you an affectionate slap to the bum. he starts to move in tandem to your little bounces, his eyes fluttering shut at the way you squeeze and release his curved cock. it feels so good, you can identify the veins and ridges as they drag through your walls. you don’t close your eyes though, no, your eyes are locked on his form in the mirror. he’s unreal, the slow pace at which he fucks you just driving you crazy. he’s a god, golden and chiseled, his smile enough to give you life on your darkest days. you wanted him to admit it. 

you crawl forward a little, out of his reach, off his cock. he frowns at you in the mirror. “come back.” he pouts, making grabby hands for you. 

you giggle, shaking your head. “not ‘til you smile at yourself and say ‘i’m the prettiest pro hero with the prettiest princess in the whole world.’” you say, sticking your tongue out at him in the mirror, admiring his naked form behind you. he huffs, letting his gaze drift between your face in the mirror and your ass in front of his face. he crosses his arms over his burned chest, arching a brow at you. 

“you know, i could say you’re being ungrateful.” he whines, not able to fully challenge you. you wiggle your ass at him again and arch your challenging brow back at him. for the second time, he huffs. but he realizes that there’s no use fighting you. he learned that lesson when you were his nurse. he would give in, or else. he lets his gaze drift back to your round ass and dripping pussy just waiting for him to come back to you, and he sighs. he loves starting slow just to tease you, but it seems like you have your own master plan in mind. keigo’s eyes drift back to the mirror, where he sees your eagerly awaiting face. you look over his face and body with all the adoration and affection in the world, and he feels that with your confidence, he can believe in himself and give you some peace of mind. he meets his own eyes in the mirror and nods. he certainly has come a long way, and he may never return to his former glory, but if this is the man you love—that’s enough. more than enough. he can be happy to be that man, your man. he smiles at you, then at himself. “i’m the prettiest pro-hero.” he nods with a broad smile as his gaze falls back down to you. “and i have the prettiest princess in the whole world.” he concludes, to which you coo and applaud him. he walks forward on his knees, greedily tugging you back on him, plunging his length back deep with a relieved moan. 

he doesn’t waste any time by teasing, either, holding the creases of your hips like they were his own personal handlebars, he slams into your heat, the grip of your cunt so choking he can’t control the loud groans he lets loose. you have to actively focus on holding yourself up, entranced with the sight of his pussy-drunk face, high on pleasure. his cock angles so perfectly in this position, abusing your cervix just the way he likes. it has your limbs shaking as you struggle to keep absorbing the force of his hip and your moans bordering on screams. he just loves you so much, he has to spoil the woman who’s given him everything. he knows you love him like this, that’s why you crawled into that position in the first place. 

“that’s my girl, taking it so good for me.” he nods his approval, his arm dipping to support your hips. thanks to the mirror, he can see the tears drop from the corner of your eyes, the wavering of your arms as you struggle to hold yourself up. you nod to his praise, squealing extra loud, you love being his girl. his hand dips to rub a messy pace against your clit, groaning at how you jerk and arch in response. “fuck, i can see everything like this, little dove. you look so pretty…all the diamonds suit my jewel just right.” he pants between punishing strokes, even though he’s giving you the reward of a lifetime. 

you nod, forcing your eyes open to watch him rut into you, mouth open in a silent scream while his jaw drops in awe. you’re absolutely perfect. you fold over, falling completely against his arm, clenching down on him so hard it nearly hurt him. you whimper, “gon’ cum daddy, you’re s’good…” 

he nods egging you on as he presses into your nerves harder, giggling as your legs shake and give out completely. it sends him over the edge, his eyes glued to your face in the mirror as he shoves his seed deep, continuously fucking it deeper with his hard strokes, only letting up when he was sure you couldn’t take another pump. he smiles at your fucked out appearance, hair knotted and sprawled out, the lingerie shifted just enough to let him enjoy all of you, your tearstained cheeks—and thighs. he leans over to kiss your shoulderblade, staying there to catch your breath. for a minute, all there is to be heard is panting, but soon keigo chuckles again, and scoops you out of the floor.

“now it’s time for the real princess treatment, lovebird.” he hums, taking you towards the bathroom for a fresh bubble bath of your choosing.

[bomberqueen17]

sketchy grocery store shit: a very middle-aged rant

Man so. I went to college in Rochester and so I did my first I'm An Adult Shopping For My Own Groceries shopping in a Wegmans. I got used to the way the store works, how things were laid out. And of course, i got a Shopper's Club card.

I still have it somewhere, use it occasionally, but I had to get another one when I misplaced it because they asked what phone number it was tied to and like, man, it was a Rochester number with a 716 area code, that's how long ago it was. (It's 585 there now.)

I got conditioned to try the Wegmans brand generic for whatever brand name thing I was buying, because it was often the same, and was cheaper. (Though, RIP to the old Wegmans box mac n cheese, they enshittified that in 1999 once we were all good and hooked and we all mourned and switched to Annie's and never looked back. Maybe it's better now but I don't rely on that stuff the way I used to.) I got conditioned to always swipe the card because sure they were collecting data on you but in a $70 trip I'd save five bucks easy, it wasn't nothing! And I also learned to look for their Family Packs, which were larger containers of the same item for less per unit-- if it was something not that perishable, or something you could get through, it was worth spending a little more now to stretch it later!

Anyway. I went to Wegmans yesterday, I live in Buffalo now and we have them here too, and we have a rotation of grocery stores we patronize but when I do the shopping, I'm still the most used to Wegmans, I know where stuff is, and I knew some of the stuff I wanted, they'd be the ones to have. (The organic co-op doesn't carry Doritos and sometimes in the doldrums of winter a bitch needs some of that poison, y'know?)

I'd noticed before that the Shoppers Club isn't a savings thing anymore. I didn't have my own card for one visit and the cashier went to great lengths to get me a swipe from a manager, and at the end I'd spent $200 and saved.... fifty cents.

This time around I'd taken advantage of a buy one get one deal to get a second box of something I didn't really need a second box of, only to discover it was buy one get a dollar off the second, so I saved a whole dollar and actually spent three I hadn't needed to. Well, whatever. It's not perishable and I'll eventually go through it.

But the other thing I noticed was the wild price swings by different packaging of the same item. I should've taken pictures. But like-- ok, raw baby spinach. I fucking love spinach. They had a smaller bag and then next to it they had a Family Pack. I hesitated-- it is hard to use up leafy greens but I fucking love spinach and I could make the effort-- and then I looked. I can't do math but fortunately they are required by law to have the price per unit breakdown on every price sticker. Because the small bag of spinach was $1.99, and was $3.99/lb. (A pound of spinach is a lot.) The Family Pack next to it? It was $3.99, which seemed like a good price jump. But on the per-item breakdown, it came out to $7.99/lb. It didn't actually have any more spinach in it. It was just a different-shaped bag and cost more. For no reason. And there was a whole shelf of the larger bags, and only a small display of the smaller ones. They're just expecting people, conditioned like I am, to say "ah i can use more spinach i'll take the savings" and buy the more expensive bag. But I did just do the math (which is difficult for me so you know I'm mad about this) and that is literally the exact same amount of spinach for twice the price.

Similar for stew beef but they went too far with it, it wasn't even plausible. There was a large pack for forty-nine dollars and I didn't even look to see how much was in it because i do not have forty-nine dollars for stew beef, I found a one-pound bag for $8.99. But I had this same issue before, and was more persistent last time I went: you can buy a three-pound chuck roast for $7.99/lb, which is a chunk of change but it's a lot of meat, and cut it into stew beef yourself and save some money that way, but I just knew I did not have it in me this week to cut up yet another chuck roast when I got home. (Full disclosure: i wasn't even looking at the grass-fed organic shit this was just regular USDA whatever Meets Regulations And Is Legal To Sell shit.)

Stew beef is supposed to be the trimmings and it is supposed to be cheap. But they have realized people prefer it, more recipes call for it because it was historically cheaper, and so they have marked it up and it is more expensive than the whole roast. Because most cooks reading a recipe are not going to necessarily know why it calls for stew beef and that they could substitute a superior cut if the price wasn't good.

I am aware that buying the pre-marinated individual convenience cuts is historically where they make their profit and I don't begrudge them that; if that's what I was shopping for I would not be that mad about paying $7 for three cents worth of marinade ingredients, because it is much easier to cook something like that with the attached recipe and because a lot of the markup is the labor costs in putting all that shit together. I don't begrudge them that at all and when I'm paying for it I'm well aware that I am.

But I really do resent how much of the price-gouging is happening by abusing the patterns of behavior they conditioned us into. I learned, twenty years ago, to look for the deals and look for the bulk packs, and now I am being punished for having learned that. I don't mind paying a premium for something I know is a convenience fee, but being charged extra for my formerly-thrifty shopping habits really stings. I shouldn't have to exercise constant vigilance in the fucking grocery store, it's stressful enough to be the only masked person in there and now you have to compete with the huge carts they use for the online ordering peeps that take up a lot of the aisle.

Maybe it's easier to do the price comparisons on the website?

Oh and there are a number of products they now only carry the Wegmans generic for. (You can't get Snyder pretzel bites anymore, and the Wegmans version doesn't come in quite the same flavors, so I have to go to Dash's to get those now.) And still others where the Wegmans version is pricier. And, alas, some where the more expensive Wegmans version is better. (Polly-O string cheese, why are you so bland?? You're a snack baby. The Wegmans generic has salt in it and is a ton more pleasant to eat.)

IDK I don't have a thesis here it's just that being alive in the 2020s is way harder than being alive in the 2000s even though I was poorer then and didn't know shit. I don't miss my youth and I super don't miss George W Bush but I miss when I was figuring stuff out and it seemed to make sense. And I sorta miss when the Wegmans cashiers used to wear t-shirts bragging about how highly-ranked Wegmans was by whatever organization that was that ranked how good places are to work for.

Also, they try to steer you to use the self checkouts, but baby if you have more than two shopping bags' worth of stuff in your cart you had better wait in however long that line is to let a real human put it into bags for you because the self-checkout does not have any mechanism for you to remove and replace a full shopping bag from the bagging area. I told the cashier how much I appreciated him because he wasn't screaming at me, and he was like yah those self-checkouts yell at you a lot.

(Every Wegmans cashier for twenty years has been super nice. I doubt they're in a union, I wish they were.)

Yeah yeah this is the most middle-aged thing I've written yet but I'm in physical therapy and just bought a recliner for the ergonomics so I'm clearly grappling with my own mortality here, and I'm writing this partly out of concern for the kids who are where I was in 2000. What the hell are they being conditioned to do, by all this????? Shit, man.

[natsaffection]

My sweet Baby. | part 1 | N.Romanoff

Sugar Mommy!Natasha x Sugar Baby!Reader

Word Count: 2,997

warnings: none (until now..)

A/n: Here it is! The first part of: My sweet Baby. I don't really have a post schedule, so I will post anytime. Maybe every two days. However have fun..

(Pls keep in Mind that English is not my first language. So if you see any Mistakes please let me know)

It's the first day of your hard-earned vacation in L.A. You've wanted to go here since you were about seven, and now the time has finally come. You arrive at your...well, hotel, if you can call it a hotel. It was one of the cheapest in town, and since you were just sleeping here and out on the town the rest of the time, it wasn't too bad for you.

You put your things down and opened the only window in the room. You look out and breathe in the new fresh air that you could only dream of until today. You looked down at the people who were beginning their daily lives. What do you think it's like to live in such a big city forever? What do they work down there, so they can afford it all?

You shake off the thoughts and remember why you are actually here. You went to the bathroom to freshen up, and then you started your first morning of the day.

The first two days went according to your plan. You saw your sights, you bought a t-shirt with the palm tree, you went to the Santa Monica Pier and much more. You could get used to that.

It was already late, and you decided to go to a cafe to wind down. So, you googled again which of the stores serve good drinks and above all at a pleasant price. After all, you didn't have much left. You found one after a while and were surprised when you stood in front of it... "It doesn't look that bad...".

You were at first taken back about the statements of the café, but once you dared to take a look inside, the feeling quickly faded. You went inside and stood at the counter, you looked at the menu card and ordered what sounded best to you. The lady just smiled kindly and went to work. Meanwhile, you looked around and felt a little uncomfortable. You saw people with expensive clothes, expensive watches, was that a Rolex? Is that even a Rolex? All over the place.

You were so lost in thought that you didn't notice another person ordering a drink. And you didn't notice until the barista went back to work. You took a few steps to the side so that the other person would also have more room to wait. You looked at her and..wow. That is now the final sign that you were in the wrong place. How can someone be so pretty? She had long, red, curly hair that went a little past her shoulders. At her neck, a necklace that must have cost more than your whole vacation here. Her clothes must be handled with soft gloves...And of course again, a watch that has more parts than your cell phone. You suddenly had an urge to say it out loud,

"You have a really nice watch.."

"Oh, thank you..Do you own a Philippe too?"

Philippe?

"I'm sorry, what?" You looked at the woman, confused. Why is she asking you about a country now? "The Patek watch, sweet." You looked back down at her wrist and back up at her,

"Oh! No, no...I don't own one." God, this is embarrassing, "It's very pretty! You must have paid a fortune for it..." The older woman looked at you and leaned back a little, "Three million." Now it was your turn again, who looked at her confused, "Three million what?”

The woman just had to smile, "Three million dollars, the watch I mean."

Okay, now what's the quickest and easiest way to leave this store? THREE MILLION FOR A WATCH? Who would do this?...I- Who would spend that kind of money on a device that can only tell the time?

"Wow that's a l-"

"Ms. your late is ready." You were interrupted by the barista as she placed your drink on the counter. You looked at the redhead again and smiled, "That seems to be mine."

She just looked after you as you took it and asked how much you should pay now,

"That'll be 13 dollar."

HUH?

"E-Excuse me, but could you please repeat that? I think I mis-" You clearly misunderstood her, it was three, THREE dollars-.

"That's thirteen dollars." You looked at her as if you had seen a ghost, "T-Thir-"

"Put it on my bill please, here you can keep the rest." A soft voice brought you out of your thoughts again, and you saw the red haired woman with the totally overpriced watch, hand the other woman a $50 bill. The barista just nodded, and you didn't know what to do with yourself. Did a strange woman just give you money? Why? "W-Well, thank you..I'll give you this back-" She held a hand in front of your face to stop you, "Please, that was for the compliment earlier." She smiled and looked back as she got her drink. She looked back at you, "Shall we sit down?"

You looked deep into her eyes and thought about it. What could possibly go wrong? "Yeah sure, why not..."

Her smile widened, and she made her way to a window seat. She pushed out the chair and waited for you to sit down, "Thanks..." You smacked yourself inside, as your voice sounded totally pathetic. She's just trying to be nice, right?

"So, what's a pretty young girl like you doing in one of the most expensive cafes in the neighborhoods?" Most expensive?!"Wait, that's this one, right?" You took out your phone and showed her the picture you had googled earlier. She leaned further forward and looked at the picture, "No, that would be one street over. This one..."

She looked at you for a moment, and you didn't know why. She then took a finger and scrolled around a bit on your phone, "This is it, that's where we are right now." You looked at her before turning your phone towards you and looking at the screen. Your jaw dropped now for the fourth time today. You are in a five star coffee shop. One of the best in town. Well, that explains a lot...

"Okay, this is a little embarrassing..." You held your drink up to your face so the other woman next to you wouldn't see your red face. "You're not from around here, are you?" That the woman finds this amusing was totally audible,

"No...I'm actually from Denver. I'm just here for a few days." The redhead took a sip, "Why?"

"I'm here for a short vacation, since I've always wanted to come here. I mean..we're talking about the real Los Angeles! The city that's probably in most games or movies. I wanted to see it for real." You think your answer was enough for her, "So, what do you think so far?" You thought a little, "Well..Damn expensive..I mean, we are drinking a coffee for thirteen dollars right now! In college, it's 1,50..."

"You're still studying?" I've only known this person for five minutes and still could hear out that the question sounded surprised. "Yes..art history. It's fun, so there's nothing to complain about..."

I smiled at my self and so had to the woman, "May I ask how old you are?"

Can she? I mean, I don't know this woman... "I'm 21." The woman looked at you with a monotone facial expression, but inside she tried to hide her lust, "Still so young..wow," you had to laugh, "Yeah and still doesn't know what to do with me.."

"You don't?"

"No..I mean.. I'm barely managing to pay my college, so..."

The woman looked at you curiosity. She took out her cell phone and typed on it for a bit until she put it back. "What's your name?" The question was unexpected. You just cried your heart out, and she just wants to know your name?

"Y/n..Y/n L/n."

"Well Y/n, I think today is our lucky day..."

"Why? Are you offering me a job? I don't know if you were listening to me earlier, but I'm not from here..I live thousands of miles away..So if that's not a home office job that also pays better than my two current jobs to-”

She watched you as you let your frustration out. She makes a mental note to her to not fire her assistant after all, who screwed up bringing her the coffee and had to go herself. "Believe me ms. L/n this offer will blow you wide open." You looked at the woman and tried to get a glimpse of whether she was joking. However, you realize she is total serious. "Okay.. go ahead Ms?"

"Natasha Romanoff."

Natasha Romanoff..you knew that name from somewhere..But- "But we don't discuss that here. I appreciate my privacy and most of all yours."

What?

"Now you're scaring me a little..If you want me to walk over dead bodies for you, it's going to be difficult-" The woman chuckled, "No..I have another department for that." What- "I'm just kidding."

"I-I knew that! Um..With all due respect, but I'd like to discuss the offer here..."

So I could run..

"I wouldn't do that if I w-"

"Here or not at all..Ms Romanoff." You leaned back, proud of your statement. I mean what could that woman possibly do to you?

Meanwhile, Natasha is trying her hardest not to pull a fist one on you, and spank your ass after that answer. She leans forward again and looks you right in the face, "One more answer like that Y/n and I'll put you over my lap in front of everyone."

You just imagined this. No way- no way did she just say that to you. "Do you understand?"

"W-What?"

No. You didn't imagine it. Did she- "Y/n?"

Perhaps Natasha did act too quickly when she saw your notification on your phone from the app called: Sugar Mommy Fee. However, your concerns evaporated when, "Yes..."

"Yes, what?"

"I understand, sorry..." Natasha nearly moaned. You even have manners, that's a lottery win she wouldn't even need. "So as you wish, I-" you shifted in your chair, "N-No..um..I'll get back to you on that offer from earlier..not here." Natasha just smirked, "All right then, follow me."

                                      The two of you left the cafe and walked towards a black Bentley. In front of it, someone in a black suit waited and opened the back door for Natasha. She stepped aside and let you go in first. You thanked her and sat down in the back. 

Your mother would throw her beloved cup against your head if she knew you got into someone else's car. But what could happen? Natasha obviously has something big to lose if she decides to kill you.

"May I ask what you do for a living?" Natasha looked over at you from her Ipad,

"My company is a global leader in communication technologies, eco-production and next generation agriculture solutions."

Her company??

You couldn't keep up with the first word. The woman sitting next to you is a literal doer. That explains the car, the clothes, hell that watch..So why does she want anything to do with you? The one who has a hole in her sock and paints her toe black, so you can't see it. You also take your cell phone out of your pocket and wanted to write your friend whats happening. And maybe send your location. You were about to unlock your phone when you saw the disaster.

You saw a few messages from Instagram, a message from your family group and...a notification from Sugar Mommy fee. That's it. You're screwed. Natasha must have seen it when she wanted to show the real cafe. That's why she was staring at you! Fuck..Is it fuck? I mean.. The app was just a joke between you and a friend, but look where it got you. You're probably sitting in a sugar mommy car right now. Oh god...Nata-

"What's on your mind?"

"N-Nothing!!!" Rule number one, you probably already understood: Don’t tell Lies.

"You're lucky we haven't cleared up the contract yet Ms. L/n."

She looked back at her Ipad and continued reading the article she had open. You put your phone back in your pocket and looked out the window. You are on the complete other side of the city, everywhere you saw only big buildings, and then you stopped at one yourself. Natasha got out and you were overwhelmed because you didn't know what to do until Natasha opened your door. You took a deep breath and got out.

You entered the building and people were everywhere greeting the red-haired woman. You entered an elevator and the man from earlier stayed outside, "Is he here for your safety?" The woman looked down at you, she could literally feel your fear, "Steve?" She chuckled, "No, I'm good at taking care of myself, but my marketing department insisted. Good looks for the public, the normal stuff. "Oh..” The normal stuff, what have I gotten myself into?

Before you could worry anymore, the door opened and Natasha was waiting for you to get off the elevator. "Just follow the red carpet."

"Red seems to be your favorite color, doesn't it?"

Natasha just grinned and put her hand on your back to guide you. Don’t Blush Y/n! The two of you walk a bit until you arrived in front of a large wooden door, which of course was opened again by two staff members. In the room, which is twice the size of your hotel room, has a stunning view over the whole city. You could barely see the people below you. "Have a seat."

Natasha pointed where, and while you sat down, she went to a cabinet and pulled out an envelope. She came back and sat down as well and unwrapped the envelope to put it in front of you.

"What is this?"

"A confidentiality agreement. It says you can't talk to anyone about anything that concerns us. I'm afraid my lawyer insists on it." You looked at the piece of paper and back at her, "Are you putting this in front of everyone you want to start to Date? And as I mentioned..I can't stay here, Ms. Romanoff. I'm going to college for a few more months, I-I'm going to work, and it's all miles away..." Natasha leaned back in her chair,

"First of all. I don't date. Second, we can work out that distance thing, there's more than one way. Besides, it's only an hour flight. I can handle that."

Now the alarm bells were ringing. "You? You can handle that? What about me?"

"Y/n..." She leaned forward again and bowed her hands in front of her, "do you even know what a sugar mommy contract is?" Why does she never mince words and always blurts everything out right away?!

"Answer me, Y/n." You shifted,

"N-Well..Two people enter into a relationship while Person A gives money to person B and Person B gives Person A..Love..." Natasha sighed and took a breath,

"Okay..I want you to listen to me carefully now. In such a..relationship as you call it, it is strictly speaking a soft form of prostitution. In exchange for expensive gifts or other forms of payment, the Sugar Baby," She points to you, "provides her companionship and usually sexual favors. I'm looking for just that. A person who will keep me company at various things and in the nights-"

"I'll be your Toy? Is that it?" She didn't like your tone at all.

"Yes. Just that and nothing more." She looked you straight in the eye to check on your feelings. "Steve is downstairs to drive you to your hotel right now if you want to decline. But..I can give you everything, Y/n. And when I mean anything, I don't just mean financial."

What are you supposed to do? Leave? Stay? BOTH? You don't know..Natasha's offer sounds..tempting, but would you be willing to put your body on the line for it?

"Can..Can I think about it?"

Natasha felt a tiny bit of success. She pretty much has you in the palm of her hands.

"Of course. When's your flight back?"

If I tell her, will she refuse?

"In two days..." You could see a little movement. "Well that's short notice, but we'll work it out, don't worry about it."

She always makes it sound so easy..

"Okay and..are we sleeping with each other now o-or?" Natasha slid her chair a little to the side and opened a drawer by her desk. She took out another sheet of paper and a pen and put the two things in front of you, "Write your email on there please. I will send you all the details." You did as she said and wrote it on the paper. "You can keep the pen." You look at her and see her just smiling, "See as with souvenirs."

"I-I don't have a laptop..And the mail program on the phone is-" Natasha pressed a button at her desk. "Don't worry about it, it's already taken care of." A few seconds later, another woman opened the door and brought you a wrapped box. I rolled my eyes as the paper it was wrapped in was red, of course.

"I'll mail everything to you tonight, and after that, you can still refuse, anytime, okay? But think about it.“ You both got up from your chairs, "Okay..thank you.."

She walked you to her door, "Steve will drive you to your hotel. If you have any questions, don't be shy to ask me okay? I need you to be as comfortable as I am, understood?"

"Got it, thanks..." The older woman looked at you and smiled. She did then walk you to the elevator by herself, and you went inside. You both looked at each other and the elevator doors closed.

"Y/n."

"Natasha.."

[storm-angel989]

Eres jodidamente estúpida, niñita?

MAJOR SHOUT OUT TO absolut3lyn0t  for ALL the help with editing and for teaching me Spanish! I can't WAIT to use the things I've learned in the Outside The Office series!

Enjoy!!

I strutted across the stage with the confidence instilled in me by three of hell's most powerful overlords. My hair on point, my smile perfected, my outfit, killer. And my VoxTech watch that served as a location tracker? Sitting in my locker at school alongside my phone. As far as my family knew, I was staying late for volleyball tryouts. 

Walking through my highschool hallways, it was impossible to miss the plethora of help wanted posters plastered all over the walls. The job description was simple, requiring nothing more than excellent customer service skills and a large, bolded eighteen plus only need apply. The pay started five dollars above minimum wage, with the promise of hefty cash tips. 

The money was really what caught my attention. After listening to my father bitch about last month’s credit card bill, I decided it was time I started working, without the hovering of my father, my Uncle Valentino or my Aunt Velvette. I needed money that wasn’t connected to them in any way, shape or form- dollars I could spend how I pleased, and without their input. Unfortunately for me, my father owned VoxTech, the biggest company in all of hell. Even as his daughter, I couldn’t be sure where its tendrils spread. Whatever job I chose, I needed to fly under the radar. 

School first, you have more than you need and access to anything you could possibly want. Is what my father had told me when I first asked if I could start working. You have no reason to get an afterschool job. Focus on being sixteen, kiddo. 

And I knew damn well if my location popped up in some new place consistently, I would be discovered and forced to quit on the spot. So as soon as I made the decision to apply, I made it a point to tell my family I was trying out for the volleyball team. 

Glad to see you decided to leave behind that silly job idea, my father had said over sips of his morning coffee. Believe me, someday you’ll wish you didn’t have to work so much. 

As if. 

I walked into the address listed on the flyer, noting the shift in scenery as I made my way deeper downtown. Open interviews, they called it, two pm to ten pm. I had already filled out the application on the bottom of one of them, if you could even call it that. Three easy to answer questions. 

Age? I filled in eighteen.

Availability? After School hours. 

Size? I scribbled down the number. 

I followed the directions to the address on the flyer and handed my application to the demon at the door.  The place itself looked a little run down, done up in red, black and gold. But it certainly gave the appearance of being a high end facility- especially with the long stage and the pole at the center. 

I was quickly ushered inside and seated across from a shark demon in a red fedora. He looked me up and down and just like that, I was handed a uniform of red and hired me on the spot for the shift that started ten minutes ago. 

“With your body, I mean, your smile, you’ll make an excellent addition to our team,” he praised. 

“What exactly is my job title?” I asked as he led me to the dressing room.  ��

“Waitress,” he responded easily. “But really, you’ll do a little bit of everything. And don’t worry, we’ll provide everything you need.” 

The first few days were simple. The manager assigned me a false name the first day, and I quickly learned that while I was working, that’s the only name that was called. Honestly, it was the most difficult part. The rest was relatively simple. 

Every two hours the girls were required to meet behind the stage, walk across and out down to the pole, take a swing around with a smile as an announcer introduced us by name. It was nice, honestly, to be valued like that. The rest of the responsibilities were easy. Dress up, smile, flirt, take drink orders and find a reason to bend over. To say I didn’t enjoy it would be a lie. The money was good but the attention? Even better.

The fourth day, however, the manager pulled me aside at the start of my shift. 

“Hey, reader. The big boss is coming in. Check out his new hires. I’m putting you with him. Be extra nice. He’s known for leaving hefty tips and promoting on the spot. Trust me, you’re gonna want to keep him happy.” And with that, he pushed me towards the stage. 

After introductions, I put on my biggest smile, adjusted my dress so that it revealed just a little bit more and walked confidently over to the VIP booth. Time to impress the boss. 

“Hi boys, how are we doing tonight?” I purred as sultry as I could. “My name is Reader’s False Name and I’ll take care of anything that you desire.” I leaned forward onto the table. “And I do mean anything…” I reached out and set my hand on the red jacket of the man I assumed was the boss. “What can I get you tonight, sir?” 

He looked up at me and instantly, his expression turned to anger. Cold fear shot through me as I recognized the all too familiar features.

“U-uncle Valentino? Wh-what are you doing here?” I stammered as I took a step back. 

“The better question is what are you doing here, niñita?” He growled as he stood up. He pulled his coat off and yanked it around my shoulders, effectively covering my entire body. He grabbed me by the wrist and pulled me towards the back towards the dressing rooms. The door slammed shut behind us. 

I tried to wriggle away, “I work here! I got an afterschool job after Dad got on my case last month.” 

I didn’t think his expression could twist into deeper disgust. 

“I changed your diapers! You can’t be working in my clubs!” He snarled. 

I crossed my arms. “Uncle Val, I’m sixteen!”

“Eres jodidamente estúpida?” He took a deep breath. “That’s half the issue! Who even checked your age una perra ciega?! What fuckwit hired you?” He paused and pulled out his phone. “You know what? It doesn’t fucking matter. You’re fired. Whoever hired you is fired, hell I might shut this entire fucking club down. Oh, and it goes without saying that you’re fucking grounded!”

I looked at him incredulously. “You’re grounding me for getting an afterschool job?”

“No, reader, I’m grounding you for taking an afterschool job at a strip club! Oh, and for leaving your watch at school. We make you wear that for your own safety, muñeca! You could have been killed, or raped or worse!” 

He grabbed me by the wrist and pulled me towards the front door.  I caught my father’s name on his phone screen and my heart sank even deeper. Fuck. 

 “You’re going home with me right now, bebita. And keep my jacket on, I don’t want to see your tits ever again.” He practically spat as he shoved me into his awaiting limo. 

I sat next to him for the duration of the ride, my arms crossed as I listened to the phone call between him and my Dad. From what it sounded like, I was about to meet my maker.

“Phone. Now.” He demanded as he outstretched his hand. “Or did you leave that at school too?”

At least he sounded a bit more calm. Maybe I wouldn’t be in as much trouble as I thought. 

“It’s in my locker,” I mumbled. “Along with my homework. So if we could stop on our way home…”

“Delay the inevitable all you want, your father is pissed. And so am I.”

“Yeah, I got that,” I mumbled as we stopped in front of the school. “I’ll go in and…”

He snorted in amusement. “Like hell you will. I’ll go inside and get it for you. What’s your locker number and combination?” He leaned forward, “it’s in your best interest to tell me, niñita.” 

He was probably right. I sank back as I watched him walk into the front office of the school as if he owned the place. Come to think of it, there was probably a high chance that one of the three did have some sort of control over the school. I leaned my head against the window as I waited. I would never be allowed to grow up, hell, after this Dad might not even let me leave the V tower. 

Valentino stalked out of the school moments later, my pink backpack slung over his shoulder, and one of the flyers in his hand. The other hand held his phone and I winced at the furious slurry of English and Spanish came flying out of his mouth. Several curses later, he ended the call and turned to me. 

“Any of your other amicico’s get involved in this? Fess up now, or I promise I will make sure that you lose every privilege you have.”

“Not that I know of,” I mumbled quietly as I pulled his jacket tighter around myself. “And I would tell you if I did.” 

“I would hope so, cariño,” he grumbled as the limo stopped. “Word of advice? I would go straight to your room and change. The less of you your father sees, the better.” 

We rode in silence in the elevator and as we stepped off, I came face to face with the furious faces of my father, Vox, and my Aunt Velvette. Uncle Valentino walked towards them and wordlessly pointed to my room. I tried to scurry away as quickly as I could. 

“Change, wipe that clown makeup off your face and get your ass to the living room,” I heard my father shout. 

I thought the makeup was pretty, I said to myself sarcastically as I stood in my bathroom shower, scrubbing it off. Without the makeup remover the restaurant, or should I call it a club, provided, taking it off took ten times longer. I pulled on my leggins and a sweatshirt and braided back my now wet hair, hopeful that by removing any trace of the club I would somehow lighten the punishment that was sure to come. I slowly made my way out to the living room. 

“Come sit, little princessa,” Valentino gestured. “Join us.”

I kept my eyes down as I made my way across the living room and sank into my usual seat on the couch. 

“Look at us, reader,” my fathers authoritative voice filled the air. “And start talking. The floor is yours.”

A few heartbeats of silence while I tried to gather my thoughts. 

“You know, staying quiet won’t help your case,” Velvette interjected. “Come on, talk to us. Honestly, I think it’s pretty funny.”

“There is nothing funny about seeing my little princessa half naked, tits out, in my own fucking club,” Valentino shot back. He mumbled something in Spanish that sounded vaguely insulting.

“And let’s not forget the danger you put yourself in,” Vox added. “You left your phone and tracker in your locker at school. You’re lucky I don’t have the doctor put a chip in your arm.”

“I didn’t know it was a strip club, okay?” I said in exasperation. “I just wanted to make my own money! I got mad when Dad went through the credit card bill last month and I just, I just wanted privacy and to buy what I want without being questioned! And I’m willing to work to earn it, but Dad wouldn’t let me.”

“Reader. You’re sixteen. You need to focus on schoolwork, grades and being a teenager- you’ll have plenty of time later in life to…” my father began.

“Vox, her request isn’t unreasonable,” Velvette cut him off.  She looked thoughtful. “Nor is your idea about the chip in her arm.”

All three of us stared at her in disbelief for completely different reasons. 

“I am not letting Dad put a chip in my arm-” I began.

“She is not going out to work,” my Dad shouted at the same time.

“Eres jodidamente estúpida?” Valentino added. “The fuck, Velvette?” 

A grin slowly crept across her face. “Well then, it seems we have a few bargaining chips on the table, don’t we?”

“I don’t like where this is going,” I said.

“Yeah, neither do I,” my father added. 

“Well the way I see it, we have a few options and plenty of room for compromise,” she said with a glance at Valentino. “On one hand, reader could concede and let Vox put a chip in her arm in exchange for being allowed to get a job. Or she could come work for one of us, and have the money deposited in a private account. Or a third option, Vox if you’re so hell bent on her focusing on school, and she wants privacy so damn bad, let her open her own account in her own name and deposit money into it each week. This way she gets the privacy she wants, and you get her staying focused on her studies.” 

“I’m not letting you put a tracker in my arm, so that options out,” I replied.

“And I don’t want you working at all- not for me, not for Velvette, and certainly not for Valentino,” Vox added. 

A look of understanding broke across Valentino’s face and he grinned widely. He leaned back, “then I suppose the third option is the only one that fits, hm amicito?” He took a sip, “I do have to ask though princessa. How exactly did you plan on cashing your paychecks without your own account?”

I felt myself turn red. “I…wasn’t planning on cashing them and just using my tips.”

“I can’t decide if that’s clever or stupid,” Vox muttered. “But fine. We’ll go open your own bank account tomorrow and I promise to keep my eyes off of it. But you need to promise to keep focused on your studies, got it?”

“Deal!” I said excitedly. 

“Also, I think you owe your Uncle Val an apology more so than any of us. I haven’t seen him that scarred since, well, I’ve never seen him that upset.” Vox added. 

“Sorry, Uncle Val,” I muttered. 

He looked pained, “you’re growing up, mi amore. But this isn’t the place for you to be, ever again. I fear what would have happened to you if I hadn’t chosen to come in tonight.” He stood up and planted a kiss on my forehead. 

“Your jackets in my room, Uncle Val. I promise I’ll give it back,” I muttered as embarrassment flushed through my face. “I guess it was kinda sketchy.”

“Common sense, niñita. I cannot wrap my mind around why you didn’t turn around as soon as you stepped into that neighborhood.” He turned to walk towards the kitchen. “Discussion for tomorrow night, I suppose.” 

I frowned, “what’s tomorrow night?”

“Oh, you didn’t hear? Your papi, Aunt Velvette and I came up with a brilliant consequence, if I do say so myself.”

Dread knotted in my stomach. Uncle Valentino was well known to be the most…creative in his punishments. 

“I signed you up for volleyball, mi amore. After all, isn’t that what you wanted to do?” He gave me a wicked grin. “And I’ll be the one…ensuring you arrive in a timely manner for the next eight weeks. And don’t worry, your papito already brought you all the equipment you’ll need.” 

I groaned. This had the potential to be not only incredibly embarrassing in terms of my abilities, but also I somehow doubted he would sit there quietly. The image of him sitting on the bleachers, screaming into the phone, cursing in Spanish and English made me want to die right then and there. “Uncle Val, I hate sports. And I hate team sports even more.”

“Then maybe next time you’ll think before becoming a stripper, hm conejito?”He patted the top of my head and sashayed towards the kitchen. 

He couldn’t be that angry if he was using my childhood nickname. I leaned back on the couch and tucked my knees up. 

“You’re lucky that's your only consequence,” my father grumbled as he scrolled through his phone. “That chip idea isn’t off the table, you know.”

“We’ll get your bank account set up after your grounding is done,” Velvette reassured me. “In the meantime, what do you all want to do for dinner?”

Thank god Velvette was the master at changing the subject.

[into-deepspace]

out of the black {part 1/3}

sylus/mc • gender neutral mc • 1k • ao3 link • part 2 • requests open reblogs appreciated!!

pre-relationship || the real OTP here is MC/sylus's money :) || annoyances to lovers Summary: Sylus gifts MC his card for their troubles, and finds that their taste is very different than what he's used to. Some encouragement is in order, don't you think?

“That’ll be six fifty-nine,” the tea shop worker says cheerily. MC nods, glancing down briefly to pull their wallet from their pocket. It’s been a long day, and on their way out of the office they’d decided that if it was a pick-me-up they wanted, then it was a pick-me-up that they’d have.

So, they’d gone slightly out of their way, parking their bike outside the tea shop they’ve frequented. They take off their helmet and fix their hair as best at they can without a mirror as they walk in. From there, it’s a simple task of waiting and deciding just what they want before they order.

Now, here they are, the last little obstacle between them and their beloved boba tea the tablet in front of them. They pull their card from their wallet…

And pause.

Right. They’d forgotten about the new card nestled behind their usual debit.

As they’d started getting closer with Sylus (maybe a bit closer than they should be getting), he’d gifted them a copy of his card. His stupid fucking black card, that he’d held almost carelessly between two fingers as he’d reached it out to them about a week or so ago.

“A treat for your troubles,” he’d smirked, and then pulled one of those little vinyl card stickers in a dark, metallic green from his pocket. “In case you don’t want the world knowing just what kind of card you’ve got in that little wallet of yours.” MC had scowled at him; how the hell he knew these stupid little details about them, they have no clue.

Not wanting to quarrel with Sylus (and knowing they’d lose), they just took the card, sitting down in a fancy nearby chair to apply the sticker because they really did not want someone catching a glimpse of this card in their pocket.

They hadn’t really planned on using it, thus why it was behind their own card. But, here they are, contemplating. They thumb at the card for a brief moment.

It’s a few dollars less from their own account. They’re not tight on money, but they definitely keep to a budget, and a few extra dollars here could mean another night of hot pot or a few more stuffed animals later. And, well, Sylus had invited them to spend freely.

They pull out the card, select the 25% tip option, and tap it to the scanner. The total comes to eight dollars and twenty-four cents, and they bite at their lip. It’s a bit much to spend on a single cup of boba tea, but Sylus shouldn’t miss it too bad, right?

A few minutes of waiting later, and they’re walking out with a cup of mango tea and a yellow straw, tucking both into their bag for the drive home. As they swing one leg over their bike, their phone buzzes. Curiously, they pause to unlock it and view the text.

New Message from Rich Asshole 6:27 PM

Do you think so lowly of me, sweetheart?

Attached is an image, a screenshot to be precise, of Sylus’s bank transactions. The contrast that MC immediately catches is almost funny.

Most of the screen consists of several large purchases, anywhere from a couple hundred to several tens of thousands of dollars. Then, at the very top and circled in red, is the eight dollar purchase MC had just made. They sigh, putting their phone back in their pocket.

Just as they merge back into the bustling Linkon traffic, their phone rings, the sound coming through their helmet. With an exasperated “Oh, my god,” they tap the side of their helmet to pick up the call.

“Hello, sweetie,” Sylus says, in that infuriatingly nice voice of his. MC glares at the traffic light they’ve just stopped at.

“What do you want.”

“Eight whole dollars,” Sylus begins, and MC can hear the stupid smirk through the phone. “And twenty-three cents. Have I failed to imbue you with a taste for the finer things in life?” The light turns green. 

“Twenty-four cents,” they say, correcting him.

“It’s worse than I thought.”

MC sighs, turning on their right blinker and merging into the corresponding lane, making a turn just a moment later.

“Did you just call to talk about my apparently lacking spending habits?” they ask. Sylus really does seem like the kind of guy to get pissy that the latest object of his interest isn’t using his assets as frivolously as they could be.

“What did you buy?” Sylus asks, completely ignoring the question. MC knows better than to try and steer the conversation back.

“Mango tea,” they reply.

“What grade?”

“Uh. Commercial?” At this, Sylus laughs, a deep and smooth thing that MC can practically hear dollar signs in. MC groans. “God, Sylus, can’t I just enjoy my eight dollar tea? That’s overpriced for us peasants, you know.” Sylus hums again, infuriating as usual.

“You don’t need to be shy, you know,” he says. “I have more than enough to provide for you ten times over.”

“What are you, my sugar daddy?” MC scoffs, turning onto the street where the Hunters’ apartments are. “You’re like those stereotypical rich boyfriends on social media, ‘Ohhh look at what I bought my girlfriend, isn’t it so expensive? Aren’t I so rich? Look how I gift her my black card so she can spend thousands of dollars a day.’”

“I wouldn’t mind if you spent a few thousand a day,” Sylus says, voice casually earnest, missing the entire point. “Do you have such purchases in mind?”

“I can’t stand you,” MC says in lieu of an answer. “I’m hanging up on you now.” And, before he can answer, they do. They cut the call with another tap to their helmet as they park their bike on the street, taking a heavy breath as they take off their helmet once more.

They think about Sylus’s words as they walk up the few flights of stairs to their apartment, and as they unlock their door, a resolve settles in their mind. It’s a bit petty, maybe, but they find that they don’t care, fuelled by annoyance.

Sylus wants them to spend his money, huh? Well, then that’s exactly what they’ll do.

[honeysunai]

Hostess| Kyoya Ootori x reader

Part eight -  Operation : Make her happy

Pairing : Kyoya Ootori x reader

General rating : Fluff, enemies to love vibes

Word count : 5k

Summary: As only heir to your family you are bound to an arranged marriage with the third son of the powerful house Ootori. His cold behavior is only a mask for you to uncover when you stumble into music room number three.

This weekend, Haruhi and her father invited you to spend some time over their house because Haruhi needs more girl friends and experience sleep overs and such. You laughed at how bold and funny the two of them are and agreed, besides it’s not like you were busy. After quitting the Host Club a day ago and being in your feelings, you finished your homework and were too drained to want to practice any instruments or read anything. A friend would be better than anything else, right now that’s what you need. 

“And so, they kind of kidnapped me to be in the Zuka Club.” Haruhi finishes her story and you laugh. You were both sitting at the table drinking coffee while still in pajamas. 

“They do that often, don’t worry about it, they won’t press you if you say no.” You drink another sip of instant coffee and remind yourself to keep it together, because to this day, you still laugh that the boys at the club had no clue that this liquid gold existed before Haruhi arrived. 

“I have to do some shopping today, I’ve grown out of a few shirts and I wanted to go get some new ones?”

“I’d love to come shopping with you! We can even bring your dad!” Your eyes were sparkling with joy, it’s the first time since you’ve made new friends you were going to shop with them. “If you’re interested, I can take both of your sizes and ask my mom for designer clothes.”

“That’s very kind of you, but we don’t do designer clothes.” She politely declines your offer. Shoot! Of course you went a bit too far, after all, Haruhi is a commoner and doesn’t care to have the fanciest of shirts. 

“Speak for yourself!” Her father barges in the room and proceeds in deep details both of their sizes and and favorite colors. You took some notes before discreetly sending this info to your mom’s secretary even if you had promised Haruhi she won’t get anything. 

“Hey, did you really quit the club?”

You didn’t even hesitate to lie, you just blurred out the truth to her. “Yeah… I just made a fool of myself and I don’t think it would be appropriate to come back after what happened.” 

“I liked having you around, it was refreshing. Kyoya was on someone else’s back.” She jokes and you nudge her with your elbow. “Mori told Kyoya that he was a jerk and Tamaki had a meltdown after you left.”

“I bet they did.” You chuckle. 

“None of us are angry with you, I promise, but I won’t force you to come back if you don’t want to.” How you wanted her to force you into going back.  “Anyways. I don’t know if you need anything, it’s not as fancy as your mother’s couture, but feel free to shop around too.”

“I was planning to.” You smile. “Unlike Tamaki, I’m not awkward around “commoners”.” You try your best to imitate your friend and she laughs. 

She scrunches her nose and smiles. “He does that often doesn’t he?”

“It’s part of his charm.” You add. 

After an eternity in a local shop, Haruhi finally chose the three shirts she wanted. You, on the other hand, only picked out three bracelets, one for you, for Haruhi and Renge… Your two best friends. The one for Renge has large pink quartz beads, Haruhi’s are small red beads and yours has small lavender beads. 

Haruhi was pulling a few dollars out of her wallet, but you stopped her giving the cashier your card instead.

“If that’s alright with you, I’d like to pay for the expenses of today. You’ve only been kind and patient with me since we met. As a friend I would like to return the favor by paying for your purchases.” Your voice was noble and full of good intentions.

She scoffs in shock. “I can’t accept it.” 

“It would be a pleasure, plus you’ve fed me and sheltered me this weekend as your own sister.” She clearly  wasn’t taking your bluff anymore.

“You’re really not going to let it go, huh?” Haruhi asks, a bit annoyed, and you shake your head.

“I’ll even make you feel guilty if I talk long enough.” You joke and she giggles. She finally agreed and soon, you were on your way to her home. 

As you approached the building, you saw a black Mercedes parked in front of Haruhi’s home… It had to be the Host Club, who else would bother Haruhi on a weekend like this? You didn’t really want to see them today, especially after you made up your mind on giving back the uniform tomorrow after club activities. You were too much of a coward to face them now, you wouldn’t be able to do so the day after. 

“I have to go home, I forgot my French homework is due tomorrow.” You tried to lie hoping Haruhi wouldn’t see right through it.

“Aren’t you fluent in french?” She asked.

“Fluent or not, I still have to do it!” Right now she reminded you of Mauri with her cold stare. 

“Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow then.” She smiled and you were thankful she believed in your lie.

“Haru! Y/n!” Honey’s voice rang like thunder in your ears as he called the both of you. You clenched your jaw tightly before spinning around and met him with a bright smile. “We came to see you.” The rest of the group finally noticed their fellow member had left and joined you three. 

“Well, it’ll have to just be me, y/n has a French homework due tomorrow.” Haruhi smiles at Honey. 

“The homework is for next week, silly.” Tamaki snorted and you wanted to disappear. A soft chuckle echoes to the back of the group and you glared at Kyoya’s shit eating grin. 

You crossed your arms over your chest as you glared at Kyoya. “What are you laughing at, clownfish?” 

“Your poor attempt to flee us is just hilarious to me.” He adds and you swear you saw red. 

Tamaki cuts in before you get the chance to speak. “What he meant was that we are here to spend the most fun day together as a family.” 

“No we are not.” You snort. 

“Yes we are and we are starting with some bookstore fun!” He says proudly as he grabs both you and Haruhi and yanks you inside the Mercedes.

“Tamaki! That’s kidnapping what you just did there!” You yelled as he put your seatbelt on for you.

 “We are on a mission today and it’s to make you happy so stop yelling and enjoy your day with us!” He yells back and you shut your mouth. They wanted to make you happy. Were you unhappy? “We are going to the Nakajima Library.”

You stayed silent the entire ride, you did not want to speak to any of them. They kidnapped you! 

But they did it so you could be happy… It’s still kidnapping!

You’ve arrived at your destination and you can’t believe your eyes… It’s grandiose. You can’t believe you never went there yet. Obviously it’s attached to a university and obviously you don’t go there yet. You are meant to go to the US for your higher studies, but you’re really considering going to this one instead. All of your friend's eyes are on you. You felt Kyoya’s burning holes behind your head, but never looked back at him as you took the first step towards the library.

A smile was pinned on your face as you entered the colosseum shaped library. The dim lights warmed the place with a beautiful orange like light. You felt like you were back in Rome. 

You’ve been to Rome once in your life and you fell in love with the place. It was one of the only family vacations you’ve been on with both your parents. A month in the warm weather of Italy with your loving parents, without their work coming in the way. You strut confidently between bookshelves making sure to browse the titles as you go, it’s mostly books for the students that are part of this university. Tamaki’s bubbly self, followed you like a puppy and offered you books to read. You settled on a science book he offered you that you never knew about and brought it to an empty table so you could read it in peace. 

Peace didn’t last too long, as all of the Host Club brought their own books to your table. To “read”, but other than Haruhi actually reading, the rest of them stared at you. Minutes have passed and they still haven’t stopped watching you. 

“How long should we stay here for?” Hikaru whispers under his breath. 

“Until y/n is satisfied.” Tamaki whispers back aggressively.

Haruhi snorts. “Bold of you to assume she will ever get satisfied after one book.” 

You smile quickly at Haruhi’s words without ever looking up from your book. Soft fingers brushes hair behind your ear. You looked at the person beside you and was surprised Kyoya sat there, his whole body facing you. “Your hair was in the way.” He only whispers before getting back to his book. What was that all about? You feel your cheeks heating up, but shook off that feeling. 

After a few hours of reading and hearing Hikaru and Kaoru groaning, you’ve had enough and Tamaki, once again, dragged you outside like he was kidnapping you, yanking you in the car and you were on your way somewhere else. 

The car ride, this time, seemed more lively and chatty. It was warm and familiar. It was as if everything was normal and you liked that, hell even loved it. 

After a few minutes, the car parked on the side of the road and exited the vehicle. You were left in front of a rather beautiful industrial building that seemed modern and new. 

“Where are we?” You ask as you all walked up to the gates and were allowed inside without question. 

Mori speaks. “Your mother told us that you like that very fancy coffee.” This is the new factory of the French coffee brand you always drink at home. “Tamaki’s French heritage helped us get inside.”

“The owner knows my father, so we were able to get a free tour of the factory and some samples!” The blond man says excited as you meet a beautiful tall woman waiting for you at the door. 

“Welcome! We are really excited to have you visit our factory Miss y/n.” The woman shook your hand. “I’m Elise Hanako.” The combination of the French and Japanese names made you uneasy, but for politeness sake you ignored that funny feeling and smiled properly. “Danuja Hanako, the owner and also my father, gave me his property in Japan so that we can localize our french coffee.” 

“It’s an honor to be in your presence, Miss Hanako.” You were eager to visit the factory. 

“I’ve been informed that you are a huge fan of our brand.” You blushed. “That’s great! I do hope our factory will live up to your expectations.” She adds and the automatic doors behind her open letting all of you enter the building.

This place did not look like a coffee factory, it looked like a high tech law firm or some sort. The interior was in this mix of black and dark wood with plants here and there. Everyone was dressed in a proper way, just like at your father’s workplace. Miss Hanako explains that the magic happens behind the scenes and proceeds to show you where the coffee beans were sorted out and how they were packaged. People dressed like scientists were inspecting every bean before sending it in the “good bin”... Maybe that’s why your coffee was so expensive. 

The factory was huge and you appreciated every second Hanako spoke up to explain how things were made and was kind and patient over your millions of questions you asked over the tour. 

“This concludes our tour and I do hope you enjoyed yourselves.” You all answered with a polite “yes, thank you” and Miss Hanako was pleased with that. “I almost forgot! I have two bags of our new batch that’s coming up next month, Cherry Flower and Chocolate Pecan Caramel.” She snapped her fingers and one of the workers carefully placed two bags in your arms. “My assistant sent you my personal email, so please do give me feedback.” You were in awe. “Get home safe kids.” She smiled before you exited the building to the car. 

You were shocked that they would go beyond anything to make you happy, they were true friends. “Thank you–”

“Don’t thank us yet!” Tamaki shouts over you. “One last stop, the orchestra.” The Orchestra!?

“You don’t mean–” 

“The best musicians around Japan? Yes, I mean that Orchestra.” He smirks. You were there at the presale, but never got the chance to get tickets. You wondered how they got eight of them. “But we can’t go dressed as commoners.” He adds and Haruhi slaps him behind his head. 

You didn’t look awful at all, you thought you all were a bit underdressed for the occasion, but no one would notice. Right?

“Pick whatever outfit you want, it’s on Kyoya.” Tamaki bumps his friend with glasses and he smiles as if he was forced to do so. You gave him a look that almost said : “You just learned that as well?” You all stopped at The Thread Maker, the town's finest clothing store. 

“All of you, pick an outfit I’ll pay for it.” He adds and you smile at him, a bold and bright smile. 

You all scattered around the store and looked around. You kind of wanted to take advantage of Kyoya and decided to go to the more expensive part of the already expensive store. You didn’t even have to think twice, the dress in front of the mannequin was the one you would buy. No price tag = pricey. It’s a scarlet red Queen-Anne shape with a leg slit dress. It’s a fully flared gown, floor length with a corset built in with embroidered floral details all over it. It was from your second favorite designer (after your mother) Teuta Matoshi. Honey’s voice was heard behind you, ordering a worker to let you try it on. You were dragged by another worker inside a cabin… After this day, you won’t let anyone drag you anywhere ever again!

You look at yourself in the mirror and surprisingly it’s a perfect fit all the way around, not too long, not too short, not too big or tight. It was perfect and you looked absolutely beautiful. 

When you came out of the dressing room, you only found Haruhi in another beautiful pink dress that made her look more feminine. The dress was tight on her and she is probably making Tamaki drool, because you sure would’ve. The guys were sitting on the couch in complete silence, their eyes all over you both. 

“Why aren’t you dressed?” Haruhi asked and none of them were answering. You couldn’t help but glance at Kyoya that had his eyes on your body already. You put on a show and twirled.

“My idea of a perfect day would be if you all were dressed too and not undressing us with your eyes.” You chuckle and they all cough and grunt, suddenly bashful of their actions. They rushed to get a suit and you stood there with Haruhi enjoying each other’s company. 

They all come out at the same time from the dressing room and they all are dressed the same, black and white suit with black ties. They look amazing! The last one to come out was Kyoya and when he appeared out the curtain he was playing with a red bow tie around his neck. The other’s were holding their laughter at the sight of him being the only one with a bow tie. 

You chuckled under your breath as you approached Kyoya to fix his matching bow. He froze under your touch and you just couldn’t hold your giggles any longer. “Tamaki said we would all wear bow ties because that would’ve made you laugh, but it seems I’ve fallen right into his trap.” He grunts. “I look ridiculous.” 

“You do.” You smile. “In a good way.” You add. “We are going to be late if we keep mocking our dear Kyoya!” Mori gave you his arm that you gladly took and walked back to the car where you’d wait for Kyoya to pay. 

The conversation between all of you was even more lively and joyful, you were really excited to go see The Orchestra.  Once you arrived at the place, you weren’t confident that this was the auditorium they usually play at, but you let it go once you entered and saw the beauty of the place you were in. Red walls and gold decors, with crystal chandeliers made you feel like you were in a movie. Mori took your arm and led you to golden doors that two workers opened grand and wide for you to realize this was an empty ballroom. 

You were confused and asked: “Are we early?”

“We are right on time.” Kaoru answer. 

The empty room made you a bit uneasy, but once you stepped inside the large red curtain lifted to reveal The Orchestra on stage. It’s a private concert… You spin around to meet Tamaki’s gaze and he smiled proudly at the utter shock on your face. 

“May I have this dance?” Mori asked you and you nodded, not entirely sure of what to do. He leads you to the center of the ballroom and once you do, the musicians start to play. Melodious sounds of violin echoes in the room, followed by loud cellos. Tears were filling your eyes, but you blinked them away. They organized this whole day for you, and only you.

Mori spins you around, letting go of your hand so you were now partnered with Kyoya who held you tightly against him as you swayed with him. The other’s picked each other as partners and danced to the same rhythm as you were with Kyoya. You both stayed silent as he twirled you around slowly and brought your back against his chest, swaying you gently this way.

“I did not know you danced this well.” You whispered with a hint of humor. 

He brought his lips close to your ear and you can hear the smirk in his voice. “I’m glad my efforts are being appreciated, these last four years of dance lessons are being used well.” At that you laughed. 

You danced for hours with your friends to the most beautiful songs who, on multiple occasions, brought tears. 

At the very end of the concert, you all applaud the musicians and the conductor for their performance. You were ready to leave, but an unfamiliar voice called your name, and it was none other than Ayaka Saito, the cello player you looked up to since forever, walking towards you. You felt your knees go weak, she was the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen, she looked like she was royalty. 

“Y/n, this is for you.” She smiles as she hands you the bow that she used tonight to play with her autograph on it. “I heard you’re a great musician, with lots of potential.” You couldn’t seem to stop smiling without ever saying words. “Our manager would be interested to hear you play, especially if what your friends said is true. There would be a spot for you once you graduate if you impress Sara Nakamura.” Your jaw was on the floor. The Sara Nakamura! She is the face of the classical music industry in the modern era and she wants to hear you play? You were on the verge of fainting. 

You finally spoke to her in the calmest way possible. “It’s an honor to hear this coming from you, you are the one who made me start to play cello.” She smiles even more. “I would be even more honored to play for you and Miss Nakamura.” 

“Her assistant will send you information concerning this invitation.” She adds. “I bid you all good night.” She says before giving you a friendly hug. You were going to faint.

Once again you had to be dragged inside the car because you were frozen in place. You talked like a maniac the whole way back to your house. You were so happy to have finally met your musical idol tonight and that you’ve been given an extra rare opportunity. 

As the vehicle parks in front of your front gate you finally take a few deep breaths, the adrenaline wearing off. You hugged all of your friends inside the car and exited the car.

“We will see you for an early meeting tomorrow morning!” Tamaki smiles and yours drops. 

“Look guys…” You sigh. “I really appreciate what you did for me all day, but I’m okay I promise, I’m not sad.” It was a plain lie. “I just don’t have the heart to be the Host you want me to be anymore.” You tried to give your friends the coffee beans from France and returned the bow to them, but none of them tried to take it. 

“Keep it, please.” Tamaki’s soft smile broke your heart. “It’s a gift for you.” 

You nod and thank them again without ever glancing at Kyoya, you turned your back to them and headed inside your home. They did succeed to make you happy today, but when the door closed behind you, tears were falling down your cheeks as you held the objects tightly to your chest.

You drop your neatly folded uniform on the tea table and sigh. You really loved your club, but it was better this way. You linger a while staring at the blue fabric that you were giving up. You were never one to give up, but recently you have. You gave up on Kyoya, your family duties, your plan to get another financé, you also gave up on your club, your friends… You were tired and disappointed in yourself. You wanted to get better and be better.

“You don’t have to do that, you know?” A deep voice makes you gasp out loud by surprise. Kyoya. 

Your hand was on your heart. “Good God! You scared me.” 

He did not care for your reaction. “You don’t have to leave the club.”

You crossed your arms over your chest. “Did they ask you to tell me this?”

“They have told me multiple times, but I chose to.” He starts. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry won’t change my mind.” You scoff.  

“I know, you are stubborn as a mule.” He lightly chuckles.

“If that’s all, I’ll go. I have somewhere else to be.” You lied and started to walk towards the exit, but he put himself in front of you. 

“Why did you do all of this?” You were confused. “Why did you want Koichi over me?”

You scoff, absolutely baffled by what he was asking. “Because you don’t love me, Kyoya.” It was as simple as that. “Because liking on only one side is just too hard to do. You refuse to fall in love with me no matter how much I try to be perfect for you.” He was silent. You took that time to walk past him in a rush but stopped as you heard his voice once again. 

“I can’t fall in love with you. I– I can’t because if I do I am afraid I’ll end up doing the same mistake my parents did. They fell in love and then… They didn’t. It ruined the relationships between the family.” The look in his eyes… It was painful and sad, Kyoya was hurt. It probably took a lot of his courage to finally admit you spent months trying to figure out. Seeing him lose his composure in front of you saddened you. “It became a competition between me and my brothers, my mother being sad all– all of the time… My father… He doesn’t give any of us breaks, he’s relentless and he just cares about success. He doesn’t care about us, my brothers and I… My mother, his own wife who he is supposed to love and to cherish…” He was out of breath, all these feelings were finally out. “That’s why I can’t fall in love with you, because I don’t ever want you to end up like my mother if I end up like my father.”

It took you a good ten seconds to analyze what he had just confessed to you. All of it. Your heart broke for him and his family. No matter how much you wanted to console him, that was not what you needed to say. “That’s not good enough.” Was what came out of your mouth. He was perplexed. “That’s not good enough.” You repeated. “It’s not good enough for all of the times you put yourself in the way of a guy I talked to. For all the times you were kind and flirty and then you weren’t. It’s just not good enough.” He was hurt by your words, you knew it. His eyes couldn’t lie. “Is this hypothesis worth more than hurting me?” He doesn’t answer, but never breaks your gaze. You wanted to break and cry, but you stood your ground proud and strong just like your father taught you. “I can’t marry someone who’s afraid to take a leap and fall in love with me. I guess trying to make you feel what I felt was too demanding.”

“You loved me?”

“Does it matter? You don’t care, Kyoya. You don’t care about what my favorite songs are, you don’t care about my favorite books… Even Koichi was interested in what book was next on my list and he didn’t even love me one bit.” You scoff. 

“It’s Lucy by the sea.”

“What?”

“Your next read. It’s Lucy by the sea.” You were confused as to how he knows. “I got a hold of your list from your maid to know what book I should buy you next, in every stupid edition possible because that would make you happy. But no… I don’t care, right?” You were taken back from this confession. “I wore that stupid tie to make you laugh, I organized the whole day with Tamaki so that you would be able to understand that I am sorry.” He adds and something in your heart pinches. He made it all happen so that you would forgive him, but that’s not what you needed nor wanted from him.

“It’s still not enough.” You whisper with tears in your eyes. You blink them away before turning your back ready to leave the music room, you had enough. 

“Fuck.” He whispered before running after you, yanking you to the side to trap you between the wall and him. You wanted to push him away, but couldn’t as he lowered his head to crash his lips against yours. It was sudden and gentle. His lips tasted like mint and were so soft against yours. He was so careful with his next movements, his warm hands cradled your face opening your mouth just enough so his tongue could cross the borders of your lips to devour you entirely. Your arms wrapped themselves around his neck asking, begging for more. More touch, more passion, more of anything, you only wanted him. You raked your hands in his hair and fuck did it do something to him, his hand gripped your hips with such strength moving you against his thigh between your legs. It was so erotic you moaned against his lips which made him smirked. He pulled away enough to look at you in the eyes, truly look at you. “Don’t cry because of me.” He whispers stroking your cheeks so, so slowly, you want to melt in his touch. You pull him by his tie so his lips are on yours again. Your hands roamed his chest and shoulders and my god he was muscular, the uniforms didn’t do him a favor.  His hands were snacking around your waist underneath your dress shirt, memorizing the curves of your body. His touch was warm and soft, you were hypnotized by him. He slowly pulled away to kiss your cheek, then all the way up your jaw to leave one soft kiss under your ear. 

“Do you know how long I've wanted this?” He whispers in your ear. You were so warm, you thought perhaps you were running a fever, but one of Kyoya's hands carefully unbuttoned two of the buttons of your dress shirt, you knew you weren’t having any fever dreams. You looked up at him and you could see his gaze linger on your chest slightly exposed before facing you again. Hunger and lust was the only thing you could see in him. Without ever looking away, his fingers pushed the collar of your shirt to the side so your shoulder was bare for him. His featherlike kisses tickled your skin as he left a trail of them to the side of your neck all the way to your shoulder. He gently nibbled the sensible skin with his lips and tongue teasing you in a way that had you softly moaning, reprimanding for more. He smirked against your bare shoulder before biting the skin that had you rolling your eyes. 

The bell snapped the both of you out of our interaction making him pull away from you. You sigh in disapproval, you didn’t want him to leave now that you truly kissed him. He went to open the door, but stopped without looking at you. “Keep the uniform,” He spoke slowly : “and don’t replace me.” That’s what it was about… He wanted to prove you needed him, that he was better. He was jealous. Two can play that game especially if you are better at it.

You were back in your uniform and ready to conquer the day as you walked into the Music Room number 3 the day after, slamming your hand on the tea table in front of Tamaki. “I want in.”

“Excuse you?” He asked before sipping his tea. 

“I want my role back in the Host Club, I am so sorry for how mean I was that day. But this club means a lot to me and I made a promise to you that I want to keep.” You were practically begging for him to take you back.

“What changed?” Hikaru asks.

“I guess your operation worked a little too well.” You smirk.

“You’re still in the Host Club, you don’t need permission to come back.” Tamaki smiles and you nod. You turn back to Kyoya and he smirks at you before deviating his gaze back to his laptop.

Maybe it's not about finding someone else, maybe you just need another approach towards Kyoya and if it’s through challenges and working each other up that you’ll get through him, so be it.

AN: Hi everyone! So sorry it took so long for this update, this chapter was written, deleted, written, deleted... like a thousand times. I hope this chapter filled your heart with some Kyoya love. I hope you all had wonderful holidays and since today, for me, is still Dec 31. I hope you all have a great 2023 filled with love and happiness! I promise y/n and Kyoya will get some happiness and love in 2023 as well.

— 𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐬

✧ @gay-noble @vanicogh @hopeless-romanticnamed-s @idktbhloley @p1nkliquor @hellokittykuroo @batboob @kisskissshutmydoor @lemonrolls @hoku-killer @sunukissed @jessiegerl @lunalily19 @i7zha @asrainterstellar @arimoony24 @simp-lythebest @fan-g0rl @randobeetlehouse @glomp-me @yeeyeebabe @maackiimoo @kaelysian @noendingtolove @luminaaz @thewendyslogo @eri0-0 @arielbillyboy16 @aangsupremacy @yuriklol @lillunna @lostsomewhereinthegarden @chocorenchin  @sukcama @bratb1tch @topmeyelena

[mysticmunson]

bewitched: s.h. x f!r

summary: on his graduation trip in london, steve is apart from robin for the day when he runs into you at a coffee shop. after one conversation, you agree to spend your last day in london together, and you both become bewitched.

based on bewitched by laufey

an: hi everyone! i reposted this from earlier, but this fic was so fun for me and i hope you enjoy! please let me know your thoughts and give that magnificent song a listen :) (not proof read)

The clinking of dishes filled the London coffee bar as businessmen on their breaks stopped for small sandwiches wrapped in wax paper squares, a red logo printed across them. 

Emotional bribery came as two roundtrip tickets across the pond for Steve’s graduation present, taking Robin with him as they took the two weeks off from work. The silver credit card with his name on it covered most expenses, but the steaming tea was paid for with crumpled dollars from the tip jar of Family Video.

Taking a glance up from the book in his hands, he spotted you turning around from the cashier, looking around at an empty spot. The only spare seat was the one before him, a black metal one that wasn’t the most comfortable, but it seemed this place wasn’t for long-term moments.

“Hey.” Steve cleared his throat, earning your attention, gesturing in front of him. 

With a smile you approached with your warm cup and coordinating plate, letting it touch the glass table, taking the opposing spot. The sleeves to his yellow jumper were pushed to his elbows, resting them as the paperback balanced one of them.

“Thank you,” You greeted, pulling the back of your brown sweater down, straightening up, “I’m Y/N.”

“I’m Steve,” He introduced, the tips of his nails trailing against the rim of the small plate, “what brings you here?”

Black tea in your mouth, you swallowed it despite the burn, grabbing a small packet of sugar. Flicking it back and forth, you ripped the white paper, dumping the containments inside. 

“A friend of mine has family here, had an extra ticket,” You explained, stirring your drink into a swirl, “you?”

“Graduation gift.” He quipped, internally wincing at how pretentious that could sound, but you only nodded, “I brought a friend too.”

Knitted blue yarn made up your sweater paired with a white skirt and black tights paired with black flats that began to peel near the sole. Ripples crafted in the spoon you blew on, tasting the now sweeter drink.

“Looks like we’re two halves of a similar story,” You mused, the silverware touching your plate in an unpleasant noise, quickly moving it to the napkin beside it, “what long are you staying?”

An awkward slurp came from his mouth as he finished his cup, cheeks growing pink as he set it down, anxiously wiping his clean mouth with the back of his hand. His right white Reebok bounced beneath the table, running his spare hand against his jean-clad thigh. 

Foreign jitters rattled inside his chest, tightening as you smiled at him once more. Dates had slowed down since high school, fumbling with the ladies more often than not, but the feeling of pleasant uneasiness was one he hadn’t felt in a long time.

It felt foolish as you had been before him for only a minute, tucking your ankle behind your other and taking in your surroundings. He had been doing the same until you approached, he didn’t think to look at anything else.

“We’ve been here for four days, we leave in three. My best friend, Robin, had been with me every day, but had something today.” He waved off, “You?”

Black lashes fluttered before reaching his gaze, “I’m ending my week, today is my last day, but my friend also had something today.” 

Irony dripping from your words, Steve grinned, “If it’s at Covent Garden too, I might lose it.”

Mouth covered in amusement, he gaped, “No way, is your friend there too? Some record store event?”

You confirmed, head bobbing as Steve sunk back in his chair in shock. It felt like filling a glass up to the brim, it would’ve been fine lower, but it’s always a pleasant experience to get the extra taste. 

“What’s your friend's name?” Steve questioned, resting his chin on his hand. 

Tables had cleared beside you as the lunch break period concluded, but you remained in front of him. Processing that they were clean, it didn’t dawn on you that you could readily rest beside the window as you hoped. The boy with hazel eyes had taken your attention with an iron grip, melting into the hold.

“Rodney,” You began as Steve felt his heart hit his gut, too sure that it had to be a boyfriend, “I’m not his type, don’t worry.”

The obscure bashfulness flooded him again, yet your look was not full of taunting, but rather warmth. Air turned colder outside, scarves joining the getup of many, however, Steve realized that if he stood close enough to you, he might not even need his.

“I doubt that.” Steve hummed, shuffling through his stack of dusty King Steve remarks, ones he hated to recall, but was desperate to continue the conversation.

“Oh no,” Taking the turn to be flustered, he watched you pick the corner of the square napkin, “Believe me, not his type at all.”

Initial disbelief dissipated as he picked the context clues he often gave when describing his own best friend. 

“Robin, my best friend,” Steve began, watching the faintest bit of complex emotions on your face, “I’m not her type either.”

A grin crawled onto your face slowly as Steve held eye contact, both of you erupting into giggles at the pure absurdity of the scenario at hand. 

Panic that had become all too familiar punched him in the gut, knowing this had been too perfect to be true. That suddenly a man twice his size and twice as attractive would come out, carrying you off into the busy streets of London while he watched your blue sweater become a speck.

A similar slurp sounded from your mouth as your tea ran dry, moving the cup to the edge of the table. Steve prepared for the departure, hand on the small book as he braced himself for rejection.

Taking a glance out the door, he watched an older man gift a woman yellow tulips, pleased as she smelled them and held the bouquet close to her chest. Mundane as it may be, he took it as a kick, that maybe it’s worth trying to keep it going if rejection lurks anyways.

“Forgive me if I’m being too forward,” He joked with sincerity, “I don’t have anything going on today, would you want to hang out? Walk around for a bit?”

Teeth pulled in the inner skin of your bottom lip, repressing the overdramatic response you urged to give, “I’d love to, Steve.”

Holding open the black door, you both left the coffee shop to rejoin humanity, met with the smell of cigarettes and the smoke of construction. He expected a sour look, yet you only beamed brighter amongst the chaos, like a flower growing between cracks in a sidewalk.

“Have you been to any museums?” You asked, walking with a hand on the top of your purse that hung around your shoulder.

Shaking his head with a straight mouth, you gawked with a smack to the arm, electrifying his restricted chest. It bounced to his stomach and then to his throat, coughing away the slight itch.

“We could go to the National Gallery, they have some iconic pieces,” You explained, though your excitement backpedaled when glancing over, “Or we could, um, do something else too! I’m flexible.”

The confirmation that you were nervous too aided his cause, shaking his head, “I’d love to, let’s go.”

Footsteps trekked down the sidewalks of Soho, yours walking in tandem to the boy beside you, who took the spot closest to the road. Brown curls fell in front of his eyes, his fingers running through the thick locks.

Steve’s feet fumbled as a woman stormed past, a grimace on her face as she forced his body against yours. 

Before the apology could form, you scoffed, making a quip about how she must be in a rush. He agreed, rolling his eyes as he heard a man shout at the woman, both of you turning to see her knocking over a man’s newspaper.

Proceeding forward, Steve mocked the face of the guy who seemed too up in arms about fallen paper while you attempted to sympathize with them both. 

“She was probably having a bad day and he wasn’t expecting it!” You rationalized, amusement evident as you both turned the sharp corner.

“She probably was, but I’m sure a man who sounds like Mr. Bean yelling isn’t helping!” He jested, a rupture of laughter aiding his blooming confidence. 

The large white pillars at the top of the stairs came into eyesight, a large red banner listing a current exhibit in white font. Seemingly unconsciously, he watched as you sped up, picking up his pace to watch as you got your ticket. 

Service must have been high quality as he was hoping to pay for your ticket, but the woman had already given you a small white ticket. 

Signaling him over, Steve walked over to you confused as you handed him a pass, walking towards the first room.

“Hey, let me pay you back!” He insisted, examining to see if there was a price, but you shrugged. 

“It’s free, bud.” You smirked as you both walked between two security guards in black sunglasses.

“Oh, I knew that.” He confirmed falsely, making you look at him skeptically. 

The first portion was filled with classical paintings, mostly with natural elements like water and grass. Ranges of ages stood behind the small black wire a few inches from the floor to observe.

Museums hadn’t been Steve’s thing, finding most in Indiana fairly boring and the ones his parents dragged him to were even more insufferable. 

Though, between the large walls in the new city, he noticed the strokes of a paintbrush older than most buildings. The smudges of oil paint that blended into other colors on top of canvas secured in extravagant frames. 

“I like this one,” Steve began as you joined his side, the strangers beside him having wandered off, “reminds me of my sweater.”

“A Van Gogh fan?” You inquired, following as he began to read the information card in the corner.

“Vase with Fifteen Sunflowers by Vincent van Gogh,” He concluded, eyebrows lifting at the discovery that it had been around 100 years since the paint dried, “Guess I am a fan.”

“It’s incredible,” Glancing at his yellow jumper that matched the work before you, you scolded your heart for wondering what you could stare at longer, knowing it probably was the one made in this century. 

“I really liked seeing his one over here,” You guided, the boy on your trail, “it’s simple, but it just does something for me.”

The face of a woman was designed in dim colors, her face covered in hesitance, titled The Peasant Woman.

A few steps back, Steve looked at the shades of brown above the woman’s head, appreciating the intricacies of such a simple work. Yet, he found himself much more intrigued by the curve of your nose and plush of your cheeks.

The self-guided tour continued, most in silence as you took turns reading the occasional description. The stroll was brisk as he struggled to keep up with you, not because he couldn’t be quick on his feet, but because he liked to look at you and could get away with it if he was farther back.

“If you want to slow down, let me know,” You announced when standing in front of Monet’s The Water-Lily Pond, “I just don’t read all the cards, I like to think what it could possibly be then only check if I really want to know.”

“I’m okay,” He assured, flexing his hand after the urge to touch your arm came, “I do think this is a pond though.”

Joke landing, you chuckled, continuing on to the next floor. His eyes caught an abstract painting of shades of blue, making out a boat on the water with no firm lines. A sunset burned in the back, searing into the open sky in contrast to the calm water.

“He’s so cute.”

Steve felt his gut jump, fixating on the emotionally ambiguous artwork instead of the reality at hand. Fearing your new discovery, it dawned on him how art could affect him. 

Boats on the water never moved him, but he saw a reflection of his mood in it now. 

Finally turning, he noticed you affectionately looking at the gentleman on the bench with a sketch pad in hand. Likely in his 70s, he formed the portrait of Venus and Mars ahead of him, hands shaking as he balanced the spiraled book on his knee. 

Soothing his dreary headspace, his lip twitched at the sight, marveling that someone with such talent sat without recognition. It seemed cruel that no one had his pictures on the walls, gawking at the straight lines done by hand or the blending of charcoal. 

Yet, as Steve saw your face, he realized that if anyone looked at him that way, he would sit on wooden benches without a known name for years.

“He is.” Steve agreed, scratching the back of his neck, the other man pushing his glasses up his nose to get a better look.

The beauty of the gallery captivated you both, but half of your brains focused on the other, watching as the other absorbed another masterpiece. 

Between the 18th century section, Steve’s hand brushed against yours, initially coy until you trailed yours against his. Taking a leap of faith, he held your hand in his, his heartbeat plunging through his wrist against yours. 

Walking down the staircases, fingers interlaced as you whispered about the passing artwork. 

You learned he was from Hawkins, Indiana. An only child who graduated last year, but postponed the trip after his old job burned down, where he also met his best friend, Robin. He has a few friends, some of who are freshmen that he befriended after dating one of their older sisters. (You could see his visible panic at the mention, so you brought up a past boyfriend of yours whose sister you kept up with.)

Sounds of children leaving school filled the tight roads as you walked hand in hand with no end in mind. The back of Steve’s socks began to slip, but he barely noticed until a blister began, popping into a convenience store.

Sat on the grass in a park, Steve unlaced his shoes to put the band-aid on, the only bandages left being purple and pink ones. Struggling to turn his lifted foot in his denim, he huffed, a stray piece of hair whipping up.

“Here.” You chuckled, grabbing the small plastic wrapper and opening it. Crumbles of wax paper sat on top of your purse, focused on putting the sticker right over his reddened skin.

Far from pure, Steve still felt his ears warm at the benevolent touch as you pressed down to secure it in place. Thanks were whispered under his breath, pulling his socks up and tying the laces.

“I used to work at this camp and kids got hurt all the time,” You laid back, resting on the clean grass, “It was never anything too bad, but I bought the character ones with Mickey Mouse or He-Man on them. I carried them on me forever, but I gave my last one away a few days ago when I saw a mom and her screaming toddler.”

Back resting beside you, the fabric covering your shoulders touched, Steve looked at the gloomy London sky. 

Such weather used to agitate him, wishing it were sunny enough to wear a shirt or shorts, but the past few days made him enjoy the lack of sweat when walking and relaxing outside.

“What character was it?” He asked, looking over at you who met his eyes. 

“It was Jeannie from the I Dream of Jeannie cartoon, they were on sale.” You muttered, preparing for the groan that came from boys when discussing the supposed girl’s cartoon. 

What you didn’t expect was his mouth to hang open, scoffing, “And I didn’t get one? That sucks!”

Noting your pleasantly surprised expression, he added, “So, I didn’t have siblings growing up, but I had cousins. The one closest to my age is Riley, she’s two years older than me, and when we were young, she loved that show. So much, that she made me watch it constantly.”

A hollow feeling resonated in his chest at the memory coming into view, his face directed toward the sky, “She understood when my parents would argue and shit, so she’d put it on really loud so I wouldn’t hear… Sorry that was a bit much, it’s a cool cartoon!”

“Don’t apologize, Steve, not for being open with people.” You smiled, not moving your stare at his face. With little space between the two of you, you noticed the array of freckles on his nose and cheeks, some lighter than others.

The tips of his lashes touched them when he closed his eyes, scrunching together when his nose twitched which was rosy from the biting cool air.

Peering over at you, he shifted to his side, not caring if any dirt ended up on his white shoes. Mimicking his stance, you propped up beside him, stunned at just how many things had to happen for you to end up here.

“I almost went to the coffee shop up the street.” You revealed, plucking the longer strands poking from the ground, twisting them.

“I’m glad you didn’t,” He disclosed, “I don’t want to sound crazy, but I really like you.”

Blood rushing to your cheeks, you initially tried fighting back your joy, weighing your burden of a plane tomorrow before it. Nevertheless, his bronze iris’ made you feel dizzy, hoping the sun would never set.

“I like you too, Steve, but I leave tomorrow.”

Already handed this information, it still sunk in his gut that you had to get on that plane tomorrow, that it wouldn’t magically be rescheduled to the day he left or you’d show up in Hawkins. 

Life passed Steve by for as long as he had experienced it, focusing on getting through or ignoring the things too big to be processed with ease, something he couldn’t do anymore.

“I know, but please, give me tonight.” He pleaded, “We can call out friends and say we’ll be back whenever and just spend the rest of the time roaming. I just don’t-”

Your answer was shown with your lips on his, tasting the free mints given to you at the cafe and chapstick. Hand cupping your cheek, he deepened the affection, withholding the urge to explore at the recollection you were in public.

Parting ways, you looked at him shyly before standing up, reaching out a hand to help him up. Grabbing your bags and each other's hand, you ventured onward. Steve moved to your left side to be closer to the traffic once you reached the main sidewalk.

“Want something to eat? We could stop by the shopping area down this way.” You suggested, feeling the curling of your tummy after a few hours of walking. Or the nerves you succumbed to around Steve. You weren’t sure. 

Thoughts coinciding, you headed down the brick lane, the wind tickling your ears. You wondered if the passing strangers assumed you were in a relationship, a piece of you aching at how nice it would be to begin again.

Steve held an analogous notion, considering what his life would be like if he lived in a city where no one knew him or his parents. How they wouldn’t know King Steve and his plethora of mistakes that lived within the walls of his high school. 

Maybe he belonged somewhere he wouldn’t have even fathomed, smelling the perfumes crafted in petite bottles exclusively in the town or pastries those in Hawkins would never know. 

Past hours led him into imagining you in his life, and that if you ran the other way, he wouldn’t forget a second. Each holiday or celebration, he would wonder what the girl in the coffee shop was doing as he stared out his family's window, reality over his shoulder in the crowded living room.

Warm air surrounded you both as you entered the small deli, an elderly woman preparing paninis that smelled too delicious. Humming in delight, you both examined the menu, picking out which ones you preferred.

“Ham and cheese for you and the gentleman with two bottles of water.” 

You both got the same thing.

Steve made sure to grab his wallet before you could, hands occupied with sandwiches to reach in your purse. He ignored your protest, handing the woman a few pounds, and putting the rest in the small tip jar accented with ribbon.

“Steve!” You whined as the door shut, the faint ring of the front bell behind you, “You didn’t have to.”

He grinned cheekily, grabbing his sandwich from your hand in order to hold it in his left and your hand in his right. “I know.”

Thankfully, the area was close to a field, choosing to sit against the damp grass, watching children play in front of you with traffic existing to your rear. 

The first bite made you both look at each other, knowing that this was heavenly and a great decision. The bread was fluffy while the cheese was stringy, complemented by the flavorful pork inside. Due to hunger, you sat in silence for a few minutes, watching two little boys attempt to climb a tree.

“I really hope they don’t fall.” Steve mentioned as the boy’s shoes slipped down the bark, close enough to the ground not to hurt.

Nodding, you watched as the one on the branch yelled to the one on the ground, seemingly frustrated with his inabilities. 

“I couldn’t climb trees,” You recalled, “could you?”

“Yeah, I was pretty athletic, and did a lot of sports to get out of the house.” He thought, knowing he realized that much later, “I still work out sometimes, but nothing like I used to.”

“I used to go outside with chalk all the time. I can’t draw for shit, but it was fun.” You disclosed, memories of pink powder covering your elbows and jeans, usually getting a scolding from your parents for a mess that would come out in the wash. “My parents could afford for me to do a sport a year, but by the time it came to do it, I overheard my parents stressing about swim camp. The next morning, I told them I completely lost interest, asking for sketchbooks instead to keep me busy in summer.”

Aware of his privilege, there were still small things Steve never thought about. That the small sum of a camp was a large amount for others. It sounds ignorant in his head, but he recalls Robin mentioning how she and her mom would split sandwiches when going out when growing up.

Sensing the discomfort he tried to hide, you nudged him, “I can draw a mean stick figure though and I eventually learned how to swim.”

He laughed, pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head. He felt word vomit bubbling up, seeing your kind expression chopping away at his guarded exterior.

He wished he had a diary that he could let you read, and find every aspect of himself he loved, hated, and felt neutral about. Just so he could ask if you still like him. The thought terrified him, the answer, but also that he even contemplated it.

Bird noises came from the kids in the park, screeching as the one jumped from the branch and onto the brown and green leaves beneath him. The crunch matched your bites, filling your ears as you savored the moment.

“Do you like kids?” You asked, watching as the boys ran to see a girl sitting with dolls, her growling at their attempt to touch their sparkly dresses with their dirty fingers.

Scoffing, “Yeah, they seemingly are pulled to me. I have a few munchkins I watch after back at home.”

“I like kids too, I used to babysit,” You trailed off, a thought creeping in, “I don’t know if I want kids of my own though because I’d really want to be a good mom. I wouldn’t want them to ever have any doubts that I was there for them, you know?”

A shatter blasted through Steve’s chest, “Yeah, I have this dream that I have, like, six kids. But sometimes, I think about if I’d really be a good dad or not. I like to think I couldn’t be worse than my own, he mainly threw money my way and went off to work. But then I think about having a kid that's my own blood, it’s happy and sad.”

The words spewing from his loose lips had never been uttered to another, yet you agreed, letting your leg brush his as they outstretched on the ground. He looked to see your meek smile, an empathetic one, yet your eyes read a rawness he didn’t see often.

“My parents paid for this trip, but I’ve tried using my own money for everything I’ve done since I got here. They gave me this credit card, but didn’t come to my graduation.” He sighed, “But that sounds ridiculous because money is important! I have a nice house and clothes-”

“It doesn’t buy parenthood or happiness though, Steve.” You concluded for him, watching him try to explain his sentiment, but you knew. 

When you saw Steve, you didn’t see a spoiled rich boy. Truly you weren’t sure exactly what you saw. You knew he had hazel eyes and chestnut hair, gentle hands with a ring on his index finger, soft lips, and a pink bandaid on the back of his ankle.

His lips greeted yours soon after, a gentle peck that felt intimate, like two lovers who knew each other's bodies like the back of their hand and their souls like it was embedded on their own. It made your cheeks hot. 

“Yeah, I want my kids to know I love them and how to make a mean stick figure.” He joked, making you chuckle, taking the final bite of your panini.

Standing to throw away your trash, Steve joined you, taking your hand and swinging it. The nearby bus stop had a few people beside it as the red vehicle approached and stopped.

Reaching to his bag, he grabbed his wallet where two bus passes were placed in a folder. Neither of you cared to check where it was exactly going, walking up to the second level and sitting as the engine kicked into gear. 

Trees and street lights blurred as you drove along the route, the sun beginning to set into a beautiful orange and blue mesh. Steve’s arm was slung across your frame, resting your head on his shoulder. 

“We should just stay here forever.” Steve teased, but too foolish to immediately agree if you had said yes. That he would run the credit card dry and work every moment to make sure you were taken care of. 

“We should,” You sighed, seeing the faint outline of your breath in the chill air, “but I would miss my cat.”

Laughing, he rubbed your bicep, looking around at the scenery. Big Ben was in sight, pointing at the building in awe as the clock's black hands ticked on.

Days and nights in the London air made your heart swell, eyes burning in unshed tears as you were reminded of the ticking clock. 

A jolting stop signaled you both off, walking into the busy alleys as strangers conversated after a long day of work. 

“What do you want to do? Work wise.” You asked, looking at the men in business casual clothes, drinking a Guinness with their sleeves rolled to their elbows. 

Shrugging, he bit the inside of his lip briefly, “I don’t know. I’m trying to figure it out.”

“How exciting.” You responded, his face dropping at his initial thought that you were ridiculing him, but he saw your warm smile. “Not knowing can be exciting, I mean it, you have so many options that you haven’t even heard of.”

Ears turning pink, he ran his fingers through his hair, “I guess so, thanks. What about you?”

“Figuring it out.” You quipped, fingers skimming over his knuckle, “Oh, we should probably call our friends. Do you know the number to your hotel?”

The red phone booth could only fit one person as you went first, spinning the dial as you held the scribbled-down numbers. Steve fished out the hotel's business card with Robin’s handwriting on the back, the room number, and the phone number.

He heard your boisterous laugh through the thick glass, catching your glance when you turned towards him with a smile, soon placing the phone back up.

Steve took his turn, holding the plastic phone to his ear as the dial tone rang. The receiver picked up, immediately speaking.

“Hello?” 

“Rob, it’s Steve.” 

“Oh, shit Harrington! Where are you? Did you get lost-” She began listing off, mind going to the worst as she untied her shoes in their room.

Groaning, “What, no! I’m fine- I’m great. I’m not going to be back till early morning though-”

A whine filled the speaker as Robin’s foot hit the ground, loud enough to be picked up, “You’re getting laid and I’m not? I thought Europe was progressive or some shit-”

“I’m not getting laid!” Steve gritted, making sure you weren’t overhearing the conversation. He caught you speaking to the florist on the street, smelling the lilies and roses they had picked. 

“So you’re just hanging out outside?” Robin squinted, though alone with no one to witness, but Steve knew her well enough to read her expression through tone. 

“No! No, I met someone-”

“Always meeting someone, never meeting a job-”

“Robin!”

“I’m just messing with you! Sheesh, anyways, who is it?”

“I met her in a coffee shop this morning and we just hit it off. She leaves tomorrow morning and we’re going to walk around through the night… I really like her Robin, I haven’t felt this way since Nance.”

“Oh, wow,” Robin sighed, knowing the emotional rollercoaster her friend experienced, “I’m happy for you, just be safe, call me if anything happens.”

The duo joked around more often than not, but she knew he didn’t open up to everyone. So if he felt strongly and even admitted it, it was a big deal.

“Will do. Love you, dude. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Stepping out from the stuffy box, he wrinkled his nose at the cold air, approaching you as you paid for two flowers. Practically skipping towards him, you put one behind his ear, a white daisy, with an identical one behind yours.

“You’re so beautiful, Steve Harrington.” You muttered, looking at him so lovingly that he wanted to curl in a ball.

“And you’re ethereal.” He smiled, cupping your cheeks in his hands, kissing your forehead as you laughed, “What?”

“You so got that from the word of the day thing in the newspaper.” You accused, knowing the local paper had that in large print, making Steve huff playfully.

“It must have known I was meeting you.” He saved himself, smirking as he watched you become bashful.

Pushing his chest, you looked down, “Sap.”

Wandering brought you to the riverside, a gathering happening of people dancing to jazz music the performers played. The sound of the saxophone made your feet tingle, heading toward the strangers.

It had been the weekly performance for the band, a jar with pounds inside that you both added to. 

Neither of you were classically trained dancer, but the upbeat rhythm of Beyond The Sea was infectious, making him spin you around. Steve sang in a theatrical manner, recalling the days his grandfather would turn on a Bobby Darin record when he taught him cards.

A few songs zoomed by, one of you knowing a tune the other didn’t, joyfully ignoring the ache in your shoes as the moon came into full view. 

A chilling D cord signaled from the group for a song, finally, you both knew. The other pairs grew closer as they swayed back and forth, but you and Steve stayed frozen as We’ll Meet Again began.

It felt too cinematic, as the lyrics of a crooning voice simmered into your consciousness, the kind eyes you knew only briefly left you hypnotized.

Nearly stumbling, you rested your cheek on Steve’s chest, hands around his neck as his went around your waist. He leaned his head against your hair, indulging in the scent of your perfume. 

Words could be spoken in vain, stories of how you both could meet up and live together forever somewhere. The future was unwritten, however, no promises could be made to soothe your aching hearts. 

The band thanked the crowd before cleaning up, both of you continuing on to the journey ahead. The song had left you both speechless, not an easy feat for him, and the stars assisted the illumination of your skin. 

“What time is your flight?” Steve inquired, his watch showing it was already past 3 in the morning. 

“It’s at 7:30, I’ll need to get there by 5:30.” You respond glumly, “My friend is bringing my bags though, so we can head straight there- If you wanted to go all the way there with me?”

An L shape going to his chin, he stroked his imaginary beard as he hummed, bumping into your arm. You scoffed, pushing his body away, laughter bubbling between the two of you.

A stone-covered bridge came before you, wandering over and stopping to watch the fish below. Steve looked at your profile in the moonlight and wished he had a photograph, giving him an idea for later.

“Are you scared of planes?” He queried, his own memory of Robin hyperventilating for the first hour of the flight replaying in his mind.

“I’m neutral, I’ve flown a few times before, but I’m not super comfortable.” You revealed, “What about you?”

“Same here. I used to hate them because it meant my dad was on a business trip that I’d be dragged along to, but now I can do it for funner reasons.”

Nodding, a smirk formed on your face, “I don’t think funner is a word, gorgeous.”

Ignoring the pet name that made him flustered, he pouted, pushing away from the edge to walk forward. 

“It is to me!” He argued as you caught up with him, though he grabbed your hand within seconds. 

The area was now familiar as he and Robin had wandered these streets on their first day, excited to be in a new place for the first time. 

A few strangers wandered the roads, a cigarette lit between their lips as they trotted. Though, Steve had his sights set on the building at the corner of the two roads, a photo booth there. 

Before you could question his motive, he dragged you in, squeezing onto the plastic seat, the bright light overhead. Popping a euro in, he paid for two film strips.

“Okay, what are we doing?” He asked, looking at you hopefully, the first photo accidentally going off, “Shit!”

Through giggles, you pulled him closer to look at the camera with wide grins, then a silly one. For the last one, he didn’t ask or follow your lead, he grabbed your warm cheeks and kissed you.

The final click was ignored as he continued to move his lips against yours, your nose slightly cold against the frigid air. Breathless, he pulled away, forehead against yours for a beat.

Returning outside the curtain, you each got your film strips, smiling at them in your grasp. The film shined under the streetlights, a glossy finish on the paper, placing it carefully in your purse.

With his hand in yours, you continued on, the wind whistling through tree branches and against thin window panes. The roads twisted and turned, passing by restaurants whose lights had been out for hours. 

“I really enjoy spending time with you.” You mumbled, resting your head against his arm, “I wish I didn’t have to leave-”

“Hey, c’mon, don’t think about that right now. We have a few hours left.” He consoled, though sadness dripped from his words as he felt the same dread.

“I’m going to write you a letter, but you can’t open it until I leave tomorrow.” You announced, shuffling through your purse, ripping two pages from your small notebook, and grabbing a pen.

“I want to do one too.” Steve added, taking a sheet and your spare pen. 

Taking a seat at a nearby bar, you sat at different tables outside, covering your words with your forearm despite the distance. Occasional playful sneers were thrown each other's way before smiling. 

Both of you resisted the urge to tear it open, seeing what the other truly thought. Part of him doubted you fell for him, convincing him he’d hear the painful words that it was bullshit. Part of you doubted he fell for you, another boy taking your feelings and crushing them. 

Folding them neatly, you exchanged your messages, leaving a lip gloss-covered kiss on yours. Your eyes locked as you stood still, letters in each pocket, it seemed like a trance. It was broken by the speeding of a yellow cab, swinging the turn like the cops were after him.

“We should probably call a cab,” Steve suggested, looking at his time as it taunted both of you, approaching the side of the building near a payphone, “I have some coins if you need-”

Glossy lips touched his slightly chapped ones, molding against one another in bliss as you ignored his words, back bumping against the brick wall.

Not the most abrupt, the quiet of the night made you bolder, knowing that even if someone was around, they were likely wandering or going straight home. They didn’t know you and they didn’t know Steve, you were just two strangers kissing under the dark sky.

His hands went around your waist, pulling you closer with a grunt, hand covering a portion of your bottom. His gorgeous locks were soon woven in between your fingers, feeling how soft they were. His teeth caught your plush lips in a whimper, gasping when he pulled away.

“Fiesty.” He teased, making you whine, dropping your head onto his shoulder. Remembering his hands were on your ass, he pulled away, reaching for the red door to call the taxi.

The operator sent him forward, looking back at the street name and the building you were in front of. The man’s gruff voice was hard to understand, practically smelling the cigarette smoke through the speaker.

“Trying to get rid of me.” You sighed as he walked out, arms opening and engulfing you despite your quick wit. 

Arms around one another, you stood in the sounds of your accompanying breath, hearing his heartbeat through his sweater. 

“Are you cold?” He worried, rubbing your arms lovingly as the stillness of your bodies made the temperature settle.

“I’m okay, don’t let go.” You mumbled against his chest, feeling vibrations of his stifled laugh.

A taxi whipped around the tight corner, bright lights shining in your faces. He relinquished his hold to open the door, hand meeting the small of your back to guide you inside to sit.

The London lights blurred together as you rested your head on his shoulder, secretly inhaling his scent and hoping you’ll be able to remember it. 

Shapes in various sizes were drawn against the skin on your knee with his fingers, cheek pressed against your hair. 

“God, I hope he remembered everything.” You sighed with humor, but also worried your friend would forget any essentials. Thankfully, you planned on spending most of the day out so your bag was pretty much packed. 

“I hope he doesn’t, make you stuck here longer.” He smirked, squeezing your thigh.

The sound of the wet pavement froze as you entered the drop of section, people bustling towards the front doors of the airport filled with exhaustion and stress. 

Steve unbuckled and opened the door for you, paying the driver before you could. 

Mouth open to complain, he yanked you forward to kiss your lips, hands around your waist as yours went behind his neck. 

Over dramatic and much more public than either of you typically preferred, there was nothing that could remove your lips from one another. Except Rodney. 

“Dude!” A high pitched male voice let out as another taxi driver tossed the luggage onto the ground, a skinny man standing on the sidewalk with messed up hair. 

Your frame left Steve’s grasp as you went to the baby blue suitcase on the ground, sitting it upright. 

“About time, bitch!” The boy snapped, but there was familiarity behind it, “Ugh, girl, that was the worst car I’ve ever been in, smelled like piss- Wait who’s the cutie?” His voice dropped lower to avoid lingering ears at the last comment.

Scratching the back of his neck at the compliment, Steve let you introduce him, “Rodney, this is Steve, Steve this is my best friend, Rodney.”

“Hi.” He chuckled, “Sorry I stole her for the last night of your trip.”

“No, no, I see why she stayed.” Rodney smiled, nudging you who was more bashful than Steve had seen, “It’s nice to meet you, Steve. I’ll go ahead and get in line so you guys can say bye.”

Rodney walked off with all the baggage, a pep in his step despite the sun having yet to make an appearance. 

Steve finally ripped his attention from the boy walking inside to you who looked to the road, tears already coating your eyes, “Hey, don’t cry, it’s okay.”

With a laugh, you subconsciously rubbed your nose, “I don’t know why I’m-“

“Oh no, trust me, I probably will cry too.” He eased your distress, embracing you in a final hug.

Each grip was tighter than the last for your hugs, this one nearly mending each body together. A peck left on the warmth of his neck, you lifted your head for a last kiss, his eagerness at an all-time high.

When your lips stopped moving, it took a moment to pull away as neither of you wanted to. A burning sensation reached your throat and behind your eyes, toes curling within your knitted socks.

“As cheesy as this may sound, I’ll never forget you, Steve. I’ll see you again- Unless you don’t want me to-“

“Don’t even finish that sentence because I am one bad decision away from hopping on that plane with you.” He quipped, leaning back enough to see your face. 

“I’ll see you?” You murmured, not caring how stereotypical it sounded.

In romance movies, you’d groan at the common tear-jerking goodbyes, but as you stood in the midst of an airport goodbye, you understood. You got why they’d run back to the lover’s arms and never leave. You knew if you ran into Steve’s arms again, you’d never leave. 

“Not if I see you first.” He mustered, kissing your forehead before revoking his arms from you, already burning with desire to reattach. 

As the cotton fabric left your touch, you smiled at him through tears, turning on your heels and into the clear doors. 

In the flurry of people, you turned around, waving at the boy who was right where you left him, and if you squint hard enough, you think you could still see your heart in his hands. 

Steve waited until you joined Rodney, watching as the boy gave you a hug with a soothing hand on your back. Swallowing the influx of emotions, he walked away with lead-filled shoes, utilizing every ounce of self-control to keep going. 

The tube station nearby ran to Piccadilly Circus, close enough to walk to his hotel from there. Securing a white stub, he found a seat on the nearly empty cart, a crunch sounding from his pocket.

Quickly taking the note covered in lip gloss out, he traced his thumb over the way you wrote his name. As the engine began, he unfolded the thin paper, taking a soothing breath. 

Dear Steve, 

Right now, you’re sitting at a metal table at a closed bar and I don’t think anyone’s looked more beautiful. My gut is dropping to my toes in fear that you don’t feel as strongly, but I think you do, that hasn’t happened to me before. 

I’m not the best with words, but I love your hair and eyes and sweater and shoes and pink bandaid on your ankle. You’re incredibly kind and smart and memorable. You’ve given me more joy in these few hours than I’ve had in months. 

I hope to see you again soon, gorgeous, I need to teach you how to draw one badass stick figure. My phone number and address are on the back of the paper, but don’t stalk me. Or do, I think you’d make your presence known anyways. 

Love, Y/N.

The sounds around him went mute as he felt the unfamiliar sting of tears, something he never let himself embrace. But the words made his heart soar high enough to punch his nose, setting his emotions ablaze. 

Meanwhile, you sat in the window seat on a full plane, Rodney already dozing off beside you as reached steady enough air to relinquish mandatory seat belts.

Your hand finally reached your bag, holding the paper from your own notebook that was covered in writing belonging to the boy at the cafe. 

Dear Y/N,

I didn’t have any idea how this trip would go, but I’m glad you showed up at that coffee shop instead of the one down the road. 

To start, you’re fucking beautiful. A kind of beautiful where even if you didn’t speak a word to me this morning, I would’ve talked Robin’s ear off about you all day anyways.

You’re so nice, like so nice it gives me cavities. (Just kidding, perfectly healthy teeth- That was very stupid, sorry) And you are so gentle and caring, I want to spend more and more time seeing it because even when you weren’t looking at me, I felt my cheeks getting red. 

I hope I don’t sound too dumb when I say this, but you made me feel very happy. I hadn’t felt a need to spend so much time with one person in a very long time, to open up to someone like I did today. But it felt natural, like anything else would’ve been a crime. 

My grandpa loved this Frank Sinatra song called Bewitched, I don’t remember the words, but I know the feelings when I thought of someone caring for me that way and I heard it as we danced a few hours ago. You’ve bewitched me.

My address and phone number are on the back, I just really hope you can read my terrible handwriting. 

You mean a lot to me. 

<3, 

Steve. 

“Honey, you okay?” Rodney whispered, watching your wet cheeks be wiped away with a napkin. 

Nodding, you folded the note and put it in your purse, “I’m okay, Rod,” You sniffled, staring at your shoes that had reminisced of dirt from the grasses and sidewalks you strolled. 

“I think I could be a witch.” You declared with an elbow to his bicep, his snort was subtle as he grabbed your hand and squeezed it. You longed for Steve’s. 

“Hey,” You alerted the boy to your right, “Want to go to Indiana?”

tagging: @ali-r3n   @honey-eyed-munson   @bakugouswh0r3  @jj-ever-lovely-jewel   @spicysix  @andvys  @berryfairy444  @imjuststeddietrashatthispoint  @bimbobaggins69  @lilacletter

[lyralit]

4.1.24 - the importance of learning new things

As much as I think academic & work focus is incredibly important going into the new year, one of my other goals is to practice doing more: to learn all of the things I want to do, in addition to work, in addition to writing. I want to know how to do thousands of little things, and I think the longer we wait, the less likely we are to do them.

Picking up a new hobby doesn't have to be buying a dozen textbooks and spending hundreds of dollars on lessons because you might have the slightest interest: it can be from whatever you have here, now, and you'll never learn if you don't get started.

Some of the things I've been getting into (as I've mentioned before) are baking & crocheting. it just feels so cozy and nice & I love the idea of comfort.

here is a list of things I want to / you should try that's new!

learning a new language. fifteen minutes a day, I kid you not. I'm learning latin on duolingo and I don't ever think about it, but when I do it (25 day streak 💪🏻), I'm starting to notice my improvements

consuming good media. and that's not scrolling for half an hour on tumblr. it's books—deep ones and silly ones and ones about romance and dragons and apocalypses. it's movies! I watched keira knightley's pride and prejudice twice in the last few months, and also three men and a baby which is something I never thought I would watch, but it was quite funny I think. and I learn from it: I cannot write humour or romance for the life of me, so it's basically studying to write (is the self-gaslighting too evident?)

learning to crochet. I made a silly little headband today, after scrolling through pinterest and desperately wanting one. I started crocheting in december to give as gifts (I completed none of my wips, much like when I write) and used the tools I had around me: an old rainbow loom hook and whatever string I could find. now I'm proud to say I can read somewhat fluently crochet acronyms.

baking. I keep saying this. I know. but when I tell you a two years ago I was exploding cupcakes in the oven and last month I made bakery-style cookies...I made bread! a loaf of bread! (in a bread machine, but it's so good and I instantly made another. there is one in the bread machine right now). honestly it just made me feel that much better about improvement, and trying new things, and that is the mindset I want for the new year.

learning to code. in all honesty, I never thought I was a compsci - engineer kind of person. then this year, out of sudden (masterminded) urges, I joined a bunch of tech and robotics initiatives, and maybe it's the sense of community (I can rejoice in finding another nerdy group) but now I am happily chauffeuring myself to these meetings 4h a week. I'm looking into pursuing more into the fields of eng and science. and I'm learning some code from one of the friends I've made!

starting a blog. ...I know most of the people who linger around my blog stay for the writing content (the last posts have turned this writerblr into a digital diary, and I'm only half sorry for that). but since I've joined tumblr (almost three years ago now!) I've got to meet so many wonderful people (including you!) and want to try so many things.

and I get it. it's overwhelming. so here are some starting goals that maybe I'll try also.

start doing art. -> make a card for someone as a gift.

learn a new sport & start exercising. (I'm trying out track & field in the spring, so stay tuned to figure out how that goes) -> see if someone will come play ball with you. do 1 or 2 youtube workout videos a week.

film videos of your daily life. it doesn't need to be for posting! -> edit together clips you've taken for a last year recape.

start a scrapbook. -> print out photos and dig up construction paper. decorate a page.

make a poetry journal. -> go on pinterest to read poetry! pin styles you like and set fifteen minutes to writing.

make a regular journal! -> write once a day. just try: goals for the day in the morning, or a recap at night.

try your hand at gardening. -> research plants that grow well in your region. see if any of the seeds you may have at home are useful. water your lawn. buy a plant and try to keep it alive (set reminders, leave it in front of your sink)

learn to make candles. -> watch a youtube tutorial. see if you can play around with candles you already have.

play chess. -> see if someone will play chess with you. no? chess.com is right there. go make an account. go find a stranger.

learn to play an instrument off youtube. -> maybe you have a piano sitting around, or a guitar you've never touched. you don't even need to master it. pick a song you like and google that. no instrument? maybe there's a way to play drums with home items.

go for a run. -> once a week. a set time. just shoes and the outdoors. too cold? go to a gym and use a treadmill. maybe that's not possible? skip rope.

start / join a book club. -> just you, or some close friends, or people online. a book a month. talk about it.

** on that note, would anyone like to join a tumblr book club? slide into my asks and maybe we can get a blog list!

thank you for reading again <3 until next time.

k.