#i can barely put the effort in to post oneshots
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plsssss can we talk about bucky getting his revenge and edging gale
gale edging john post | yes we cannnnn !! eta: ykw. i need to just turn this into a proper oneshot since this ended up being over 1k words. new wip created </3
john may be a man of little self control, but after that incident, he decides he can be at least a tiny bit patient so he can catch gale off guard with it when he gets his revenge. because the next few times they're fooling around, gale's expecting a retaliation, john can see it in the way he tenses up and glances at his face before he comes like he's waiting for it, but john never follows through with it. he wants gale to let his guard down, and that he does.
so a week or so later when john's kissing him and feeling him up and asks ever so sweetly if he can tie gale's wrists behind his back, gale doesn't think anything of it. john likes to take control occasionally and gale sometimes likes the feeling of not having to worry about making decisions, getting to let john call the shots, and john always puts extra time and effort into the way he touches gale when he's restrained because he likes to watch his darling blondie squirm.
john has him sit in his lap facing him, letting gale lean against his shoulder to take the pressure off his legs while john works him open on his fingers, already riled up from the pretty gasps gale's making against his neck but reigning himself in because he's gonna need to have some self control for once.
he sweet–talks gale through it, telling him how good he sounds, how well he's doing as he sinks down on his cock, guiding him with hands on his hips so he doesn't unbalance himself without the use of his own hands where they're tied behind his back with a belt. he stays still at first, letting gale ride him slowly, keeping his hands loosely on his waist while praising him and talking him into that foggy needy headspace until gale's thighs are trembling and john takes pity on him (and frankly is so hard he doesn't have the patience to keep his own hips still anymore).
so he runs his hands down from gale's waist to his ass to hold him in place while he rolls his hips up into him, watching the way gale's eyebrows pinch and his pretty lips fall open in a silent oh as john angles himself in a way gale couldn't with his own movements. lets his mouth run as he slowly picks up his pace, all the coos of "so pretty", "you're taking me so well", "you feel so fucking good", loving how reactive gale is to every word and every thrust.
he moves his hands to gale's hips to get a better grip, can tell gale's getting close because he gets noisier, losing his filter and letting out breathy little "fuck"s and "john"s, head rolling back on his shoulders to bare his neck, rocking his hips down to meet john every time he fucks up into him. and then just as he gets the warning of "close", he pulls gale down by his hips to bury himself deep in him and stops moving completely.
the whine of desperation that tears out of gale's throat when he lifts his head has john knocking his skull back against the wall, cock twitching hard enough inside gale that he's sure the blond can feel it. he watches gale's biceps flex when he instinctively tries to get his hands free, feels his hips try to squirm out of his hands to keep moving, but he keeps him pinned firmly down, dizzy at the way he clenches down around him.
a plaintive "john" pulls a groan from him, but he composes himself, lifts his gaze back up to gale's face and lets the corners of his lips quirk up, purrs out a "yeah, sweetheart? something wrong?"
laughs at the way gale cusses him out, a rare sight of his little spitfire with a mouth on him, though the effect is a lot closer to being hissed at by a kitty than actually being convinced to move. john lets him run his mouth, murmurs a "cute" once gale's done, and then promptly hammers his hips up into him just once, swearing under his breath at the way it punches an open–mouthed moan from gale. rocks his hips up into him a few times before going back to a quick and rough pace, the sound of skin on skin getting both of them flushed.
it only takes a minute before gale's hips are twitching into his hands and whispered pleas are falling from his mouth and john thinks he's never had to use as much self restraint in his life as he does when he forces himself to stop moving again, once again yanking gale down against him, holding him still in his lap.
gale really fights it this time, enough so that it's a merciful distraction for john from how close he himself is (trust his idea to backfire as he ends up edging himself along with gale, he thinks) when he has to use proper strength to keep him in place. any blood that might've still been lurking around his brain rushes south the moment he sees gale's eyes getting shiny with frustration, cheeks all pink and lips red and flushed from biting down on them.
"not so fun, is it?" john taunts, but his voice comes out a bit more raspy than he would've liked, evident how much the stop and start is getting to him too. it's probably karma, because he knows he's being more mean than gale was to him, but he can't help it; those blue eyes look so pretty when tears are threatening to spill over when he's desperate and needy like this.
gale wriggles in his lap the best he can, still furiously chasing his orgasm, head finally falling back in frustration before he lifts it again, looking john in the eyes, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth and letting it go. he whines quietly and whimpers out the sweetest "please, johnny," almost crying in his impatience, and fuck.
john doesn't mean for his hips to twitch up at that, but they do, hard. gale sobs out a broken sound at the way john's cock hits just where he needs it to in his accidental movement, and gale spills over his stomach completely untouched, just like that. john swears and drives his hips up into him in an attempt to quickly amend his slip up, moaning loud at the wrecked noises that immediately start bubbling up out of gale as he fucks him through his orgasm.
he tips over the edge himself from the desperate sounds the blond starts to make as he crosses the line into overstimulation, feeling gale's hips jerk frantically in his hands, fighting to get away from the incessant rhythm of his cock inside him as john shudders through his own orgasm, fingers digging into gale's sides.
he slows down to a gentle grind of his hips when gale collapses against his chest, face pressed to his neck, shivering at the slow drag inside him and whining pitifully when john eventually pulls out, settling him down on his thighs while he reaches around to undo the belt and free his hands. his heart bursts at the way gale instantly wraps his arms around him, clinging to him as they both catch their breath, john petting his hair and showering him with praise.
he eventually huffs out a laugh, murmuring a "sorry buck. payback's a bitch, but that was an accident, i swear." gale groans against him in complaint, lightly nipping at his shoulder in retaliation, too tired to fight back, but john's sure he'll pay for it eventually.
it's confirmed with the "better watch your back, darling" that he gets when they're both pulling their clothes back on, but to john, that sounds less like a threat and more like a good time, and he shoots gale a crooked grin to let him know as much.
#bruh this was 1.3k i did not mean to get into so much detail#the keep reading button has never been more necessary#i wish i could crank out long drabbles like this for all the asks#but they take sooo long for me to write i am NOT a fast writer lol hence why i post a fic like once a month#but sometimes certain asks just itch my brain some type of way and then boom i've thrown up onto a tumblr post#anyway dacryphilia my beloved <3#in any other scenario john hates to see gale cry. but i think in bed he would have an affinity for making him feel so good that he cries#have i thought about this extensively? perhaps.#i just think that pretty boys with pretty eyes and pink lips deserve to cry during sex sometimes. as a treat#johnslittlespoon asks#johnslittlespoon brainrot#johnslittlespoon spicy#buck x bucky#buckbucky
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" god.. you're perfect.. "
currently playing: perfect by ed sheeran
pairings: seungkwan x gn!reader
genre: fluff ; oneshot
warning(s): none! js some soft moments w kwan <3
word count: 0.9k
authors note: hello! this is my first time posting and writing something, i hope you can bare w me! ill get better overtime, promise <3 i write based off songs!
summary: its your 4 year anniversary with seungkwan, and he planned something sweet for you.
“ … I found a love, for me
Darling, just dive right in and follow my lead
Well, I found a girl, beautiful and sweet
Oh, I never knew you were the someone waiting for me “
seungkwan stood by the door, waiting for you to come down from getting ready. he kept fidgeting with the sleeves of his white button up. it was your 4 year anniversary and seungkwan planned out a anniversary date for you. he wanted everything to be perfect, being with you for already 4 years. he had everything planned for a while, he perfected it over time. impatient, he called out for you once more, a faint ‘im coming’ could be heard from the steps.
walking down, you looked at him. his eyes lit up when he saw you, your outfit, your shoes, your everything. the way your hair was nicely put, the way your clothes gently clung into your body, the way your smile was soft and sweet, everything about you. he starred at you in awe, thinking about how lucky he is to have a partner as beautiful as you. with the softest smile creeping up on his face, he mumbled something to himself and softly lifted your hand to kiss it.
“you look beautiful..” he pulled you softly into his embrace. you took a deep breath and smelled the musky scent of his cologne, a scent you love and could never get rid of. your head resting by the crook of his neck. “thank you kwan.. you look handsome yourself..”
slowly parting yourself away from his body, you look at your boyfriend. the man you’ve loved for years. his eyes are full with the purest form of love and admiration for you. he’s so in love with you, and you are just as much for him. after a couple peaceful moments of silence, he gently grabs your hand and starts to lead you outside to your car.
“ … 'Cause we were just kids when we fell in love
Not knowing what it was
I will not give you up this time
But darling, just kiss me slow
Your heart is all I own
And in your eyes, you're holding mine “
the car ride was peaceful silent. all that could run through your head was when you first met, to how you ended up here. your love story seemed so unreal, something you’d see the movies. the classic cliché story of a person admiring one from a far. you’ll never forget the day you set your eyes on him. you knew there was something about the man you sat besides now, that you needed in your life. you watch as he pulls up to a field, something shining brightly in distance. he gently rested his hand on yours. “you ready?” he asked, a nod coming from you as a agreement.
walking through the small field, his hand in yours, talking about things you did as kids, you arrive at the brightly shined thing in the background. a big oak tree stood with fairy lights clung around it. a blanket set out above it, set with your favorite flowers, snacks, food, drinks, you name it. he thought of it all. as you focused on everything, all the time and effort he put into this, seungkwan was preparing for something else. you turn back to look at him, but he’s not there. looking down, you see him on one knee.
“kwan..” your hand goes to cover your mouth. you feel the world stop, as if it was only the two of you. the smile he displayed was brighter and softer than ever. you feel your eyes start to sting as he pulls out a tiny black box. “y/n..” he began, choking back tears of his own. “god.. i am so in love with you.. ill never forget seeing you staring at me back in class..” he giggled thinking of you staring at him back in school, enchanted by him.
“i love waking up to you in the mornings.. i love your smile.. i love how you make me feel so confident and loving about myself when im down.. i love you. and i cant, i physically cant, see myself with anyone else.. so before you slip away, would you let me make you mine and..” he opened up the small black box. a diamond ring on display. it shined brightly in the soft light of the fairy lights. you felt hot tears gently roll down your cheeks. a smile appearing behind your hand. “marry me?”
“ … Baby, I'm dancing in the dark
With you between my arms
Barefoot on the grass
Listening to our favourite song
When you said you looked a mess
I whispered underneath my breath
But you heard it
Darling, you look perfect tonight “
“..yes, of course seungkwan..” you lower your hand down to him. his smile got wider as he slipped the ring onto your finger. he got up and wiped the tears off your face. soft giggles coming from the both of you, as he slowly pulled you in and kissed you softly. your kisses were perfect, as if your lips were meant for each other. they locked together.
the rest of the night was spent doing everything and anything. dancing, singing, cuddling, everything. you both never wanted this night to end. but when you started to get tired, he noticed immediately. he held you in his arms until you drifted off into a soft slumber. he gave you a kiss on your forehead, and repeated his mumble from earlier that evening. “god.. you’re perfect.”
#boo seungkwan#seungkwan#seungkwan fluff#seventeen#seventeen x y/n#seventeen x reader#svt fluff#svt imagines#svt x reader#svt seungkwan#seungkwan x reader#kpop#kpop fanfic
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would you write a part two to your oneshot where katniss is captured and rescued in mj? 🙏🏻 pretty please 🙏🏻
AN: here you go, nonny! I only posted a tiny part here but the rest is on ao3! Hope you like it and it’s not too full of typos! Also I combined this oneshot with another prompt, possibly from you so hopefully you don’t mind 🤍🤍🤍.
Summary : Sequel oneshot to Eyes Full Of Storm Clouds, where Katniss was captured instead of Peeta in Mockingjay and then rescued.
Days after being rescued from the Capitol, Peeta helps Katniss try to overcome one of the many fears Snow left her with.
-
I walk down the corridor leading to Coin’s office, dreading what I know is about to come. Dreading the way I know this meeting is bound to end.
Coin wants to see Katniss for the first time since her rescue. She wants to meet and congratulate Katniss on her brave survival in captivity, on her obvious strength and tenacity, that surely it’s those exact qualities that should be accredited to how she made it out of Snow’s clutches alive. She wants to compliment her on her stamina that brought her here to the rebels in Thirteen.
But Katniss isn’t one for niceties or compliments, or even platitudes, not even now, not even after all the truly terrible things Snow and his men put her through. And I just cannot stand here and act like this whole meeting isn’t destined to end badly.
But no one cares what I think. As it turns out — though it’s no real shock — the only relevancy I still have to the leaders of Thirteen is my connection to Katniss. Since her rescue, no one’s needed me or Gale or Finnick to do propos in an effort to unite the nation.
Which I’m completely fine with. I didn’t enjoy filming them anymore than Gale did — even if I wasn’t as vocal about my disdain — and I don’t even think there’s anyone who could drag me away from Katniss long enough to do one now anyway. But I still take note of Coin’s change in attitude towards me since her Mockjngjay arrived. Her change in attitude towards almost all of us in the last week.
The President of Thirteen would have thrown every one of us — aside from Gale, her favorite new solider — to the wayside if Katniss didn’t need us around.
And it’s no secret to anyone that if Katniss didn’t need me, if she didn’t make her desire for my constant presence abundantly clear, I would have no problem disappearing off the face of this compound without a second thought.
She’s sitting in a chair that looks better suited to fit Haymitch than her malnourished body when I enter Coin’s office. Her hair is only slightly improved than when she first arrived here. It’s still tangled and ratted, pulled up now in a messy ponytail instead of her signature braid, and her face is still covered in bruises and cuts. Her mother cleansed her of any blood the night she was brought here but the purplish, blue marks still litter almost any visible surface of her body, and my chest hurts every single time I look at her.
My chest still hurts with pain because the aftereffects of what Snow did to her — what Snow did to break her — are so plain to see. And, in complete juxtaposition, my chest hurts with pure, unadulterated joy every single time I look at her, because no matter how different she may be, she’s still my Katniss and she still means more to me than the moon and stars in the sky.
“Peeta,” she whispers, almost inaudibly, when she recognizes I’ve entered the room. She still has barely spoken at all, in the seven days she’s been here. And she still doesn’t speak above a mumble if she can help it.
“Hi, you,” I greet, matching her warm, quiet tone as I close the space between us. I sit in the empty chair to her left, leaning down and softly kissing her forehead, the way she likes being greeted nowadays.
Gale is on her other side, clutching her hand tightly, refusing to let go. Not out of jealousy, not out of possession or anything it could have potentially been months ago. No, he’s holding her hand out of support, out of pure protective instinct, because in spite of how complex our situation may be, it’s utterly undeniable that Gale loves her too. That he too knows what she needs right now, above all else, is total support and unadulterated compassion from all the people in her life.
Neither one of us have made a mention of her feelings, of who she may choose — the question seems to stupid after all that’s happened of late — or of which of us cares for her more. Not even to each other, after she’s fallen asleep or when we linger in the halls as her mother cares for her.
Because after everything she’s been through, it feels silly to ask her to pick which one of us she loves more. To ask her to pick which one of us she feels romantically for, when she still can’t force herself even speak.
Well, she can’t force herself to speak to anyone other than me.
Katniss leans her forehead against my shoulder for a long moment, and it’s only then that I realize she’s trembling.
“Katniss, if you don’t want to do this, we can leave,” I immediately promise her, moving my hand to lightly cup her cheek, planting another kiss on her hairline.
Judging by the look on Gale’s face, he’s already said much of the same to her before I arrived. “C’mon, Catnip,” he urges her quietly, working hard to keep his voice low too. Loud noises terrify her to an incredibly humiliating — in her mind only — level. “You don’t need to do this.”
I rub her back in slow circles, giving the room a customary glance to make sure no one else has joined us yet. Checking to see if we can slip out without Coin or her soldiers seeing. “We can go back to your room,” I reiterate, wanting her to just say yes so I can get her out of here and far, far away from Coin. “You won’t have to explain yourself to anyone, I promise.”
“Yeah,” Gale chimes right in. He agrees with me on this. Neither us nor anyone else who cares for Katniss thinks Coin is going to be good for her recovery. “We’ll do that. We’ll talk to Coin. You can just go back to your room and-“
Gale’s offer is cut off by the heavy steel door opening again, and the arrival of Haymitch, Plutarch, his assistant, Boggs and the president herself.
Read The Rest On AO3
#everlark#thg#hunger games#katniss everdeen#Peeta mellark#my writing#100#everlark fanfic#oneshot#everlark fic#haymitch abernathy#gale hawthorne#platonic everthorne#mockingjay AU
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Someone re-blogged that vent post with tags calling me entitled for what I was saying and you know what? Yes, I am entitled to my opinion on that post- I have been in fandom for more than half my life! Why would I feel like I am not entitled to have an opinion on something I have surrounded my life around to a pretty high degree for a LONG ass time?
If you put your all into something like so many of us have, our life, our time, our SKILL...then I’m pretty fucking sure I am entitled to have an opinion on that.
Yes. People will like what they want to like. They will like it for the amount of time they like it for and they will move on as quick or as fast as they move on from it.
But that does not give you all the right to say to those of us who put our fucking ALL into the fandoms and all we ask back is that you at least return some of the favor with basic shit like interaction, or even just to pass around the things we work on or TELL people about it!
It’s not about in the end how long you stay in a fandom, it’s how you act, and you go about that fandom that makes it important
You like a show and stay in fandom for two months because your mental health can’t take it for too long? That’s perfectly FINE, but what you do in those two weeks are the important part. Did you go around talking about the thing you enjoy? Did you share are you saw that you liked? Did you, when you were talking to your friends about said fandom, share some fics or headcanons you saw and liked? Did you click like on tumblr on a oneshot or did you also reblog it too?
ITS NOT ABOUT HOW LONG YOU ARE HERE IN FANDOM ITS ABOUT HOW FUCKING GOOD OF A TIME YOU MAKE IT. It’s also NOT just YOU here. It’s ALL of us.
And whenever someone brings up mental health into all this, YES we ALL KNOW. Fandom was MADE and FOSTERED by mostly neurodivergent people! I’m one of them!! We all get burned out. We all get those feelings of RSD or feeling like we can’t interact with people, but it’s not even about that. It’s just about doing the bare fucking minimum to PUT BACK just a tiny bit of effort you can.
Can’t add tags to tumblr reblogs? That’s FINE, don’t add tags! Just reblog shit to your account.
Don’t know what to say on a fic after reading it? That’s OKAY, you can just leave an emoji or a fucking string of ‘aoi;saidaisjds;asdads’ and I’m FUCKING POSITIVE that the writer will LOVE it regardless.
Literally, ANYTHING is better than just wading through the world of fandom collecting shit for yourself that you never pass a long, never ‘pay it back’ for and just hoard and hide and move along.
In the end, you wont have anything hoard after all the fucking people who want to put shit INTO the fandom feel like no one actually gives a fuck and moves on with their lives.
#rant#vent#i'm so done being nice#we all have problems#we are all tired#we are all in this to fucking gether#get your head out of your ass#and start giving back to the community you want to so desperately take from
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Where You Bean All My Life?
Okay, this is basically for the amazing @streets-in-paradise because we both love Andy and this man deserves some love and romance in his life.
This is a ship I created between Andy and my original character, Natalie Valentine. If you want some more info on, please check out this post but also ask about her because I would love to talk more about Natalie! This little oneshot kind of spawned from an idea I got of Natalie owning a coffee shop and little cute ideas of her and Andy came out of it. Lucy wanted me to write it so I decided to finally do it to cheer her up from the pain of canon (seriously, fuck canon, let Andy be happy for once!). I hope you like this, sweetface!
And everyone else who reads this, feel free to comment what you think as well and if I should continue writing more for Natalie x Andy or just Natalie in general! This is my first time writing for Natalie (also my first time posting something written involving Andy, I've written him before but never posted it since it's part of something Lucy and I are working on) so I'm both nervous and excited!
Thank you and enjoy! :)
Word count: 2.2K
Warnings: Cursing, suggestive themes, not proofread (*Tiffany and NicaChucky voice* proofreading is for losers!), Andy being happy and so damn in love (yes I'm making this a warning, I don't want anyone getting a heart attack from this rare sight)
Summary: Another day at work for Natalie, another day for Andy to pay her a visit, and another day for the both of them to remember how much they love each other.
This coffee shop was her baby.
Natalie worked hard to build her cafe from the ground up. She put her time and effort into it and so far, it had paid off. She owned “Short and Steamy Cafe”, a name that still made her giggle because she enjoyed people’s reactions whenever she would tell them what it was called.
Even though Natalie owned the shop, she still worked there quite frequently. The cafe was her pride and joy, she enjoyed dedicating her time into it and making sure personally that business was going well. Besides, making coffee and baking were a really good stress reliever for her. And she loved seeing her customers pleased with whatever drink or baked goods she came up with.
Today was another day where she was working. She felt almost at peace, humming under her breath as she stood behind the register. It was the slow part of the day, not a lot of customers bustling through. Natalie appreciated those times, where she could breathe in the scent of coffee and warm food in the air and allow herself to be calm. It was perfect.
Well, what cemented the perfection was the person who walked through the doors in that moment.
Andy Barclay.
God, even thinking of his name made her heart flutter. And the sight of him made her damn near swoon where she stood.
“Hey there, handsome.” Natalie all but purred as she playfully smirked at him.
“Isn’t wrong to flirt with customers?” Andy asked lightly, his own smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.
“Not when I’m the boss and the customer is my favorite one that I go home to every night,” she retorted and reveled in his lovely sounding chuckle, “now, what can I get ya?”
Andy thought about it for a moment before looking at her. “Surprise me.”
Natalie couldn’t help but to smirk again. “I never thought you’d say something like that outside of the bedroom.”
“Natalie!” He quickly scolded her, his face flushing red from her comment.
She couldn’t help but to giggle at his reaction and held her hands up in mock surrender. “Sorry, sorry, I’m stopping.” She giggled again under her breath before quickly shaking her head when she noticed Andy taking out his wallet. “Nope, it’s on the house.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Nat, no, this is the third time this week, I have to pay you. I don’t want to be bad for business.”
“Oh, please, you’ll barely put a dent,” She waved him off, “consider it as a boyfriend discount.”
“It’s not a discount if it’s free!” Andy said in exasperation tone, a ghost of a smile on his face.
“Just go and wait for your damn drink, Andy!” Natalie smiled and chuckled, nudging her head to the side so he could wait to get his drink.
He seemed to have given up, rolling his eyes and starting to walk off…until he quickly shoved two five dollar bills into the tip jar and then proceeded to walk away from the register.
“Andrew!” Natalie nearly exclaimed, staring at him in surprise with her mouth open. “That’s too much for one coffee!”
“Just helping business, babe.” Andy said with a smirk, the son of a bitch knowing that she wasn’t going to be able to do anything about it.
Fuck, he drove her insane.
And she loved every minute of it.
Natalie got one of her employees to tend to the next customer so she could go make Andy’s drink. She always enjoyed being the one to make his drinks, having told him before that she always made them with love. They always got a laugh out of Andy, and then his cheeks would turn that pretty shade of pink, making her want to take a picture so it’ll last longer. It was something she nearly said out loud right now because she could feel her man staring at her as she began making his coffee.
Good lord, everything he did made her like a school girl having a crush. They had been dating for a year now, she thought that would shift into something else. But no, she still had a crush on him and was in love with him.
Was this what love felt like? Natalie thought to herself. She was almost certain that it was. Her mother would say that love was supposed to set someone free. Well, she did feel free whenever she was with Andy. Free to be herself without facing any judgement, knowing that she’ll be accepted and loved no matter what.
Then again, it’s not like her mother always had the best advice. Natalie did stop listening to her years ago. But maybe, just maybe, she was right on this one.
Natalie hummed under her breath a song that was ringing through her head as she decided to make two drinks, one for Andy and one for herself. She combined different flavors together, pumpkin and caramel, personal favorites of hers, before finishing up one drink. She took a little extra time with Andy’s, finishing up the final touch. She took the foam and carefully crafted a heart on the top of coffee.
Foam art was something Natalie was quite good at, it wasn’t a secret. She has done foam art for most of her customers, particularly during holidays where she’d make a pumpkin for Halloween or a snowman for Christmas, but especially to Andy. With him, it would range from a little smiley face, a rose, his own name, or just a simple “HI!” being enthusiastically drawn on there.
Today, it was a heart because he was making her own heart race with his gaze on her at all times and the fact that he had stolen her heart years ago.
Wow, maybe I really am cheesy.
“Here, love.” Natalie left the counter to hand him his coffee, holding her own coffee in her other hand. “I’m taking my break now, you’re stuck with me for the next fifteen minutes.”
“You sure your boss would be okay with that?” Andy joked before looking at the foam art she left on his drink. She immediately got the response that she wanted, her boyfriend blushing and smiling at the little heart. “Jesus, you’re so good at this!”
Natalie smiled shyly, always feeling bashful when it came to her art. “C’mon, Andy, a beginner could make a foam heart. It’s not that impressive. Maybe next time I’ll make you an anatomically accurate foam heart.”
He paused for a moment. “That…actually sounds terrifying but also somehow romantic? What the fuck?”
She immediately giggled and leaned forward to kiss his cheek, taking his free hand in hers to guide him over to one of the tables. It was their usual area where they would sit whenever Natalie was on break or not even working. They could sit there for hours and talk about anything that came into mind.
How could she have somehow found peace in her chaotic life with someone she never expected? Someone that was supposed to be her enemy?
Well, fuck the rules. Natalie never liked them anyway. She preferred to do whatever the hell she wanted…and whoever she wanted too.
“You know, you’re here so often I might as well hire you.” She said with a playful smile after she sat down, watching Andy sit down in front of her.
“Oh, I’m not so sure, I heard that workplace romances can get quite messy.” Andy joked back and took a sip of his coffee. He closed his eyes, humming in delight, before opening them again. “Holy shit, where do you come up with these flavors?”
“What can I say? My brain can be very creative!” Natalie said proudly, a sly smile dancing on her lips before sipping her own drink. Fuck, he was right, this was good. “Maybe I should add this on the menu.” She mused out loud.
“You absolutely should, this is fucking great.” He praised her again, making her grin and nudge her foot against his and he did the same thing back.
“Andy honey, wanna hear a joke?” She asked excitedly, the joke she came up with having been on her mind for hours and wanting desperately to tell someone.
Andy playfully groaned, about to take another sip before halting his motion. “Oh god…”
“Come on, it’s a good one!” Natalie giggled, knowing that her boyfriend was just playing around.
He raised an eyebrow slightly before sighing. “Alright, fine. Let’s hear it.”
She grinned, straightening up and putting on her serious face. “What did the coffee say to the other coffee?”
Andy sighed again, leaning against his chair and pretending that he didn’t want to participate in the joke for a few seconds. “What?”
Natalie couldn’t fight the wide smile away from her face anymore. “Where you bean all my life?”
“Oh my god…” Andy put his face in one hand while his girlfriend all but cackled, high-pitched giggles escaping her lips from her own joke, “that was so bad…”
“No it wasn’t! I can see you smiling!” She quickly retorted, having caught onto the smile he was trying to hide with his hand.
“That was a smile of pain.” He threw back at her but she could see him smiling more despite his words.
Natalie rolled her eyes, giggling some more. “Whatever, as if you can do better!”
“Maybe not in a joke, but I could in a pickup line.” Her boyfriend said, immediately capturing her attention.
“Oooh, tell me, tell me, tell me!” She repeatedly childishly, leaning forward to eagerly hear whatever pickup line Andy had in his arsenal.
He chuckled under his breath, growing bashful now that Natalie was putting him on the spot but then he finally spoke. “Did you sit on some sugar?”
Natalie raised an eyebrow, not knowing where this was going but was certainly intrigued. “Hmmm, why?”
Just like Natalie when she was telling her joke, Andy couldn’t help but to smirk. “Because you have a sweet ass.”
She tried to keep a straight face but quickly failed, dropping her head as she began giggling hysterically again. She could hear Andy laughing as well, that sweet and shy laugh that always had her quietly fawning over how cute her boyfriend was.
“Okay, I’ll give you that, that was a pretty good pickup line,” Natalie said after she managed to control her laughter, “and pretty accurate too, I was baking earlier so I probably actually have sugar on my ass!”
“That explains it!” Andy teased, making her lightly kick his leg and just like earlier, he returned the action while they both laughed again.
Eventually, they settled back into a peaceful moment, the both of them embracing the silence in the air that flowed between them. They drank some more of their coffee, their feet still touching because Natalie had to be physically touching Andy in some way at all times, whether it be their shoulders brushed against one another or her hand down the back pocket of his jeans. She couldn’t help herself, she just loved feeling him.
After a few more minutes of them being quiet, Andy spoke up. “What do you want for dinner tonight, love?”
“Baby, you could make Kraft Mac n Cheese and I’ll be happy.” Natalie replied truthfully, making her boyfriend chuckle.
“Don’t tempt me, I still have a few boxes left.” He joked lightly, reaching his hand out and she placed her hand in his.
“Maybe I could make some dumplings.” She suggested with a shrug of her shoulders.
“I love your dumplings, but I know that you did a lot of baking today, you deserve a break.” He replied before thinking about it for a moment. “Why don’t we just order in some pizza?”
Natalie nodded and smiled. “Sure, I could eat some pizza. Especially if it’s pepperoni.”
“Don’t worry, babe, I’ll get you your pepperoni pizza.” Andy said while chuckling, rubbing his thumb against her knuckles in comforting circles.
She stared at him for a moment, her heart once again pounding in her chest. She felt giddy, like she was falling in love over and over again over the smallest thing.
Maybe this was what love really felt like. Feeling like it was the first time even if it’s happened a million times. Every touch, every look, every word making Natalie realize how lucky she was to have Andy. He made her world stop spinning and made her feel like there was no one else, just the two of them. There was no pain, no sorrow, no suffering. There was only love, happiness, and joy.
She wanted to live in this world forever and never leave.
Natalie stood up from her chair and leaned over the table, Andy doing the same and his lips meeting hers halfway. She still held his hand as they kissed softly, her other hand reaching up to cup his cheek and feeling him smile lightly against her mouth before pulling away slightly to look at him.
“I love you.” Natalie whispered to him, staring into his hazel eyes that always made her melt.
Andy smiled happily back at her, turning his head to plant a kiss on the palm of her hand that was resting on his cheek. “Not as much as I love you.”
#Chucky#Chucky 2021#Chucky tv series#Curse of Chucky#Seed of Chucky#original character#OC#Chucky OC#Chiffany child#Natalie Valentine#Natalie Tilly#Andy Barclay#original character x canon character#Andy Barclay x original character#Andy Barclay x Natalie Valentine#Chucky oneshot#Andy Barclay oneshot#Child's Play#Alex Vincent#Chloe Bennet#fluff#romantic#Luna talks#admin
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Top 10s Meme
I was tagged by @lurking-latinist, or at least they said that anyone who was interested could do it, which is much of a muchness. Thanks!
Rules: List your "top 10" (or up to 10 if you haven't written that many) fics ranked by kudos on AO3. Are you surprised by what's most popular to your readers? Then, under a cut, provide your ranking of your personal top 10 fics (with explanations if you want!), and then tag a few fellow writers!
My top 10 fics by kudos:
Five Times the Doctor's Fam Suspected She Had Tentacles, and One Time They Were Proven Right (Dr. Nyarlathotep fluff and silliness with 13 and the Fam)
Scuffle of the Titans (Dr. Nyarlathotep fluff and silliness with 3, the Master, Jo, and the Brig)
TARDIS Moving, Inc. (12 and Bill, immediately post- "Knock Knock")
The Sunset Archives vol. 1 (Equestria Girls and Magnus Archives crossover fic, part 1 of planned 3) (The Sunset Archives vol. 2 is technically #9 on this list, but I count them all as the same story.)
The Music of the Fears (Basira and Jon, feghoot)
Dr Cthulwho (Dr. Nyarlathotep oneshots)
Call of Cthulestia, and Other Strange Tales (Eldritch My Little Pony oneshots, fluff and silliness, side-order of Dr. Nyarlathotep)
Deaths of the Doctor (Emotional H/C. 13 has a breakdown about immortality, Yaz tries to make it better)
Allons-y! (Start of my Doctor Whooves series)
Piece of Cake (6, Evelyn, and River Song. Crossover with The Mouse that Roared.)
Thoughts and my personal top 10 under the cut
This one is a bit hit-or-miss for me. I think most of these are pretty good, but I definitely have better ones. A lot of these are just goofy ideas that I came up with and banged out all in the same afternoon -- good and fun, but not a lot of effort or editing put into them. This is especially true of Scuffle of the Titans, Music of the Fears, and most of Dr. Cthulwho. Similarly, TARDIS Moving, Inc. and Piece of Cake were both done for exchanges and therefore got a bit of a boost from that traffic.
I'm not entirely surprised that so many of them are Dr Nyarlathotep or similarly eldritch -- it's a pretty small category of fics with a ravenous fanbase, so most of them are going to jump on any new works in the category.
Allons-y! is the only one that really surprised me. It's not bad, per se, but it's one of my earliest works and you can kinda tell. On the other hand, it's the start of a long series of connected fics, so presumably a lot of people are going to start there and potentially fall off before they can kudos some of the later, better entries in the series.
Five Times and The Sunset Archives are the only ones that I think truly deserve top 10 status (though Five Times probably doesn't quite deserve the top spot).
My list:
The Sunset Archives (Still a work in progress, but I've got Plans)
My Little Pony, My Little Pony, and Me 317: Hello, Humans! (Barely failed to make the top 10 kudos'd fics. The McElroys talk about horses so much, now it's their turn to be horses. Well. Ponies.)
The Unexpected Adventures of Trixie and Sunset (Doctor Whooves without the Doctor. Sunset Shimmer and the Great and Powerful Trixie have accidentally stolen the TARDIS. Hijinks, time shenanigans, and romance ensue)
Black and Blue and Bloodied (Doctor Whooves -- 9th Doctor and a very reluctant Prince Blueblood)
Ruler of Everything (My longest fic by far. Culmination of the first arc of my Doctor Whooves series. Broke the knob off the angst machine with this. I do encourage you to read the preceding stories first, or at least skip around a bit for ones that look interesting)
Five Times the Doctor's Fam Suspected She Had Tentacles, and One Time They Were Proven Right
Breakthrough (Dr Nyarlathotep + Game of Rassilon)
Growing Pains (Spike/Rarity, comedy of errors, best described as 'Wodehousian')
Played on Strings (On extended hiatus while I work on The Sunset Archives. Doctor Whooves, again without the Doctor. Featuring Romana, Vinyl Scratch, Octavia, Faction Paradox, the Beatles, and H.P. Lovecraft)
The Rising Night (Yet another Doctor Whooves one. I got a lot of 'em. 7th Doctor, young Celestia and Luna.)
But hey, don't just take my word for it -- check them out for yourself!
Can't think of anyone to tag, but if you're interested, go for it!
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Third Year Anniversary!!!
I can’t believe it’s already been three years since I posted my first fic to ao3 & started contributing to the fandom! It’s been such a wild ride, and so much has happened in that time; and sitting back and reflecting on it all now, I am really proud of how much I have accomplished.
Somehow, in the past 3 years, I have accumulated nearly 100 works on ao3, and am sitting at 454k words total; and that’s while modding the Kakairu Rocks forum, which I’ve been doing for about 2 years (now with 2 other amazing mods, @oneinist & @kaoruhana08), and running events like the KakaIru Valentine’s Week that passed in February, and the upcoming KakaIru Maze Challenge (which you can sign up for all of June!).
Before I looked at my stats today, I actually felt like I hadn’t been doing enough, and have been letting people down, because in the past 6 months especially, I’ve been struggling with a lot of irl things that have messed with my mental health & left me barely able to function; and as a result, I haven’t been able to put as much effort into my projects as usual, and haven’t felt like I’ve had much to contribute. But looking at the numbers now, it’s just insane how quickly all my bits & pieces have added up.
And I have you guys to thank for how much I’ve done. I always have ideas & am daydreaming about kakairu stuff, but without your support – your kudos, comments, shares, and everything else, I don’t think I would have the drive that I do. Your support keeps me going, and inspires me to do more; and I am really grateful for all of you. So thank you for your encouragement. I cannot wait to see where it leads me in this next year and beyond ❤️💕❤️💕❤️💕
If anyone is interested, I have prepared a selection of stats with some of my creations throughout the year, which you can go through under the cut!
If you want to know more about me or find more kakairu content, you can:
1. Check out my library of fics here on ao3
2. Follow me on Twitter
3. Join me in the Kakairu Rocks forum
4. DM me, or send me an ask!
The green numbers = my growth from the previous year!
Top 5 Fics in The Past Year by Kudos:
Waiting For You (9668 words): 270 kudos
Catkashi (20 468 words): 210 kudos
The Getaway (15 023 words): 174 kudos
Strung Out (4405 words): 148 kudos
Presents (10 290 words): 143 kudos
Top 5 Fics in The Past Year by Comment Threads:
The Getaway: 33 comment threads
The Rift (WIP at 19 880 words): 26 comment threads
Presents: 21 comment threads
Ransom: 16 comment threads
Waiting For You: 13 comment threads
Top 5 Fics in The Past Year by Bookmarks:
Waiting For You: 48 bookmarks
Catkashi: 39 bookmarks
The Getaway: 32 bookmarks
The Rift: 18 bookmarks
Presents: 15 bookmarks
My Top 5 Fics of The Past Year:
Catkashi
Presents
Waiting For You
The Getaway
Second Date (3471 words)
Total Fics:
Past Year: 46
All Time: 97
Most Liked Fic (best kudos-hits ratio): A New Home (2471 words)
Highest Subscribed Fic:
Past Year: The Rift, 23 subscriptions
All Time: Mine (23 393 words), 98 subscriptions
Longest Completed Fic:
Past Year: Catkashi (20 468 words)
All Time: The Final Raid (28,307 words)
Shortest Completed Fic:
18x drabbles
Shortest ficlet: Heaven (475 words)
Shortest fic: Okay Together (1013 words)
Fastest Chapter Fic to Complete: The Child (11 332 words). It was written in just 3 days! The Missing (20 612 words) is second, taking two & a half weeks to write!
What Am I Working On Now?
At the moment, I am hooked on my latest series, In A Land Far, Far Away.... It’s a Star Wars AU that I only intended to just write a oneshot for, but since sharing the fic, A New Home, I’ve had loads of ideas for the world; and I just want to continue writing about how Iruka & Naruto’s new lives are coming together, and how they’re adjusting to everything. I foresee a lot of found family & fluff in the future!
With the Maze Challenge coming up, I am really digging the Supernatural & Paranormal theme, so I will probably make myself a maze & participate in that, too; an in the meantime, I’m working on the rest of the event fic, Liberation, which is about vampire slayer Iruka being sent off to find Kakashi, who has gone missing during what should have been a simple mission... (you can read Part 1 here, and Part 2 here; and the other 2 parts will be released later).
I am also continuing on with my weekly drabbles/ ficlets, and I want to try & update one of my WIPs soon; but that may have to wait a bit since I’ve still got a fair bit to do this month with the Maze Challenge!
Once again, thank you for supporting me all this time! Your kudos, comments, and interest in my work means a lot to me, and inspires me to create even more.
I am grateful for you & your encouragement; and I cannot wait to share even more of my soul with you in this next year and beyond.
Thank you for sticking around! ❤️💕❤️💕❤️
#kakairu-shrine#3 year anniversary#kakairu fanfic#kakairu fanart#ao3 stats#fan appreciation#kakairu#kkir#kakashi x iruka#hatake kakashi#umino iruka
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So i saw on the 2023 in review post that you said a your fics 'flopped', what exactly did you mean by that. I know this can be relative but do you mean not getting comments or kudos or something else? I have kept up with your works and purely from my perspective it seems like you get comments and engagement and that so many others get enjoyment out of them (and say that).
I don't have an ao3 account, but when I heard about how important things like comments were to authors, I made an effort to leave guest comments on fics and authors know if I liked something. I don't quite know if this is enough, but I'm not really sure what else readers can do.
I mean comments. I know some people track hits or hit/kudos ratios or whatever else but i don't give a damn about ratios, it's all in the comments for me. the very point of fandom is to share things you love with likeminded people and get to actually talk about them, imo, so when I try to share a thing I loved and there's barely any response then it defeats the whole purpose to me and I am left starving.
and lol I get engagement? yeah sure some fics do get comments. but I've also posted multiple works (oneshots or chapters to bigger fics) that have gotten absolutely zero comments. none. nada. nothing. not even one. granted, full disclosure, I cried about it on tumblr and a couple of kind souls took pity on me and so not all of them are at zero currently, but the initial silence still hurt. there are fics that have been posted for months (or years) and are still at two comments, maybe three. on average I get three or four comments per fic. so I wouldn't exactly say I get great engagement. i know this is jealousy speaking but watching others get ten times that, easily, and not only on ao3 but also on tumblr… yeah it stings. I put my heart and soul into a fic, am excited to post it, am vibrating with enthusiasm… and then nothing. or a lukewarm response at best.
so idk, if "so many others" get enjoyment out of them, then why don't they tell me? I have gotten multiple messages along the lines of "oh you know i love all your fics!" and… how do i know? you never left a single comment and i'm not psychic! there's no way for me to know it. or people who send me a message saying they read everything i wrote and loved them… but didn't leave a single comment. how much did they actually enjoy the works if they couldn't be bothered to say it on even one damn fic? those messages are lovely, i do appreciate them, and they do make me smile. but at the same time i'd trade them for a single good comment on ao3 in a heartbeat. that's what's easily accessible and what i can go back to when i feel discouraged and unseen.
(also idk if i'm reading wrong between the lines but it feels like you're telling me you're for some reason keeping up with my shit while not actually enjoying it but ohh 'so many others do' at least? apologies if that's just my cranky morning brain misinterpreting things but ouch. that was kind of harsh.)
but it's also not only the amount of comments, it's also the substance. there are some fics that got (gasp!) four whole comments but they're all along the lines of "nice!" or "💖" and as much as those do make me smile when I get them (and I genuinely do appreciate them!) at the same time they are not feedback. they don't give me anything to work with. what did they like? was there something specific? please talk to me about it!
I'd kill to get actual feedback. it's the dream that people would notice the clever reference i made, or the beautiful sentence i wrote, or the way the beginning tied to the end. or tell me about the emotions the fic brought them, or the thoughts, or their favorite part, or idk. it's not like i get gushing messages on tumblr either, unlike some others, talking about a specific fic or whatever.
simply put, it's really fucking lonely, and if I wanna keep posting fics I'd need some kind of a motivating factor to make it worth the effort. for a while I had a friend who gave me plentiful feedback and I lived off of that, and it made it easier to deal with the scarcity of comments, but now that ship has sailed. so the lack of engagement from the rest of the fandom is more acutely felt.
i'm not saying this to guilt trip people or to nag. it's simply stating a fact. if posting fic isn't a positive experience, why should i keep doing it?
#anonymous#ask and i shall answer#not sure what your tone was meant to be tbh#but here we are#and again: short comments are absolutely lovely too!#not dissing them at all!#but at the same time they're not feedback#and my brain needs feedback to make this worth it#so idk
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[Mighty Number 9] Kaberi’s Patch
Summary: In which Troilus convinces Leilani to enter Dr. White's laboratory in order to fix Cryosphere's Cabbage Patch doll Kabi.
Rating: K
Word count: 2,401 words
If you like the story, please consider donating through Ko-fi!
. . .
A cold chill ran up Leilani's spine, and it wasn't just because of the winter air. Beside her, a xel-bot that looked more like a single eye attached to a stick man body made from slim, metal piping didn't seem to notice. This bot, named Troilus, was one of Leilani's oldest friends, and he had just suggested to her one of her worst nightmares.
“Please come with me Doc, it'll be a riot with you there!” he tried to goad her, despite being distracted by a bird not far off from them.
“I think you mean a riot will break out.” Leilani retorted with a grimace. “We've talked about this Troilus- there's nothing you can do to get me into Doctor Blackwell's lab to bump elbows with the Mighty Numbers.”
Troilus turned to look at her, his eye sparkling with amusement. “Ah, but Doc, Beckie loves you. You'd make his day just by breathing in his direction!”
The young woman had to look away from her friend as she pursed her lips together. “Hard pass.” she decided in a stiff tone.
“Not my favorite photo filter.” Troilus then playfully mused. “More of a transparency kinda guy.”
Leilani let out an exasperated sigh in response.
The two continued their walk in silence for a good amount of time. It wasn't until the path led to a crossroads that they turned to look at each other again.
“Whelp, last chance Doc.” Troilus told Leilani. “I'm telling you, Beck would love to see you. Pyrogen would love you too if you gave him the chance!”
“Troilus,” Leilani then begged, taking the robot by his thin hands, “I can't enter the Mighty Numbers' lair. Just thinking about the place makes me sick- if I had to enter it, I'd probably pop a blood vessel. Don't make me enter that place unless there's something that only I can solve. Okay?”
The tall Colosseum bot gave the young woman a thoughtful blink. “Your loss.” the bot finally decided with an indifferent shrug. His eye then glittered with amusement as he gave her a little boop on the nose. “See you later Doc!”
Trying to hide her blushing face, all Leilani could do was shake her head. Troilus pretended not to notice as he gave his favorite robotist a wave before leaving for the White compound.
The main headquarters for the Mighty Numbers was a tall steel building that tended to grow with each new Number. Each Mighty had their own floor, with Doctor White's room on the floor of the current Mighty Number. It was a far fancier sight than what Troilus lived in, what with his creator and owner a mechanic than an actual robotist, but he still enjoyed coming over now and again to see the improvements done over the years.
The only thing he hated about the Mighty Numbers' compound was that he had to be buzzed in. Every. Single. Time. You would imagine that being a family friend would mean something- but nope, Troilus had to wait to be allowed into the compound as if he were the delivery man.
“Sorry for the wait.” Mighty Number One, Pyrogen, apologized to his friend as he let Troilus in.
“It's no problem.” the other bot handwaved. “One of these days I'll crack that lock and just let myself in!”
Pyrogen gave a small chuckle as he led the two into the Mighties home. On their way to Pyrogen's room, there was some activity from the other Mighty Numbers. Troilus was only able to give a small nod to each Mighty he passed- it was Cryosphere that actually came within earshot. In fact, she almost bumped into Troilus as she tried to quickly scuttle past him and Pyrogen.
“Heya Cryo.” Troilus greeted in passing.
“Hi~!” Cryosphere replied with a side wave- she had her own business to do today, and having a guest was not going to change that much. Pyrogen noted something that sat on top of Number 2's water tank, but by the time he decided to question what she was doing, Cryosphere was out of eyesight. Instead, Mighty Number One turned his attention to his friend.
“Did you notice that she had her doll with her?” he asked in a stern tone.
“I did.” Troilus cheerfully agreed. “Sure picked a good day to come over, right? If Cryo's got her little dollie with her, then trouble is sure to follow!”
Pyrogen did not seem as thrilled at the idea as Troilus was, but decided to keep silent about his opinions for now. Trouble would follow whenever Cryosphere decided to 'play' with her Cabbage Patch doll. It wasn't necessarily how she played with the doll, it was who she played with that was the most worrisome…
. . .
You would think that by now, Beck would have developed a sixth sense for when Crysosphere got out her Cabbage Patch doll. It was well known among the Mighties that he hated that thing the most- what with its half squashed face and blank brown eyes staring straight into your soul. Oh no, when Beck realized that the doll was out, it had already been too late.
What a way to find out that your worst nightmare was free when you turn around and its just sitting right there like a dead body. Suffice to say, Beck screamed.
Pyrogen was quick to react to his youngest siblings' distress; it was so quick that Troilus only blinked and Pryo was out the door. It soon became apparent that they were a bit too late to the party. Beck stared at Cryosphere with wide, fearful eyes as Mighty Number Two cradled her doll. On closer inspection, you could see that one of the doll's arms had been ripped off.
“You broke her Beck!” Cryosphere whined. “Oh my poor Kabi- she never did anything wrong! Look at what you did!”
“I… I...” Beck stammered, but couldn't think of anything else to say. All the poor bot could do was stare at Cryo's doll in shock.
“What's going on?” Pyrogen demanded once he had formed a suspicion on what had just occurred. Both Cryo and Beck flinched at his voice and immediately turned their attention to him. Beck notably became paler at seeing the older Mighty Number.
“Beck broke my doll!” Cryosphere told her brother, holding up her doll for her and Troilus to better see.
Without wasting a second, Pyrogen then asked, “And did you use it to terrorize him?”
Cryosphere shifted a bit. “Well… yes. Yes I did, but that's only because it's so much fun!”
“Not for me.” Beck grumbled under his breath. Pyrogen looked at him for a moment before turning his attention back to Cryo.
“Cryosphere,” Pyrogen then told his sister, “You know you can't go around scaring Beck with that thing. Whatever happened in the fallout is your problem.”
“But Pyro...!” Number Two started to argue, but was instantly shut down by the glare her brother gave her.
“Come on Troilus,” Pyrogen then told his friend, “There's nothing else we can do here.”
Giving his friend a skeptical glance, Troilus shrugged and started to follow the Mighty Number out. Cryo watched them in contempt- there was no way she would let this end here.
“Someone needs to fix her!” Cryosphere blurted out in a full out whine.
At the doorway, Mighty Number One hesitated. “We could ask Doctor White...” he suggested in a still, calm voice.
“But he'd never agree to it.” Beck whispered darkly under his breath. “Everyone hates that thing...”
A small silence then fell over the group in agreement. It didn't take long for that silence to be broken, however.
“I have an idea!” Troilus suddenly declared- startling Beck in particular. “I know someone who can fix Kabi!”
“You do?!” Cryosphere happily questioned as Beck gave a pitiful whimper of fear.
“I'll be right back!” the wire frame bot promised as he headed out the door.
“Hurry!!” shouted Cryo just before Troilus was out of earshot.
. . .
Something about the cafe was far too relaxing for Leilani. For once, everything just seemed at peace as she held the steaming cup of hot chocolate under her nose. But, like all things in her life, that peace was short lived as Troilus sat opposite of her.
“Heya Doc.” the bot greeted. The human gave her greeting with a small glance before turning her attention back to soaking up the hot chocolate's warmth. Troilus wasn't blind to this, so he took it as a sign to continue.
“Okay, so, Cryo was using her doll to scare Beck, see? But in the process Beck broke the doll and it's in need of a good fixer-upper. Could you do the honors Doc? Pretty please?”
Leilani made Troilus watch in slow agony as she set her cup down on the table. For a moment, she considered her words before saying, “Sounds like Number Two deserved it.”
“I'm not the judge of that,” Troilus admitted, “But one favor could lead to a better one later, and boy would Cryo be indebted to you if you help her out this once!”
To this, the human placed a hand against her chin. “I dunno...” she mused.
“You're good with your fingers Doc.” the bot then begged. “Please help Kabi!”
Leilani gave an unflattering snort. “I'm a pianist and violinist, how is any way does that translate to 'seamstress'?” she noted with a raise of her eyebrow. After a few seconds, she then questioned, “The doll has a name?”
“Well, it's full name is Kaberi Patch, but yeah. Isn't it cute?”
That was when she looked back at him in faint horror. “What does he program his bots for?” she questioned in wonder.
“Fun, obviously.” Troilus humorously suggested, completely missing the point. Leilani then took in a deep breath. There was no way he was going to stop goading her- that much was obvious.
“Fine.” she agreed. “Take me to the doll. Kaberi. Take me to Kaberi.”
Troilus's eye glittered with excitement as he dragged the human out of the cafe. Back at the Mighty Numbers' compound, Beck impatiently paced outside of Cryosphere's room. He only looked up when he heard the sound of Troilus returning- and moments after that he realized who the bot had brought back with him.
“Leilani?!” the young bot squeaked. “What are you doing here?”
“I'm about to ruin everything.” she replied with a mischievous smirk.
“She's going to help sew up Cryo's dollie.” Troilus corrected, setting his hands down on Leilani's shoulders.
“D-do you have to?” Beck nervously questioned. Noticing that Leilani had cocked an eyebrow at his fear, Beck then tried to stammer, “I-it's just that the thing's so old. You know? It… it might be able to be fixed, yeah?”
Troilus let out a loud, and incredibly amused, laugh. “It's a fabric doll Beck, not a Gateway!”
“Leilani!” Cryosphere happily squealed when she saw the human. Pyrogen was with her, and he did not look as pleased to see the young woman there. Before anyone could properly react or even greet each other, Mighty Number Two was already leading Leilani into her room. “Oh, you're perfect for fixing up Kabi!” Cyrosphere giggled. “And at the same time, there's something I've always wanted Kabi to have- you're just perfect for it!”
The girls left the boys behind; Cyrosphere not even trying to be decent by slamming the door behind her.
“Now what?” Beck asked to no one in particular.
“Now we let Doctor Lei do her stuff.” Troilus replied; his eye twinkling with amusement. Beck let out a small whimper- why did that not inspire confidence in him? What upgrades could Cryo want with a fabric doll anyway?
. . .
They didn't have to, but the boys waited diligently for Cryosphere and Leilani to come back out. It was well over an hour before the door to Cryo's room opened up.
“Introducing…!” Cryosphere announced in a loud, boastful voice, “The new and improved Kaberi Patch!”
The boys turned to see what Cryosphere was talking about and saw the doll. Beck's artificial heart stopped in noticing that the old thing looked good as new; it's face no longer squashed, the painted eyes replaced with inset ones instead, the fabric of the doll's body looked cleaner and unstained. It wasn't until the doll blinked at him that Beck knew his greatest fears had been realized. Beck wasn't the only one to have seen the doll blink either- Pyrogen immediately looked at Cryo with wide, horrified eyes.
“What did you make Leilani do, Cryosphere?” he accused.
Cryo opened her mouth to happily reply, but Leilani beat her to it. “It's got an A.I. now.”
“What?!” the boys responded at the same time- Troilus notably sounding more amused than the horrified Pyrogen and Beck. Leilani gave a careful shrug of her shoulder.
“It's not a very smart A.I.” she then claimed. “A little less than the Patch units- like one of those robot toys you get for kids where you usually end up controlling it with a remote somewhere. Along with that, Kabi can walk on her own and is generally invulnerable to most blunt-force trauma.”
“Is that allowed, considering your parole?” Pyrogen questioned. Again, Leilani shrugged.
“I just followed Cryosphere's instructions.” she replied. “Your creator (or even Sanda, really) could have done it himself if he wanted to. Whatever no-good-deed related incident comes of this, it'll be reflected toward Sanda Tech more than myself.”
Pyrogen looked at her for a moment, then gave a small sound of agreement. The two brought their attention back to Cryo- the Mighty Number happily letting her rejuvenated doll dance in place. Leilani found herself giving a small smile at the display before turning to Beck. Mighty Number Nine did not look pleased in the slightest. Without a second thought, the human walked over to him and held out a small button.
“I suggest hiding this behind your ear.” she said to Beck, “Only press it when Cryo's trying to get at you with Kabi.”
Beck worryingly looked at the button and then to Leilani. As he took the button from her and did as he was told, he had to ask, “Why?”
A smile formed on the human's lips -not quite malicious but not entirely generous either- before she said, “It's Kaberi's only weakness; the off switch.”
#mighty no 9#mighty number 9#fanfiction#mn9#mno9#fan fiction#fan fic#fanfic#beck#pyrogen#cryosphere#original character#OC#original characters#short story#uploading fics on tumblr is such a chore#people who post individual chapters are the real heroes#i can barely put the effort in to post oneshots
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pov: letters you never got to send to Izuku [repost] ONESHOT
genre: angst, just angst
synopsis: Deku went vigilante and it took 5 yrs for him to defeat AFO, he returns to find out you're married to Bakugo. (this was posted when 304 was updated and was deleted and now I'm posting it again so it's not canon compliant)
Mmm, baby, I don't understand this
You're changing, I can't stand it
My heart can't take this damage
-xxxententacion
@speedmetalqueen coz I don't have anyone to tag 😗 and how're ya holding up with ur week?
@bl--ankhaeji you like deku stuff but you're gonna hate me on this one 😌
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"Stop crying, mom." Izuku patted his mom's shoulders. "I'm home now. And everyone's safe."
Inko tried her best to curb the tears; her bottom lip quivered. Some tears still escaped. "Fine, fine. Just sit back and relax, okay? You've broken down far too many bones to my liking and I'm not allowing you to move until you get your casts out."
He could only helplessly smile. And then he inquires and Inko had been waiting for it. He mentions your name. "Do you think she's mad at me?"
"Mad? Not at all. No."
Izuku grinned to himself, relieved but something's not right. He couldn't put a finger on it. "Why didn't she drop by the hospital? I could've used her company."
"She must be busy." The surety and the empathizing tone in her voice, nagged at him.
"Why's she busy?"
And he catches the odd look on his mom's face, as if she was about to say something but decided against it. "I'm sure she'll drop by one of these days."
"Oh..." Izuku sighed dejectedly. "I think she's still mad at me."
"Can you blame her?"
Izuku absentmindedly grabbed his phone with his good hand, typing in your number with muscle memory. He concludes you changed your number after not getting a text from you for a whole week.
---
---
"Kacchan's married?" He exclaimed. Incredible. That was weird. They were still young. But somehow it made sense. His childhood friend will always be first. First to manifest his quirk, in middleschool, the most popular kid, and of course, he'd be the one to get married first. It's like Bakugo's life fell into place without conscious effort. "To whom..."
Iida answers with your name hesitantly.
---
---
He was able to get ahold of you through Mina, asking to catch up with an old friend. When you meet up at his apartment, you held a little boy's hand, a carbon copy of Kacchan. It strikes him weird, that the boy acts like you and it felt like a kick to the head; at the same time, it was surreal.
"Sorry." You apologize nervously. "I get really anxious leaving him alone, hope you don't mind."
Izuku gaped, struggled to get the words out. He barely registers that you finally sat down. You sit in awkward silence. Your son struggled, gesturing to play with his toy figure, Deku. Izuku was sure it was a dream, there's no way Kacchan would let his son play with that, and no way he could marry–
He raised his eyes to yours, heart hammering against his chest. You looked happy, eyes never straying from your son who's under the table now. A feeling that shit just got real. Disoriented. That's exactly how it feels for him.
Because... how is it now that somehow you're a stranger when it felt like you were his just yesterday? You two haven't committed to each other, but he was sure you liked him and him you.
"How–" Izuku winced at how feeble his voice starts. He clears his throat. "How'd it happen?"
You ducked your head shyly, suppose you owe it to him. "When you left–"
"How old is he?" He asks when your son comes up to his leg under the table, waving Deku figurine babbling 'nerd! nerd! nerd!' You shush your son by gathering him back into your arms and sat down again.
"Three."
"Ah."
Another silence.
"I fell in love with Katsuki." You sigh, admitting it. Your shoulders quaked a little.
"How?" He couldn't understand. "You hated Kacchan. Kacchan who called me names. Kacchan who called you names because you stuck by me."
"Yeah." You winced at the memory of young Bakugo bullying Izuku. "He was an idiot." A flash of fond exasperated smile on your lips; you might have as well grabbed a fork and stabbed it on his chest, twisting it for good measure. "But– he grew up, Izu. The three of us used to play together until his quirk manifested remember? When you left, we sort of, grew back together and he's still the same."
And suddenly, hurt is not just shedding tears. Real hurt is frozen blood in his veins because it refuses to beat for anyone but you. His eyes burned to cry; he struggled to keep the tears at bay; he fails and you politely look away. He heaves and all of his body trembled, knowing tears will not relieve the ache.
"But– I thought–" He hiccups a sob. "I defeated All for One."
You smile in wistfulness. Izuku the Hero. You remember all the times you played Hero & Princess. Katsuki would grudgingly play the Villain. Katsuki admitted to you that the only reason he was able to accept playing the Villain was because princesses spend alot of time with the villains before the heroes come. Funny that it actually came true. Except Izuku the hero came back too late, and now you have a kid.
"I'll always be proud of that, Izu."
"Why? Why didn't you wait for me?"
"You were gone without warning. No text. No call. Not even a letter." This time, it was your rage. "I worried for you. Inko and I lost sleep but I had to pull myself together. And when I did, I found someone to call my home." You hated hurting him but you had to settle things. Izuku's evergreen eyes. So painfully sweet. The greatest what-if you will finally close. "Did you know? I did like you. I think you broke my heart when you left without saying goodbye."
"I'm sorry." He ducked his head down. "I'm sorry. But I'm here now."
"Oh, Izuku." Because the girl who used to be in love with him is nowhere to be found, and the ache in your heart is but a ghost of that girl. You reach out to touch his hand, to pat him. "I'm sorry... I realized I would have to share most of you to the world and I'm not strong enough for that. I'm too self centered and I will not settle less for a partner that could barely give me scraps of his time."
He jerks away from you, trembling in rage. "You were supposed to wait for me! I saved everyone! You were supposed to–"
Your eyes hardened. "I'm not some prize to be handed to you just because you saved everyone. Everyone owes you gratitude but not my heart. And my heart could not wait for the unknown."
"But it's unfair! I've never been jealous of Kacchan, I admired him but never jealous because you were by my side." His chest seemed to burst, like someone smashed a hole through. "It's unfair! Kacchan gets everything!"
Tears kept falling without his regard. He crawled through hell only to fall into another one. Heartbreak can only be devastating.
The first sensation is almost like a freefall within his chest, instantly followed by a silent yet violent ‘crashing crack’, like fine crystal china breaking with the sound on mute. So the crystal splinters off into innumerable shards bringing with it a passionate pain that is both freezing and burning, stabbing and throbbing, concomitently with a quivering, crushing weight that makes it difficult to breathe calmly. These sharp, icy-hot crystal fractals carry off in Izuku's bloodstream and shoot down his arms to settle into the base of his thumbs and his wrists — sometimes it even flows down his legs and into the arches of his feet and base of his toes.
The concussive weight in his chest builds like a volcano and shoots pressurized lava up and down into his stomach, up to the nape of his neck, the back of his throat, his temples and the top of his head. Therein an instantaneous headache, and a simultaneous punched-in-the-gut, wind-knocked-outta-him feeling.
All of this is happening as his throat starts tightening up. Izuku's chest and throat feel on fire. He is hyperventilating. The prickling, stinging behind his eyes as tears kept shedding; wretched, gutteral, almost primeval keening wails escape from Izuku's lips, almost unknowingly. Uncaring that you are a witness.
It feels like an infinite, mortal injury.
If written down, the experience would come about as a step by step process but it all happens almost concurrently, lightening - quick from ‘free-fall shock' to fetal position, utter emotional annihilation. Izuku curls on his chair, like a child. Your son hugged you, scared at the weird man crying out of nowhere.
He learns that heartbreak hurts alot. Like a broken bone, like a cut from a knife, like a burn, like being crushed in a car wreck; all of these Izuku had felt before and the pain is on par, if not more to each and combined.
Everyone will suffer a heartbreak at least once in their lifetime but no two are exactly the same. Some may heal completely, like you, who got left behind five years ago but was able to move on, and others who, like Izuku the Hero, will have to learn to live with it.
---
#deku x reader#bakugo x reader#deku angst#midoriya x reader#midoriya x you#midoriya x y/n#midoriya imagine#midoriya scenario#izuku x reader#izuku x you#izuku x y/n#izuku imagine#izuku scenario#deku x you#deku x y/n#midoriya izuku x reader#midoriya izuku x you#midoriya izuku x y/n#deku imagine#deku scenario#midoriya izuku imagine#midoriya izuku scenario#izuku angst#midoriya angst#midoriya izuku angst#bakugo x you#bakugo x y/n
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The Sound of Silence (18+ Aizawa x Fem!Reader)
Pairing: Aizawa x Fem!Reader
Synopsis: After once again being stood up for a date at your favorite jazz club, you decide to give up dating entirely in favor of watching and fantasizing about your favorite jazz musician, Aizawa Shouta. You had assumed you’d never meet him face to face. You had assumed that he didn’t even know you existed. You’re about to learn that your assumptions are wrong.
Warnings: 18+ ONLY/NSFW; reader wears a sexy black dress (minimally described); minor sexual harassment; slow build; praise kink (if you squint); hand kink (probably); fingering; ‘baby’ petname.
Special Note: A few days late, but here’s my contribution to the BNHarem January Collab ‘Making Beautiful Music’ posted by @kingexpl0sionmurder. It was supposed to be a oneshot, but this particular piece got a mind of its own and will at least have a sequel. If we’re all really lucky, it may become a multichapter series in the far and distant future, when my life is less crazy (I have ideas, ok??). In the meantime, I hope you enjoy this fic!
Word Count: 9486
Recommended Song: No specific song at the moment, but this was what I listened to while writing this.
Lesson 1
It was crowded tonight, the air of the small club Midnight hot and heavy with the scent of cigar smoke and booze. The noise of conversations and laughing voices filled the air like the buzzing of a hive, as bodies mingled about like busy bees, each looking for their own bit of nectar. Some looking to win romance. Some looking to win money. While others were simply winning by enjoying the company of friends. Their movements were carried on the music that filled the space, upbeat jazz played by a three-person band. It was comforting in its familiarity, developed over multiple visits – some with friends, some with coworkers, and some with potential love interests.
You sat at the bar, a drink held protectively in your hand as your eyes searched. You checked your phone for messages but found none. It’d been a full twenty minutes and you were pretty sure by this point that your date wasn’t going to show up. It was supposed to be your first date in over a month, and you’d had high hopes for it - you’d clicked well with the person on your dating app (or so you thought), talking over the course of a couple of weeks before finally deciding to meet. So tonight, you’d put in a little extra effort into your appearance, donning a black dress that showed off your curves and putting careful attention into your makeup.
Damn. You were genuinely interested in this one.
You sent them a quick text in the hopes that you’d get a response. Give them an extra ten minutes… You thought. Maybe they were caught in traffic or something.
But by the time you hit the 45-minute mark with no messages, you’d officially given up. A half-hearted sigh fell past your painted lips. You weren’t really too surprised by this point. You’d been having terrible luck in the dating scene for a while now. Sometimes it was them. Sometimes it was you. But for whatever reason, each attempt ended in failure.
Oh well. It was likely for the best. At least you would be able to enjoy the rest of your evening in solitude instead of enduring a potentially disastrous date. And as for your attire, it certainly didn’t hurt to feel sexy, even if you had no one to share it with.
You loved this place. The atmosphere, the music… you’d even managed to make friends with the bartender Hizashi to the point that he’d walk you to your car on the nights that you stayed until closing.
Your eyes scanned around the room, observing. Wooden tables littered the main floor, where small lit candles cast yellow light on observing faces, eyes trained on the musicians. Booths lined along the far wall, filled mostly with men who puffed cigars over a game of cards, their raucous laughter carrying through the din. Closer to the bar was an arrangement of tall, round tables with matching bar height chairs. A group of women, likely on a ladies’ night out, filled the table closest to you, taking shots and laughing, their heels perched on the rungs. Waiters zigzagged their way through the crowd with expert precision, platters held high with drinks and snacks, while patrons milled about, waiting for an open table.
And, of course, there was the stage itself, where the jazz band finished their final piece before collecting their instruments and leaving the small stage. All that was left from their departure was a black baby grand piano, property of the club. Your pulse quickened as you checked your watch. Was it that time already?
Not a moment later, there he was. Long, black, wavy hair pulled back into a half ponytail, the hint of a 5 o’ clock shadow dusting his jawline and framing his lips. He was dressed in simple clothes, as always… a black v-neck shirt with the sleeves pushed halfway up his forearms and dark jeans. He entered the stage without so much a glance towards the busy room, instead making his way to the piano with his hands in his pockets. He sat down and from your position at the bar, you could barely see his long fingers arrange themselves at the keys, gently curled.
As soon as he began to play, the mood in the club shifted slightly from buzzing to relaxing. The flow of his fingers across the keys drew a lazy melody reminiscent of rainy days and hot coffee; of snuggling under warm blankets, feet intertwined with a lover who danced their fingers across your skin, gently tickling your flesh the way his fingers tickled those keys.
Aizawa Shouta.
Of course you knew his name. The first time you’d heard him play, you’d felt weightless, your body going numb as every sensation coalesced into your chest like the forming of a star. The question of his identity had fallen from your lips before you’d even realized it, and it had been Hizashi who’d answered you, a chuckle on his lips.
Fuck. It felt like he was making love to you through the notes, each key meticulously selected like a carefully-worded love letter. It made your palms sweat against your glass, your breath hitching in your throat as that familiar sensation took you over, holding you hostage.
This. This was probably why none of the people you dated ever seemed to work out. You’d tried… God, you’d tried… some of them were nice, good people. But you couldn’t help but search for that feeling – this feeling – each time you met someone new. And every single time it fell short. It was an impossible standard, an invisible bar that no one was able to jump. Deep down you knew this, yet you couldn’t figure out how to let it go. It was just music, right? Played by a handsome man who didn’t even know you existed. But you didn’t want to let go of this feeling, to settle for someone that made you feel only an inkling of what he made you feel. Or worse, to let it go and be left with emptiness.
You had no solutions. You were trapped in Aizawa’s maze of music, unwilling to find your way out as his notes weaved a cage around your heart.
You lost yourself to his melody, the club around you fading away. Time lost its meaning as you watched his hands dance along the keys, his fingers nimble. His half-lidded eyes were fixed on the instrument before him, his expression neutral. To anyone else watching, he would look almost bored; but you’d seen him play often enough that you’d grown accustomed to reading the nuances of his body language, even across the smoky haze. You knew his look of boredom was really a look of focus as he submerged himself in his art, his hands playing on instinct, a direct link between what he felt and what he expressed.
He loved what he did.
And you loved watching.
Hizashi’s voice interrupted your hypnosis. “Another night solo, huh?”
You took a look at the bartender as he prepped some cocktails for some waiting patrons. He had his wire-framed spectacles on again, the orange tinted ones, the color visible from the white backlight of the bar. His long blonde hair was pulled back into a low ponytail, and he wore a pinstriped shirt adorned with a black waistcoat.
You chuckled and took a sip of your drink. “It wasn’t supposed to be.”
“You got stood up again?” You shrugged and Hizashi shook his head slightly. “If they ain’t willing to show up, then they ain’t worth your time.”
“Probably more like the other way around, don’t ya think?” you replied wryly.
Hizashi scoffed. “Don’t let them get to you. They don’t know what they’re missing.”
You grinned and set your glass down. “Are you flirting with me, Hizashi?”
He grinned back and winked at you through his spectacles. “Always, darlin’.”
You chuckled and returned your eyes to the stage. “It’s okay…” you said thoughtfully. “Maybe it’s time I stopped trying.”
“Mhm…” Hizashi watched you stare at Aizawa and he raised an eyebrow. “Y’know, I can get you an introduction if you’d like…”
“What??”
“Don’t play coy with me, darlin’. You know who I’m talking about. If you want to meet him, I can introduce you to him. We’re good friends, he and I. Known each other for years.” He commented.
You weren’t surprised by this news… you’d seen Aizawa join Hizashi at the bar on rare occasions after his performance was done. But you’d always been occupied at a table with company when it happened.
Watching him from a distance was one thing. But actually meeting him? Up close? Where you couldn’t hide your girlish infatuation?
You felt your pulse quicken with dread, heat flooding your body. “No, it’s okay. I wouldn’t want to inconvenience him.”
Hizashi gave you a skeptical look over the rim of his glasses before he shrugged. “Suit yourself, darlin’.”
The blonde stepped away, a new group of customers hollering for his attention. You took a large gulp of your drink hoping it would quell your nerves at the thought of meeting the man on stage. No. You definitely didn’t want to meet him. The last thing you needed was for your interaction with him to be a dud just like it was with all the others, destroying your own secret little fantasy. He was handsome to look at. And you fantasized about his skilled hands when you were in the quiet of your bedroom. But that was all it was; just harmless daydreams over someone you didn’t really know or plan to get to know. Besides, if you’d ever thought you had a chance with him, you certainly wouldn’t be trying to meet people through a dating app.
Gradually the time ticked by as you enjoyed watching the dark-haired man play, Hizashi stopping in to check on you from time to time and place fresh drinks in front of you. You were content for the time being, enjoying the steady buzz you were maintaining as you enjoyed the ambiance. Occasionally you people watched or engaged in conversation with Hizashi when he wasn’t busy… but for the most part, you relaxed as you observed the raven-haired pianist, letting his music ease the tension in your shoulders as the alcohol warmed your bones.
A few hours later, as you were busy talking with Hizashi, the final note on the piano rang out, signaling the end of Aizawa’s shift. The sudden silence hit you like a bucket of ice water, and your eyes darted towards the stage, your heart pumping panic through your veins. You had planned to leave just before his shift ended, just to make sure you didn’t run into him. Maybe it was the daydreaming, or the conversations with Hizashi, or the alcohol... but you’d lost track of time. Now you could only watch and wait to see where he’d end up, hoping beyond hope that he’d disappear like he usually did. Only rarely did he linger for a drink. What were the odds, right?
Tonight was one of those rarities, and you held your breath, your posture going rigid, as he sat himself a mere two seats away from you. He never once looked at you, instead, addressing Hizashi.
“Old Fashioned.” He requested, his voice deep. It sent a shiver down your spine as the blood in your veins turned molten. You knew instantly that that sound was now committed to memory.
“Do you even need to ask?” Hizashi replied with a grin as he slid the drink to him.
You disciplined your eyes to stare at your own drink as if it’d open up a portal for you to escape through. But as much as you struggled to control yourself, the simple gesture of Aizawa reaching for his drink made you break eye contact with your own. Your eyes caught how his fingers circled around his glass, long and surprisingly manicured. You couldn’t help but watch as he brought the drink up to his lips to take a sip, and from there your gaze followed the curve of his mouth, the stubble that framed it, his jawline, his eyes…
Your eyes made contact with his briefly and you quickly looked back down at your drink, your heart pounding in your chest.
Shit. He caught you staring.
You took a couple of deep swigs, forcing the alcohol down your tight throat, letting the burn of it act as a punishment for your violation. This. This was why you didn’t want to meet him. No words had even been shared yet and you were already making a fool of yourself.
“Long night?” Hizashi asked him. In the background, the next performer entered the stage and began to play, and you couldn’t help but strain your ears over the music to listen for Aizawa’s answer.
“I’ve had worse…” Aizawa replied. “You?”
“Busy, but I’m in good company at least.” Hizashi replied. Your heart pounded in your chest as your fingers tightened around your glass. Your eyes darted up to lock with the bartender’s and you caught him smirking at you, his small, pointed mustache following the curve of his upper lip.
He wouldn’t…
Suddenly another customer called for him from the other end of the bar. “Duty calls, friend. Be back in a sec.”
And just like that, you were left alone with him. Aizawa. Your mind froze as it warred with itself between actually talking with him or grabbing your things and running away. Surely Hizashi would understand, right? And you could always pay back your tab later. You took another deep gulp of alcohol in the hopes that it’d burn away some of your cowardice.
Before you could so much as open your mouth, the unwelcome sensation of an unfamiliar hand on the curve of your back made your body go rigid, every muscle poised to fight. A second later, the scent of hot breath laced in the stench of alcohol choked the air around you as an unfamiliar man slid into the open seat between you and the object of your affection.
“Hey there beautiful…” he slurred. “You’ve been by yourself all night… you in need of some company?”
You covered your hand over your glass and shifted away from him slightly, your demeanor cold. “No.”
“Aw, c’mon doll… don’t be like that…” he grinned. “You don’t come here dressed like that for no good reason…”
The man’s hand was still on your back, its presence making your skin crawl. It made the fog of your buzz lifting slightly, your senses suddenly heightened in the presence of a potential threat. Your eyes searched frantically for Hizashi. He had a way of handling drunken idiots. But he was stuck at the other end of the bar still, a drunk woman trying desperately hard to flirt with him.
You were on your own, and this creep clearly wasn’t taking no for an answer. Your brain started to fabricate worst-case scenarios and planning for them, a million options running through your mind. Screaming. Throwing your drink in his face. A well-placed kick to his shin. Your pepper spray.
Your free hand slipped into your purse, fingers closing around you’re the plastic cylinder. The feel of it gave you a sense of security, even if it might be a last resort. You didn’t really want to use it, especially with Aizawa sitting behind him… you never had to use it before, and you couldn’t guarantee your accuracy, especially in such a tight space.
You watched from the corner of your eye as the man’s free hand reached forward to grasp your own that covered your drink, and your grip around the cylinder tightened, a warning beginning to fall from your lips. But your words were cut short as the man’s hand was suddenly grabbed by familiar, long fingers and bent back at an uncomfortable angle that made the drunk cry out.
“Hey! What the hell?!” the man demanded.
Aizawa took a casual sip of his drink with his free hand while maintaining his grip on the offender, before pinning him with a dangerous glare. “She said no.”
The man’s hand left your back as he struggled to free himself from Aizawa’s grip. “Let go!”
“First you will apologize to her.” Aizawa ordered.
The man sputtered. “For what?!”
You watched in shock as Aizawa’s eyes narrowed. His thumb positioned itself on a digit and began pushing it slowly backward.
“For touching her without permission. For insinuating that her attire makes it acceptable for you to ignore her boundaries. For being a disgusting pig.”
With each statement, he pushed the finger back farther and farther, until the man was buckling to his knees under the pressure in an attempt to alleviate the pain and prevent the digit from breaking.
“Ow ow ow! Okay! I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” The man begged.
Aizawa held him for a moment longer before finally releasing him. “Good. Now get out.”
The man scurried away until he was out of reach before turning around to glare daggers at him. “Hey, fuck you man!” He shouted. But for all of his drunken bravado, he stormed out of the club clutching his sore hand to his chest, as heads turned to watch him leave.
The hum of voices within the club fell silent for a moment, with only the band continuing their music. After the front door closed, the noise of people chattering slowly returned, countless sets of eyes turning back to their tables. Aizawa turned his gaze back to you, the lethal look gone from his dark eyes.
“You okay?”
You nodded mutely, swallowing the dryness in your throat as your sweaty hand released the pepper spray in your purse. Sensations warred within you, momentarily leaving you a confused mess. The speed at which he came to your defense and his willingness to resort to violence on your behalf fueled a carnal need you didn’t even realize you had. But even as hot arousal pooled deep in your gut, your heart still raced from the threat that had been quickly neutralized.
His eyes caught the movement of something over your shoulder and he cursed. “Shit.”
“SHOuTA!” Scolded a feminine voice.
He turned back to his drink, hunching his shoulders. “I told her not to call me that in public.” Aizawa muttered under his breath.
You spun on your stool to see the owner of the bar, Nemuri Kayama approaching, clad in a deep purple business suit with a dangerously low-cut black blouse. She was next to you in a matter of seconds, a cloud of strong perfume enveloping you as she snatched Aizawa’s drink from his hand as he began to raise it to his lips.
“What the hell was that?!” She demanded. “What makes you think you can attack my customers like that?”
“Your customer was harassing this customer.” Aizawa pointed out.
Nemuri looked at you with her lavender eyes as if seeing you for this first time and paused in her verbal assault.
“Is this true?” She asked you.
She had a presence about her that instantly made you find your voice again.
“He was being handsy and wasn’t taking no for an answer.” You confirmed.
“Can I have my drink back now?” Aizawa asked.
She stared back and forth between the two of you for a moment before slamming the glass down in front of him, half of the contents spilling over the side. “Ugh. Fine. But next time ask for one of my bouncers. Or Hizashi. Or me. Anyone but you.”
Aizawa’s mouth curled with a sly grin as he wiped at the spill with a napkin. “And why is that?”
“Because you scare away customers.” She growled.
Aizawa stared into his drink, swirling its remaining contents. “Well maybe you need better customers.” He took a sip.
“I’ll take whoever is willing to pay. Unfortunately for you, this club doesn’t survive off of chivalry.” She crossed her arms. “Besides… it’s less about losing that drunken idiot and more about losing those who saw you almost break his hand.”
“I wasn’t going to break his hand. I was going to break his finger.” Aizawa said.
You stifled a chuckle with a bite of your lip.
Nemuri rubbed the bridge of her nose in frustration. “Don’t try to make it sound like that makes it any better. And you!” She pointed at Hizashi, who had conveniently shown up not a minute before. “You know better than to leave him alone like this!”
“I can either be a bartender or a babysitter, love. I can’t do both.” Hizashi replied as he polished a glass.
Nemuri grumbled under her breath before turning her gaze back to you. “I apologize for Aizawa’s violent behavior.”
“Oh I didn’t mind…” you confessed with a small smile, and you could feel Aizawa’s eyes flicker to you briefly.
“And I apologize for the inappropriate customer. Alcohol is no excuse for harassment. I guarantee he won’t be returning to this club any time soon.” She looked at Hizashi. “Get her a fresh drink.”
“Already on it…” He replied, sliding a new glass to you and removing your old one.
She looked back at you. “And your drinks are on the house tonight.”
“Thank you.” You replied.
Nemuri gave a satisfied nod. “Now I need to go schmooze the rest of our frightened patrons, which is exactly how I didn’t want to spend my evening.” With a final glare at the two men, she stormed off, her pointed heels clicking on the hard floor.
You stared at your new drink for a moment, the desire for it lost now. “Hizashi, can I have a glass of water?”
“Sure thing, darlin’.” Hizashi replied and placed a chilled glass in front of you.
You thanked him and took a sip followed by a long, deep breath. Aizawa moved into the now-vacant seat next to you, and you welcomed the closeness. The gesture felt protective, a warning to anyone else who was dumb enough to try their luck with you after that display. Noticing the closer proximity between the two of you, Hizashi quickly made himself scarce again.
“Thank you…” you said to Aizawa as your finger traced patterns into the condensation on the glass.
“It was nothing…” he replied. There was a long silence before he spoke again. “I hope I didn’t scare you.”
You looked at him with surprise then. Scared? No. Aroused? Definitely. The dampness of your panties were evidence enough of that, but he certainly didn’t need to know that.
“Not at all.” You confessed. “I actually really appreciate it.”
Aizawa’s shoulders relaxed slightly, as if a weight had been lifted.
“Where’d you learn to do that?” you asked. “You were so fast…”
Aizawa gave a small grin. “Piano isn’t the only thing I’m good at…”
You had no difficulty believing that…
“Were you a bouncer or something at one point?” you asked curiously.
Aizawa chuckled. “Yeah, something like that…” he took a swig of his drink, the ice in it clinking. The amber colored liquid was nearly gone now.
His response only gave you more questions, but you forced them down. There was a fine line between being curious and nosey, and you were too worried of crossing it, thus ending your conversation with him.
“You’re a regular here.” He commented.
It wasn’t a question – it was a statement. He recognized you. You averted your eyes away in embarrassment, feeling suddenly exposed, your anonymity blown. How long had he noticed you’d been coming here? Did he know how closely you watched him?
“Yeah.” You confessed, as you took another sip of water. The alcohol next to it was calling to you, promising to ease your anxiety, but you refrained for the moment. You wanted to keep your wits about you while you talked to him.
“No company tonight?” he asked.
Oh. He watched you more closely than you ever realized. You weren’t sure whether you were feeling embarrassed or aroused. Was it possible to feel both?
“Not this time. I got stood up.” You replied.
“Sounds like you dodged a bullet there.” He said, looking into his empty glass.
You gave a dry laugh. “True. I’ve dodged lots of bullets lately.”
Aizawa chuckled. “I believe it…”
Contrary to his outward aloof demeanor, he was nice. You could feel the tension in your body start to dissipate as words came easier.
“If you ever think you want to try a dating app, don’t.” you commented. “It makes for good stories, but sometimes it really makes you want to give up on humanity.”
That earned an honest laugh as he looked at you with a grin. “Well now you’ve piqued my curiosity.”
You couldn’t help but smile back. This actually wasn’t so bad…
With amusement, you began to recount some of your more outlandish dating disasters with him, letting him in on the world of online dating from a woman’s perspective. Aizawa listened with quiet interest, making the occasional wry joke or, for the more serious cases, wearing a deep frown of disapproval. He was a good listener, and the conversation flowed easier than you had expected, words falling from your mouth without a second thought. It felt natural. Comfortable. And for the first time in a while, you felt like yourself. After you ran out of stories, Aizawa offered a couple of his own, and you found yourself laughing at his own tales of dating woes. As Aizawa talked, Hizashi stopped by to quietly replace his empty drink before disappearing again, a pleased smile on his face. His brief presence reminded you of your own glass pooling condensation on the paper coaster beneath it, and you returned to sipping its contents, once again finding the buzz you had been enjoying as you listened to Aizawa.
The time passed by as the two of you talked about the stress of dating and relationships. You’d learned that Aizawa rarely dated, but would occasionally have to endure awkward matchups thanks to Hizashi and Nemuri. You learned how much of a private person he was, how he generally avoided dating culture entirely in favor of letting life play out on its own. Everything about him exuded a man of experience and maturity, a man comfortable in his own skin and content with his life. You couldn’t help but admire him as you soaked in every little detail that you’d wanted to know, committing every little bit of information he offered up to memory. He was everything you’d imagined; kind, respectful, and serious with a sly sense of humor that he only shared once he was feeling comfortable.
Once the topic was exhausted, you sighed. “I think I’m done with dating.” You confessed. “I’ll just resign myself to my singlehood.”
Aizawa pinned you with a pensive look. “Is that what you want?”
Something about the tone of his voice made your pulse race with excitement.
“Well… It’s better than being repeatedly disappointed.” You gave him a side glance as you took sip of your drink. “But if the right guy comes along, I wouldn’t say no…”
“Hm… the right guy…” Aizawa muttered as he returned his gaze to his glass.
Your statement was a bold one, filled with invitation. You hadn’t exactly planned for it to come out that way, but it was too late to take those words back now. You quickly tried to turn the topic back to him. “How about you? Any special someone for you?”
He chuckled. “No. No special someone. Not yet, at least.”
The words fell from his mouth like breadcrumbs leading to a secret as he eyed you over the rim of his glass. You felt lightheaded and warm, the tips of your fingers buzzing with numbness. Maybe it was the half-finished drink in your hand. Or maybe it was the look in Aizawa’s eyes that made you feel drunk, the Earth spinning under your feet as you mentally struggled to find some sort of purchase to keep from falling.
Was he…?
Hope held you captive and you suddenly became acutely aware of how close you were to him. Your eyes traced the scruff on his jawline, the stitching of his shirt, the slope of his neck as his Adam’s apple bobbed with a swallow. A stray strand of hair had come loose from his half-ponytail and was hanging over his forehead, begging to be touched. Your fingers twitched. If you reached out to tuck it back into place, would he let you?
You couldn’t muster the courage and averted your eyes. You were filled with alcohol and infatuation, you reasoned. Your defenses were down, your judgment potentially impaired… what if you were reading into something that wasn’t there? What if you were wrong?
You watched Hizashi close out a tab for an older couple as you took a sip of your water.
Warmth pressed against your forearm and looked down to see Aizawa’s arm resting against yours. All of your attention honed in on the softness of his shirtsleeve and the warmth of his skin as his hand fiddled with a paper coaster, flipping it over and over with each tap on the counter. The contact was intentional, calculated in its subtle intimacy. It was a silent question… a tentative invitation, absent of assumptions or expectations. Your doubt evaporated like mist and you understood.
He was interested. In you.
Your heart did a somersault in your chest as you sat there, stunned. Time froze as everything that’d transpired throughout the evening flitted through your mind. It was a perfect amalgamation of circumstances, leading to this single moment, giving you the one thing you wanted most. You held your breath as you stood on the precipice, uncertain if your next step would make you fall or let you fly.
You stared at the contact and carefully… slowly… brushed your pinky along the back of his hand. It traced the vein that stood out there, following it to the knuckle. His own hand let go of the coaster his was holding, his own pinky linking with yours in affirmation.
You couldn’t help the elated smile that spread across your face in that moment and when you looked up at him with a shy glance, he had a smile of his own, small and secretive as he stared at your linked fingers. Slowly the rest of his fingers followed, twining themselves into yours until he held your hand, his thumb brushing sensually against your skin. That single action alone was enough to reignite the fire in your loins, your blood racing through your veins from the epicenter of his touch.
Hizashi’s voice crashed through your private, titillating moment. “We’re closing up, lovebirds…”
Your hand pulled away from Aizawa’s on instinct as you looked around the now empty club. Only staff remained, finalizing the last bit of cleanup and arranging the furniture for the next day. How had it gotten so late so fast?
“You want me to walk you to your car?” Hizashi asked, a knowing grin on his face.
In all that had happened that evening, you’d forgotten about that little arrangement. But you weren’t ready to leave just yet…
Aizawa’s voice answered before yours could. “Leave me the keys to the place. I’ll walk her tonight and lock up when we leave.”
“Suit yourself.” Hizashi replied with a shrug. He placed a set of keys on the counter. “Don’t tell Nemuri, though. She’ll kill me.”
“Your secret’s safe with me, friend.” Aizawa replied.
With that, Hizashi gave a small salute, grabbed his coat, and left. You watched, your heart pounding as the door closed behind him, leaving a deafening silence in its wake.
You were alone with Aizawa. Completely and utterly alone.
Your turned back to face him and froze. Aizawa still sat on his stool, but he faced you now with an elbow propped against the counter, and that simple distinction made his presence fill your space. He stared at you, the look in his eyes unfettered now, deep and hungry. “You really do look beautiful tonight.” He complimented.
With the way the words fell from his mouth and curled warmly into your chest like a cat, you believed him. You felt beautiful.
“Thank you.” You said with a soft smile. “You look handsome yourself, Aizawa.”
He took your hand again and slowly began to lean forward, closing the small distance between you. “Call me Shouta.”
You swallowed. “Shouta.” You whispered, feeling the name on your lips.
His dark pupils dilated and you felt his other hand on your jawline, warm, long fingers wrapping towards the back of your neck to pull you into a kiss.
His lips were warm and soft as his stubble tickled your skin, and you leaned into it fervently, your hands finding their home on his chest. You could feel his toned muscles beneath the black cotton and a purr found its way to the back of your throat. Shouta took it as an invitation, coming off of his barstool to stand between your now parted legs, his arm wrapping itself around your waist as his tongue slid along your lips. You opened your mouth eagerly to taste the bourbon there, to feel the wet muscle dance and slide against your own. Every touch, every taste, every smell enveloped you further and further in the essence that was Shouta until your entire body was singing, teetering on the edge.
Oh God… you were not going to let yourself cum just by kissing him.
You pulled out of the kiss slightly as your hands pressed gently against his chest, and he retreated from you just enough for his eyes to search your face, a silent question in them.
“I-I’m sorry, I just…” your words fell pitifully from your flushed, wet mouth, your voice shaky with pent-up arousal.
One second longer. One second longer is all it would have taken…
Shouta’s hand on your back began to rub soft, slow circles. “Would you like some water?” he asked, a small smile on his lips.
You nodded, and he kissed your forehead before handing you your glass. You drank greedily before handing it back to him, half-empty.
“Have you ever been kissed like that?” he asked curiously, as he placed the glass back down onto the counter.
You gave a small laugh and shook your head. “No… not like that.”
Your confession left you feeling embarrassed, even as your chest felt it would burst from this latest turn of events.
You kissed Aizawa Shouta.
Actually, he kissed you.
You needed a moment to collect yourself, to process everything you were feeling.
So, you completely changed the subject.
“How long have you been playing piano?” you asked.
Shouta didn’t miss a beat, returning to sit on his stool to give you the space you silently needed. But his hand still held yours, resting on the counter as his fingers twined with yours. It gave you a sense of reassurance, that everything was okay, despite your awkward hesitation.
“My grandpa had one when I was a kid. Used to mess around on it.” He explained. “He finally got me lessons from a guy he knew, and I’ve loved it ever since.”
You smiled as you watched his thumb trace across each of your fingernails. You returned the gesture, tracing the details of his own hand. It was like living a dream, to see them up close and feel them, every fingernail, every vein, even the pads of his fingertips. The number of times you’d fantasized about these hands…
“I always wanted to learn how to play, but my family could never afford lessons.” You confessed. “But my mom used to have all of these old jazz albums, and I used to sit in my room and listen to them for hours.”
“I can teach you.”
Your fingers stopped their tracing. “What?”
“I can teach you.” He repeated.
You shook your head. “Um, no it’s okay… I’d probably be a terrible student anyway.”
“A student can only be as bad as the person teaching them. Follow me.”
Before you could protest further, Shouta’s hand closed around yours and pulled you from your seat. He led you up the steps of the stage and across it until you reached the black piano sitting forlornly in the empty space.
It felt strange being up on the stage, especially with the club being completely empty. The stage light was bright and warm on your shoulders, and the silence sounded different there, affected by the difference in acoustics.
Shouta sat at one end of the black bench and pulled you down by your hand until you were sitting next to him. The bench was small, meant for only one person, so you had to press yourself against him to be able to sit without feeling like you were going to fall off. Even then, it wasn’t the most comfortable arrangement, but you endured, if only to be close to him.
He released your hand and began his instruction.
“First thing you should know is how to find middle C. Everything else will center around this.” He pressed the white key with the thumb of his right hand, the note singing out into the empty space. “Then, it’s D, E, F, G, A, B, which brings you back to C. That creates an octave, also known as a scale.” He played each note as he spoke.
“What about the black keys?” you asked curiously.
“Those are the half notes. Don’t worry about those right now.” He arranged his hand back how he initially had it, his thumb on the middle C key.
“Now,” he continued, “First, you must learn how to move your fingers along the keys. Like this.” Shouta demonstrated the motion again, his fingers playing each note slowly in a steady rhythm. “The switch of the fingers is important. It will help you flow quickly and easily without having to watch where your hands are, which will be important for reading sheet music.” He repeated the motion again, the sounds once again ringing out. Then, he removed his hand. “Your turn.”
You bit your lip and placed your hand how you’d seen his arranged and tried. The notes were clumsy, lacking in rhythm and falling together as you forgot in your nervous haze where the switch of the fingers happened. Embarrassment flooded you and you withdrew your hand.
“Don’t expect to get it right on the first try.” He reassured. “Let’s try it again. Try to keep your fingers loose, curved like a bowl.”
Shouta modeled it again. You watched, but your focus was muddled with anxiety, attraction, and likely alcohol. It was a poor recipe for learning, but you knew he was trying to make you feel comfortable, and you didn’t want to turn down his kindness. You arranged your hand back on the keys again and tried again, with little improvement.
“I’m sorry, I…” you stuttered as you clutched your hand in your lap protectively.
His hand covered yours and you looked up at him to see him staring at you with warm patience. “It’s okay. If you don’t want to do this, we can stop.”
You stared at him, mouth slightly open as you thought about it. You knew he wouldn’t hold it against you if you wanted to quit. And sure, you felt silly being so poor at it when sitting next to someone who’s skills you idolized.
But did you really want to stop? How often would you get an opportunity like this?
“No, it’s okay. Keep going, I want to learn.” You replied.
Shouta watched you for a moment longer before he placed his hand back on the keys. “Place your hand over mine.”
You followed his instructions, your hand looking small compared to his. His skin was warm, and it calmed the shaking in your fingers.
“Watch where the fingers land. Feel how they move.” He played the notes, and you could feel the tendons of his hand tense and shift, his fingers rising and falling like a wave.
“It’s like they’re dancing.” You said. “You switch to your thumb on this key… E?”
“Yes.” Shouta replied in approval. “Your turn.”
This time you focused, remembering the feel of how his hand had moved under yours as you played the keys, switching your fingers at the right time. The improvement was noticeable.
He smiled. “Good. Now, for the other hand. You’ll start one octave lower. Can you find it?”
Your arm crossed Aizawa’s chest to press the white key, letting the sound ring out.
“Perfect. Only this time, your pinky will sit on this key, with the others following after.”
You placed your fingers across the white keys. “Like this?”
Shouta nodded. “Now you’ll try the same progression with your left hand. The middle finger will follow after the thumb plays the G note.”
You removed your hand so he could place his own and demonstrate it for you. You followed after him, imitating his actions, but this time your attempt was worse than your first, your hand angled awkwardly due to limited space as you pressed yourself against him.
“That was terrible.” You laughed. “I can’t reach very easily.”
A small mischievous smile formed on Shouta’s lips and he slipped his hand around your waist.
“Come here.” He said.
You didn’t fight him as he pulled you into his lap. His right hand settled itself against your stomach as his legs parted slightly to make room for yours, your knees drawn together between his. The heat of his touch seeped through the fabric of your dress, weaving a tight knot of desire deep in your core that made your body go rigid as you tried to keep yourself from melting against him.
“Is this okay?” He asked, leaning slightly to see your face from his position behind you.
You licked your lips and swallowed, giving a nod. “Y-Yes…” you answered shakily. “Are you okay…? I’m not too heavy?”
Shouta gave a soft laugh. “No. Not at all.” His breath was hot against your skin and you could feel the scratch of his stubble as he spoke, sending goosebumps over your body. “Let’s continue.”
He placed his left hand on the keys again with ease, regardless of how poor his view of the piano was with you in front of him. He knew this instrument like the back of his hand; could probably play it with his eyes closed and never miss a note.
He played the simple notes again, C through B, fingers tip-toeing across the keys as he said their names out loud, helping you to remember them. You watched carefully for where the shift in finger arrangement happened, the middle finger following after the thumb just as he’d described.
“You try.” He instructed, his right arm still wrapped around your waist, holding you close against him. You could feel the warmth of his chest against your back now, feel the strength of his body beneath you.
You loved this. The lap-sitting, the lesson, the praise. Each time Shouta praised your improvements it sent a thrill through you from your head down to your toes. To be complimented by him, even for something as simple as pressing a few keys… it only made you want to please him more.
You played the progression of notes with renewed motivation, once again showing improvement from your first attempt.
“Good.”
Your spine straightened against him slightly. The thumb of his hand caressed your abdomen where he held you.
“Now you need to learn to do the same but in reverse, until you’re back where your fingers started.”
You moved your hand away to let him demonstrate and his right hand left your stomach, leaving an ache in its wake. You watched both of his hands play the simple notes up and down, working together with ease. But you knew it was all a ruse… he made it look easy, but if you tried to do the same, you’d fumble clumsily.
“I don’t know about this…” you chuckled.
“It takes practice,” he replied, “until it becomes muscle memory.”
Shouta demonstrated it again, up and down. And again.
You placed your hands over his, wanting to feel the touch of his hands under yours more than the actual pressing of the keys. All you wanted was his arm around your waist again, his hand on your lower abdomen. His touch was tantalizing, and you wanted more of it.
He completed the simple scale progression two more times with your hands on top of his.
“Do you want to try?” he offered.
His hands left the keys to hold you again, his arms wrapped more tightly around you this time. You leaned against him, reveling in being held in his arms.
“I’m going to mess up.” You warned.
“Just take it slow.”
You shook your head a little and let out a small breath, shifting your position in his lap slightly as you leaned forward to focus on the keys. His arms loosened around you, his hands shifting to your thighs.
It was likely an innocent action, intended to give you the freedom to move as you made yourself comfortable. But as soon as the tips of his fingers touched the bare skin below the hem of your dress, that sharp zap of arousal tingled the ends of your nerves, causing you to suck in air and part your knees slightly, your walls throbbing in hopeful anticipation.
It wasn’t intentional. Your body just… reacted. But Shouta noticed instantly.
There was silence at first, his hands still on your thighs, waiting. Finally, he spoke. “Y/N….” his voice was huskier now. “How long has it been since you’ve been cared for?”
Embarrassment flooded through you. Embarrassment at your sensitivity to his touch, embarrassment at the answer to his question... You hesitated a moment before words fell clumsily from your mouth. “I, um… a long time.”
A low hum rumbled from Shouta’s chest as his fingers brushing gently along the inside of your thighs until they dipped just beneath the black fabric. The action was experimental, a testing of the waters, and it brought immediate results. Your thighs widened the slightest bit more as you failed to fight back a whimper, your hands grasping his arms in need. Not a moment later you could feel the growing firmness of his cock begin to press against your backside, despite the restriction of Shouta’s jeans. Shouta’s hands halted again their movement, waiting. He was miraculously under control despite his obvious arousal, and you envied him.
“Do you want me to touch you?” he asked, his voice low.
Of course you did. It was obvious you did. Why else would your legs be parting like the red sea as if he were Moses?
But for some reason, your body language wasn’t enough for him. He needed to hear it. A sense of urgency filled you, desperate need driving you. At this point, you’d give him whatever he wanted…
“Yes.” you begged. “Please, Shouta... Please touch me.” You leaned back against him, allowing the angle of your hips to tilt as your hands guided him further beneath the skirt of your dress.
With you draped onto him, your head tilted back, Shouta kissed the curve of your neck as his hands gently gripped the insides of your knees, pulling your legs apart until they were draped over his own. You were open for him now, your skirt hiked halfway up by the spread of your legs.
Your heart pounded in your chest with so much excitement that you could feel your own pulse in your neck and between your legs. This was happening… This was really happening… How many times had you fantasized about this very thing? How many times had you longed for this man, whispered his name on your tongue only to be met by the empty silence? And now here he was, freeing you from the shackles of your loneliness in the best way possible.
Shouta’s hands pushed the fabric up the rest of the way until it was pooled around your hips, exposing your panties. The thin cotton fabric did little to protect your aching cunt from the cold air, and you sucked air through your teeth at the sensation. His fingers traced invisible lines up the inside of your thighs, leaving nothing but singing nerves in their wake that cascaded into a shiver that rolled over your flesh, leaving goosebumps. Your body was already moving of its own volition, hips rolling, eager for Shouta’s fingers yet simultaneously attempting to grind down onto his restrained cock. Your breaths were already coming in hot and ragged, every inch of you frantic for the release that it had been denied all evening.
Shouta gave a low growl, his left hand holding down your hip, halting your movements. “You better stop that…” he warned.
No doubt your girating was making things difficult for him on his end. But you didn’t care. You were an unfettered, horny mess now.
A whine escaped your lips at his restriction. In response, Shouta’s left hand trailed up the length of your body, caressing over your breast before finding its home on your neck. His palm was against your voice box now, his fingers long enough to wrap around your throat and reach your jaw. There was no force in his hold, but it still held power over you, ushering your body into stillness while your chest heaved with heavy breaths.
“Patience.” He whispered. “Let me take care of you.”
Shouta followed up his words with more gentle kisses along your neck, your shoulder… wherever his lips could reach with you on his lap. The feel of his hand on your throat was a reminder of who was in control. But it was also a promise - a promise to ensure your needs would be met.
Once Shouta was sure he had your compliance, his right hand travelled the remaining distance of your inner thigh to arrive at your panties, where moist heat greeted him.
A low hum of approval rumbled in his chest, vibrating against your back. “You’re so wet.”
A pitiful “yes” was all you could muster before the tips of his fingers brushed gently against your clothed sex, stealing your voice and replacing it with a gasp.
Slowly Shouta pet you, his fingers stroking gentle circles over the wet cotton, teasing the sensitive flesh beneath. With his hand still on your neck, you kept your body torturously motionless as he gradually increased the pressure of his digits, reducing his speed as he passed over your clit to drag the pads of his fingers over the bundle of nerves.
You swallowed the pooling saliva in your mouth, the action causing your throat to press against his hand. “Please…” you begged. “I can’t…”
Shouta was strict, but not cruel. He obliged, slipping his fingers beneath the cotton to swim his digits into your juices, never breaking his circular, rhythmic motion over your slick entrance. The scent of your arousal surrounded both of you, thick and heavy.
“Fuck, Y/N…” he growled against your skin.
Two of his fingers dipped into you then, slow at first, allowing you to stretch around him as your walls quivered. Your thighs tensed at the intrusion, welcoming the stinging pressure as your core burned with fire. He withdrew his fingers slowly and you lifted your head to watch in carnal fascination to see his fingers shining wet down to the knuckles. He pushed them into you again, curling his fingers towards the sensitive, spongey tissue along the top of your walls, his thumb pressing down on your wet clit. A zap of stimulation fired from your core before fizzling away, a teasing warning of what was to come.
“Oh-Oh fuck…” you gasped as one hand reached back and grabbed a fistful of Shouta’s thick, dark hair.
He picked up his pace then, his thumb driving firm circles around your swollen pearl as the sounds of your wet hole being finger-fucked filled the silence of the empty stage. With each pass of his thumb, with each curl of his fingers, the heat grew hotter, your cunt swollen and burning with the need for release. Your thighs were tensed so tightly now that it made your legs lift and you had to brace your feet against the piano, discordant notes ringing out to join the sounds of your heavy pants and wet squelching in a lewd song. Shouta’s hand left your throat to hold you under your thigh to keep you steady as his other hand worked fast and hard to unravel you. With the absence of his touch on your neck, you were free to move your hips, grinding hard into his hand, his lap, whatever part of him you were touching. Your grip on his hair tightened, mirroring the tension building within you, clinging to him like the boughs of a tree knowing that any second the flood would come.
Shouta was your lifeline, your rock, your destroyer. You were the waves and he was the shore, and your body tensed to prepare itself to crash against him.
“Come on, baby…” Shouta whispered gruffly. “I’ve got you. Cum for me.”
You came with a cry, loud and frantic as your walls clamped down on his fingers. The ball of heat that you had been carrying like a stone exploded within you, incinerating every nerve from the inside out, leaving nothing but sweet, sharp, euphoria in its wake. Your walls spasmed repeatedly, sucking greedily on Shouta’s drenched fingers, as you cried and moaned, bucked and arched. Shouta’s arm was around your waist, holding you against him to keep you from sliding off of his lap as you rode the high of your orgasm, tumbling like a waterfall over and over again to finally become a puddle in his strong arms.
Shouta held you silently against him as your body twitched with aftershocks of pleasure. Once your spasms subsided and he was sure you wouldn’t fall from your perch, Shouta released his hold around your waist to draw his fingers up and down your arm, creating goosebumps under his gentle touch. His fingers were still in you, his hand cupped between your legs. The warmth of his touch on your tired cunt was comforting, and it brought forth a content moan from your parted lips. Shouta smiled as he planted another kiss on your shoulder.
You weren’t sure how long you stayed like that with him. But you finally made yourself sit up when you felt sleep starting to drag you down into its murky depths, your limbs feeling heavy.
Finally, Shouta spoke. “Better?” he asked.
You gave a laugh. “Much.” You looked down at yourself in amusement. “You made a mess of me, though…”
Shouta gave a satisfied hum and stared at his hand that held you. “I like you messy.” He stated.
“So, you’re just gonna leave me like this?” you teased.
He laughed and withdrew his fingers, wiping the slick coating them onto his jeans. “As much as I like that idea, no.” He adjusted your ruined underwear and the hem of your dress back into place before turning you around in his lap. His hands were planted on your rear, keeping you securely and comfortably in place. “It’s late. We should get you home.”
You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him. “What about you?” you asked, your eyes glancing down to his lap. Your hands began to trail down his chest to reach the button of his pants, eager to reciprocate.
Shouta smiled at you and grabbed your hands, bringing them back up to plant kisses on your palms. “Tonight was about you. There’ll be more opportunities for both of us later.” You pouted and he chuckled. “Don’t give me that face.”
“It hardly seems fair…” you muttered. You were looking forward to enjoying more of him… you didn’t want tonight to end.
He hummed as he began to trail kisses along your jawline and you arched your neck to allow him better access. “We both… need sleep.”
Sleep? With his mouth on your skin, sleep was the last thing on your mind. Shouta pulled his lips away to look into your eyes again and you could see the fatigue there, dark circles framing bloodshot eyes. He really did look incredibly tired, and you couldn’t help but wonder how late it really was. You brushed the errant strand of hair off of his forehead, tucking it behind his ear.
“Okay...” you softly agreed.
“You should come back tomorrow night.” He mused, the mischief back in his eyes. “We can continue our piano lessons.”
“I’d like that.” you smiled.
You couldn’t wait.
#aizawa shouta#Shouta Aizawa#Aizawa x reader#Aizawa x you#shouta x reader#Shouta x you#bnha smut#mha smut#aizawa smut#bnharem collab#Jazz Aizawa#Jazz AU#Music AU#BNHA music AU
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Level of Restraint (M)
Pairings: Jimin x Reader, Namjoon x Reader, Taehyung x Reader
Word Count: 13K
Rating: M
Genre: Thriller, smut, office AU, BDSM AU
Warnings(contains spoilers): This story contains very dark themes and may not be suited to all readers, protected sex (vag+anal), threesome, double penetration, bondage (including partial suspension), dom/sub roles (reader is a sub), praise kink, mild degration, sensory deprivation, spanking, fingering, cum feeding, mild breathplay, sex toys, exhibitionism, voyeurism, discussion of safe word, Namjoon is a professional dom/sex worker, referenced discrimination of sex workers and those who participate in BDSM, public outing of sexual practices, inappropriate workplace relationships, referenced death of minor character, yandere character, misidentified sexual partner, manipulation, bribery, blackmail, implied stalking, violence.
Summary: As a co-founder of a consulting firm you can’t afford to be caught in a scandal. So flirting with your secretary, Jimin, would be out of the question. Giving your client’s son, Taehyung, a reference for a sexual partner would be reprehensible. And having regular paid BDSM sessions with your dominant, Namjoon? That would be a career ending disgrace. It’s too bad the only restraints in life you approve of are the cuffs that bind you to the bed, because there are those hiding in the dark waiting to take advantage.
A/N: A huge thank you to everyone who supported me while writing this story. It was hard not to question the level of darkness this tale descends to. In the end your assurances and aid are the only reason this fic made it to fruition. Upon reading you might notice several thematic references to the ‘Fall of the House of Usher,’ by Edgar Allan Poe and the Greek myth of Tantalus. They are two of my favourite tales, and together they greatly represent the darkened desires depicted in this oneshot.
...
8:55 am
KNJ: Good girl.
Your heart races upon receiving the response you’ve been waiting for all morning. The sender had requested proof that you were wearing his last minute gift, and you were happy to oblige with the lewd photo. Finally seeing his simple praise for your efforts makes you grin from ear to ear, as you enter the front door to your workplace’s building. The message will be enough to get you through the day, high on the thought of his praise while his present is wrapped tightly around your ribs. Though the garment may be confining, you’ll endure anything to receive those two simple words.
Reluctantly glancing up from your phone you look ahead to see the elevator closing.
“Hold the door!” You call out, making a run for it. Mercifully the gap between the doors widens allowing you to climb in before it begins the long haul up. Glancing over to your savoir, you find your secretary standing at the panel. “Thanks Jimin.”
“No problem,” he responds with a warm smile. “What floor do you need?” Joking as he pushes the button labelled 14.
You playfully shove his arm while trying to catch your breath. Had he left you down on the first floor there's no telling how long it would be before the elevator returned. The building in which you work has been down to one lift for a couple days, with no promise of when the other will be fixed. It’s not a surprise really, ever since you moved into this complex three years ago you’ve been plagued with breakdowns and shotty utilities. Considering how opulent the tower is, with it’s gilded elevators and halls adorned in finery you expected better, but people often overlook flaws when they have something pleasant to stare at. Allowing the management to slack on some of the failings of the structure.
“Do you think you could send maintenance another message?” You ask your hand clutching your waist to comfort the stitch in your side, no doubt a result of the corset concealed beneath your clothes.
“Consider it done.” Jimin replies, pulling out his phone. “Are you okay Miss?” He asks, your heavy breathing failing to go unnoticed judging from the concern in his voice.
“Fine.” You quickly change the subject, not wanting to linger on your current state. “What’s on my schedule for today?”
“You have a consultation with Mr. Kim of HOC Industries in an hour-”
“Really?” You cut in, confused about the sudden change. “But I just saw him a few weeks ago. Why is he coming in?”
“He didn’t say, I just got a message last night from him stating he required an appointment immediately.”
“That’s not a good sign...” You groan, wondering what information had dropped to spur a need for such an urgent response.
“Afterwards you have an early lunch with journalist Min. Followed by a one o’clock appointment with Jeon Jungkook to go over the new web layout. And the rest of office hours are slated as admin.”
You cringe over the prospect of bookkeeping. Your accountant’s involvement in a recent accident, placed him on an extended leave of absence. Since you are the only other member of your small staff qualified to balance the books, this leaves you burdened with his duties. “Remind me later to make a posting for a temp position.”
“Noted,” Jimin remarks as he continues to scroll through his phone. “Oh and don’t forget, you also have your monthly massage appointment with Kim Namjoon tonight.”
You smile at the thought, you would never forget a booking with him, especially since he’s the reason for your current state of breathlessness. You’ve been counting down the days until you get to see him, with only a few hours left you can barely contain yourself. To everyone who asks he’s a masseur, but the services he provides are far more aggressively intimate than a standard massage. You force a small cough to cover the involuntary moan starting to escape.
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah, just tired. I didn’t sleep well last night.” It’s not a complete lie, with the stress from work there have been a lot of restless nights recently, your appointment tonight should help to relieve a bit of that tension. There’s a loud groan as the elevator comes to a stop at your floor. You look up to the top of the lift and over to Jimin with worry, both of you stepping off with haste once the doors open.
Your entire office space consists of only a few rooms. You and Hoseok had started this company only a few years ago, focusing on corporate consultations regarding public image and approval. All things considered you’re doing rather well. With your negotiation tactics, Hoseok's philanthropy efforts, and Yoongi on retainer as your media source, you’ve been able to take on several giant corporations.
As you walk down the hall you find the temperature starting to rise, and upon stepping into your’s and Jimin’s shared office, you’re hit with a wave of heat. You whisper your curses as you check the thermostat which has been jacked to its highest setting and refuses to shift back down.
Giving up on the system you turn to the windows, but even those are a struggle after being neglected for so long. You call out to Jimin for assistance, waiting no more than a second before he is by your side. But even with his help you only manage to open them to the grand extent of a sliver before you’re forced to give in. At least with your office door open there’s now a small draft pervading the space.
“I guess I’ll send maintenance another message,” Jimin chuckles.
“You don’t think he’s trying to push us out do you?” You inquire about the building owner, and one of your own clients. You don’t usually make such bold claims, but with Jimin’s ties to the dubious man, it’s hard not to ask.
“I wouldn’t put it past him. Though I think this is more likely due to his lack of regard for the workmanship going into his properties.”
You nod overlooking the now stuffy room which holds both your desks. It serves its purpose with a sufficient amount of daylight from the large windows, and a partial wall giving you each a bit of privacy. You’d rather not have to leave this building and the status that comes with it, but there seems to be no end with these faulty appliances. “So much for being the height of sophistication.”
While you settle into your workspace you’re already dying from the heat, a sweater and camisole overtop your corset was not the best choice for today, but you didn’t want to risk anyone noticing the garment beneath. As you shuffling through your newsite tabs Jimin readies the coffee maker, returning to you with the first dose of your daily caffeine needs.
“You’re a saint.”
Jimin smiles brightly at your compliment, living for the praise as always. “Do you want some ice on the side?” He laughs as you tug on your sweater to stop it from sticking to your skin.
“Only if I can rub it all over.” You sigh jokingly as you take a sip of the hot beverage.
“I’d be happy to assist.” His smirk and piercing gaze look to be downright serious, his flirtation hitting a new high today.
“Sorry Jimin, I already have a massage appointment later. I think Namjoon would be very upset if you took his job from him.”
“That’s too bad.” He mutters, his lip still curled into a smile before stepping away from your desk. “Let me know if you change your mind. I’d be more than willing to compensate him for his loss.” Jimin has never been shy about his attraction to you, a desire which you most certainly reciprocate, but your own company policies keep the both of you tied to flirtatious word play. With Jimin winning more often than not when it comes to provocative sentiments.
He hangs around on your side of the room, straightening the chairs and stray flies, while you continue your search for whatever prompted the need for your haste meeting. At last you find it, on the featured articles of a prominent celeb news site, with the headline reading, ‘The Dark Desires of the Kim Family Heir.’
Much to your chagrin the issue isn’t regarding your client, but his son. As much as you try to stay out of personal family matters, sometimes they are unavoidable, and this looks to be one of those cases.
‘Kim Taehyung has long been considered one of the most eligible bachelors. He has it all, money, power, and a spot on every top ten most attractive list, but those who have been with him more intimately say he craves something more...’
Your mouth falls open in horror as one of Taehyung's former partners exposes their most intimate moments with him. ‘The Gucci suits and custom cologne are just an expensive mask for the darkness beneath. He would ask to be tied, bound to the bed and struck. He wanted pain and pleasure...’ The further you read the more your chest tightens. You’d rather not jump to conclusions, but you wouldn’t be surprised if it’s true. A fact which must make it all the more painful for Taehyung. You can only imagine what he must be going through, to have such private details exposed and exploited. He’s currently living your worst nightmare, a societal judgement over one's deepest desires. For professional reasons it would probably be best to stay out of this private matter, but you can’t in good consciousness let him suffer alone.
“That bad?” Jimin asks.
“Yeah...” You cover your mouth to hide your shuddering breath, blinking away the tears that threaten to spill on Taehyung's behalf.
Jimin shuffles in behind your desk with you. By lowering himself to read off your screen, his face falls next to yours. His hands come to rest on your shoulders as he leans in to eye the article in question. You should shoo him away, but you can’t help but be curious of his response to those who engage in such practices. As his eyes scan the page his grip on you tightens, his breathing erratic just like yours, with a whispered “‘Fuck,” escaping his lips.
“Are we interrupting something?” A voice calls out from your open door.
Your head snaps over in shock to find your next appointment waiting for you, with his son in tow. You jump up pushing Jimin back so you can greet your guests properly. “Mr. Kim! No not at all, please come in. This must be-”
“Taehyung...” The younger man mutters as he walks in, slumping down in one of the chairs in front of your desk. His sunglasses are still in place, the smell of spirits wafts over you along with the spicy scent of what must be his referenced cologne. He’s a sight to behold, a person of his caliber could make a fortune off his looks alone; he wouldn’t even need a drop of his father's fortune. But of course, that would have been before this public outing of his bedroom tendencies. Now he’s more likely to be seen as a pariah rather than an asset.
Directing the elder to the seat next to him, you take your own once again as Jimin retreats to his desk. You don’t even have the chance to exchange pleasantries before Mr. Kim launches into the purpose of their visit. “I assume you saw the article about my son?”
“I did, but-”
“And? What can we do about it? How can we spin it? Our stocks have already taken a hit.”
“Your son just had a serious breach in personal privacy...” You pause hoping that he’ll have some semblance of a realization that he is not the victim here, instead he simply waits for you to continue. Attempt to hold in your dismay, you give him the only answer you can, “Sue for defamation if you’d like, but whether they are printing fact or fiction the damage is done. The press is still focusing on your family due to your early misdealings in your company. I would argue that if you turn the view of operations around then there is a very good chance that the media will start to back off personal affairs.”
“You can’t expect me to twiddle my thumbs and wait. My shareholders are currently questioning his ability to lead, they might seek to replace him.”
“Good.” Taehyung mutters. “If those prudes have a problem with me, I’d rather not have to work with them.”
You bite your lip to conceal a snort of laughter. Mr. Kim fails to notice but his son seems to have caught your slip, taking off his glasses, he pierces you with a strong gaze.
Kim senior starts up again looking for sympathy and a way out, “Do you know how many of his flings I’ve had to pay off in the past-”
“Maybe you should just stick to your own business.” Taehyung eyes his father darkly.
“They made it my business when they started squealing to the press about what kind of man you are.”
You try to rein the situation in, this battle between father and son having no place in your office. “Mr. Kim! I would actually like to speak to your son for a moment. We can see if there’s a possible remedy for this... exposure.” You stand up, calling over the wall for your secretary "Jimin? Would you mind taking Mr. Kim to see Hoseok?” You turn back to your elder client, practically pushing him out the door into your secretaries’s care. “Jung Hoseok has been continuing his work on your company's philanthropic efforts. I’m sure he would love to show you what he has done with your portfolio.”
“Do you need me to come right back Miss?” Jimin asks with a pleading stare, his eyes flicker over to the young man still slumped in his seat.
“No I think we’ll be okay for a bit.” You mutter to him quietly as Mr. Kim proceeds down the hall. “Just keep him away for a few minutes.”
Once they're both gone you sit back down across from Taehyung with a sigh.
“So are your going to talk some sense into me?” He drawls with disdain.
“Fuck no,” you scoff, rummaging through your drawer. “Can I get you anything coffee, water... advil?” You finally pull out the bottle of pain relievers and offer one to him as you take one yourself, your head ready to explode in frustration over his father.
He tilts his head looking somewhat surprised, “So why did you send him away then?”
“I thought you could use a break. I’ve worked with many people like your father, they all want things done their way, and you’ll never be able to tell them otherwise. He’ll never admit to his faults, and the fact that he’s the real reason the media is all over you. So as long as you don’t tattle on me, we both can make it through this meeting with him thinking that he’s won.”
“Deal,” Taehyung agrees while he chuckles at your ploy.
“Are you sure you don’t want anything?” You offer once again.
“Actually I’ll take some advil.”
“I thought you might.” You poor him glass from the cooler and offer up the pill. When his sleeve pulls back to reach for the cup you can’t help but notice the glaring red evidence of a rope abrasion on his wrist. While he throws back the pain killer, you take another sip of your coffee rolling the bitterness over your tongue before breaching the difficult subject. “It can’t be easy to have the press prying into every aspect of your private life.”
“It’s not so much that they pry, but...” Taehyung hesitates, his brow furrows as his fingers run through his hair tugging on the strands between his fingers. “People know that they can go to them with a story and make money off any relations I have with them. And the press will gladly pay top dollar for what they have to offer.”
“The story is not a complete fabrication then?” You already know it’s not judging from his father's response and the marks on his arm, you just need to hear him say it.
“No, it’s mostly true.” He admits, watching your reaction.
“Then it would seem that your desires might be thought unconventional by many of your past partners?”
Taehyung nods, taking another sip of his water.
“From one unconventional individual to another,” you pause waiting for your own admission to sink in. To your delight Taehyung immediately perks up listening attentively as you continue. “There are more discreet ways to fill those needs.”
“Are you offering?” He asks, raising a brown along with the corner of his lips.
“No, I doubt that I would be very good at meeting your cravings, since we both hunger the same type of... attention.” You smile back at him, rejoicing in your mutual secret. “But I do have a friend who will take very good care of you. I’m going to give you a name and phone number, it’s up to you if you want to contact them, but I can assure you any conversations or actions between you and them will be kept strictly confidential. It’s not cheap,” you explain, but doubt that’ll be a problem for him. “But I assure you it’s safe and private.”
Taehyung can barely get the information from you fast enough once you jot it down. His hands, reaching for the sheet, accidentally knock over your coffee instead, sending the drink in your direction and staining your sweater. “I’m so sorry, here let me help you.” Taehyung jumps up and runs and grabs napkins from the coffee station.
“It’s fine really.” You assure him, making an attempt to stop him as he starts to blot the saturated material.
Unfortunately it’s at this moment that Jimin walks in to see your precarious state. He stands there for a moment in silence before explaining the reason for his return. “Mr. Kim said he needs to leave soon, Miss. He wanted to see if you two were... finished.” There’s glare set in his eyes for Taehyung's forwardness.
“Yeah, be right there, just one second.” You turn back to Taehyung, exchanging the damp napkin in his hand for the paper you had just written on. “Think about it, I hope you’ll give him a call. I don’t give out his information unless I think it will be of help to someone.”
“Kim Namjoon,” Taehyung mutters quietly while reading the slip. “If I were to go see him, would I find you there too?” He looks back up at you, biting his lip after posing his query.
“Likely not, he keeps his sessions very private, but you can always discuss your...” You glance over to Jimin who is still waiting, and well within earshot. “Preferences with him.”
“Then I’ll consider it, thank you.”
After seeing Mr. Kim and his son off, you're left to deal with the stain on your sweater, with only fifteen minutes before you have to leave for your lunch appointment. “Jimin could you call Yoongi and let him know I’m running a little late? I need to stop by my apartment on the way.”
“No need, I’ve got an extra shirt here.” He pulls out one of his own from his desk. “ I know it’s a men’s fit, but I think we can make it work.”
“Why do you keep that here?” You laugh. He only looks at you and the stain with a raised brow, no words needed to prove his point. “Never mind, stupid question, but I can’t take your shirt Jimin.”
“I insist, go put it on.” He forces it into your hands as you double check your watch, your time constraints leaving you with little choice.
Stepping behind the dividing wall, you strip down to your camisole, breathing a sigh of relief that the beverage hadn’t seeped into the fabric of the corset. Quickly throwing his button up over top and tucking it in, you check to ensure your intimate garment is still hidden relatively beneath the shirt before coming back out for his opinion “Does it look okay?”
Jimin nods, but when he reaches out to touch the shirt you recoil, fearing that he will discover what you wear beneath. He chuckles and persists, “I’m just fixing your collar.” He moves in closer standing just a couple inches away. Pinching the two seams of the fabric together, he considers the change. “I think it would look better like this.” You nod, keeping silent as he follows through. Pulling the fabric tight around your throat, your breathing is forced to pause for a moment as he fastens the top button. “Better?” He asks, while his hands linger around your neck.
“Much.” You whisper, as his fingers drift up to hold your chin, with the tip of his thumb dragging along the edge of your bottom lip. You stand there confused as to why your flirtatious game has taken such a physical turn. Although his actions are prohibited and should be censured, you can’t fully condemn them, deciding instead to remove yourself, rather than reprimand him. “I-I should go. I don’t want to be late meeting Yoongi.”
...
It was a productive lunch to say the least, but that was by no means thanks to you. Your focus was distinctly elsewhere. While you toyed with your bottom lip, thinking of how Jimin had touched it just moments before, Yoongi gave you everything you needed to secure several new clients. Even now as you return, disembarking the elevator on to your floor, you still can’t concentrate on the day ahead.
On the walk back to your office Hoseok catches you, quickly pulling you into his own and closing the door behind. “You need to do something about Jimin.”
“Wh-what do you mean?” You ask, nervous that he had seen you two together before you left for your meeting.
“Your client earlier, Mr. Kim, he said that he caught you two acting rather close, making suggestions that you two are involved in a sexual relationship. Usually I would disregard a comment like his but-”
“It’s not true, you know I wouldn’t!” As much as you might want to act on Jimin’s advances you’ve never crossed that line. You know it must have been bad for Hoseok to bring it up, for him to take this serious tone is evidence of his deep concern.
“I know that, but this isn’t the first time someone has thought you two might be a little too intimate. Some of the staff have also considered the notion. And I can see why, the way he looks at you, talks to you...” Hoseok trails off as his eyes linger on your apparel in confusion. “You weren’t wearing that earlier were you?”
“No, I had some coffee spill on me earlier. Jimin was nice enough to loan me his.”
Hoseok tilts his head as he raises his brow as if this validates his concerns.
“He was just being helpful!” You offer, but Hoseok doesn’t look to be swayed, and he’s right, this is a workplace not a morning after situation. “Fine, I see your point. So what do you suggest?”
“Redistribute him, send him my way if you have to, god knows that I could use the extra hand. You could even play it off as a promotion, just get him out of your office.” Your heart drops at the thought, not wanting to give him up. Hoseok seeing this takes a softer tone. “Listen I can see that you like him too. I’m sure it feels good to have his attention, but you need to get this out of your system. You have to put a stop to it. We can’t afford a scandal and you know it.”
With the assurance that you’ll think on the issue, and giving Hoseok your solution by tomorrow, you return to your office. But the problem is far from easy, though you did not lie about your physical relationship to Hoseok, you have been keeping something from him. From all of them. Jimin will never accept a promotion if it takes him away from you. He’s never worked here for the money, he doesn’t need to when his father owns half of the city, this building included.
...
-3 years ago-
“Mr. Lee, thank you so much for agreeing to meet with me.” You pull out the chair to sit across from him. The massive mahogany desk of his placing a rather large distance between the two of you.
“Yes well, my building manager said you were very persistent.” There’s a small roll in his eyes as he looks from you down to the computer in front of him.
“I wanted to discuss one of your properties, an office space in the Madeline Suites.”
He takes a swift glance at your modest appearance with narrowing eyes. “Forgive me, but I believe that location might be out of your price range.”
“Monetarily yes,” You agree. “But we offer services which might be helpful to you.”
“I do not deal in favours. I can see that this meeting was a waste of time, you may go.” He waves the back of his hand to shoo you out, while his secretary grabs the door from the outside.
“I am not asking for a favour, but offering you my services. I’m the co-founder of a corporate image consulting firm. And come this time tomorrow, I believe you’ll be looking for someone within our realm of dealings.”
“And what makes you say that?” Lee asks, his words laced with cynicism.
You lay out the first page of the article which Yoongi had sent you, stretching it across the wooden surface to place it in Mr. Lee’s view. ‘Real Estate Developer Lee Gungsang Faced Prior Allegations of Unlawful Evictions and Price Hiking.’ “This is slated for tomorrow morning’s front page.”
Mr. Lee is quick to send his secretary off, the door shutting once again. “How do you know about this? These cases were settled before they made it anywhere near the courts.”
“I have my sources.”
“Then stop this! I will pay whomever needs to be paid to prevent this from leaching out. You want the office space, it's yours.” He’s voice is desperate, you have him on the hook, the question now is, how long will he let you drag him for?
“That’s very generous of you, but nothing will stop this from going out tomorrow. My offer is simply to help you get ahead of it and lessen the damage.” You explain, revelling in the fact that money can’t hide everything.
“And how do you propose to do that?”
You pull out a contract for your serves. “I will need you to sign off on my services first. A small fee plus a far more reasonable price for a three year lease of the offices on the 14th floor of the Madeline Suites”
“Without knowing your plan, I think not.”
You give him a bright smile before mimicking his earlier statement. “I do not deal in favours Mr. Lee.”
He grumbles while taking the pen, eyeing you with a dark gaze as he signs on the dotted line.
With the ink still drying you hand over another small document. “Here are a few of my suggestions. Twenty percent of the commercial residences that you have just vacated will be handed over to non-profits for a drastically reduced monthly lease. I’ll even let you pick which you want to support.”
He looks up at you mortified. “This is excessive.”
“No this is necessary. I’ve seen corporations do far more than this when they are not dealing with a scandal. Your accountants will agree with me that this is the best move, it can be seen as a donation and therefore tax deductible. For the evicted private residences, I was thinking of partnering with a refugee resettlement program but we can discuss that more in depth later.”
You carefully tuck away your contract in Lee’s file before dragging another concern to the forefront. “I do have one more request, before I leave today.”
“What more could you possibly want?” He scoffs.
You lean in to deliver your short but important demand. “A heads up.”
“I don’t know what you mean...”
“I mean if there are any other past dealings or actions which might impact your company I need to be aware of them.” There’s always more hidden in the dark, you have one of those secrets on hand now. You need to see if he’s willing to be upfront with you on every dealing of his past, otherwise you might be forced to dig him out from another grave a couple weeks from now.
“There’s nothing else.”
“Nothing?” You ask again as you pull out your phone ready to bring forward more evidence.
“No.”
“So the knowledge of you having and hiding an illegitimate son... you don’t think that’s important? The existence of the only child of the Lee empire, isn’t newsworthy?”
“How did you-” The terror in his face looks to be even greater than the prior accusation.
“You attempted to evict all of the residents who stayed in your residential apartment for over 10 years if they refused to agree with a massive lease hike. Park Jimin was the only one who wasn’t touched. He has no record of a job, living off what must be money given to him by his parents, so I looked into them. His father wasn’t listed but his late mother, Park Haesoon, used to work for your company, and 22 years ago she signed a NDA issued by your lawyer.”
You open to Jimin’s public instagram page turning it around for his father to see. “He may take mostly after his mother, but I can still see a few clues to your family resemblance.”
“When does this one drop?” Lee asks in dismay.
“It’s not going to, at least, not from me or my source. We try not to deal in personal life consulting, but I am going to give you some advice in this matter. Get ahead of it.”
“My wife won’t hear of it.” Mr. Lee mutters through clenched teeth, it’s easy to see that this conversation has him very much on edge.
You nod seeing the crux of his dilemma. “I looked into the approximate date of his conception, you were newly married at the time, were you not?”
“Yes. She knows, but her family does not, they have a large political presence and we cannot afford to lose all support from them. Trust me, the boy is not worth the risk.”
“He’s your child!” You berate the CEO, your anger getting the better of you as you think of the emotional toll on Jimin. Not only did he lose his mother but his father won't even publicly acknowledge him.
“I won’t be swayed on this matter. If you have nothing else to say you may leave.” Mr. Lee rises from his desk and once again gestures towards the door. “I’ll have keys to your new office space delivered to you tomorrow along with the lease. But I should warn you, if there is even a whisper of his name in public in conjunction with mine, I can assure you, your so-called firm won’t last another week.”
...
Less than a month later you and Hoseok have moved your entire enterprise to the new office space. You’re holding an open house for several different staff positions, when the most unlikely of applicants walks in your door, Park Jimin.
He hands you a piece of paper which you can only guess is his resume, because your eyes fail to leave his face, your mouth unable to form words in your state of shock. Closing the door behind him, he gives you a nervous smile. “Judging from your expression, I take it you know who I am?”
You manage a single nod, still confused as to why he’s here, now, with you. It’s lucky you’re conducting the interviews alone, otherwise it would be difficult to explain your shock to Hoseok without exposing Jimin’s lineage.
“I’ve been wanting to meet with you,” Jimin confesses, adding sheepishly, “My father told me of your meeting. He said you took a bit of an interest in me, even found my social media accounts.”
“Oh, oh no.” You finally manage to sputter out, far more anxious with the younger man than his father. You never intended to meet Jimin, let alone have him find out you dug into some very personal aspects of his past and present. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t intend to invade your privacy. I was only trying to figure out what was going on. And when I learned the truth, I wanted him to own up to his mistake of hiding you.”
Jimin chuckles lightly, sitting down in front of you, “I didn’t come here looking for an apology Miss, I know why you did it. I merely wanted to meet one of the few people to ever successfully scare the shit out of my father.”
The wide beaming smile accompanying his statement spurs a laugh from you, while also allowing you to relax in his presence. “Sometimes you have to intimidate these people to get them to do the right thing. But I’m sorry I wasn’t able to convince him to go public regarding everything.”
“That’s not your fault. In the end it was just nice to hear that there's someone who thinks I deserve better.” Jimin adds, with a look of sorrow leaching into his smile.
“Of course you do, but I must ask, why come here now?” You take a moment to confirm that it is in fact his resume that he’s handed you. ”I can’t imagine that you need a job.” He’s appearance alone is enough to tell you he’s buried in wealth, though his father has not given him the family name, it looks as if Jimin has gained some of the assets.
“Actually that’s exactly what I was looking for.”
“Your father didn’t pressure you to come here to keep an eye on me did he?” You ask with scepticism. Keeping watch over possible threats wouldn’t be a completely off brand for those of his status. And with you knowing some of his deepest secrets you could likely be considered one of the biggest risks.
“No.” Jimin chuckles, briefly raising his hands in surrender. “I promise I’m here of my own volition. Money isn’t my biggest concern, I’ve been hoping to build connections. I want to use my time wisely and work with someone who is worthy of my focus, and that just so happens to be you.” He finishes with a suggestive smirk, making you wonder if you’ve won his affection too.
“And what does your focus get me?” You ask, trying to weigh the benefits versus the risk. You doubt that Mr. Lee will respond kindly to you hiring his son, but if he continues to deny his son’s existence then what right does he have to disagree?
“Anything you require. I was interested in the posting for your secretary, but any position beneath you would suit me nicely.”
...
There’s no way you’ll be able to convince Jimin to willingly change roles and work for Hoseok instead. But you can’t deny that your co-founder’s points are valid.
Jimin greets you warmly as you enter your office. “Did you have a nice lunch?”
“Yeah, it was good.” You respond, forcing out a smile.
“Really? Because you look upset.”
You curse Jimin’s ability to read you at a time like this. “I promise, lunch was fine. Yoongi gave me some substantial leads.” You sigh sliding back in your seat. With your values shaken and morals questioned by Hoseok, you are deeply in need of someone to brace yourself on. Wanting to step out of the realm of responsibility and control even if it’s just for a moment, you make a request to Jimin. “Would you go fetch Jungkook for our meeting?”
“I can just call him in.” He makes the case looking reluctant to leave your side.
“Please Jimin just go get him. I need a few minutes for a personal call.”
Jimin looks at you crestfallen before finally leaving. It’s not often you keep things from him, he can scope you out too well for that. But Kim Namjoon’s actual role in your life is the one secret you feel is the most imperative to hide from him.
You pull out your cell, not wanting to use his number on your work phone. After two rings he picks up. “Couldn’t wait a few more hours to hear my voice baby girl?”
You're too embarrassed to admit he’s right, settling on another excuse for your call. “N-no I just wanted to let you know that I’ve sent someone your way... sir.”
“Don’t lie to me I can hear the need in your voice.” He chuckles lightly as he taunts you. “Your reference already reached out to me. I’m excited to play with him, is he just as handsome as he sounds?”
“More so.”
Namjoon hums on the line in gratification. “My babygirl, giving me another pet to play with.”
You blush from the praise. Taehyung makes the sixth person you’ve suggested following the charity ball you met Namjoon at a couple years ago. Where he, much like you, was secretly scoping out potential clients. Every one of those patrons you’ve given him since then has been his pet, but you, you’re his babygirl.
“I was wondering...” Namjoon’s carries on, in a tone far more hesitant than usual. “Tonight would you be willing to try something a little unconventional? Would you like to share him?”
“W-would that be okay?” He’s never suggested adding another to your sessions before, but you can’t deny you’re intrigued by the prospect.
“He mentioned an interest in you, and after discussing his needs I feel that I require someone other than myself to pin his desires on. You’ll be the carrot while I’ll be the stick. Do you think you could do that for me?” Namjoon proposes in a low purr dragging every heated thought and possibility to the forefront of your mind.
“Yes sir.” Your response is instant, with little thought required. Helping Namjoon with Taehyung? You’d be a fool to turn down the opportunity. There’s a small knock on your office door with the return of Jimin and Jungkook trailing behind him. You start to panic while still on the phone with Namjoon. “I’ll see you later then?”
Namjoon can of course detect the change in your tone, but instead of letting you off the hook he pulls you further. “Did someone walk in on you babygirl? I take it they don’t know about this side of you?”
“No they don’t.”
“No sir.” He calls out your lack of decorum, an error which you know you’ll pay for later. “Such a shame they’re missing out. What do you think they would say if they knew of my plans for you tonight? How I intend to hang you like forbidden fruit above another man. Do you think they would approve?”
Your eyes widen as Namjoon continues and Jungkook takes the seat in front of you with Jimin standing behind him. You clear your throat and hold up your finger to them, gesturing for another minute. Turning away to hide your face as you continue to try and end the call. But hanging up on one’s dom is never advisable, condemning you to listen for as long as he wishes to torment.
“I bet you would like them watch, wouldn’t you?” Namjoon asks, egging on your sinful thoughts, transferring them from Taehyung over to your co-workers.
You shift your thighs trying to dispel the building need as you consider the notation of them watching. Imagining Jungkook’s wide eyes taking in the sight, likely with a hand on his cock, he’s an innocent man with strong desires. You’ve known others like him before, they act with naivete but when confronted with an opportunity for more, they don’t hesitate to gorge on what is presented to them.
And Jimin, would he accept your darker needs? You wish he would, desperately wanting him to play along, to help mould you into submission. Your head now filled with thoughts of kneeling before him taking him in your mouth while he christens you a good girl. If only you could be sure that he wouldn’t react like most people, like those who condemned Taehyung. Your eyes flutter back over to your secretary who is looking at you with deep suspicion. You desperately need to end the call or risk giving yourself away. “I should probably-”
“Am I embarrassing you baby girl?” Namjoon teases with an amused laugh. “Does that mean I’m right?”
“Yes...”
“Yes sir.” Namjoon reminds you once again. “I’ll release you for now, but I better see you here at seven o’clock sharp. Is that understood?”
You breathe a sigh of relief at the release. “Yes sir.” After finally hanging up, you offer up an apology. “Sorry about that.”
“Who was it?” Jimin inquires with a soft tone, but a quick lick to his lips shows his intentions to be far from innocent. His clenched fists and hovering nature further pointing towards jealousy.
“No one important.” You smile through the lie, careful in your attempt to comfort him. It’s pointless to keep acting in this way, but you still can’t bear the thought of disheartening his feelings or pushing him away.
...
After your meeting with Jungkook, you're left with a stack of paperwork and your ever persistent lack of concentration as you try to figure out what can be done with Jimin. Should you just tell him the issue, would it help or would it make the situation worse? If he knows how he is perceived then will the affection stop, and if it does, will you struggle with that loss?
“Can I walk you to your car Miss?” Jimin asks with his jacket in hand. You check the time, reading just after five. So lost in thought you had accomplished almost nothing in the last few hours of the day.
“I think I might just stay here until I have to leave for my appointment, I still have a bit more work to do.” You explain rubbing your hands over your face as you pull yourself from your daze.
“Do you want me to stay too then?”
“No, I couldn’t ask that of you. But before you go I’d like to discuss something” You gesture to the seat across from you which he takes with hesitation. You’re usually not so formal and he can clearly spot the difference. You open your mouth and pause trying to find the right words as his eyes shine in your direction. The evening sun pouring into the room bathing his skin in with golden light makes it so much harder to stick to the issue at hand. You eventually resort to staring at the irrelevant papers on your desk as you open with your concern.
“I’m worried that our actions towards each other imply that our relationship is not strictly professional.” You blurt it out quickly, hating every word that crosses your lips.
“Have I been making you uncomfortable Miss?” Jimin’s expression falls along with his question, the heartbreak ringing out clear in his voice.
“No, no. It’s just, I’m concerned about how others see our interactions.”
“Oh, so someone said something to you then?”
“Hoseok mentioned that a few people think we appear to be a bit more than boss and secretary.” You know it cowardly to bring Hoseok into this, but the information is second hand. You can’t be sure what others have said exactly.
“Well you do know more about me than most.” Jimin laughs lightly.
“That’s not what they are implying. They think we are engaged in a sexual relationship.”
“And...” He draws the word out as if the implication is nothing, implying there should be a better reason for your concerns.
“We aren’t Jimin!”
“Well, there's only one way to fix that.” He stands up leaning towards you over your desk. “You can’t say you haven’t thought about it. We could keep it a secret if you’d like, no one has to know.”
You doubt Jimin could keep a relationship between the two of you hidden, with the way he dotes on you already, you’re one passionate night away from finding three dozen roses on your desk. “Someone would find out, and the fall out-”
“Fuck the fall out,” Jimin states with resolve, reaching out his fingers tucking back a strand of your hair before curling beneath your chin. “I’m tired of this charade. Hoseok only said something because he’s jealous. He’s jealous that you want me as much as I want you.”
“Jimin,” You whisper. “Even if that was the case, that still doesn’t make it right.” You pull back from his touch. “You should go. Think about what I said, because if we can’t maintain at least some level of restraint and professionalism... then you might be better off working for someone else in the office.”
“So you’d rather keep your social image than be happy with me?” Jimin accuses, the usual warmth having completely vanished from his face.
“It’s not like that. My standing is my life, it’s my career, any blemish would destroy everything I have.” You attempt to express the fear inside you, the weight that bears on you every day. You already have so many secrets and liabilities, but one as close and extensive as a relationship with him might finally crush you and everything you’ve built. “I like you, I really do, but I can’t take the risk. You have to understand, I’m not like you. I don’t have a secret trust fund to fall back on.”
Jimin looks as though you’ve stabbed him, pulling away he heads to the exit. “I’m sorry I’m not worth the risk. You know, I thought you were better than that, but it would seem you’re just like everyone else.”
The door slamming between you echoes through the office as you sag in your chair. Never in all your years have you ever sunk so low. By taking him on you wanted to ensure Jimin’s happiness, to show him his value despite the lack of acknowledgement from his father, but now it seems you’ve fallen into the same role as those who have hurt him before.
...
You type your code into Namjoon’s door, stepping into his hall quickly and shutting the door behind you. It’s just before seven and usually you find him in his living room already waiting, but today it’s empty. Not wanting to disturb him, you take a seat on the couch and wait patiently for him to join you.
You feel ready to fold in on yourself as you continue to dwell on your argument with Jimin. If you laid out boundaries earlier you likely wouldn’t be where you are now. Hating yourself over his confession, and your inability to accept it.
There’s movement from the bedroom door as Namjoon’s partner Seokjin comes out to greet you. You look up in bewilderment as he takes your hand, pulling you off the couch. “Namjoon has already started with the other client, so he sent me to fetch you.”
You nod understanding Namjoon’s divergence from the norm, it wouldn’t be safe practice for him to leave Taehyung alone in a precarious position. Now looking to the door with curiosity, you’re excited by what lustful visions will greet you on the other side. But when Seokjin presents something to you it’s clear that you won’t get to see those sights.
“You’ve been asked to wear this.” He holds out a wide silken strip, one that Namjoon has used as a blindfold in the past. You allow Seokjin to cover your eyes, with a touch far more gentle than you know Namjoon’s to be. You don’t want kindness, craving instead to be broken in by the man in the other room, especially after the damage you’ve done today. The loss of your vision will have to be punishment enough for the time being.
“Does he want me to undress too?” You ask, touching the silk over your eyes, you're completely blind and already longing for the next step.
“No he wishes to save that pleasure for himself.”
You smirk thinking he might, you’ve been wearing his gift all day it’s only right that he gets to see it first.
There’s a knock and a click of the door before Seokjin takes you in hand again, leading you in. The air is warmer and heavier than that of the living room, making it impossible to draw a fresh breath.
Seokjin pushes down on your shoulder, a wordless order to kneel. The plush carpet meeting your knees as you lower yourself, if only you could reach out to get a better sense of what’s in front of you, but form dictates that you keep your hands on your lap.
The bedroom door closes, signalling Seokjin's departure. Sending one last wave of clean air before you're smothered once again. Locked away for the night with your master and his new pet. There’s a small creek from the mattress and the familiar rattle of restraints against the bedpost. You can just barely make out the tone of Namjoon’s low whisper as he speaks to the current tenant of the bed.
Footsteps land to your left, muffled by the wall to wall but still sending vibrations through the floor. As Namjoon approaches, your heart pounds wondering what his first move against you will be. He takes his sweet time letting the anticipation build as your chest continues to heave in its attempts to take in the thick air. You keep your posture, maintaining your stance with the knowledge that he will inspect you. Head lowered, hands on thighs, perched on your toes as your knees dig into the ground. Your legs soon start to tremble as your feet strain to bear the weight.
Namjoon settles right in front of you, the slow draw of his breath reaches your ears, while the heat of his exhale hits your face. A hand trails up the outside of your thigh stilling the tremor in your legs with a forceful grip. You freeze wondering if your jitters will cost you, you can’t let him find fault not if you want him to reward you with his presence.
But as he takes your chin tightly between his index and his thumb, you know you're in the clear. He tilts your head up as you breathe a sigh of relief. “Such a good girl, setting the perfect example.” His fingers slide down petting the column of your throat with a firm touch. “I was so happy to receive your picture this morning, did you wear the gift all day as ordered?”
“Yes sir.” You pant back, eager for him to see for himself.
“It wasn’t too hard for you then, to go so long in such a confined state?”
“No sir.”
“Good girl,” He purrs in your ear as he starts unfastening your shirt. He hesitates on the buttons for a moment. “Babygirl, would you care to tell me why you're wearing a men’s shirt?”
You swallow not wanting to admit that it’s the fault of the man currently lying in his bed. You plan to take the fall, wanting Namjoon’s undivided attention even if it’s in the form of a punishment. “I spilled something on mine sir.”
“So clumsy.” He has the shirt completely off now revealing the corset for him and likely Taehyung to see. Namjoon helps you to stand, unzipping your skirt he pushes it to the floor. You feel so helpless without your sight but Namjoon doesn’t seem to mind assisting. He uses the soft fabric of the shirt to dab at the sweat beading on your skin. “Who, may I ask, clothed you in theirs? Such an expensive label, he must think highly of you.”
You shift in place, made uncomfortable by your inability to answer. Knowing if you say his name thoughts of him will be summoned to your mind. You don’t deserve to think of him at such a time, not after you led him on and left him dry.
“You don’t wish to tell me?” The feel of Namjoon’s breath leaves you, the sounds of his feet indicating he’s moved to the right of you. Heading to a space you know to be occupied by a table and closet full of his tools. There’s a scrap of metal and what sounds like the jingle of buckles.
“No sir.”
“And why is that?” Fingers trail up your arm as Namjoon signals his return to your side.
“Because I’m not allowed to have him sir.”
“A noble response.” Namjoon reasons while he wraps the leather strap of a familiar collar around your neck. “But I still plan to get that name from you before we’re done.” He buckles it swiftly checking the tightness with two fingers. You thought him finished but he progresses to cuff your wrists in leather too, tethering them together in front of you.
He leans in again with a hushed request, “Still know your safe word?” You nod repeating is back to him before he leads you on towards the bed.
Namjoon stands behind you as he presents you to his new pet. When you gave Taehyung Namjoon’s number you hadn’t been expecting this but you can’t deny enjoying the prospect. But you find the silence and lack of reaction from him unnerving. “I asked him not to make a sound,” Namjoon explains, “And he’s abiding by my rules so well it’s he?”
Namjoon takes your hands helping you to feel the current state in which Taehyung is interned. A Leather cuff just like yours binds one of his wrists with a short chain leading to bedpost. You imagine that his other limbs are restricted to the other corners of the bed, for Namjoon has bound you in the same state before.
“Can he see?” You ask Namjoon wondering if he has been left blind too, or if he’s eyes are watching you now.
“Can he see you? He can babygirl, in fact, he hasn’t looked away once, and why would he?” Namjoon sits you down on the large bed to join Taehyung before pulling down the matching underwear to your corset. “They’re so wet, have you been soaking these all day?”
You nod in response. A delighted Namjoon makes an offer to Taehyung. “Would you like a taste pet? A reward for being so good.” Namjoon revels in his situation with a chuckle, the man beneath you must have nodded. “Then open up.” You know what a taste means for Namjoon, those panties of yours are most certainly shoved into Taehyung's mouth. He lets out a groan of satisfaction at the welcome intrusion.
Namjoon’s hands find your waist dragging you up further on to the bed with your knees now resting on the mattress. “You’re going to straddle him for me babygirl.” He shifts you over pulling up one of your legs to settle them on either side of the man beneath you. Your knees bent with your calves coming to rest against his bare hips. Without his billowy clothes he is far more slight than you expected, but his skin feels firm and toned.
You slowly move to lower yourself knowing what you will come down on top of as you sit, but Namjoon seems to have other plans in mind. He takes your bound wrist, lifting them above your head and latching the cuffs to a chain in the rafters of the canopy bed. Once fixed in place he tests your limitations, a quick tug to show you even with your arms fully extended you are only able to lower yourself to half a kneel. You groan in frustration with the realization you can’t move any closer to the cock that rests below you. It’s just as he promised, hung like forbidden fruit above another man. Your dominant’s flare for the poetic never failing to surprise you.
“Problem babygirl?” Namjoon cooes in your ear. “Do you have something you want to say?”
“No sir.”
“Good, because if I recall you still need to be punished for your lack of formality on the phone earlier today.”
Your stomach drops as you realize he’s going to discipline you right now, in full view of Taehyung. The heat rises to your face at the thought of being demeaned in front of another. Namjoon’s hand cups your bare ass, readying it for the assault. “You failed to call me sir twice, three for each lapse should do it.”
While the first strike eases you in, those that follow are not so gentle. The ring of his index biting your flesh with each impact. The third strike is so strong you pivot forward on your knees, your back arching as you bare forward still confined to the corset and chains. The weight of your body pulls painfully on your shoulders for a brief second, but Namjoon is there to catch you. Stopping you before you can slip and more, and propping you back in place before continuing.
One hand lays firmly on your stomach to prevent the shift from happening again, while the other rubs the curve of your ass mapping where he should strike next. You can feel the warmth in your skin as the blood rises to the surface in reaction to his beating. Your nerves are caught in the struggle between pain and pleasure, even as the sixth and final blow lands.
“Good girl.” Namjoon whispers his touch disappearing, as you ease down against your restraints. You hang completely by your wrists while your legs quake from the shock. Every nerve in your body feels as though it’s been left on fire with nothing to quench the flames. Leaving you to hang there for what seems like eternity.
“Sir?” You whisper in the dark as the heat continues to build inside you. Wondering where he has gone your body reacts, begging for the return of his attention with a dripping cunt. And with Taehyung below that can only mean the steady drip of your arousal is left to fall on him.
“Babygirl you’re making such a mess.” Namjoon confirms along with a groan from the man beneath you. “But he appears to be leaking too. Do you want some?” You nod eager for a taste.
Namjoon obliges, grabbing your throat in one hand, he presses a damp finger to your lips for you to take. Your mouth latches over the offered digit, allowing the bitter fluid to sweep over your tongue. You're forced to let it sit there unable to swallow as the grip on your throat tightens, with the strap of the collar digging into your skin. Your mouth fills with saliva prompting you to close it despite your desperate need for air.
“Does he taste good?” Namjoon wickedly possesses knowing you can barely even nod. It’s when you start to tremble that he finally releases your airway.
You swallow quickly before letting your mouth hang open in a pant. With your lungs still restricted by the corset your breathing comes in short shuddering waves. “Yes sir, so good.”
“I think he likes having you drench him, shall we give him more?”
“Please.” You beg but Namjoon suddenly delivers a staggering blow to your backside, indicating your misstep. You’re left gasping from the sudden impact, swinging in the restraints as you try to recoil. “Please sir.” Your plea comes again this time with the proper decorum.
There’s a crinkle of what sounds like a condom wrapper as Namjoon readies himself behind you. His fingers damp with lubrication find your back entrance, your tight hole giving way to a single finger. “You’ve been training for me like I asked?”
“Yes sir.” You almost come at the thought of it along with pleasure with the swirling digit. You’ve dabbled in anal before testing out a few toys, but a few weeks ago he sent you a plug with a tapered t-shaped end, giving you strict orders to wear it to work the following day. Unfortunately that was the date you had scheduled a meeting with your whole team. You were a flustered mess as you fought through your presentation, Jimin’s presence by your side making it so much more difficult to maintain control of your arousal . But the full day of public and torturous stimulation was worth it, for the reward that night was a call from Namjoon. His orders led you through every action of self pleasure. Telling you when and where to touch before finally directing you to come. You’ve used the item several times on your own since, knowing your practice would help you in this moment. You wanted to make Namjoon proud and take him with little resistance. That desire now intensified with having Taehyung as an audience.
“Then you're ready to take me in front of him?”
You nod gripping chains of the restraints as Namjoon eases into you. “Just relax.” His hands glide down your shoulders and back, coming to rest splayed across your hips, the tips of his finger root under the corset and dig into your stomach. Your grip eases as you lean back into him. “That’s it.” He mutters quietly as you stretch to accommodate him. “Good girl.”
After taking a few inches Namjoon pushes down on the front of your corset bowing the metal latches back to so they release, with a few clicks and swift presses the garment is off allowing you to breathe deeper than you have all day.
“God you should see him babygirl, he’s so ruined by the sight of you. You have him panting for you.” You wish you could curse Namjoon for his choice to blindfold you and silence Taehyung, you would take any punishment that came of it, but all you can muster is a gasp while he continues to fill you more. “I wonder how he’ll react,” One of Namjoon’s hands leaves your hips coming to rest with something soft against your aching clit. “When he sees you come.” With a click the object vibrates, throwing you back completely onto Namjoons cock from the shock.
You catch Namjoon’s lustful groan between your cries. He starts to thrust inside of you one hand gripping your chest while the other holds the vibrate down in place despite your bucking hips. It doesn’t take long for you to completely fold. As the heat inside you finally reaches its peak you shatter, your head falling back on Namjoon’s shoulder as you convulse and moan. With nothing for your cunt to clench your legs grip the trussed man between them. He too lets out a sinful groan as the fluids from your fold continue to drip down your legs meet his adjoining skin.
Namjoon turns the device off and slips out, the bed shifts as he moves in front of you. When his hand cups your face you lean into his touch. “You okay?”
You nod hoping he’ll be lenient with your lack of speech. You hear him whisper as he checks in with Taehyung too. “I’m going to take these now.” Namjoon must finally be freeing him from the waded underwear of yours.
Namjoon’s hands find you again, playing with the arousal dripping down your legs as he drags his fingers up to the source. A finger grazes your folds slipping between without penetrating. You pull desperately against your restraints hoping that it might find its way inside.
“So are you going to tell me who you’re not allowed to have?” Namjoon asks again. “Or do I have to let you hang here all night?”
“My secretary...” You give in with a whisper, hoping that Taehyung won’t hear.
“And what’s his name? Say it and I’ll give you what you want.”
The deal is too good for you to resist, you last only a couple more seconds before finally giving in. Crying out, “Jimin,” as two of Namjoon’s fingers breach you. Your sopping slit squelching as he curls his fingers.
“There it is.” Namjoon sighs, his other hand brushing your cheek. “Is he the reason you’re so worked up tonight babygirl?”
“Y-yes sir.” You stutter as his fingers continue. He gives you another minute of bliss before removing his digits.
“You’re going to do something for me, okay?” Namjoon asks. You nod as he continues to hold your face. “That man between your legs, you are going to fuck him and imagine Jimin as you do so, is that clear?”
“Yes sir.”
“Is that okay with you pet?” He asks the other occupant, who still remains silent with his answers. The sound of another condom wrapper, comes as your confirmation. Taehyung lets out an unexpected high pitched whine, likely due to the pressure that comes with the latex being rubbed down his shaft. You’re already so invested in the lie that he’s even starting to sound like Jimin.
Namjoon is once again behind you. You can hear the rattle of the length of chain that holds you up and as he sinks back into you, his cock slipping in far easier this time, your body gladly welcomes the fullness of his intrusion. He then lowers you inch by inch, with little strength left in your legs you are relying only on the restraints and Namjoon to hold you up. After gaining a bit more freedom you can feel the tip of a cock brushing up against you. Namjoon’s arm comes to rest on your thigh as he lines the erection up for you to take it inside. It’s a slow descent, as you stretch to accommodate both of them. Your thankful Namjoon’s mercy for easing you down gradually.
When you bottom out Namjoon pulls the chain down from the rafters he releases the length from your cuffs, but rather than discarding it he attaches it to your collar, tugging on it as if it’s a leash. Though your hands are still bound together you have the freedom to rest them on the man laying down in front of you. You take pleasure in dragging the tips of your fingers across his skin, feeling his abs flex and his cock twitch inside you as you do so.
Namjoon starts to thrust, keeping a close hold on your collar. While he pushes you are sent up and down on what you desperately want to be Jimin’s thick cock. After a few thrusts you are shoved forward entirely by Namjoon, colliding with the man beneath you. Your chest is pushed into his, as your bound hands are pinned between the two of you. While your head is left to rest on his shoulder, the tip of your nose is able to graze his neck. As you breathe in your mind continues to play tricks, the smell coming off him mimics that of the cologne your secretary wears, rather than the scent of Taehyung.
Namjoon must have unbound his legs as they bend up to cradle your own from behind his hips bucking into yours, with both men taking you at a steady pace.
You move in closer to his neck, with a lick you taste the salt of his skin showing your intentions. Biting down on the spot, you suck in deeply as your teeth dig in even harder. The carnal groans you receive from him sending shivers to your spine. There’s the sound of a soft slap, Namjoon didn’t hit you, but the man beneath you returns to his ordered silence.
Namjoon thrusts even harder, pushing you into his chest repeatedly. The thought of being fucked into Jimin’s embrace is too much to bear. Your cunt clenches as you continue envisioning your secretary, and how you're grinding your clit against his pelvis.
You cry out over the swelling girths inside you, knowing their both likely to come soon. Clenching down one last time you dissolve in the pleasure and contentment. Namjoon finishes first remaining inside while his pet comes too. He leaves you there laying upon your imagined Jimin, in your daze you can barely move let alone focus on reality. With a wave of exhaustion you start to slip from consciousness, but not before one last praise reaches your ears. Your delirium grants you the satisfaction of hearing the voice of Jimin whisper, “Good girl.”
...
You can’t remember the last time you slept so well. You woke early to find Namjoon had taken care of you in the night, he released your wrist cuffs, and removed your blindfold, after you had passed out from the physical exertion. The only restraint to remain was your collar which he asked you to wear today. Taehyung was sadly already gone, but you can’t deny it was nice to have Namjoon to yourself before you left.
Now as you head off to work, showered and freshly dressed, with a turtleneck hiding your gift, you check your phone for the first time. Finding a string of apologetic messages sent from Jimin in the early hours of the morning. You reply apologizing too and asking to revisit the subject as soon as you get into work. Thankfully he agrees, the smiling emoji he ends his text on sends a wave of relief through you.
You step in the front entrance of your building ready to handle and objectively listen to Jimin’s thoughts and concerns. While you wait for the elevator your phone vibrates listing a call from an unknown number. “Hello?”
“Hey it’s Taehyung. Hope you don’t mind, I stole your personal number from my father.”
“Taehyung...” Heat starts to rise in your face at the thought of last night. The elevator arrives and you quickly step in. “No, not at all, to what do I owe the honour of this call.”
“No need to be so formal,” He giggles at you.
“Sorry, habit,” You respond. “What can I do for you?”
“I wanted to thank you for yesterday...” Taehyung starts off.
But his words are soon interrupted by someone shouting, “Hold the door.” You comply, pushing the button to keep them open, while trying to keep your focus on your conversation with Taehyung.
“...It’s not often that I meet someone who I can be so open with. I called the man you recommended and I’ve scheduled my first session with him tomorrow.”
You freeze, unable to fully comprehend what he’s saying, surely he misspoke. It can’t be his first session. “W-what do you mean your first session is tomorrow? You were there-” The collar hidden beneath your turtleneck feels as though it’s tightening around your throat. “Last night, I saw you-” The line goes dead as the elevator closes and starts to ascend. It was Taehyung in the bed with you and Namjoon last night. You saw... nothing you saw nothing because of the blindfolded that you were asked to wear.
“Everything okay?” You jump at the sound of the other voice, forgetting that some else had gotten into the elevator. Looking up you find Jimin there beaming at you, his head tilted from his query.
“Namjoon,” You flutter with your phone, too panicked to even greet your secretary properly. “I need to call Namjoon.” But the line won’t connect, not with you in the elevator. “Fuck...” You try again your patience not willing to wait the minute it’ll take to disembark on your floor.
You are almost there when the elevator shudders and stops. The sudden halt sends you off balance, but Jimin’s there to grab hold of you before you can fall. You thank him before stepping back and putting a bit of distance between the two of you again.
Jimin turns his attention to the panel, pushing the call button, he waits for someone to answer, but the call remains silent.
While he continues in his attempt to make contact, every scene of the night before floods back to your memory as you try to piece everything together. It was Taehyung, it had to be. He must just be playing a stupid joke. He was surely going to shout ‘gotcha’ before the phone disconnected, but you won’t know for certain until someone can get you off this blasted lift. You sink to the floor and Jimin follows, unable to reach anyone on the outside.
Despite your best efforts to rationalize what happened, your panicked breaths fail to slow, Spots start appearing in your vision as the elevator sways around you. Your breakfast threatens to make another appearance on the polished marble floor.
“It’ll be fine. Someone will notice soon.” Jimin attempts to comfort you but even that won’t quash the fear raging inside you.
“It’s not just that...” You whisper. “Something happened last night. I need to call Namjoon, I need to figure out...” Who was actually in that bed with you. Your confusion and panic break free sending you into a fit of tears as you hug your knees to your chest.
“Hush, it’s okay.” Jimin readjusts, moving in front of you and taking your hands in his. He leans towards you as he whispers in your ear. “Don’t cry babygirl.”
Your eyes snap to look at Jimin in alarm. Your prior worries are nothing compared to the terror which takes hold now. “H-how do you know that name?” Your stuttered words barely make their way past your lips.
“I think you know the answer to that question.” He pulls at the collar of his shirt allowing you to spot a large red mark on his neck, right where you had bitten the man you once thought to be Taehyung. “I wanted to wait a bit longer, I wanted more moments like we had last night but it would seem that someone had to go and ruin it.” You pull back but Jimin’s hands shift to take hold of your wrists, mimicking the manacles that embraced you the night before. “Are you not happy babygirl? You got your wish. And I... I got what I’ve always wanted.”
“This is so wrong Jimin! You knew I thought you were someone else! You knew that I wouldn’t have done that last night if I knew the truth.”
“Even though I was the one you really wanted babygirl?”
“Stop calling me that! Just because of what happened last night does not make me yours. You lied to Namjoon. You said that I sent you. You told him you were Taehyung!”
Jimin gives a wicked laugh in response to your accusations. “Oh, but you are mine. Namjoon is the one who’s been keeping things from you. He’s been in my employ far longer than yours.” He coos as his fingers tighten their grip on you. “I was the reason you were introduced to him, and I was the one who bestowed you with that name shortly after.”
“No, that’s not possible, Namjoon and I, we met at a charity event.”
“Hosted by my father. Where I told him to make himself known to you, to entice you to become one of his pets. I may have acted the sub last night but I am the one who holds Namjoon’s reins, I always have.”
“No he would never do that! He’s considerate and-”
“Had so much to gain by dominating you on my behalf. Money, power, and an assurance of safety, he would’ve been a fool to turn my offer down. Especially since you were so willing to play along with him. I dare say he enjoyed his time with you, but I was the one who permitted him to touch you. I was there to listen, to read, and to direct every conversation. Those gifts he told you to wear to the office, they were all from me.” He lets go of one of your wrists to pull down the neck of your shirt. Revealing the leather band strapped around your neck. “Today it’s the collar, yesterday it was the corset, and a few weeks ago...” Jimin smirks as he recalls the memory to your mind. “You barely made it through that meeting thanks to my gift.”
It’s impossible to swallow the admissions coming from him, but regardless of what may be true or false, you won’t stand for any of it. “You’ve had your fun, but this ends now.” You reach up attempting to remove the collar but Jimin pushes you to the floor pinning your arms above you as he straddles you. The elevator wavers from the struggle, teetering as you lay captive beneath him.
“I don’t think you understand the situation you’ve placed yourself in. I hold in my possession your darkest secrets. One’s that will ruin you if they make their way out. Your illegal activity with a sex worker, your inappropriate sexual conduct with your secretary. Not to mention the names and dubious activities of every client you’ve recommended to Namjoon’s services.”
“Why... why are you doing this?”
“Because you found me. I worked so hard to exploit my father from the outside, getting everything I wanted without the threat of public exposure. I couldn’t let you ruin it all. When we first met I considered you a threat, but then I saw how easy and enjoyable it was to mould to my will. The more intimate you become with someone the more power you give them over you. Simply being your secretary isn’t enough, not if I want you in a more pliable state.” Jimin hushed whisper mixes with a haunting giggle as his lips come to your ear. “I plan to bend you to fit every one of my needs.”
“You’re psychotic!” You lash out trying to throw him off but he stems your revolt by planting himself further down on to you, sitting on your chest as the elevator sways.
“Psychotic? No, I am simply a man who found his passion amidst his revenge. I know what I desire, and vengeance has taught me how best to take it. So if you want to keep yourself and everything else around you from falling, I suggest you play along like a good girl. Or I promise you, my punishments won’t be as kind as what you’ve experienced before.”
“What is it that you want?” You ask, already fearing his answer. He has you trapped in a gilded cage with him, where one misstep will send you plummeting to meet your end. Nothing that comes accompanied by such threats can be palatable.
“At work? To keep the status quo, I’ll remain your secretary, only so I can keep a better hold on you.”
“Hoseok won’t agree to that. He already thinks I should ditch you. I should have listened to him.”
“Then you will make him agree or he might have an accident, much like your accountant did. He too thought we were too close, even threatened to say something. Don’t worry I saved us from him, just as I’ll save us from Hoseok if you can’t convince him to back off. Do you think you can get him to agree now?”
You give a solemn nod, with Hoseok on the line you have no choice.
“After hours, we’ll drop the middleman.” Jimin lowers himself further on to you, laying down on top, his weight flattening you to the floor. With his head coming to rest on your restrained arm as he whispers further plans. “Every night you’ll come to me instead, and every morning you’ll have a new gift to wear. When we step off this elevator you’ll act as if nothing is wrong. You will go about business as usual, is that clear babygirl?”
You stifle a sob staring directly up and away from his eyes, not daring to give him the satisfaction of your fear. With little else to cling to, all you can do is agree for the time being, as much as it pains you, you choke out your compliance. “Yes...”
“Yes what?” Jimin purrs, his lips faintly touching your ear. “Address me properly, or I will find ways to discipline you right here on this lift.” His fingers tighten and nails bite into your skin.
“Yes sir,” you whine as a plea for him to stop.
Jimin mercifully lessens his hold on your wrists, hitting you instead with a smirk and befouled praise. “Good girl. I knew you’d finally see that I’m worth the risk.”
...
#bts smut#yandere bts#namjoon smut#taehyung smut#jimin smut#namjoon x reader#taehyung x reader#jimin x reader#bts x reader#bts fanfic#bts fanfiction#bts reader insert#bts thriller au#bts office au#yandere jimin#namjoon#taehyung#jimin#kim namjoon#kim taehyung#park jimin#bts level of restraint
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D&D: By wastefulreverie: Lester, Mikey, and Nathan were standing beside him. Mikey was fumbling with three jagged-sided dice while Lester and Nathan glared at each other. Realizing that he was awake, Lester broke eye contact with Nathan. Awkwardly, he put his hand on Danny's shoulder. "Do you want to join our campaign?" he blurted.
Danny tilted his head skeptically, "Join your what?"
Additional Tags: Dungeons and Dragons, friendship, humor, [really enjoyed the irony in this one]
Making Something Out of Nothing: By wastefulreverie: When Ishiyama calls Danny into her office, the last thing he expected was to be offered a job.
Additional Tags: Post-reveal, Teacher! Danny,
Tiny Little Pieces of Ours: By Bellovebug: Danny Fenton was a dreamer. A dreamer of stars, of galaxies, of spaceships and sunsets and snow. He was a dreamer of wildflowers in the forest, of messages left on the insides of folders set up to take a test, of Polaroids an unknown person has dropped on the street. He was a dreamer of the things that didn't matter, because the things that did scared him.
But dreams don't last forever. And when Danny is gone, he leaves many in his wake.
(Or, a look at Danny's death, and the lives of the people in his life afterwards.)
Additional Tags: Major Character Death, hurt Danny, grieving, Sam and Tucker Centric, [This one hurt so much, but is very beautifully written. Still hurts even now lmao]
A Play to Remember: By AppleScentedLazers: When Danny's drama class puts on a play and Fenton is cast as his own crime fighting counterpart, what's the worst that could happen? With a new villain rising and lines to learn, the people of Amity start to see that there may be more to their resident ghost boy than meets the eye.
Additional Tags: Angst, [interesting reveal concept! more in-depth A-listers]
I’m Still Here: By Cordria: Buried in the backyard, Danny's locked away in a forgotten Thermos. When it's finally found seventy years later, Danny is released and he needs to learn to deal with his new life. Can he survive what the future can throw at him?
Additional Tags: Angst [definitely nostalgic angst]
The Scrapbook: By Dragon Elexus: Fearful of Jazz's idolism of the ghost-boy, Maddie tries to protect her daughter by stealing her Phantom scrapbook. But the book sparks strange questions in Maddie's mind, and she finds herself stumbling on secrets she never knew existed. Pre-PP.
Additional Tags: Family
Exposed: By ADraconicScribe: A mysterious caller has revealed that the infamous Danny Phantom is half-human, placing a five hundred thousand dollar prize to the one who exposes Phantom's secret identity. Coupled with Vlad's disappearance, the ghost fighting, and all of the efforts to capture him, Danny and his friends must tread carefully if they are to make it out with their secrets, and their lives, intact.
Additional Tags: angst, BAMF Danny Fenton, Identity Reveal, Sam and Tucker are good friends, [I cannot stress how amazing this fic is, extremely well written, such an intense plot. Endless twists and turns, so so good.]
Maybe We’ll Find Each Other: By DP_Marvel94: Phantom, the adoptive son of Clockwork, doesn't remember his life but wishes he did. Jack Fenton, ghost hunter, lost his only son at a young age. When the portal activates, a newly half-human Phantom stumbles into Jack's lab, barely a painfully familiar blue-eyed, black haired form.
Additional Tags: Full ghost to half ghost Phantom, Ghosts think halfas are abominations, father-son relationship, but neither know they’re parent and child [very very interesting story, super cool concept!]
Katzenjammer: By DannyPhantomSG1, sapphireswimming: Danny's had enough. Of everything. But thankfully Tucker understands.
Additional Tags: Oneshot, Half Ghost Angst, Hurt/comfort, Friendship
Hope Can Be a Heavy Thing to Hold: By DP_Marvel94: " I woke up here, wherever here is, with no memories. He told me my name is Daniel James Masters. He told me I am a human-ghost hybrid, like him. He told me he is my father. But I know that’s a lie; there is no way Vlad Masters, my captor is my parent. I know I have a real home somewhere out there. I have a family and friends who love me. Too bad I can’t remember anything about them."
Additional Tags: Amnesia, child abuse, Diary/journal, poor Danny can’t remember anything
Abigail the Tree Girl: By EchoGhost: Danny didn’t see his first ghost at 14.
Additional Tags: Haunted Amity Park, Danny has always been weird, clueless Danny
Just Fourteen: By aniura: Danny Fenton is an average high school student whose biggest worry is getting the grades needed to become an astronaut. That is, until his friend Sam convinces him to step inside his parents' broken ghost portal...Updates bi-weekly on Sundays. Covers Danny's time at Casper High before the accident and the month afterwards.
Additional Tags: Angst, origin, the accident, Danny is NOT okay, [really cool fic that fills in the gaps that weren’t delved into during the show]
The Phantom and the Knight: By savya398: After two years Danny Fenton finally felt like he was getting this whole superhero thing under control. So of course something had to come along and ruin everything.
Additional Tags: Danny Phantom/Young Justice, DC Animated Universe, [little twist on Danny’s origins]
Six Degrees of Separation: By Miss_Nihilist: Valerie Gray was not one for doubt and regret, but that was before she fell in love — and then, promptly and without a second thought, threw it away.
She wasn't looking for them to get back together or even to automatically be friends again. But maybe, just maybe, Valerie could get a second chance at being a decent person. For Danny, for herself, and for all the mistakes she had made.
Additional Tags: Moving On, Post break-up, hurt/comfort, identity reveal
Three for the Price of One: By Marsalias: They had only meant to summon ONE ghost...
Additional Tags: cult, summoning
When the Kingdom Comes Calling: By blueh: The Ghost Zone population assumes that Phantom took the crown with dignity. What they don’t know is fifteen year old Danny Fenton just wants to graduate high school, is constantly ready to throw hands with an army of eyeballs, and absolutely will not be crowned the Ghost King without a fight.
Additional Tags: Not PP compliant, ghost king Danny Fenton, fluff and humor, reluctant king au, [so funny and so on character for a little shit like Danny oof]
#lets pretend its friday and not saturday ok lmao#Phanfic Friday#Danny Phantom#danny phantom fanfiction#fics recs#danny fenton#valerie gray#sam manson#Tucker Foley
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Masterlist | Next
Pairing: AU!Sukuna x Reader
Word Count: 813
Warnings: alcohol, swearing, references to a bad relationship and breakup, smoking
A/N: This oneshot was originally posted here. I’ve made a few small changes here and there. But a bigger change is that the reader’s ex is no longer gender neutral. (I have plans for later... 😈)
It’s a Friday night, and all you want is to go back to your dorm, put on your comfiest clothes, and watch the latest episode of your favorite TV show. Instead, you’re at a crowded, noisy bar with your friends, celebrating the end of midterms.
They repeatedly begged you to come out tonight. And against your better judgement, you finally relented. Now you’re just past the point of tipsy, leaning against the sticky bar, waiting to order another round of tequila shots.
You blame the dim lighting for not recognizing him sooner — your classmate, Sukuna, mixing drinks and pouring beers from the taps on the wall like he’s been doing this for years. Maybe he has. After all, you don’t really know him. It’s more like you know of him.
Tonight, he’s wearing a v-neck tee that hugs his biceps, and you can see the bold, black lines of his tattoos winding down his arms and around his wrists. He’s currently talking to a patron, and he looks bored. He always looks bored. That’s one of the first things you noticed about him.
Well, that and his shitty attitude.
You suppose you’re lucky that he’s barely said two words to you. He’s well-known for his verbal eviscerations. If he doesn’t like you, or he doesn’t have the patience to deal with you, he never hesitates to make it very clear, in a painfully condescending tone.
You’re surprised when he glances over at you, making brief eye contact before the frat bro in front of him waves a hand directly in his face. Big mistake, asshole, you think, stifling a laugh as Sukuna’s eyes narrow.
That’s when you spot him — your ex. He’s sitting in a corner booth with his friends, arm slung around his latest hookup. Your eyes can’t help but linger on that familiar, lazy smile. He looks so relaxed, like he didn’t do his damnedest to ruin your life just two months ago.
Suddenly feeling like it’s hard to breathe, you turn, trying not to stumble as you seek out the nearest exit. You end up in the narrow alley next to the bar, leaning against the brick building as you force yourself to take deep breaths, your exhales creating tiny clouds in the frigid night air.
“Hey.”
You jump, turning to find that Sukuna is only a few feet away, having come outside for a smoke break. In the dark, with a cigarette pinched between his fingers, he looks even more like a stereotypical bad boy than he usually does.
“You’re in my psych lecture, right?”
“I’m surprised you noticed.”
He doesn’t say anything, but he closes the distance between you, leaning against the wall as he peers down at you. Thin smoke drifts up in wisps around his face.
“You okay?”
Maybe it’s because you don’t know him. Maybe it’s the tequila. Or maybe it’s just a desperate need to be honest — to finally admit to someone that no, you’re not okay. But you tell him. You tell him everything, and he stands there, listening, his dark eyes never leaving your face.
By the time you’re done, your face is tear-stained and cold, and you’ve wrapped your arms around yourself in an effort to keep warm. Sukuna is silent for a long moment, and then he drops his cigarette on the pavement, crushing it beneath his boot.
“Wait here. I’ll be right back.”
He throws the door open and walks inside. A few minutes later, he returns, a black leather jacket over one shoulder. He tosses it to you. “Put that on. You’re shivering.” You do as he says, and he heaves a sigh, staring up at the clouds gathering overhead.
“I’m gonna take you home.”
“But my friends —”
“They’ll get over it.”
You open your mouth to protest again, and suddenly he’s leaning down towards you, his face inches away from yours. He looks pissed. But you’re not sure if it’s you or the situation that’s frustrating him.
You freeze when he reaches up, brushing a lightly calloused thumb across the top of your cheek, wiping at the lingering tears. Instinctively, you avoid his gaze, instead staring at the peek of tattoos visible around his collarbone.
But when he says, gruffly, “Look at me,” you can’t help but do so. His expression seems torn between irritation and something softer — a look you’ve never seen cross his face.
“Fuck ‘em. Your ex.” He straightens up to his full height, seemingly unbothered by the cold, even in just a t-shirt. “Let’s go. Before you throw up or pass out.”
“I’m not that drunk.”
“Yeah, yeah... Whatever. It’s not like I care, anyway.”
But even so, as he walks you back in the direction of the dorms, he stays noticeably close to you, his arm occasionally brushing against yours.
He even lets you keep the jacket.
#tough love 🖤#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#ryomen sukuna#sukuna#au sukuna#ryomen sukuna x reader#sukuna x reader
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It Takes A Man- Ray Diaz x Reader (2)
Pairing: Ray Diaz x Reader
Warning(s): Language, angsty feels, mentions of cheating, SMUT
Summary: In the aftermath of your night with Ray, you struggle to move on from the Diaz men, but find difficulty in forgetting the man in question. What happens when you reunite?
A/N: This will not be a full-length story, I think it’ll just be a fun little miniseries that I’ll work on between drabbles and oneshots, but so many of you loved the first part that I couldn’t help but post the sequel earlier than anticipated. Enjoy, my little deviants!
Part 1
You huffed, barely making it through your front door before the handfuls of grocery bags collapsed at your feet. You cringed, shaking your head upwards at the thought of how all the fresh fruit you just bought at the corner bodega was now bruised. Shuffling your feet, you prodded the cans of various sauces and whatnot out of your way, casually closing the front door with your foot and tossed your purse on the nearby sofa.
Your new apartment had finally been put together in your hasty move from the Diaz household. The drive was not so bad, it was long enough to put distance between Oscar and yourself so that you two could avoid any awkward/angry confrontations on the street. But you were relieved, as was Cesar, that it was no more than a 15-minute drive, 25-minute to half hour walk in case the youngest Diaz brother and his friends ever wished to stop by. The pang in your chest whenever your thoughts drifted towards Cesar was still an entirely fresh wound. The way he yelled and cried in your arms the night he came home still made your e/c eyes well up with tears. You would never forgive yourself for the role you played in the separation. Oscar was by no means innocent; his actions were unforgiveable. He cheated on you more times than you would ever care to admit. He made a fool out of the one person who held him down, the one constant in his life. And you would be lying if you said you weren’t still bitter.
Cesar knew the breakup was looming, in the months leading up to that fateful night you and Oscar had gone for each other’s throats. Initially he only left the house to take care of ‘’Santo business’’ but the smell of cheap perfume contradicted that immediately. Despite your valiant efforts, Cesar walked in on you once or twice just crying your eyes out until they became so painfully puffy. History certainly repeated itself in the Diaz house. The only difference was that you managed to get out in, mentally exhausted but physically fine, while his mother had overdosed not two years after Ray was locked up. Cesar partially felt betrayed by everyone involved. Oscar, Ray, and even you. But Oscar had been the real target of Cesar’s anger and hurt. Had Oscar not made Cesar join the Santos, Cesar would’ve had a normal life and possible ticket outside of Freeridge. Had Oscar not been a complete jerk to you, Cesar could’ve had some resemblance of a family left. He still had you, he still had Oscar. But it was never going to be the same.
That said, what you and Ray had done was anything but innocent. ‘’Fuck,’’ you huffed, tossing your keys in the dish by the entryway. As much as you probably should’ve forgotten all about that night. As much as you tried to dismiss the reminiscing, you found yourself in a losing battle. About the way Ray had felt filling you. The drag and pull movements of his manhood along your velvety walls. You involuntarily shivered and cursed yourself as your mind clouded over in a haze of lust.
‘’No. . .no, we aren’t going back there,’’ you chided, working to tidy up the place. ‘No matter how much I may long to. . .’ you mentally noted as your actions quickened in a pathetic attempt to block the mental image of Ray hovering over you, filling your tightness. The familiar pitter patter of butterflies in your abdomen alerted you of your arousal. The blush that steadily spread across your cheeks did the same.
Ray and you had seldom spoken in the nearly 40 days it took for you to find an apartment in a safe part of Freeridge (upon Oscar’s insistence, to your shock) and for you to gather your belongings and move out (thanks to the efforts of Sad Eyes and Tito, also upon Oscar’s insistence and your shock). When you had said a quick goodbye to your ex of five years and the boy you practically raised since he was a small fourth grader, the longing look in Ray’s eyes was not lost on you. Whereas Cesar walked you to your car, Oscar hung back on the porch trying his best to seem unbothered, Ray leaned against the side gate of the house. A cigarette hung loosely between his lips as he made sure to stay out of Oscar’s line of vision. You didn’t need to look up at him to know he was watching you. To know that look in his eyes. You had the same look as you drove way, only concealing it as to avoid another fist fight between Oscar and his father.
The apartment itself was nice and homey. Your job in real estate, selling mostly houses in Brentwood, made sure that you could afford nicer furniture, a stocked fridge, and lunch money for Cesar. He would alternate, opting to camp out on your charcoal gray couch while Oscar enjoyed the benefits of a newly single life back home. You feigned ignorance or uncaringness whenever Cesar showed up late at night with a sympathetic look in his deep brown eyes, but every time you thought about the girls drifting in and out of the only home you had truly known the past five years, your heart clenched in your throat.
Sad Eyes had been another figure who graced your doorstep every now and then. He insisted it was because of the friendship you and he had maintained since high school, but something told you he was keeping tabs on you. The one, single one night stand you had partaken in a few nights ago just so happened to be cut short (too short) when Sad Eyes conveniently began pounding on the door. The situation had Oscar’s hypocritical jealous antics written all over it. Nonetheless, Jose was a good friend of yours’ and he along with Tito and the other Santos were a big help in setting up the place to your liking.
As you drifted around the entertainment area, around the balcony, and around the kitchen watering your various plants, your brows furrowed. The one person who hadn’t really visited you, aside from Oscar of course, was the one man you couldn’t stop thinking about.
Your night with Ray was far too passionate, or so you thought, to be just a one-time thing. As sick and twisted it might be, as horrible of a person that made you, you couldn’t help but yearn to have another night with the Diaz patriarch. Subconsciously, your hand drifted to your collarbone, sighing through your nose as visions of his strong, rough hands exploring your flesh resonated within you. Part of you shrunk back into your shell, your subconscious telling you that Oscar had clearly taken after his father when it came to breaking hearts. That Ray probably hadn’t been with a woman since being released from prison. That you were just an easy fix, a convenience for him in the form of an insecure and emotionally exhausted hyna. He didn’t see you anything other than a tight hole to keep his dick warm. You bit your lip, hands clutching the kitchen counter until your knuckles turned nearly pale.
But the other part of you felt in your bones that it was not just an easy fix. That, yes lust fueled and spurred his actions, but there was something about the way he looked at you as you drove away from the house. Something that screamed ‘’more.’’ An enchanting, debauching look. Interest, maybe, but still more all the same. More.
Your fingers danced down the valley of your breasts, down your abdomen, until your fingertips made contact with the top of your leggings. Admittedly, you had forgone wearing underwear this particular day, out of laziness, but you were certainly not complaining as your fingers met the wetness of your tight folds. An airy sigh escaped your lips, eyes closed as those fingers danced along your sensitive folds like little ballerinas.
Your other hand began kneading your still clothed breasts, becoming rougher in an attempt to mirror the way Ray had done. Whether it was the forbidden, sinful nature of that night or not, no other man, not even Oscar had made you feel so erotic the way Ray Diaz had. Your eyelids fluttered shut as your moans steadily flowed past your lips like a gentle choir. The middle finger curled in the depths of your core, your index finger gently rolling the sensitive pearl above. The faster your digits worked, the easier it became to imagine Ray’s touch. The smell of his shampoo with the slight musk of his sweat from working out in the front lawn. The way he grunted every time he slammed into your core. The way his eyes went nearly black from pure lust and primal desire when he looked over your quivering form.
‘’R-Ray,’’ you whimpered to yourself, panting as your fingers worked diligently.
‘’Don’t stop, nena.’’
Your eyes flew wide open, your mouth following suit as the man of the hour stood in your front door, learning against the frame. That infamous, lopsided Diaz smirk left no room to question where his boys got it from.
‘’Don’t stop on my account,’’ he repeated, uncomfortably shifting his weight to his other leg, a very noticeable bulge catching your attention immediately. You gulped.
‘’How the f-fuc. . .wha. . .why?’’ you screeched, hand quickly retreating from your pulsing, needy pussy much to your discomfort. You were convinced that he could feel the heat of your blush from across the room.
‘’The front door was unlocked. I know it’s a safer neighborhood, but you still need to-‘’
‘’I meant why the hell are you here?’’ you didn’t mean to sound as bitchy as it had came out, but you were slightly jilted from the way he had ignored you the pas several weeks.
No calls. No texts. No surprise visits. Until now.
The smirk faded from his handsome face, becoming more serious although his eyes showed the slightest hint of a mix of shame and sorrow.
‘’Y/n,’’ he sighed, eyes turning to look down at the floor. It was amazing how, for a split second, the father of two and former Santos member had morphed into a nervous young man. You could almost pinpoint what he looked like younger.
You stilled, heart still racing violently in your chest. He had rarely called you by your name before. Even before you two had sex, it had always been ‘’nena’’ or ‘’mamacita.’’ In fact, you were sure he only used your name once. When he came inside you and sealed your fate. You suppressed a shiver, but Ray quickly caught the effect he still had on you. He regained some of his courage, standing up straight. Your eyes quickly surveyed the way his muscles automatically flexed as his arms folded up and crossed his chest. Damn him.
‘’I’m sorry I haven’t called or visited. . .I wasn’t sure if you wanted anything to do with me considering. . .,’’ his thoughts trailed off, not wanting to discuss the way Oscar had blown up after catching you. One thing you admired about Oscar, that despite his temper he never laid a hand on you. He would rage and toss some furniture in the opposite direction and yell like a madman. But his rage was mostly directed at Ray that night.
‘’We need to talk to you, hermano,’’ Oscar’s deep voice cut the silence as you resisted the urge to glare at the Santos’ leader.
‘’Okayyy?’’ Cesar offered an awkward smile, sitting at the dinner table. The same dinner table that just moments prior had been flung on its’ side as Oscar raged throughout the house. You had barely tossed the scattered food into the trash can before Cesar walked in.
Ray cleared his throat and retreated to the side door of the house, probably smoking a cigarette to calm his nerves as the ‘’adults’’ had their talk.
‘’Cesar,’’ you started, reaching across the table to gently grasp his hand. When had he gotten so big? You never once tried to be the mother he had lost to drugs as a five-year-old. You never took away the authority figure that was forcibly bestowed onto Oscar. You were just Y/n; his brother’s girlfriend. But you knew you were the closest thing Cesar ever had to a mother/motherly figure. And you had fucked it all up.
‘’What’s going on?’’ his thick brows knotted in confusion. You hesitantly glanced at Oscar, him biting back a glare towards you as he sighed.
‘’Y/n is moving out,’’ he mumbled and if you didn’t know Oscar any better, you could’ve sworn there was a hint of sadness in his voice.
‘’Wait.. . what?’’ it broke your heart hearing the confusion and panic in Cesar’s voice.
‘’Cesar, it’s ok. I’ll still be here whenever you need me. It’s just,’’ you trailed off, your own voice wavering as you tried to muster up the best way to explain things.
‘’No it’s not ‘ok.’ Why are you leaving us? Leaving me?’’ Cesar’s voice steadily rose, yanking his hand away from you. The gesture made you wince.
‘’Cesar,’’ Oscar’s tone slowly shifted to that of Spooky.
‘’No! Tell me why she’s leaving. Why is she really leaving!’’ Cesar stood up abruptly, nearly knocking the chair to the floor. Somewhere outside Ray coughed on a nicotine coated cloud. The room filled with uncomfortable silence.
‘’Cesar. Sometimes, people just fall out of love. Things happen. Life happens. Sometimes even adults make really shitty decisions and they change on each other,’’ your voice remained soft as you sadly looked up at the boy you helped raise. You resisted the urge to look at Oscar’s gutted expression, knowing that if you did you would surely lose it. It had been that exact moment you regretted not leaving the house as soon as Ray walked in just hours before.
Cesar’s gaze softened as he looked down at you, but once his chocolate brown hues fell upon his brother, they quickly hardened with anger.
‘’You did this. . .you fucking had to get your dick wet that bad that you didn’t even consider her! She did everything for us! For you! She was there for me when you weren’t! You were too busy being Spooky that you couldn’t be fucking bothered!’’ he snarled.
‘’Watch your fucking mouth, Lil Spooky,’’ Oscar steadily rose on his two feet, towering over Cesar. You stood as well, ready to jump into the lion’s den if necessary.
Cesar scoffed, a mocking smile on his lips before it quickly gave way to the coldest glare. He looked nearly identical to Oscar. ‘’You’ve given Ray so much shit for leaving us and abandoning his family. . .in reality you’re no better.’’
Oscar lunged forward, the two brothers tangled up as fists were flying.
‘’Oscar stop!’’ you screamed, throwing yourself into your ex, dodging fists left and right. Ray barged back into the house, getting a grip of Oscar as you shoved Cesar in the opposite way. The sound of Oscar’s fist coming into contact with Ray’s jaw echoed throughout the house.
‘’Get the fuck off of me! Get the fuck off of me!’’ Oscar snarled, desperately trying to shove his father off him to no avail. What Ray lacked in height when it came to Oscar, he made up with in strength. You could see Ray struggling to rein in his anger and maintain his grip on his son. Tears filled your eyes as well as Cesar’s as the two of you fell to the floor, watching the two men struggle.
‘’Had enough?’’ Ray grunted. He still smelled like you, and that more than anything broke Oscar.
Oscar managed to shove the Diaz patriarch off, falling back against the wall as he huffed, tears clouding his vision. His eyes fell on you and for once, he saw the damage his infidelities caused blow up in his face. His baby brother crying into your arms, begging it all to stop as you cried to yourself in the corner. Both of you looked so small, you looked so defeated. He had fucked up. You met his broken gaze, shaking your head as if you could will all of this to evaporate. You had fucked up. The next morning, you began looking around Freeridge for apartments. The next few weeks, Oscar helped you load up your car as you moved twenty-five minutes away from the only home you knew. The day after that? You gathered the rest of your belongings and bit back a sob as you held Cesar in a crushing hug. As you looked over his shoulder, you saw Oscar leaning against the porch’s structure, biting his lip as he looked down at you, fighting the urge to ask you to stay. To work through it. But he quickly realized that was what he had been asking of you throughout all of these years. And that is why he remained silent as you pulled out of the Diaz’s driveway. He didn’t move until your car was out of sight.
You shook your head, leaning against the island in the middle of your kitchen. Your hands rubbed and massaged at your temples, biting down on your bottom lip to prevent the tears from falling. ‘’That was on me,’’ you whispered, voice croaking with emotion. You jumped when you felt Ray’s strong hand on your shoulder. You gasped as a jolt of electricity passed through the two of you. Judging from the quick intake of breath, Ray felt it too.
‘’I’m so sorry,’’ he whispered. You straightened out, looking up at Ray despite still only reaching his collar bone. The inner struggle was clear as day in Ray’s eyes. He was undoubtfully attracted to you. But more than that, he admired you. The way you cared for his sons. The way you managed to handle the lifestyle of the Santos while still obtaining your classy demeanor. You were capable of holding down a family. And although you were insecure thanks to what his eldest son had put you through, Ray wanted nothing more than to reassure you of your worth.
You hesitated for just a moment, before lunging upwards and meeting Ray in a passionate kiss. A kiss that conveyed all the words you wished to say, but didn’t have the strength to voice. His hands clutched your hip and cradled the side of your neck as he returned the kiss tenfold. Whether it was lust, genuine interest, curiosity, or some weird concoction of all three you found it entirely all too easy to throw caution to the wind around this man.
You nipped at Ray’s bottom lip playfully, biting back a grin when you solicited a low moan from him. Pride be damned. Morals be damned. You had no obligation to Oscar anymore. Cesar didn’t need to know about this. It would just be a secret between the two of you.
The whimper that escaped your lips as he forcefully tugged off your top sent shivers down Ray’s spine. He grunted when his eyes feasted on the exposed skin. Without him even asking you, you unclasped your bra and stood topless in front of him. He dove down, expertly taking your nipple into his hot mouth and began twirling his tongue around your hardened bud. You moaned mewled, hands running through his short hair and roaming his broad, muscled back. Your eyes rested on the faded Santos cross on his arm, whimpering when he nipped at your sensitive skin.
‘’R-Ray,’’ you moaned lowly, mouth falling open when his hand made contact with your ass in a playful slap. You had no time to recover before he pulled away from you, gently turning you so that your front was pushed and pinned against the cool surface of the granite island. You hissed as your already hard, sensitive tits pressed against the freezing surface. You rested your cheek against the counter, shivering as Ray yanked down your leggings.
‘’Fuck,’’ he moaned, seeing your wet core fully exposed and presented to him.
‘’You’re going to be the death of me mami,’’ he whispered, pressing his bulge against your gaping hole. You bit your lip at the heat that emitted from his still clothed cock. You knew what was awaiting you and your insides coiled at the anticipation.
Each of his massive hands took a firm hold on the globes of your ass, gripping them and spreading you apart so that you were on full display under him. You let out a shaky breath between panting when his hot saliva met your tightness. His thumb spread it against your folds, teasing your clit before diving two fingers into your awaiting cunt. Ray all but growled at the way you gripped his digits. The delicious way you pulsed and clenched excitedly around his middle and index finger. He found himself constantly thinking, ‘I could get used to this.’
‘’Ray,’’ your needy voice broke him out of his thoughts as he folded over you, you feeling ever muscle of his chest against your bare back as he pressed light kisses against your shoulder before finally meeting your cheek and then your plump lips.
‘’I need you,’’ you whispered, leaning into his kisses and sighing when you heard him pull himself from his pants.
‘’You have me, princessa,’’ he grunted, working himself with one hand as the other tangled with yours’. ‘’You have me, all of me,’’ he groaned thrusting his hips forward and filling you with a brutal, singular thrust. You cried out, the burn of him stretching your tight canal was familiar and slightly painful, but divine all at once. His hand clenched yours, as if assuring you that you were ok, his lips still kissing the tears that threatened to escape the corners of your eyes.
‘’Fuck y/n,’’ he groaned, savoring the feel of his cock dragging within your tight pussy, pulling you back towards him as bit, only for you to bounce forward as he thrusted back into your core. He set a fast, brutal pace as the sounds of his thrusts echoed off the walls. You were grateful that your neighbors were at work, the wanton mewls and cries that escaped your lips would’ve surely caught their attention. As his hand held yours throughout the entire time he fucked into you, the other had a firm grip on your shoulder. Pinning you down so that you couldn’t slip from his cock and pulling you back to impale yourself on to his thickness.
You attempted to burn the sounds of his grunts and groans, as well as the squelching of your tight core every time his hips snapped against you from behind, but soon became overwhelmed. He was heavy and hot inside of you. You could feel exactly where he was every time he was seated inside of you. Your body bounced in tune with his movements, but the feeling of his heavy, throbbing manhood in your cunt was something you’d always savor.
Before you could even speak, waves of euphoria crashed within you as your release fell over his still hard cock. You could only cry out his name, panting it out as his hold on you tightened. He pressed fully against you, curling over your back as his cock throbbed and pulsed violently, painting your insides with his release.
His arms wrapped around your front, dragging you so that you rested against his chest, impaling you on his still solid dick. With awkward movements he led you past the kitchen, into your bedroom while every step you took resulted in another jolt as you practically balanced yourself on his cock.
Ray only pulled out briefly, laying you on your back on your mattress. He hovered over you, panting as his eyes glazed over at the sight of you. Your hair sprawled out like a crown around you, chest heaving with your labored breath and the post-orgasm tremors that shook you. What really caught his attention was the sight of your pretty pussy, still impossibly tight, dripping with his load onto your sky-blue comforter.
‘’Ray,’’ you whispered, reaching up for him. He laid over you, crashing his lips against your lips, seating himself back inside you. Your hands clawed at the white tank he still had on, only or him to pull away slightly and yank it off, tossing it carelessly into the corner of your room. His sweatpants were next along with any other article of clothing he had previously worn. All that was left was himself, bare and all.
Your leggings had been long abandoned in the kitchen and the moment his bare skin met yours, your fates were sealed. It was hot, passionate, deplorable, mind-blowing, wicked, otherworldly sex. Your nails embedded themselves into his back and shoulders, your legs wrapping around his hips as they crashed into you. Your moans mingled with one another, lips and teeth occasionally clashing against each other as he moved in you.
‘’It’s been too fucking long without this tight pussy, princessa. My pussy,’’ he growled, hammering into you as you struggled to keep up with his thrusts. Your clutched the comforter beneath you as that familiar coil began curling and tightening within you. He was reaching new depths, exploring new parts of you that you didn’t even know existed. And all you could do was lay there, moan out his name, and take it.
‘’Fuck, Ray, yes, fuck it feels so good,’’ you whined, throwing your head back as he began nipping and sucking on the column on your neck.
‘’Cum for me, mi reina,’’ he grunted, every muscle flexing as he moaned and panted above you. His hands were wrapped around your hips, dragging and pulling you upwards to meet his thrusts. The coil was impossibly tight, tears running down your cheeks and falling onto the bed below from the sensation of it all.
But came you did, violently around his manhood. You shook underneath him, mouth warped into an ‘’o’’ shape as you sighed and moaned under him. His thrusts sped up, to your shock, and it all came to a close the moment he pulled you to him, tucking his face into the base of your neck as his hot, thick load filled you once more.
As he pulsed within you, your pussy clenching and unclenching from the aftermath of two mind-blowing orgasms back to back, you simply laid there. You basked in the aftermath of it all, shivering when his load began dripping out of you and pooling onto the blanket, leaving a quarter-sized dark spot in its’ path. Once your breathing returned to normal, Ray met your eyes, a softness in them. His mouth met yours in a comforting, warm kiss. He was still inside you when you closed your eyes and fell into a satisfying, deep sleep.
When you had opened your eyes, it was visibly night-time. The orange glow of the streetlights illuminated your bedroom from your sheer curtains. Ray was knocked out beside you, one muscled arm thrown over your side in a protective manner. A small smile graced your lips, widening when you felt the strangely satisfying soreness between your legs.
You quietly got out of bed, maneuvering around the apartment to get a glass of water while trying not to disturb Ray. You had no idea where this was going to lead you. You weighed the possibilities. To date your ex-boyfriend’s father just seemed so ridiculous and wrong. No matter what Oscar had put you through with his infidelities, to go ahead and enter a relationship with his father just seemed cruel to you. And what would Cesar think if he were to catch you and Ray together? At the same time, you didn’t want to say goodbye to Ray. Aside from great sex, you felt a genuine connection with him. He was older, yes, but he made you feel things that nobody ever had. You huffed, sipping on your water as you felt the beginnings of a headache approaching. A sudden knock and turn of your front door startled you to the point you nearly dropped your glass onto the hardwood floor.
‘’Y/n,’’ Cesar’s voice was muffled, but clear as day through the door.
You gulped, body stiff with shock and fear. From your bedroom, the mattress creaked as Ray sat up, eyes groggy with sleep.
‘’Y/n?’’ he called out, getting up to check what the commotion was.
‘’Fuck me,’’ you sighed, mind racing and heart rising to your throat once more. You were so fucked.
#on my block#Ray Diaz#spooky diaz#cesar diaz#omb fic#ray x reader#freeridge#ray diaz x reader#Smut#on my block smut
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