it’s still the place that jasmine and i share a cabin with eight-legged bugs who are less scary than what they serve us for lunch. but it’s just, like, i don’t mind being here because you’re here.
In this AU, I can see MX's desire for a younger body being translated into wanting lots of child/grandchildren to "carry on his legacy". Hence why he has so many kids.
But this also means he's constantly pushing his kids into getting married and having lots of children so the "Xehanort name will live on!" *insert dolphin fingers here*
Ansem silently protests this with his being married to work. He legit just isn't interested in marriage or child raising (unless you count bossing Riku around) but it's icing on the cake getting to spite MX a bit.
imagine wanting your legacy to live on but all your kids are ace
do you guys have any idea how hard it is to get over a crush when they have a habit of calling everyone “babes” and they have a silly nickname for you and they’ll often tell you goodbye by going “cya [aforementioned nickname] ily!!” do you have any clue
work has been draining mentally and i’ve been coping by falling deep down the rabbit hole of a kpop group with my best friend of 13 years... all i wanna do is sleep nowadays, it’s kind of funny that i miss school now that it’s finally over. i guess it’s just in human nature to yearn for things that we don’t have :\
STUFF NOBODY EVER TOLD YOU ABOUT TEETH (and how to take care of them if you are poor and/or depressed)
Contrary to what the US health industry would have you believe, your teeth are NOT luxury face bones. You need them. Healthy teeth are a cornerstone of good health in general for a lot of reasons. You can’t eat well without them. You need them to speak. And tooth bias is real.
This makes me very sad because I love teeth. I am not a dentist. I’m a biological anthropologist whose expertise is oral disease and the evolutionary anatomy of teeth. My dad’s an oral surgeon and I worked in his office from the tender and illegal age of 8 to the ripe old age of 18, which is when I went to college. At 12, I was assisting with the disposal of biowaste, aka packaging up the teeth to send them to dental schools. I live, breathe, sleep, and occasionally eat teeth. I found a human incisor on my floor this morning and wasn’t even surprised. I study how teeth go bad partly so that I can help living people protect the teeth they’ve got. It’s my goal with this post to teach you about a couple of different types of procedures and oral injuries, as well as what you can do to help keep your teeth functional. So in this post, what I am going to do is outline a few common things that can go wrong with your teeth, how they happen, and how to catch them before they get bad. A lot of the advice in this post is for people who maybe can’t get to the dentist for a cleaning and checkup every six months. This post is also gonna be LONG AS HELL and there is going to be a separate post called “luxury face bone hacks for the busy/broke/b’mentally ill” or something like that, so like. If you don’t like super long posts, just hit this one with a like and actually read through that one.
First, let’s talk about dental anatomy.
What Are Teeth?
Teeth are extremely cool. They’re these amazing little packages of dentin pulp, protected by enamel, nestled into the jaw like truffles in a box of chocolates, held in place with a teeny tiny ligament. They’re gorgeous– enamel is a beautiful substance, translucent and opalescent. Teeth are also extremely weird when you think about them. You have these weird not-bone things emerging from holes in your jawbones. They’re snapped into place with a biological bunjy cord and you can actually SPRAIN THEM if you put too much pressure on them.
Here are some important things to know about teeth!
First, the nerves in your teeth were never meant to be exposed to the air. They only process stimulus one way: pain. This means that when you get a cavity or do anything else that exposes the nerve, it is going to hurt like a bitch.
Your teeth may come loose! Usually they stay put and go back to normal in a day or two. Don’t panic. This is usually the result of you spraining your dental ligament that holds the tooth in place.
Root canals suck but they can prevent dental abscesses. Dental abscesses can kill you. If they spread and get into your sinuses, they can cross the blood/brain barrier and you will die. This doesn’t happen much any more, but in rare cases… it can.
The phrase “like pulling teeth” is a misnomer. Pulling teeth is extremely easy if you know what you’re doing. Extractions are usually a very simple procedure. What’s complicated is things like root canals and setting up implants, which, in the case of implants is the literal opposite of pulling teeth.
Pregnancy will fuck up your teeth because a.) the fetus is leaching your vital essence and other nutrients and b.) your hormones are telling a lot of ligaments in your body to loosen up to get ready to give birth. Sometimes wires get crossed and other ligaments at non-mobile joints get the loosen up message, too. Just be sure to keep up your dental hygiene regimen during pregnancy and you’ll be fine.
Your gum tissue isn’t just weird wet skin. It’s a mucous membrane that protects the mouth. It can get diseased and inflamed, so pay attention to it! Also, there’s a lot of blood vessels so if you poke yourself with something, you’ll bleed like a stuck pig for a minute. The kind of bleeding you should be worried about is prolonged bleeding, where you see blood welling up around your teeth for no apparent reason.
Now that you’ve been equipped with some fun facts, lets talk about diseases and procedures.
Braces: if you’re reading this, you probably don’t need them
First: Pediatric orthodontia is largely a scam. People who put standard braces on their child before that child has lost all of their baby teeth are stupid and causing their child needless pain because those teeth are going to fall out anyways and the alignment of the adult teeth was decided long, long ago. The kids who NEED orthodontic intervention are kids with bad crossbites/underbites/overbites. This requires specialized headgear most of the time and is more intense than the standard braces because they are made to solve a much bigger problem. The standard bracket-and-wire braces? Don’t put those on a child. They won’t help. Also, your kid doesn’t have their third molars yet, and those are the molars most likely to come in twisted anyways.
As an adult, you may want braces for cosmetic reasons or for comfort reasons. This is a CHOICE that is YOURS TO MAKE. If your dentist suggests you need braces, ask why. You don’t have to get them. Now,If you have certain kinds of dental overlap- like, your lateral incisors have been pushed behind your frontals- then yeah, you should get braces. But is it the end of the world if you don’t get braces? No.
Wisdom tooth removal: you might not need it
The human jaw is in a state of evolutionary mismatch right now. Basically, our last molar, the third molar, doesn’t come in until we’re an adult. Unfortunately, thanks to ten thousand years of agriculture, give or take a few millennia, we have much more gracile jaws than our ancestors. There’s not always enough room for it. Now, this isn’t true for everyone, because no two skulls are identical and all, but sometimes there is a condition where you really should get those suckers out. If they are impacted, or coming in sideways, they can push your other teeth out of alignment and cause jaw issues down the line. If they come up straight, don’t worry about it.
Cavities: you need to get these taken care of
Cavities are a pain in the ass and are honestly the main reason you should go to the dentist for checkups, so that they can take the x-ray of your mouth and see how any potential trouble zones are progressing. You should call a dentist and seek help if you notice pain that persists over three days, as that’s an indicator of something more serious than just a sprain.
Tooth Grinding: this is a problem
If you grind your teeth, your dentist may recommend a night guard. Actually listen to them about this. Grinding your teeth can cause major jaw alignment problems that are a pain to fix, so just bite the silicone and suck it up. Also maybe talk to a therapist if you can, because grinding can be a result of stress/anxiety.
Whitening your teeth: bad idea
First off, your teeth ain’t supposed to be white. Enamel is not white. Enamel is translucent and pearlescent, so its actual color is very hard to pin down. Your teeth are naturally going to look more ivory-colored over time. That’s just part of being human and having teeth. Embrace it. You are a badass omnivore with thirty-two gorgeous enamel teeth. They weren’t put in your mouth to look pretty, they were put in your mouth to feed you.
Second: Whitening your teeth weakens your enamel. Once your enamel’s gone, it ain’t coming back, baby. There are some gentler whitening methods, like whitening toothpaste, but these are only going to give you about one to two shades worth of improvement. If you have extremely stained teeth and you want to whiten them, make sure you talk to your dentist about all the risks. Unfortunately, there is no truly safe and effective home-style (read: not a million gotdang dollars) remedy for whitening teeth.
There are a few that are kicking around, but seriously, some of them are dangerous. Do NOT rub wood ash on your teeth. That’s lye. Don’t put that in your mouth. Do NOT use actual bleach, hair dye developer, or non-dental peroxide gel. They are poisonous. DO NOT PUT ACETONE ON YOUR TEETH i have seen this exactly once and the person came into my dad’s office with chemical burns on their gums and lips. I do NOT want to see this again.
It is a misconception that brushing your teeth keeps them looking white. Brushing your teeth removes plaque and biofilm, but those buildups don’t actually stain the enamel itself. Instead, really the only way to keep your teeth looking light is to pay attention to what you’re putting in your mouth. If you’re a tobacco user, vape! Tar is a major staining agent. Coffee’s also a major stainer, and the big trick there is to put a little milk in it. See, enamel staining doesn’t come from the color of the food. It comes from chemical properties. Acidic foods stain because acid damages enamel. Food with high levels of tannins, like coffee or tea, stain because the tannins change the PH of the mouth. So what you should do to avoid staining is balance your mouth PH by eating something basic after eating something acidic. Add a lil milk to your coffee or tea to weaken its acidity just a bit. Swish with water afterwards to help clear the acid. Don’t eat lemons or any other acidic food after drinking coffee. Why would you want to eat lemons after drinking coffee, anyways? Seems like a weird flavor combo to me.
And while we’re on the subject…
What’s in your mouth? Your teeth, your gums, your tongue, your spit… yeah, your spit. Saliva’s important. It’s probably THE most important thing in protecting your teeth because salivary production constantly washes the teeth, clearing off as much bad bacteria as possible. If you have an issue with saliva production, you should drink as much water as you can throughout the day, and get a bottle of dry mouth tabs for nighttime. Or daytime, if they don’t bother you. This is really important because dry mouth is a major side effect for a lot of drugs, like anti-depressants. This is actually a huge part of my research- the population I study used a natural painkiller, but in the end its use caused them more pain because the way it works, it decreases the efficacy of the salivary glands. They stop making sufficient saliva, the teeth dry out, the mouth PH changes, and the bacteria that destroy enamel go buckwild. If you can’t make your own spit, store bought is fine. Water for the day, tabs for the night.
Now, you might think that ok, acid isn’t great, let’s eat more basic foods to balance that out. You can, but it… isn’t great. Your saliva is naturally acidic for a reason, and if you neutralize it completely, that ALSO messes with your teeth. You should be drinking plain water as much as possible.
Seltzer and Soda
Some people think seltzer may hurt your teeth, but it really won’t… unless it’s citrus-flavored. Reason: citrus seltzer uses citric acid as a flavoring agent, and that messes with your teeth. So if you want to drink citrus seltzer, drink it with a meal or with food. Don’t sip it slow over the day.
Soda, on the other hand is a goddamn nightmare. The acid’s kind of a problem but the sugar… dear god the sugar. So. your teeth are covered in a bacterial biofilm. Some of these bacteria excrete acid, and that’s what gives you cavities. This is another part of my research- looking at how cavity prevalence changes as sweetening agents and sugar availability changes. As different carbohydrates enter the diet, populations’ disease responses change. I know more about this than probably anybody else in the world, and here is what I know: the best thing you can do for your teeth is stop drinking American soda.
It’s the corn, you guys. The chemical compounds in corn make the cavity-causing bacteria kick into overdrive. Sodas sweetened with high fructose corn syrup create the perfect environment for these dudes to excrete out a storm. Sugary beverages in general promote cavities, but NOTHING does it like sodas sweetened with high fructose corn syrup or any other corn byproduct. Try to limit your soda and juice consumption and if you can, make sure that when you do have them, you’re getting some food,too.
Ok this next part is going to deal with eating disorders. I’m going to be talking about some of the side effects of bulimia, what they can do to your teeth, and how you can take care of them. Eating disorders are serious business and I hope if you need this section you are in supportive recovery and have the love and support and resources you need. If you don’t want to read about what this can do to your teeth, scroll real quick until you seen the big green text.
If your teeth are in frequent contact with stomach acid, acid etching can be a real problem. Your enamel is tough but stomach acid is gnarly, and your gums don’t have that same protection. If you find yourself vomiting frequently, for whatever reason, try to swish water around in your mouth afterwards to help clean it out. I know that’s not the thing that’s likely on your mind after that, but a lot of what we’re doing here is damage control. I’m not here to judge you in the slightest. I’m just here to help you with your teeth.
Do not brush your teeth immediately after vomiting. The enamel is weaker, and you can cause even more damage by brushing too hard. Wait for at least an hour until after you’ve rinsed your mouth to avoid spreading the acid around.
You can also add some (1-2 tsp) baking soda to the water you rinse with, if you feel ok with doing that. It will taste gross and salty but it will help neutralize the acid. You just rinse with this, you don’t swallow.
ok that part is over
This is the funnest part, I get to tell you good ways to take care of your teeth that require very few spoons and very little money!
Brush ‘em twice a day. Once when you get up to clear out whatever happened the night before, and once before you fall asleep. You can brush more but you don’t have to. Use a soft-bristled brush and whatever toothpaste you like. If you hate mint, kid toothpaste that tastes like bubblegum or berries is totally fine!
Don’t want to get out of bed? totally fine. Use a finger toothbrush! these are designed for babies which is actually great because they are SUPER soft. If you have sensitive gums, these are going to be really helpful.
Don’t have access to a finger toothbrush? honest to god you can just dip your finger in water (though a mix of water and baking soda or water and salt is better) and brush your teeth with just your finger. The point of this isn’t to freshen your breath or anything, it’s just to get the biofilm off of your teeth and protect them.
Floss. This gets the biofilm out from between your teeth and promotes good gum health. Don’t just run it between the teeth- you need to floss below the gumline a little bit to help clean out plaque.
If you don’t have the spoons to do your whole mouth, floss between your molars if you can.
There’s lots of products that are great for people who can’t go through the whole flossing routine. Pre-threaded flossers are ideal because they’re designed for minimal effort and maximum gain. These are also killer for people with physical disabilities that affect hand dexterity.
If flossing hurts because you have sensitive gums, a water flosser can really help. This is more expensive but will last a very long time.
You can also get topical numbing gel that you can smear on your gums when flossing. Just be careful that you’re not flossing too hard because you can’t feel it. This brand is kind of expensive but it has a nice minty flavor. If you have a dollar and a way to get there, I saw Orajel at Dollar Tree yesterday… when I was buying a bunch of those pre-threaded flossers to throw in my car. I oughta do a Dollar Tree field trip to show you like, what products are available at the absolute cheapest in the US. Dollar Tree has a LOT of good dental options.
There’s a tiktok that says you can use a strand of hair to floss. This is a bad idea. A single strand of hair is likely to break and can cut into your gums. If you want to use hair as floss, you need to use a couple of strands twisted together. Go slow and gentle if you’re using hair. Obviously actual floss is better but this isn’t “perfect dental tips for perfect people,” this is “life sucks but your teeth don’t gotta.”
If you can’t floss or can’t brush, gargle. Put two tsp of baking soda in a glass of warm water. Swish it around, spit it out. If you can do that, you’ve helped clear out biofilm and bacterial waste.
Prioritize your teeth. You only get two sets and you lose the first one by the time you’re twelve. If you can only do one hygiene thing today, make it be your teeth.
Eat some pineapple. Bromelain, which is only found in pineapple, is super good at protecting enamel.
That’s… all I got for you now. Take care of your teeth!
An Open Window - Billy Hargrove, Part One
Summary: Reader likes Steve and is friends with Billy. Billy wants to be “helpful” and teach virgin!reader a little about the anatomy of a guy. Obviously he’s only doing it for himself ‘cause he’s a selfish prick.
Word Count: 4.9k
Warnings: Manipulative Billy, talk of virginity, and handjob.
A/N: o.O I feel like I made the man excessively douchey, but it’s kinda hot tho.
Part two - Part three
You stood in line at Scoops Ahoy while digging around in your purse to make sure you had your Lactaid. Whenever your fingers wrapped around the bottle, you exhaled a relieved sigh.
But then it was your turn to order and your nerves went into overdrive.
“Hey, Y/N.” Steve grinned. “Here for your usual?”
You nodded your head pretty quickly. Robin glanced over at you and gave a sly, but knowing little smirk.
As Steve was scooping out your preferred ice cream, he said, “You know, you’re probably our best customer.”
You felt your face warm up drastically. It felt kinda embarrassing to be called out on how much you frequented the store...because, yeah, it was a lot. But you liked Steve, you liked him a whole bunch. It’s just that you had yet to tell him, and you weren’t sure if you were going to. You’d be mortified beyond belief if he rejected you, so you just stuck to visiting the store every Wednesday and Friday evening. You hoped that maybe Steve would grow interested somehow, by some means. Maybe he’d be impressed with your faithfulness and ice cream choice.
You were still waiting for that day, though.
“I’m happy to keep this place afloat.” You smiled, but then looked around at the busy and packed parlor. “Not that you guys need it, obviously. It’s just...I mean, it’s a joke.” You said while gesturing to his outfit. “...’Cause sailors.”
Steve laughed, and Robin laughed, too. It made your insides twist a little.
“Right,” Steve said as he handed over your cone. “I don’t know what we’d do without you.”
And he gave you one of his award-winning smiles. He propped himself on his elbows against the counter as he looked at you. Your heart was beating rapidly and your wits had dissipated. You didn’t have enough sense left to move out of the way considering your turn was up. You just stood there like a starstruck fangirl.
But when a loud cough erupted from behind you, you snapped out of your daydreaming. You turned around to apologize before you stepped out of the line and off to the side.
After Steve ended up taking their order and you watched as they paid, you gasped. You had totally forgotten to pay in your haze. You retrieved the payment and quickly called Steve over. Robin took over for him as he came to stand in front of you.
“I’m so sorry. Here. I didn’t mean to steal.” You gushed. “I haven’t ever before stolen anything in my life, I promise.”
Steve chuckled as he took the cash from your hands. His hair fell out of its styled position, but he quickly pushed it back before he looked at you. Things were silent for a couple seconds and you were just about to say goodbye when Robin said;
“Just ask her out already.”
Your eyes widened and Steve spun around to give Robin a particularly harsh glare. She just shrugged him off and continued to dig around in the ice cream with the scoop.
“I’m sorry about her.” He said. “She’s just got silly ideas in--She’s got the idea that you only come to see me. I don’t know why she thinks that. She might have a brain disease or something, I don’t know.”
By the end, Steve’s skin was flushed and his head had casted down.
You were a bit stunned. You didn’t quite know what to say. You didn’t want to be weird and confess that her silly notions were actually true, and rather perceptive. But you also didn’t want to brush it off and make it seem like you didn’t come in there for him. You had to find that perfect middle, which was hard to do.
“I mean, she’s not entirely wrong.” You said and Steve looked back up. “Don’t get me wrong you’re great and all, but I really do like ice cream.”
He smiled and tried to flip his hair back. He leaned against the counter and tried to come off as suave, but his nerves were clearly getting the best of him. It was cute and endearing.
“Wow, that’s...” He said. “That’s, yeah, that’s good news ‘cause you’re great, too.”
Robin groaned and walked over to knock Steve on the back of his head. He winced and rubbed at the spot as he shot daggers at Robin while she walked away again.
“What I mean to say is...do, do you want to go out on a date? With me?”
Your heart nearly leapt out of your ribcage. You had to bite back your excitement, which felt almost impossible to do. You’d been waiting for that day to come, and about resigned to the idea that it never would, but it was finally there.
“Yeah,” You smiled.
It looked like he was waiting for you to say more since you both had a habit of word vomiting, but when you didn’t, Steve said;
“Awesome. Do you want to go to the movies maybe? We could see The Karate Kid. I hear it's totally wicked.”
You watched in amusement as Steve cringed at his usage of ‘wicked,’ but you loved it.
“I’ve heard that, too. That it’s wicked.” You said, nodding your head. Then you rushed out, “Oh! Yeah, I’d love to go to the movies. I mean, I’d like that.”
You guys settled on a date and time with smiles much too big for your faces. You couldn’t wait to tell all your friends, but you knew of one friend who wouldn’t care that much.
Your mother walked past your bedroom with a laundry basket in hand, but quickly took a few steps back.
“Y/N, close your window!” She yelled. “Is this the reason the heat bill has been through the roof?”
You turned around from your desk with wide eyes to see your mother was a red face. You felt like being defensive would have only given her more of a score to settle. She was the type of woman who had to win, too. It didn’t matter if she’s wrong or right, she’s right.
And the Heavens wanted to further prove her point as a gust of wind carried through the window and picked up one of your homework papers.
That’s why you just pulled down the window and mumbled a quick, “Sorry.” She scoffed before taking back off down the hall. You heard her call out to your dad and then her going on a tirade about your insensibility to their home and finances. When her voice fully disappeared, you reopened the window with a sigh.
Billy told you to always keep your window open because there might have been times were he needed to pop in. You told him that it would be hard considering your parents, but he made you promise. Also, he totally guilt tripped you into leaving it open. He said that he’d consider you a bad friend if you didn’t. Because having it shut meant you didn’t care about his well being. What if he was distraught and needed his friend? What if it was an emergency-- like the law chasing after him. Wouldn’t you want him to be able to get to you, to a safe space? So, of course, you told him you’d keep it open.
But he never quite used it for those purposes.
He only ever stumbled through your window when he was drunk or when he had his homework to drop off for you to do.
And that night was no different. After an hour passed and you were still writing your essay, Billy climbed through the window. He wasn’t even careful not to step on your assignment. He got a nice sized chunk of dirt smeared where the title went.
“Billy,” You groaned.
Once he stood on the ground, he glanced over and mockingly said, “Aw, poor baby.”
You tried to dust off the dirt while Billy made his way to your bed. It was the comfiest bed he’d ever laid on, and each time he threw himself on it, he told you that.
He rolled around on all your stuffed animals, knocking a few to the ground. His face ended up pressed into the pillow and he looked like he was ready to knock out. He wanted to and so he did doze off a bit before you walked over and slipped off his shoes.
“I told you, don’t get on with your shoes.”
Billy cursed under his breath before fisting some of the blanket to his face. You heard him take a deep breath in. Was that fucker sniffing your blanket? You thought Billy was one of the weirdest people you had ever met. He was nothing like what people thought, but somehow, just like they thought, too. He was a hot and cold person. He could be super sweet one minute and then the Devil the next. But you got the nice version of him more often than not, and his quirkiness came along with that side.
After you walked over and shut your door, you picked your glass of water off your desk and tapped Billy’s shoulder to get his attention. When he removed his face from the covers, he reached out for glass and chugged the water.
“There. Happy?” He asked.
You scoffed before setting the glass down on your nightstand. You took a seat on the bed next to Billy. You hadn’t seen him since Steve asked you out, and you really, really wanted to tell him, but you weren’t sure how he’d take it, especially since he was tipsy.
But you decided to try anyway. Maybe he’d be happy for you.
“Guess what?” You asked.
Billy didn’t answer, but rather tossed and turned to face away from you.
“Remember how I thought Steve didn’t even know I existed?” You paused. “Well, turns out he does.” You paused again. “And he asked me out.”
Seconds passed by and no response. You thought he’d fallen asleep so you called out his name and went to tap his shoulder again, but he took hold of your wrist before picking his head up to face you.
“You’re stupid,” He said.
You gasped and yanked your arm back. Apparently you weren’t getting the nice Billy tonight. You almost wanted to kick him out of your room. You hated when he was mean to you.
But you guessed Billy felt somewhat bad because he laid on his back and crossed his arms under his head.
“You wasted two months of your life trying to get his attention.”
“Wasn’t a waste if it’s paying off now.” You said and folded your arms over your chest.
He rolled his eyes and said, “You’re fucking allergic to dairy.”
You left the bed and went to sit at your desk. You wanted to be done with the conversation. If he was just going to talk down to you then what was the point. You thought since he was your friend that he’d at least put on an act. But then again you weren’t sure why you thought that. It was Billy after all.
“Y/N,” He said as he sat up.
You didn’t respond. Instead you turned around to continue with your homework. You heard Billy curse under his breath, like always. He called your name one more time before he grew frustrated and said;
“Fine, just tell me about it. You know how to ruin a good buzz.”
You swiveled around and gave him a pointed look. You were trying to see if he was being serious or not. You couldn’t quite tell since his face was glowing red. Maybe it was from the alcohol, though. He made eye contact with you and did a ‘what’ gesture. You took it as a sign to start talking.
But you weren’t as chipper anymore. If anything it felt like a chore to tell him by that point.
“Well, Robin’s smart and helpful and Steve is cute and sweet. He was pretty nervous, but he asked me to go to the movies. And I almost stole the ice cream. I paid though, don’t worry.”
It was your turn to throw up your hands in questioning way. “I said I paid.”
“I’m talking about the movies, dipshit. He asked you to the movies?”
“Yes, dipshit, that’s what I said.” You teased.
Billy raised his pointer finger at you. He never liked when you got snarky with him. It was only ever okay when he did that to you, apparently. You pushed your luck sometimes, though. Not too much because you didn’t want to unleash the beast.
“You’re so damn naive. It’s almost sad.” He said. “The King of Hawkins High is taking a pretty girl in a space with loud noises and darkness and she doesn’t even get why.”
Billy did like to call you pretty. It was one of his favorite words to describe you. Well, amongst the myriad of others, but the rest were along the lines of ‘dipshit’ and ‘screwball.’ It didn't seem like it, but they were, sadly, his terms of endearment.
It took you a minute to get at what Billy was saying, but when it dawned on you, you vigorously shook your head ‘no.’ Of course you knew Steve’s reputation, but that was before Nancy. Once they broke up, he seemed like an entirely different person. Besides, if you wanted to get technical, Billy had quite the reputation as well, but you knew he wouldn’t want to talk about that.
“That’s not true.” You said. “Steve isn’t like that.”
“All guys are like that, but of course you wouldn’t know.”
You huffed and threw your eraser at him. He managed to catch it, much to your displeasure. You wanted it to pop him in the chest for the way he was acting. You just turned back around and stared at your paper. You didn’t want to believe, and tried to be unwilling to, that Steve wanted you for that reason, and that reason only. He was a changed man, right?
But then your late night hormones started to go awry. There was a noticeable swelling in the pit of your stomach, and you clamped your legs closed. Maybe, just maybe, it wouldn't be so bad if Steve wanted to touch you. It wasn’t like you didn’t want him to. It wasn’t like you didn’t make up scenarios before you went to bed and when you touched yourself.
“He’s going to be disappointed when he finds out you haven’t been fucked yet.”
You spun around in your seat and gawked at what he said. You cocked your head to the side and held an expression that screamed, ‘Dude, what the fuck?’
Billy tossed the eraser back onto your desk and he got up to walk over to you. He hovered behind the backrest of your seat and leaned down to whisper in your ear;
“He’ll be able to tell from the moment he touches you.”
Billy grazed his fingertips up your exposed arm and it sent a shiver through your body and brought up goosebumps.
“He-He won’t care.” You said with a gulp.
“Are you sure about that?” Billy asked and brushed his lip against your skin.
You shot up and backed away, knocking into the footboard of your bed. You held up a hand in front of you while you said;
“Yes, I’m sure! Why would it matter?”
Billy smirked and it felt taunting. It felt like how a predator might look at its prey, knowing that it could win and the hunt would be all for fun. You didn’t like that look. He’d never had it before.
“Guys like a girl who knows what she’s doing.” He said. “You think he’ll get hard when you’re running your mouth?” Then Billy started to approach you slowly. You couldn’t back up anymore since your heels were already pressing into the base of your bed. “When your hands sweat and shake? Or what about when he pulls out his dick and asks you to stroke him. Would you know how to?”
You most definitely didn’t know what to say. All you could do was stand with wide eyes and a parted mouth. You started to stammer, but that’s all that you could manage, especially when Billy ended up inches in front of you.
“Huh? Tell me,” He said.
Instead of speaking, you placed a flat hand against his chest to stop him from getting any closer. His stance in front of you felt menacing. That, coupled with what he was saying, made it hard for you to think straight. Your breathing was ragged and shallow, and true to Billy’s words, your hands were shaking.
He reached up and grabbed the hand on his chest and pulled you harshly towards him. As he looked down at you, you almost wanted to cry, but you fought very hard to keep the tears at bay.
“Are you going to be good for him and learn?” He said.
You wanted to talk, but you couldn’t get anything out. So, Billy used his free hand to grab ahold of your chin to keep your face towards his. He used a fairly threatening stare to persuade you to say something.
He released your chin with a small shove then sarcastically laughed.
“I guess you don’t like him as much as you say then.” He said.
You felt your chest tighten. You hated when Billy did that to you. You hated when he tried to tell you how you felt or how you ought to have felt. You knew he knew that, too. He pretty much loved to use it against you whenever it served him best.
“I do,” You said and pushed Billy off.
All that managed to do was for him to take a step back and release your hand, but it was enough for you to feel like you could hold your own a bit better.
“Whatever you say, Virgin Mary.”
You were getting more and more irritated, but what sent you over the edge was his sadistic laughter. He was getting pleasure out of getting you all worked up. You weren’t thinking clearly with his laugh ringing in your ears. You just wanted it to stop.
“Fine!” You shouted.
He gave you a squinted look before laughing some more. He calmed himself down enough to say; “You touching yourself doesn’t count.”
“Then what does?” You seethed.
“You really wanna know?” He asked and you cautiously nodded your head.
Billy licked his lips and said, “I’ll show you tomorrow. How’s that?”
You didn’t respond for the longest time, having trouble processing what he had said. Part of you didn’t believe he meant it, but when you happened to glance down between his legs, you knew he was being serious.
So, you nodded your head.
It was the first time Billy had used your window for anything but what he had normally done before.
You weren't sure why you agreed. You weren’t really sure what you even agreed to. You just acted in the heat of the moment. Maybe you were a little light headed from all the arguing and teasing, and maybe it was because you’d always had a bit of an attraction to Billy. You’d never tell him that, though.
Either way, you agreed, and Billy had climbed back through your window. You were relieved when he didn’t stumble in. He wasn’t drunk and that caused you to let out a deep sigh. You didn’t want to be around drunk Billy. So, part of you wondered if sober Billy would carry through with the plan. You couldn’t tell which way you wanted it to go, and that frightened you.
Billy took one long look at you, smiling as he saw you wearing his favorite pajama set. You had subconsciously picked it out, not remembering that he was fond of it.
“You look like you’re about to shit yourself.” He said.
You huffed and rolled your eyes. Why did he have to be like that? Especially at that time...when things were weird.
“I’m not touching you if you went to Scoops Ahoy today.”
You shuffled up to the top of your bed and face planted into your pillows with a stuffed teddy bar in your arms. He was purposefully trying to embarrass you and it was working. He liked to say it was a skill of his, and you had to agree. He was pretty good at it.
Then came a slap on your ass. You jolted up and shouted, “Hey!” at Billy who had moved to the side of the bed to get closer to you.
“Don’t do that,” You grumbled as he leaned down.
His face was above your own as your head tilted up to him. He had one of his classic smirks plastered on his stupid face. It was making your stomach feel all fuzzy and warm.
“What? You don’t like a little foreplay?” He said.
That solidified your question and his answer. He did want to carry through with what he proposed last night.
And he furthered his answer as he began to walk to the end of the bed. You were confused about what he was doing and you were about to question him when he took ahold of your ankles and slid you down the bed. You squealed and tried to pull down your shirt that had risen, but Billy leaned over and held your arms above your head.
“Don’t worry, there’s more coming, pretty girl.”
He looked down and took in the sight of your shirt bundled up right below your breasts. Billy bit down on his bottom lip, but shocked you when he looked back up and said;
“You’re okay with this, right?”
It was enough to make you feel like you had whiplash. It felt a bit late to ask considering everything. Considering the position you both were in and the vulgarity of his tongue.
But you appreciated that he asked. It made your nerves simmer down a bit more. It made you feel like you had your friend back. That you had the good side of Billy, and that was your favorite. What you wanted to do didn’t feel as wrong since he was sober and mindful (kinda).
You went to nod, but he cut you off with; “No, I need to hear you say it.”
With a strained and soft voice you told him, “I want to.”
He smiled, and at first it was warm, but then it turned into a smirk as his head started to dip down. He came centimeters above your lips and lingered for a moment. It was like he was trying to gauge your answer, to make sure you meant what you said.
When you closed your eyes to prepare for the kiss, he knew he had you. And since Billy was an asshole, he decided to bite at your bottom lip before he kissed you. It was enough to draw out a whimper from you, and it started to drive him crazy. His kisses became more forceful and heavy as he let his hands slip down your arms and all the way to your waist. You shivered upon feeling his warm hands on your skin, not having expected the way it would feel. You thought he’d continue his journey downward, but he caught you off guard when pulled away from the kiss.
“Up,” He said.
With that, he pushed off the bed and kneed yours with his own to usher you even more. When you didn’t move, he repeated himself. It took you a second before you scrambled off the bed and in front of him. You were confused and you were hot, but mainly hot. You looked over to make sure the window was still open. It was.
Billy sat down on the edge of the bed and parted his knees. He drew you into him, placing his hands on the backside of your thighs to guide you to stand between his legs.
“You’re going to be good for me, aren’t you?” He asked.
You gulped and wanted to nod, but didn’t because you did want to be good for him. That’s why you said, “Yes.”
That caused him to smile and say; “Then sit.”
He pulled you to straddle his lap as you steadied yourself using his shoulders. His hands instantly started rubbing your hips, gripping every so often. And instead of having him make another new move, you kissed him. You liked kissing him. It felt nice and it felt easy. Everything else was relatively scary.
Billy moaned into the kiss, taking one hand up to the back of your head to press you into the kiss more. If you couldn’t tell that he was enjoying himself before then you could when you felt the bulge in his pants start to form.
Billy only allotted a minute worth of kissing before he drew back, fisting your hair to keep you still.
“That wasn't what’s next.” He whispered. “You know, don’t you?”
Your mind blanked. You weren’t sure what you were supposed to do next, and you felt like he should have known that, all things considered, but you knew that Billy was just being Billy.
“Come on, you’re a smart girl.” He encouraged.
He could see your mind racing by looking into your eyes.
“Here,” He said as he grabbed one of your hands. “I’ll be nice and help.”
He guided your hand down to his dick. The moment he placed it, he used his hand overtop yours to squeeze himself. He bucked up into the contact and closed his eyes. You stared at him with parted lips.
“That’s good,” He said. “Do it again.”
He removed his hand from yours to move back to your hips. You were worried without his help, but sought out that blissed expression on his face. And you enjoyed the praise he gave you, and wanted more. You palmed him against the denim of his pants, earning a groan of approval. His head dipped back and you continued your efforts. You were trying to draw out as many noises as you could, and Billy wasn’t shy about letting them out.
He was growing harder and harder, and you were growing more and more greedy. Only did you let up slightly when he said, “Take it out.”
You didn't listen at first, still palming him, but stopped when he said; “Now,” with a raspy voice. It was stern and it was demanding.
You struggled with the zipper, having to angle yourself differently to pull it down and undo his belt. He made you lift up as he pulled his jeans down to his thighs. When you took your seat back, you rested on the bunched material.
All that was left was to help get him out of his boxers. That was where your nerves grew again. Your hands did what you didn’t want them to and they shook. You damned Billy for having been right. You hated when he was right. But that was a thought for another day because Billy couldn’t take your hesitation much longer. He grunted as he pulled himself out through the hole of his boxers.
You barely had time to register anything about his dick before he grabbed your hand and made you wrap your fingers around him.
“You said you’d be good.” He groaned as he felt the little pressure you held onto him with. “Don’t make me wait.”
He started to show you how to pump his shaft. He started off slow, but quickly worked his way into a steady pace. Before you knew it, his hand had left yours and you were stroking him by yourself.
Billy wrapped one of his hands around your throat, and it caused you to gasp. He wasn’t squeezing hard, but it was enough to send a shockwave to your core. You felt yourself creating a wet spot on your underwear, and worried that it would go all the way through to your shorts.
His other hand slipped to your backside, groping at your ass, before he smacked the clothed skin again.
“Fuck,” He groaned.
It was hard for you to keep up your speed as your legs wanted to close shut. Your body was fighting against its actions because it felt deprived. You wanted Billy to touch you, but you weren’t willing to ask.
And so you went faster. You even squeezed his dick slightly more than before, which made Billy rest his forehead against yours. You felt his breath hit your face and it tickled your skin.
Before long Billy started to bite down on his lower lip and asked one last time for you to go faster. You listened and his grip around your neck tightened. You felt like you weren’t getting enough air, but didn’t care because you could see that Billy was chasing his high and you desperately wanted to give it to him.
Then he came without warning. His cum dripped all down your hand and onto his boxers. He let your throat go, but kept a harsh grip on your ass.
Billy didn’t say anything for about a minute and then when he looked at you, he smirked. You were about to ask if what you did was okay, but he kissed you. It was another forceful kiss, but it made your stomach have butterflies.
He pulled away and said, “I think you’re ready for the next step.”
booker x ‘my tears ricochet’ gifset
and i can go anywhere want
anywhere i want
just not home
Elegia (Steve Harrington x Reader)
Summary: You get a call at 6 in the morning from your coworker Steve Harrington, demanding to know your favorite song.
Word Count: 1777
Warnings: Language, mentions of grief, guilt, & losing family in the Starcourt fire, Vecna curse stuff.
(The gif is from the Netflix Giphy account. It doesn't have anything to do with the fic but I love it lol)
In case you want to listen along: Elegia
Read Part II Here
You stirred in your sleep, trying to hold onto your peaceful dream for a bit longer…
You groaned and rolled out of bed, shuffling to the phone on your desk. Whoever it was obviously needed to talk to you at—5:58 a.m.?!
“Hello?” you said tiredly, stifling a yawn.
“Y/N, hey! It’s Steve.”
You frowned, expecting some early-bird telemarketer, not Steve Harrington.
He was your friend and Family Video coworker. Sure, you’d spent some time together hanging out outside of work, but not enough for him to be calling at this hour.
“Hey, man,” you said. “Whatever this is couldn’t have waited a couple more hours?”
“Sorry to wake you,” Steve said. “I have an important question for you.”
You felt ice in your veins. Wait, what was happening? Surely Steve wasn’t about to ask you out…right?
Not that you’d be totally opposed to the idea or anything—you were just surprised.
“Really?” you said. “What is it?”
All of your expectations came crashing down when Steve asked: “What’s your favorite song?”
You blinked a couple times, exhaustion-addled brain trying to comprehend.
“Your favorite song?” Steve pressed. “What is it?”
“You woke me up for that?” you said, trying not to sound too angry or disappointed.
“I know it’s random, but it’s important. Very important!”
“More important than beauty sleep?”
You sighed and rubbed your pounding forehead. Although it was stupid, Steve sounded serious. It wouldn’t hurt to play along.
“My taste is eclectic,” you said. “I listen to a bit of everything. What genre are we talking about?”
“All the genres! If you had to pick just one song, what would it be?”
You glanced at the stack of vinyls on your desk. Of all the options, there was one album, and one song on said album, that stood out.
“‘Elegia,’ by New Order,” you said. “That’s my favorite song. It’s a really nice tribute to a late friend. I listened to it a lot after…after Starcourt.”
Both your mother and brother had died in the Starcourt Mall fire, leaving you, your father, and your sister behind. Your grief ebbed and flowed like the tide, never fully leaving you.
“I’m really sorry, Y/N,” Steve said quietly. “I know it’s been hard for you.”
You weren’t really in the mood for condolences right now. You just wanted to sleep.
“It’s fine,” you said. “Listen, this was weird. I’ve got to go.”
“Wait! Do you have it on cassette—”
You slammed the phone back into its cradle.
“What a nut,” you muttered, before stumbling back to bed.
A couple days later, Steve and his friends were headed to Reefer Rick’s boathouse to deliver food (and beer) to Eddie.
Steve requested they take a brief pitstop.
“It’ll take less than 5 minutes,” Steve said.
“Eddie’s hungry!” Dustin protested. “We shouldn’t keep him waiting.”
“If he’s so hungry,” Max said, eyeing Dustin and Steve with disdain, “then why are you two eating all his snacks?”
Steve sheepishly closed up the container of Pringles he’d been enjoying. Dustin ignored the dig and offered Max an Oreo.
“We can take a quick detour,” Nancy said. “But Dustin’s right, we don’t want Eddie to wait too long.”
“Turn here!” Steve said suddenly. “And park by those flower beds.”
Nancy followed his directions, parking their station wagon in front of a shabby apartment building.
Robin eyed the building.
“Hey, I recognize this place,” she said. “This is where Y/N lives!”
“Y/N?” Lucas said. “Who’s that?”
“Our coworker,” Robin said with a sly smile, “and Steve’s crush.”
“They’re not my crush!” Steve snapped. “We’re friends. I just want to check in on them after all the murders and shit.”
“And give them a gift,” Dustin teased, gesturing to the bag Steve had tucked under his arm.
“It’s not a gift,” Steve explained. “It’s Vecna protection.”
“You think Y/N is a target?” Nancy asked.
“They lost their brother and mom to the Mind Flayer,” Steve said. “It hasn’t been easy for them. And I know they blame themselves. I want to make sure they’ll be okay.”
With that, he exited the station wagon. Dustin, Lucas, and Max started to follow him up the path to the stairs.
“Whoa, whoa!” Steve said when he noticed. “This is a one-man job. Stay in the car.”
“No way!” Dustin said. “We want to meet Y/N.”
“No! They don’t need to meet you right now!”
A couple days after your early-morning call from Steve, you heard a commotion from your kitchen window and pulled open the curtains. You scoffed when you took in the sight: Steve Harrington on the lawn of your apartment complex, berating a trio of younger teens and gesturing toward a waiting station wagon.
You also noticed your other coworker, Robin Buckley, and Steve’s ex, Nancy Wheeler.
“What the shit,” you muttered, before opening your window and sticking your head outside.
“Harrington!” you called. “You’re disturbing the neighborhood.”
Startled, Steve turned around and tucked something behind his back.
“Hey Y/N!” he said, plastering a grin on his face. “Happy Wednesday. Can I come in?”
“Can we come in?” the red-haired girl corrected.
“How about I come down,” you called. “I wasn’t expecting company.”
“Sorry, sorry,” Steve said. “But I have something for you.”
This was…suspicious. Even more suspicious than his strange call from a couple days ago. But curiosity got the better of you, so you closed up your window and met Steve outside.
Before you could even say anything, a curly-haired boy in a trucker hat stepped in front of you and stuck out a hand.
“Hi, I’m Dustin. Steve’s best friend and wingman.”
“Nice to meet you, Dustin. I’m Y/N.”
You greeted Robin and met Steve’s other friends, all while the man in question continuously rolled and unrolled the top of a brown paper bag—a nervous tic.
“So!” you said, turning to Steve. He shooed the others back to the station wagon as you said, “I take it, that's for me?”
“Yes!” Steve said. “I got you a gift.” He handed you the bag.
You opened up the bag and peered inside. Once you saw the gift, your breath hitched in your throat.
A brand-new cassette of Low-Life by New Order. The album “Elegia” is on.
“You got me the cassette,” you said, looking up at Steve with a furrowed brow. “Why?”
“Just…because,” he said. He couldn’t seem to look you in the eye. Why was he so nervous? Why was he giving this to you in the first place? What did “just because” mean, exactly?
You knew you should thank him, but you could only stare at the cassette, transfixed.
You thought of all the times you’d listened to the album on vinyl, sobbing, overwhelmed by grief and guilt. You thought of how your last conversation with your brother before he died on July 4th was a stupid argument, ending with you telling him you hoped he’d drop dead.
And then he did. And so did your mother.
Small drops of blood splattered on the cassette, covering the band’s name.
It took a second for you to realize it was a nosebleed. Your nosebleed.
“Aw, shit,” you said, snapping out of your grief spiral and quickly wiping the blood with your sleeve. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to space out for a second. Thank you, Steve. This is really—Steve?”
Steve grabbed the cassette and opened the box with shaking hands.
“Where’s your Walkman?” he demanded.
“Y/N! Your Walkman!” Steve shouted. “Where is it?”
His shouts caught the attention of his friends, who had been listening to a news bulletin on the radio and whispering conspiratorially.
“I don’t have it anymore!” you said. “I gave it to my sister.”
“What’s going on?” Robin asked.
“Walkman!” Steve said, whirling around to the group with a wild look in his eyes. “We need a Walkman!”
“I have one in the glove box,” Nancy said. “Just hold tight.”
Nancy rushed to the car.
“Jesus, Harrington!” you said, confused at the urgent need to listen to New Order right this minute. “What the hell is wrong with—agh!”
You felt a zap! of pain across your skull. You winced and rubbed your forehead.
“Headaches,” Lucas whispered.
You didn’t like how Steve’s friends were looking at you—like you were a bad omen.
“Why are you all looking at me like that?” you snapped. “Seriously, what is happening?”
“Y/N, listen to me,” Steve said, voice strained as he tried to keep calm. “Nancy’s going to let you borrow her Walkman, okay? And you need to listen to ‘Elegia’ on loop.”
“It’s life or death!” Dustin said.
“A song is life or death?”
You rolled your eyes as Steve loaded Nancy’s Walkman with Low-Life, but allowed him to put the headphones on your head and press play.
The soft opening melody of “Elegia” swirled into your ears. Despite how stupid this seemed, you loved the song. It did soothe your headache, albeit only slightly.
Steve said something to you, but you couldn’t hear. You lifted off one of the headphones.
“Keep listening,” Steve repeated. “Anytime you get a headache, or a nosebleed or…or hear a clock, just listen to ‘Elegia.’”
None of this made sense. But you agreed to keep listening to the song, as much as you could.
Dustin heard some kind of SOS message on his walkie-talkie, and it was time for them to go.
You could tell that Steve didn’t want to leave. As the others piled in the station wagon, he hesitated, and glanced back at you.
“Where are you guys off to, anyway?” you asked, pulling the headphones down around your neck.
“Probably hiking,” Steve said. “Or maybe a boat ride on the lake.”
You could tell he was lying. He didn’t look headed for a fun day outside. He looked scared, face ghastly pale. He tapped the fingers on his right hand on his thigh, drumming out a frantic melody.
“Cool,” you said. “Um, you sure you don’t want to stay? And listen to New Order with me?”
Steve smiled but shook his head.
“Sorry,” he said. “I’ve got to take care of these knuckleheads. But maybe another time, we can—”
“STEVE!” Dustin screamed from the station wagon backseat. “LET’S GO!”
With that, Steve mumbled out a goodbye, shooting you one last concerned look before climbing into the car.
“Elegia” ended, and “Sooner Than You Think” started to play.
You watched the station wagon zip off toward its next destination. You rewound the tape to the beginning of Side Two, beginning “Elegia” once more.
no talking — k.bakugou !
“look,” mina whispered as she elbowed denki’s side, who in turn, elbowed sero’s side.
the three of them examined y/n as she, seemingly, stared off into space. mina narrowed her eyes and knocked on the side of y/n’s head.
y/n quickly sat up straight and snapped her gaze over to the pink girl. “hi mina.. and denki.. and sero.”
“wha’cha starin’ at?” denki asked, cocking his head to the right. “or uh, who are you starin’ at?” he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.
y/n could physically feel her face go red. “what?! i’m not staring at anyone!! why would you say that?! that’s weird and creepy and i would never do such a thing!!” she said, waving her hands in front of her.
the three teenagers exchanged a look of disbelief.
mina looked over to where y/n had been staring and gasped when her eyes landed on a blonde haired boy.
“you were staring at bakugo!” mina exclaimed.
y/n’s face went even redder. “no! i promise i wasn’t! not that i wouldn’t, i mean he’s very pretty but—” she cut herself off as she processed what she’d said. “ahhh! i didn’t mean to say that! it’s not like he’s ugly but — !”
“stop, you’re hurting my brain,” mina grumbled as she rubbed her temples. “why don’t you talk to him instead of staring at his hands like a creep?”
“i can’t do that,” y/n looked down at her own hands. “i don’t know sign language, and i feel like he’d make fun of me if i tried to talk to him..”
denki leaned forward. “you know that bakugou can read lips, right? that’s how he talks to most of our classmates.” he smiled. “you’ve never noticed? you stare at him all the time though, i would’ve thought you knew that.”
sero snickered as y/n hit denki lightly.
“it’s not like i’m a stalker! and i don’t stare at him all the time, jerk! i just.. space off and my eyes always land on him!”
mina hummed as denki laughed quite loudly. she balled up a piece of paper and threw it at bakugou.
y/n stopped hitting denki and looked over at the paper. it was almost like it was in slow motion. she watched as the paper went over todorki’s head, over midoriya’s head, and hit right in the middle of bakugou’s head.
“oh my god! mina! what the heck is wrong with you?!” y/n whisper-shouted at her friend.
bakugou turned around, usual scowl on his face, and glared at the group of kids.
y/n’s back was facing him, but mina smiled widely and gestured for him to come over to them.
‘no. do your work.’ he rolled his eyes and turned back around.
mina had been learning sign language since first year, after she had met bakugou.
she threw more paper at him, and this time he got up and sat down next to mina. y/n was still facing away from him.
‘what do you want, dumbass?’
mina grinned. ‘i think you should go on a date with y/n!’ she nodded at the girl in front of her.
bakugou’s eyes widened. ‘that’s why you asked me over here? so you could set me up on a date with some extra? fuck that.’ he stood up, but mina grabbed his wrist.
‘please? she thinks you’re amazing.’ mina pulled out the puppy dog eyes as she looked up at him.
with a roll of his eyes, bakugou pulled his wrist free. ‘fine. one date. that’s it.’
“sweet!” denki shouted, pumping his fist in the air.
‘i’ll send her number later!’ mina waved bye as bakugou returned to his seat.
“oh y/n~” mina sang. “i’ve got the best news!”
y/n slowly looked up.
“you have a date with bakugou now!”
“WHAT?!” she shouted, straightening up. “oh good lord.”
denki looked at bakugou, then at y/n. “how exactly are they supposed to talk if y/n doesn’t know sign language and bakugou doesn’t talk?”
mina paused. “well..”
ᴄᴀɴ ɪ ᴋɪꜱꜱ ʏᴏᴜ | ᴇᴍ
pairing| Eddie Munson x female reader
synopsis| Its 1999 and Eddie Munson finally meets the girl he’s definitely head over heels for, if only he could find the nerve to make a move.
an| hi, here’s the wildly requested part 3 to my ‘Can I..’ series where our two lovers finally meet face to face! I’m over the moon with how much love i’ve gotten over my silly self indulgent fic that kinda took on a life of it’s own. part 3 is a little shorter than the others but i’ll make it up to you guys in part 4. enjoy!
warnings| 2.8k, uh a brief mention of masturbation (m) but it’s not explicit so no warnings here.
part 1 | part 2 | masterlist
It doesn’t take long for Eddie to get to the park, it being barely five minutes from his trailer. He rolled a joint in his van when he first arrived, now sitting on the rickety swing set, legs lazily kicking him to and fro, the warm nighttime breeze blowing wisps of his curls against his cheeks.
He tries not to check his watch repeatedly as he waits, his impatience and anxiety mixing together leaves a bad taste on his tongue. His fingers drum wildly against his thigh. He’s unsure if he should stay any longer, being well past the ten minutes you’d said it’d take you to get here and it’s so dark, the street lights surrounding the park doing nothing to illuminate the playground and walking trails. If this was some elaborate cruel joke, he’d never see you coming.
Eddie knows he shouldn’t let that negative side of himself show through, the side that is distrusting and cynical, the side that thinks nothing good will ever come to him. The truth is, as much as he wants to meet you, there's that little nag in the back of his mind telling him to run.
He doesn’t know you but you know him, and the suspense, the utter terror that he could be walking into the lions den, is terrifying.
But then he remembers your voice over the phone, your promise, the sincerity in your voice as you spoke and he thinks maybe, just maybe, this could be good.
Finally something good.
He is not paying attention as a dark green Chevy Nova -that's definitely seen better days- pulls into the spot next to his van, too busy relighting his joint. He only snaps his head up when he hears a soft curse followed by the slam of a car door. The sound echoing around the empty park.
He can’t fucking believe it when he sees you, that grey Savage Garden shirt and those tight, much shorter than he expected, pink shorts. You’re a true sight for sore eyes as you scope out the area, head on a swivel until your eyes lock on his dark frame, growing wide like the smile that's taking over your face. Eddie stands as you start to jog towards him, his knees wobbly as he catches the metal post of the swingset and spins towards you as you approach.
“I’m so sorry I’m late, Eddie. That fucking rust bucket wouldn’t start.” You bound over to him, still smiling, stopping right in front of him. The toes of your dirty black converse touch the toes of his white reeboks.
“S’okay. I know how to entertain myself.” He’s looking you up and down, trying as hard as he can to place your beautiful face in his memories, but you’re not there. How did he never notice you? “You know I’m pretty good with cars, if you ever want me to look at it.”
Your smile widens, Eddie doesn’t understand how that's even possible, but it does and he burns the image into his brain. “Really?” He nods, a little tip of his head and you smack your hands together giddily. “That’d be great, actually.”
“Cool. Coooool.” He drags it out, swinging himself away from you and back towards the swings. He brushes a seat off before he motions towards it with dedicated flourish. “Join me?”
The soles of your shoes crunch against the dark mulch as you take the seat he’s offered, catching a whiff of his cologne as you walk past him.
“Who said chivalry is dead, huh?” You jest, shifting uncomfortably as you sit on the swing, the metal rungs digging into your thighs. Eddie sits in the one next to you, quirking a smile at you.
“Probably some unchivalrous man.” He makes you laugh, throwing your head back as you snort at his dumb joke. His heart beams.
“Maybe, maybe.” You surmise, twinkling eyes looking him up and down, Eddie expects to feel that pang of insecurity but instead his confidence grows and he offers you a beautiful smile.
“Hi, Eddie.” He follows your eyes as you look away, heat creeping into your cheeks.
“I knew you were pretty.” It comes out a whisper, barely heard over the creaking chains as he sways closer to you, bumping his swing into yours.
“Back to sugaring me up, I see.” You can’t help but to flirt, not when he’s looking at you with those bright brown eyes of his.
“It’s what I do best.” He claims, licking at his plush bottom lip and you can’t seem to pull your gaze from the small flicker of his pink tongue. “I don’t remember you.” Eddie says honestly and you reach over to pat his shoulder.
“That’s okay. I wasn’t much of a stand out.”
“Oh that's bullshit.” Eddie levels his gaze, dark bushy eyebrows scrunched together. “It’s a crime I didn’t know you in high school. Might’ve actually graduated on time if I knew you were there.”
“Yeah, right.” You giggle, kicking his leg lightly with your foot. “I don’t think that's how that works, big boy.”
Eddie looks offended, clutching at his chest with his face screws up and his mouth gapes.
“You’re so mean. Were you this mean in high school?”
You kick him again, laughing like a fool but neither of you care as you make eyes at each other, caught in the heavy mid summer breeze. The sounds of cicadas buzzing in the trees mixing with your laughter and small talk. You talk for hours, sat on the swings, telling stories of DnD and afternoon shifts at the diner. You talk about music, discussing Def Leppard's new album and his ridiculous disdain for Oasis. After a while you get up to stretch your legs, head fuzzy and light from the blunt you shared, and somehow end up on the playground fighting over the whirly slide and laughing till you cried when he got tangled in the rope ladder. When he checks his watch and notices it's half past eleven you’re already laying down in the back of his van.
“I gotta go.” You saw solemnly, rolling your head over to meet his eyes, he looks almost sad as he sits up, scratching the back of his neck as he nods.
“Yeah, don’t wanna keep you out too late. Your parents might file a missing persons report.” You shake your head at this as you slip your shoes back on.
“Not likely. They’re out of town for a while. Even if there weren’t, they probably wouldn’t even notice.”
“I thought they were up your ass about college and shit.” He asks cautiously, sliding out of the van after you.
“Kinda? I don’t know, Eddie. They’re too busy trying to fix their disastrous marriage to notice too much about what I’m doing.” You pause, look around at the empty parking lot before meeting his eyes again, black pools in the darkness. “I didn’t want you to hear them fighting, that's why I waited till I got my own phone. It’s embarrassing.”
“Oh.” He says, shifting from one foot to the other, unsure of what to say.
“Yeah,” You step closer, bite your lip as he looks down at you. “Didn’t want to scare you off.”
Eddie chuckles at this, leaning down till your faces were only a foot apart. “Can’t shake me that easy, princess.”
His beautiful face is brooding, lips pursed slightly and his brown eyes blinking a little heavier than seconds before, like he wants to say something else but he can’t seem to find the right words. You give him a minute, watching his brain work hard before he smiles softly and casts his eyes away from yours and you feel your chest deflate as he pulls back. You wanted him to kiss you but maybe it just wasn’t the right time. Not the right moment.
“I gotta go.” You say again, pulling your keys from your pocket as you walk backwards.
“Yeah you said that.” He leans against the side of his van, watches you get in and start your old piece of shit car up. The sudden awkwardness feels wrong, feels like ice water soaking into your bones. You don’t want to leave, not yet, but you have class in the morning and another shift at the diner and god knows you need the sleep. You shoot him one last smile before begrudgingly shifting the car in reverse and Eddie stands and watches as you drive off back towards your empty house on Maple road.
He kicks himself the whole way home.
The phone beside your bed scares the shit out of you as its shrill ringing screams through your room. The clock on your bedside table reads 2:31 and out your window the sky is still dark.
“Hello?” You croak into the phone, rubbing at your eyes as you lean against your headboard.
“Shit, shit. I didn’t mean to wake you.”
He sounds exhausted, his voice thick and deeper than usual, and it wakes you as it rumbles through your ear.
“Eddie?” You clarify, sitting up to switch on your lamp, your sheets pooling around your ankles.
“Yeah, it’s me.” He groans out and you can imagine him banging his fist against his forehead. You can hear it too.
“Eddie, did you even look at the clock before you called?” You aren’t mad despite the grumpiness in your voice and you clear your throat in an attempt to shake it away.
“No.” He says honestly. “I can’t stop thinking about you and how stupid I was for not asking you out again.”
“Was that a date?” You ask, voice squeaking at the end. You desperately want him to say yes.
Eddie scoffs instead. “Well if you have to ask then it was obviously a horrible date.”
“I liked it.” You whisper into the phone smiling to yourself as he makes a relieved noise.
“Yeah? Cool. Wanna do it again sometime?” He's leaning against the hallway wall, smiling up at the ceiling like a fool in love, which he guesses he is.
“I’d like that. But I’d also like to go back to sleep. Gotta be up at seven.”
“Go to bed, Eddie.”
The days after bleed together, class, work, Eddie. You spend every free moment with him, tucked in his van at lovers lake high and listening to your mixtapes, renting piles of horror movies and gluing yourself to his couch. Long talks and late nights. Summer fades into the humid start of fall with Eddie in the passenger seat explaining in vivid detail his new campaign ideas. He’s become such a constant in your life and those feelings in your chest, the ones reserved for only him, have grown out of control. You’ve started seeking out his touch, finding excuses to hold his hand or sitting so close to him you’re nearly in his lap. You’d be less obvious if you just threw yourself at him, but sweet Eddie doesn’t seem to even notice your advances, much to your dismay.
You were actually going crazy.
Eddie’s going crazy too, much less oblivious than you think, he’s sitting on his hands when you're near so he’s not so tempted to touch you and it’s not working. If he thought he couldn’t stop thinking about you before, it was worse now. Every waking moment is spent counting the hours till he can see you again. And the nights you stay at his place, Eddie has to force himself to stay on the couch. Resist the pull to his bedroom where you lay curled up in his bed. His sheets always smell like your afterwards and that is definitely not helping at all.
As for his assumed obliviousness, it’s all an attempt to deny his urges. Maybe if he ignores you and your new habit of touching him, he’ll have the willpower to resist himself. Some days it is enough to push down the overwhelming need to make you his own. Most days it doesn’t help for shit. He takes those days as they come, biting back the urge to scoop you up into his arms. He'll never turn down the chance to hold your hand or wrap you in a hug, however, jumping at the chance everytime you offer it. He feels like a teenage boy again, waiting for his time alone to satiate his needs, although his own hand feels like punishment sometimes. It’s never enough. He’s holding on by a very frayed thread.
Tonight is definitely one of the more difficult nights for Eddie. You’d spent your day off with him and his friends at the autumnal fair. Hours spent riding crappy rides and playing rigged games. Stuffing your face with funnel cake with Robin and the kids while Steve and Eddie fought over who was better at the ring toss. Eddie was the obvious winner but he let Steve have the giant stuffed banana anyways, just to shut him up.
But now back at Eddie’s trailer wrapped up in one of his quilts with your head leaned against Eddie's shoulder, too damn tired to drive back home, Eddie can feel himself starting to get antsy. His hand is clutching at the arm of the couch and his foot is tapping incessantly.
He keeps looking down at you, tired eyes only half watching whatever movie he put on when you got back, itching at the need to kiss you. He really did need it too, feels like he’s gonna lose his mind every time your thumb rubs against the inside of his wrist. He has his arm wrapped tight around you, hand settled onto your blanket covered thigh. You’d spent a good two minutes earlier making yourself cozy against him, nuzzling your face into his shoulder until you're comfortable. He feels your whole body relax against his, your body heat radiating through the thick blanket. He’s hit with that suffocating need to kiss your pretty lips at the very moment you sigh contently.
But he doesn’t kiss you. Instead he stays lost in his mind, no longer focused on anything but you, completely zoned out in thought. Which is why he doesn’t notice you talking to him until you’re snapping your fingers in front of his face.
“Huh? What?” He sputters, hair flying into his face at the speed he whips his head towards you.
“Jeez, are you okay? I’ve been saying your name for a minute. “You help him brush the hair from his face, his skin tingling at your touch.
“Y-yeah, sorry. Guess I zoned out.” You shift out from under his arm at his words, turning your burritoed body until it faces him.
“Are you okay?” You ask gently, reassuringly.
“Yeah, just… thinking…” He darts his eyes from the tv to your waiting expression. Shit. Maybe he should just ask. If you said no he could always pretend it never even happened.
“Wanna talk abou-” You start before he interrupts you, his voice a little louder and higher than he intends it to be.
“Can I kiss you?”
You tilt your head, face twisting into a mix of amusement and confusion.
“You’re asking to kiss me?”
“Yeah?” Eddie seems to be questioning himself as well, twisting one of his rings around his finger. “I’ve been thinking about it all day, actually.”
“All day?” You ask him, absolutely giddy at the thought he’d been thinking about it at all.
“Uh, yeah. I’m- I’m always kinda thinking about it.”
You kiss him suddenly, his admission shooting through you like a lightning strike. You clutch him by his shirt collar, moan into his mouth when he grips the back of your neck, lost in the taste that is entirely him; tobacco and mint. He’s solid against your chest as he brings you into his lap, your knees planted into the couch cushion on either side of him, the blanket long forgotten on the floor. There's a moment when you pull apart, panting against the others lips, and he’s looking at you as your eyes flutter open, a smile so wide it makes your cheeks ache.
“Should've asked sooner.” Your voice is breathy, chest heaving against his own, and that smile never leaves as you continue. “I’ve been waiting since the day we met at the park for you to kiss me.”
Eddie is baffled, head falling back against the backrest as he groans at his own stupidity.
“You’re joking?” He cups your face when you giggle at him, shaking your head with this mischievous glint in your eyes. “I could have been kissing you all this time?”
“Yep.” You agree, leaning in to press a chaste kiss to his cheek. “Looks like we have a lot of wasted time to make up for.”
Eddie pulls you away by your shoulders -weighing your words rather dramatically- before he’s smiling again so intensely it creases his cheeks, his brown eyes crinkled in the corners.
“Don’t threaten me with a good time, baby.” You manage a quick delighted laugh at his words before he cuts you off with a heated kiss, guiding your head as he kisses the breath from your lungs.
Eddie could get used to this.
“We shouldn’t be doing this.”
My friend since ship assignment didn’t even turn around. “You don’t have to come, but I’m going.”
I followed still. “This is a bad idea. Human Sarah didn’t even want to mess with these things. If the human said no-“
Fryll interrupted me. “Human Sarah is not the great warrior everyone thinks she is. She got scared at a photo of an arachnid.”
“That’s not the point! These things are not safe!” I insisted.
Fryll finally stopped and turned to me. “Look, I’ve done the research. I know what I’m doing. If we get one as a pup, it will bond with us. Having one of these as a protector is going to make everything infinitely safer in the long run. We just gotta grab one.”
“It’s not the pups I’m afraid of,” I reminded him.
Fryll shook his head. “Then stay here.”
He kept going. I turned to look back, but only to indulge in the dream of leaving. I couldn’t leave Fryll to this. If he was going to make it back, he’d need help. I turned back and ran after him.
We got closer to their nest, home, whatever it’s called. We were moving slower and quieter.
“So why can’t we just buy a pup?” I asked softly.
“Research says that wild ones are better.”
“Better at what?” I demanded.
“You don’t know? We’re risking our necks and you don’t know why?” I hissed.
“Look, just watch my back Ok? I can see the pups right over there. I’ll be back.”
Fryll took off, trying to avoid the underbrush. I was very annoyed at my friend, but turned to watch out for predators anyway.
Yellow eyes stared back at me. I froze.
The creature was maybe a half meter tall, and silent. It was creepy how silent it was. How long had it been following us?
It bared fangs, and I racked my brain for pertinent information. I recalled one of my favorite game shows “Dog or Not” and tried to desperately place this animal.
Four legs, canine appearance-
I jerked as it chirped. I stopped breathing.
Dogs don’t chirp.
“Not a dog.” My voice was barely a whisper. I needed to look to Fryll, to warn him. I couldn’t turn my head. I tried to speak again, but a second chirp to my left made my voice and my blood freeze.
“NOT A DOG!”
The things around me all poked their heads up. I counted seven in total. They all turned to the source of the screaming.
One creature went rolling sideways as something hit it, and the others ran, laughing?
Human Sarah grabbed my arm. “Run.” She thrust a large stick into my hands. “Hit anything you see. Be loud.” She pushed me back towards our transport.
I ran. I ran screaming and swinging my stick around like an idiot who followed his friend into a very dangerous situation. I ran until I made it back onto the transport, where I promptly backed myself into a corner and collapsed.
Human Sarah and Fryll arrived a few minutes later. Fryll was bleeding, Sarah looked angry. She pushed Fryll into a seat and took control of the transport.
“I told you NOT to mess with those dogs,” she snapped.
“Not a dog,” I repeated.
“No, they aren’t. They’re called hyenas, but these aren’t Earth hyenas. These have adapted to this planet, which makes them unpredictable.”
The transport shuddered as it lifted off.
“I thought they were dogs. They look like dogs,” Fryll stated, but his voice sounded disconnected, as if he was not attached to it.
“Yeah, but they aren’t. They are deadly though, which is why I said not to go get one. If you wanted a pet, I could have gotten you guys a pit bull or literally any dog that’s not a wild hyena,” Sarah snapped.
“Not a dog,” I agreed.
Sarah glanced at me, her face twisted into something not anger. “Don’t worry Sahra, we’ll be back soon enough.”
“Not a dog.”
compromised | lh44
I got totally carried away with this… I started this after the car launch and it got out of hand so that is why this is 10k words of nothing but smut and pining
summary: after george finds the communications director and lewis in a compromising position, they try to be more careful as the season drags on. too bad lewis’ yacht isn’t as private as they thought.
notes: fingering, p in v, cursing, risky public sex, caught in the act, mostly smut tbh
Despite my best effort, I couldn’t tear my eyes from the man on the other side of the slick car. How silly to be ogling over a man that had just whispered shameless promises into my ear with everyone around. I was supposed to be unphased, but here I am turning red on the other side of the camera as the man stands illuminated beneath lights. When his eyes briefly meet mine as he shoots a glance my way, a slight smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. His earrings catch the light, and the stud in his nose glints. It feels stifling in the room as they shoot the car launch, and the heat only rises up my neck the longer I stare at Lewis in his black team shirt that clings to his chest. Tattoos peek out from the team shirt, and my fingers itch to trace the ink like muscle memory. His words from earlier replay over and over in my head.
I can’t wait to catch you after this, and make you break underneath me until you forget we’re at the office.
I’m finding myself increasingly desperate for the car launch to be over, and when the show finally ends, I take a deep breath. It’s a relief when Lewis finally leaves the set, and I feel like I can clear my thoughts. George’s press officer and communications manager sneak up to my side, calling my name as Lewis’ words still ping around in my brain. When one of them snaps their fingers in front of my face, I finally come to, offering them a smile.
“Sorry,” I shake my head. “It’s been such a long day with the launch.”
“We’ve always got coffee on if you want some,” one of them smiles before confirming our meeting later in the day.
Either they don’t notice my red cheeks or they don’t comment on them, and the pair walk away. I heave a sigh, fingers pressing to my eyelids, before weaving through the hallways back to my office. A part of me wants to find Lewis just to tease him back, but the logical part of my brain warns against finding the driver. Logic wins, and I shut the door behind me softly, sighing loudly once the latch clicks. I check the thermostat in my office, fanning my face as heat still radiates from the scrutiny of his stare. After a few minutes of quiet, I settle at my desk with papers sprawled in front of me and both monitors glaring at me with work. Thoughts of Lewis and his lewd language drift away as I’m sucked back into work, the rhythmic tapping of my keyboard becoming ambient noise in the office.
I barely register the click of my office door, but my eyes meet Lewis as he waltzes in, smile on his face and coffee cup in hand.
“It’s a good-looking car,” I comment before he even shuts the door to my office.
The smirk on his face tells me he’s here to talk about something else, “It’s a sexy car, yeah?”
His gaze holds mine as he approaches my desk with a mischievous smile. I try to keep the conversation going despite my distracted thoughts. He sets the coffee cup down on my desk, and I thank him before taking a sip.
“I can’t believe we’re already back and getting ready for testing,” I shuffle some papers on my desk to look busy. “I miss being on break with you.”
He leans against the corner of my desk before bringing his hand up to my face. His fingers brush a lock of hair away from my cheek, and I mentally scold myself as I lean into his touch mindlessly.
“I wish we had another week in Colorado,” he whispers, thumb dragging across my cheek. “Just us. No cares about anyone else. I can’t wait to whisk you away again over summer break. Our little secret.”
When his thumb moves to my lips, the rough pad brushing against my skin lightly, my breath hitches. His eyes are intent on my features as his thumb rests on the inside of my bottom lip. My mouth closes around his digit gently, and he groans as he drags it down my lip to rest the wet digit on my chin.
“You know what I miss most about our little getaway?” his voice is quiet as he hovers over me, eyes cast down to mine.
I hum in response, missing the feel of his fingers against my mouth. With his proximity and the memory of his words before the show, all my defenses and logic fall away. I become a submissive mess beneath his gaze and gentle touches.
“Fucking wherever and whenever we wanted,” his voice rasps but his facial features give nothing away. “You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?”
My eyes meet his with his hand still cupping my cheek. He smiles softly as his voice drops, “Which time are you thinking about?”
“The piano,” I whisper, eyes never leaving his intent gaze, “and the hot tub.”
“Good choices,” he grins, fingers pushing hair back away from my face.
HIs fingers linger across my skin, and my muscles quiver as I sit as still as possible, waiting for him to decide to make his move. HIs thumb brushes across my lips again before fingertips graze underneath my jaw. The rough pads of his fingers grace across my throat, and a surprised gasp breaks past my lips.
My fingers fidget in my lap as I whine, “Lewis.”
“I’m thinking about the patio,” he speaks lowly, fingers tracing my collarbone which disappears beneath my matching Mercedes team shirt, “with the fire place.”
Memories flash at his words, recalling the innumerable times Lewis had me falling apart over the winter break. He leans down, his lips replacing his fingers as they brush mine. I breathe deeply at the contact, pressing my lips to his and relishing in the moment of intimacy. My fingers make their way to the back of his neck, tugging gently at his braids as he dominates the kiss.
“I have a meeting soon,” I gasp for air against him. “George and his communications team will be here.”
“How soon is soon?” he mutters, fingers grasping at my breast beneath my shirt, crumpling the team logo on my chest.
“In 15 minutes,” I breathe as my head tips back, his fingers making their way down my shirt and toward my pants. “You should leave in 10.”
“I’ll have to be quick then,” he grins, fingers working at the button on my black slacks.
“Lewis,” his name leaves my lips as more of a plea than the intended warning.
“I couldn’t focus during the car launch with you biting your lip and moving behind the camera,” he grunts, fingers making quick work of my pants. “Trying my best to pay attention.”
“It’s your fault,” I breathe as I lift my hips for him to tug at my waistband. “You’re the one that was talking about how you couldn’t wait to fuck me.”
He chuckles against my neck, “I think I said I couldn’t wait to have you breaking beneath me, love. You make it sound so vulgar. Such dirty words from such a pretty mouth.”
I whimper at his words, hips searching for contact as his hand ghosts my inner thigh. Words fail me as my head swims, trying to find sense in the feeling of Lewis all around me. His hands work at my thighs, fingers tracing across the revealed skin as his thumb skims my covered core. Lewis chuckles darkly as his thumb stills.
“Already so desperate for me,” he grins, crouching in front of me to stare where his thumb was hovering. “So eager to break underneath me.”
“Lewis, please,” I gasp as his thumb presses more firmly against me. “I have to leave soon.”
“Please what?” he whispers. “Use your words for me, love.”
My fingers grasp desperately at the arm of my office chair, “Touch me. Anything you’ll give me.”
He laughs again at my vulnerable state, with words flying and any sense of formality out the window. His fingers finally obey as they push my underwear to the side. Cold air rushes toward my core, and I groan as his warm digits finally press into the place that is throbbing for him. My fingers clutch his wrist. He makes quick work of me, actually heeding my warning about time, and his tattooed forearm flexes as his fingers slide through my slick folds.
He chuckles as my fingers desperately grasp at the office chair while my lungs gasp for air, “You walk around like you own the place--all high and mighty--but you’re really just waiting for someone to put you in your place.”
“It’s why I have you.”
Despite the signals misfiring from my brain to my mouth from the pleasure Lewis bestows upon me, a layer of sarcasm still manages to operate correctly. I breathe the words before I even realize they’re falling past my lips, and my eyes find his lustful gaze.
“That’s it, huh?” he grins. “You challenge me because at the end of the day, you know what I’ll do to you.”
His fingers continue their torturous movements, gliding from a slow caress to slipping into me with gentle pumps. I look down to watch his tattooed fingers disappear within me, and I nod my head wildly to agree with him.
“And what do I do to you, love?” he grins, lips close to my ear as his breath fans across my neck. “I want to hear you say it.”
“You fuck me until I only remember your name,” I groan, eyes shutting as the pleasure mounts from his languid pumps.
His lips spread deeper into a smirk, “Listening to me for once. I like you like this.”
“I thought you liked me defiant,” I whimper as his thumb presses into my clit again.
His movements slow to a torturous pace, “Sometimes, love. It’s cute when you’re defiant because I know how easy you are to break.”
“Lewis, please,” I gasp, fingernails sinking into his wrist as a plea for him to continue his ministrations. “Please don’t stop.”
“I thought you had a meeting soon,” his tone is teasing as his fingers stop entirely, pressing against my walls in slow movements instead of their deep strokes.
“Please, I’ll do anything,” I gasp as I clench his hand. “Fuck, Lewis please. Please make me cum.”
“Such an act,” he mutters with a wicked smile. “Imagine George and his team knew you were like this. Their bossy executive begging for my fingers. Someone so in control and powerful falling apart under my touch—begging for me to make her cum.”
I go to answer, but Lewis suddenly resumes his lewd actions. My head falls back against my office chair as he stretches me beyond my limit. His other hand works quick circles into my clit, and my skin feels like it’s on fire as I rapidly approach the edge. Desperate moans fall past my lips, and his name grows in volume as it leaves my tongue. My legs start to spasm beneath me, and he chuckles as I beg him to push me over the edge.
“Go ahead, love,” he says against my jaw, lips brushing my heated skin. “Wish they could hear you.”
His lips crush mine to absorb the obscene moans coming from my lips, and stars burst behind my eyelids as I gasp for air into the crushing kiss. Warmth erupts from the base of my spine and spreads to my toes and scalp. My brain chants his name repeatedly, and my lips move clumsily against his as my eyes screw shut. His one hand continues to rub slowing circles on my clit while his other clutches my jaw. His digits are still wet with my arousal as they press into my cheek. Desperate pleas begin to fall from my parted lips as he breaks away for air, and his thumb continues its slow torment on my overstimulated core. The air is humid with sex, and I can hear his fingers slipping between my soaked folds.
“Lewis,” I whine quietly, struggling to come back to my senses with his fingers against me and lips pressed against my neck.
“One more minute,” he whispers as his nose brushes down my throat.
As I try to respond to him, with fingers toying at his pulled-back braids, a knock on my office door resounds. Before I even have time to process what is happening, the door handle clicks. George peers into my office, and he sees the mortified look on my face before shouting a quick apology and shutting the door. Luckily, Lewis’ hand against my sex is hidden beneath my desk, but the other driver has definitely seen my hands in his idol’s hair with his lips against my neck. He even heard his name falling from my lips in gasps of air. He may not have seen everything, but it was clear what had been happening. Lewis is ripping his hand away from me by the time the door shuts, and his eyes are wide despite the quiet chuckle that comes from his lips.
“I could fucking kill you,” I mutter. “How the fuck am I supposed to explain this?”
“Be honest,” he whispers with a grin, pressing one last kiss to my jaw to elicit a moan in spite of my anger. “Tell him how you’re so powerful until I’m in the room and you’re crumbling and begging for me.”
“Fuck you,” I spit at him. “I’m serious, Lewis.”
“There’s no denying it to him, but I’ll talk to him first,” he kisses my cheek sweetly. “I’ll catch him in the hall. Best button your pants to get ready for your meeting.”
I tuck my hair behind my ears as he begins walking away from my desk, wiping his fingers on the pocket of his pants. I watch his frame as he approaches the door.
“Lewis?” I ask, and he spins around with raised brows. “Thank you for the coffee. Even though you’ve made my life infinitely harder now, I appreciate you.”
“Life definitely just got interesting,” he grins mischievously. “Good luck in your meeting, love. I’ll be here when you’re done.”
As the door shuts behind him, I hear him greet George, and blood rushes to my face as my heart pounds. I take a moment in my office to gather my thoughts and make sure I look presentable. I smooth out my hair and my team shirt that Lewis crushed beneath his rough palms. I flick on the oil diffuser next to my monitors. Lord knows I could use some lavender to calm me down and mask the sex in the air. With another deep breath, I open my office door to see George and Lewis at the end of the hallway. The tattooed driver claps George on the back as he walks away, turning to me with a smile that George catches. The young driver makes his way toward me, mouth open with an apology ready. I hold a hand up to stop him, waving him into my office before he can begin.
“I’m sorry, George,” I start. “That was wildly unprofessional of us, and I’m sure uncomfortable for you. You have to understand that I take my job very seriously, and I value my role within this team.”
George just looks at me incredulously, “I never doubted it. Please, don’t worry about me. Lewis filled me in a bit. Your secret is safe with me.”
My toughened demeanor softens a bit at his understanding, “I truly appreciate that, George. I prefer how things are right now.”
“My mum and my girlfriend would approve,” he grins. “They both have massive crushes on him.”
“There’s no way you just told me that,” I laugh at his comment, finding his youthful energy refreshing.
He laughs along with me, “After what I’ve just witnessed? I think anything I say will get a pass for a couple weeks.”
“With me, yes. Your team and the media? That’s a different story.”
Ever since George caught us in my office at HQ, Lewis and I have been extra careful in our meetings. I made team spaces strictly off limits after George made a cheeky remark at the W-13 shakedown when I held a meeting with Lewis about media availability. He walked through the garage with a sly grin on his face, and I stood in the corner with a slight blush on my cheeks. Lewis tried to stifle laughter at his teammate’s comments while I stood turning bright red in the garage, and the rest of the team didn’t even bat an eye.
Despite the disappointing race for Lewis in Monaco, he still wanted to celebrate with the team for George’s performance and the team’s improvements. He invites me just like the rest of the communications department, but he adds a sly wink to his comments that only I catch. The entire time he is working his way through the hospitality suite, inviting team member after team member, I struggle to pay attention to anything other than the way his black fireproofs cling to his chest and his earrings glint in the light. I say a mental thank you when the tattooed driver exits the suite back toward his motorhome to change.
The yacht is full of out of uniform team members. It looks like the Mercedes garage minus the team logo. I step on to the boat with Toto and Susie, chatting with the Scot about events back in the UK as her husband helps us from the dock to the swaying vessel. She compliments the sundress I am wearing opposite to her white jumpsuit, and Toto makes a comment about the warm weather Monaco is experiencing. Just as I am about to answer my boss and friend, Lewis appears around the deck with a wide smile.
“You’ve made it,” he grins, hugging all three of us quickly.
He makes sure to keep his hands from lingering on me as he pulls away, something he was finding difficult with the sundress on my body, “I’m so glad you came. I wasn’t sure you’d make time for it.”
Toto chuckles at Lewis’ comment directed at me, and I respond with a smile and sarcasm, “I’ve always got time for you, Sir Hamilton.”
The married pair next to us laughs wildly as the driver looks at me, the look in his eyes not going unnoticed, “I’ll have to remember that.”
Lewis guides the three of us back toward the large deck on his yacht, and when the Wolffs sit on one of the plush seats, Lewis offers to get them a drink. He asks if I’ll help him to leave the two a private moment, and I nod as Susie thanks us. Lewis’ arm brushes mine as he guides us toward the bar. His hands instinctively settle at the small of my back when a partygoer bumps into me, and his large hands steady me. They don’t leave my side until I lean against the wood finish of the bar.
“I like your dress,” he says nonchalantly after ordering, eyes focused ahead where more people are entering the yacht.
He knows exactly what he is doing as a smirk plays at the end of his lips. I glance at him from the corner of my eye, taking in his creme pants and sheer shirt. Jewelry adorns his body, and my eyes catch the rings on his fingers as they slide across the bar top.
“Still protesting the FIA?” I grin as the bartender slides the wine and champagne to us.
“Somewhat,” his smirk is full-fledged now. “I remember someone saying they like these rings, so I wear them when I get the chance now.”
My cheeks light up with red as I look more closely at the rings on his delicately tattooed hands. The silver rings glint in the light of fledgling sunset, pressed against the cool champagne flutes. It’s like I can feel the imprint those hands left on the sides of my throat the longer I stare at his fingers, and memories of the cool metal against my skin surface. He chuckles quietly at my ogling, an arm wrapping around my waist suddenly as he pulls me away from an already buzzed partygoer as he comes barreling toward the bar. The champagne tips over the top of the flute lightly, dripping down my knuckles in a short ravine. I bring my hand to my lips, locking eyes with him briefly as I lick the sweet alcohol from my skin before thanking him for pulling me out of the way.
“Does this count as a team space?” he asks quietly, glancing around before his eyes return back to mine.
His gaze is hard as his arm around my waist loosens, and I make a mental note about how I’ve made him react.
“Inherently, no,” I start, holding back a frown as his arm drops from my waist as we head back toward our waiting friends. “With everyone here, yes.”
“How about in a few hours when everyone is drunk and the sun has set entirely?” his voice is gruff. “I’m sure you remember some of the more private places on the yacht.”
Images flash of previous times on his boat--laying out on the back deck covered by a beach towel, the couch on the interior when it started raining, the hot tub. He grins as he looks at my glazed over gaze, and he nudges me gently across the threshold to the deck with his knee.
“Good girl,” he comments quietly, and my fingers tighten around the champagne flutes in my hands. “You do remember.”
My mouth opens to answer, but with his praise pinging around in my head, my tongue fails me. I close my parted lips, nodding gently at him before continuing across the umber deck. Behind him, his eyes watch my every movement across the deck as we approach our friends, and his jaw hardens as my dress blows in the sea breeze, revealing more and more of my thighs as I walk.
“We were just talking about the two of you!” Susie smiles broadly as we appear, taking a glass for her and Toto out of my hands. “We were thinking of another brief vacation over the summer break like a few years ago. Remember the villas in Italy?”
Lewis has to hold back a grin when my shoulders visibly tense. That trip is what started whatever this entanglement is between the two of us, and our friends have no idea that what they planned as an innocent retreat had done the exact opposite of its intentions. His hands brush mine as he grabs both glasses--one for him and one for me--and he directs me to sit on the plush bench with a nod.
“I loved the villas,” I try to recover a sense of composure, but I’m painfully aware of his eyes on me. “They were so peaceful and quiet.”
“And massive,” Lewis comments, sitting next to me so that I’m caged in between him and Susie. “I swear I could hardly hear you on the other side of the villa.”
I swallow thickly as flashes from that trip start in my head, and I nervously smooth out the material of my dress to occupy my hands. Lewis watches my fingers press down on the fabric over my thighs.
“I’m sorry again about sticking you two in there together,” Susie starts after taking a sip of her wine. “I still swear the booking said three bedrooms, not two.”
“No way was I making you both fight over who got the bed and who got the couch,” Toto laughs, arm wrapped around his wife. “I think sharing the villa brought you both a little closer, though. I like to take credit for that, at least.”
“I think we learned about each other on that trip,” Lewis smirks, one of his hands resting on my lower back and hidden from the couple next to us. “I learned she’s not as bossy as she seems, and she’s actually willing to listen to someone else for once.”
My jaw nearly drops as Lewis reveals the information from that fated trip, and my brain freezes as flashes of our lust-filled trip clog my reason. That was when Lewis learned about my desire for approval, and when praise fell from his mouth, I practically fell to my knees. The bill sent to Lewis for the broken items from the villa was a testament to our newfound relationship.
“I learned that all you have to do is stroke his ego, and he’ll do whatever I ask,” I fire back, smirking when his fingertips press into my back with more force. “Sure, we were already friends we had been working together so long, but there had been some hiccups along the way. Italy really worked out the kinks in that relationship.”
It’s his turn for his jaw to harden as he bites down on his back molars, grinding his teeth to draw attention to something other than my words. I try not to laugh as the couple next to us touch hands and smile, believing they had helped forge the strengthened friendship of Lewis and me. They had brought us together in Italy, but there was much more to that trip than they know about. It’s still hard to believe they couldn’t hear us from their balcony.
“That was one of my favorite trips,” he smiles as he takes another sip of champagne from his glass. “I think my most recent trip to Colorado is my favorite, though.”
My stomach drops, knowing the teasing is far from over at the mention of Colorado.
“The pictures looked stunning!” Susie smiles at Lewis. “I’m sure it was much needed to clear your head.”
“You met up with him for a bit, right?” Toto looks at me, a certain look in his eye that causes dread to pool in my stomach.
I nod my head, “I was headed out to Utah for some retreat after the season. I made a pit stop in Colorado to check in with Lewis.”
His voice suddenly softens as his eyes hold a sincere look to them, “I was grateful she stopped by. Obviously, I wasn’t in the best place following the end of the season, and she made sure to treat me as she would any other time. Plus, it was nice to catch up outside of the paddock.”
I notice Susie elbow her husband gently at Lewis’ confession, and I can’t help but feel my heart quicken in my chest. I turn to him with a genuine smile, but a coyness plays in my gaze and in my words.
“It was nice to catch up, yeah?” I turn to the Wolffs, laying a hand on Lewis’ forearm as I speak. “We skied a bit, and I got to see the mysterious cabin we hear about all the time. My favorite part about it was this outdoor patio and fireplace. He surprised me, honestly. I was worried about him after the season, but he was more concerned with my wellbeing following the grueling season than his.”
It’s Toto’s turn to elbow his wife at my words, and Susie beams at us, “We haven’t even seen the infamous cabin. I swear you’re the only person who has.”
Lewis leans forward to glare at his boss and his wife, “She was already on the way out. Next time you find yourselves on the west coast, give me a call and you’ll get the tour.”
The pair next to us laugh, and I find myself trying not to lean into Lewis’ side. Eventually, the pair head off to greet more guests on Lewis’ yacht, and the driver extends a hand out to help me up from my spot on the plush bench. A brisk breeze blows through the deck, sending my hair and dress billowing around me. Lewis watches with baited breath, biting back a smile as the sun dips closer to the horizon. His hand lingers in mine, pulling away once I’ve smoothed out the material around my hips.
“I should go greet all of my guests,” he states matter-of-factly, eyes locked on mine.
“Don’t let me hold you up,” I smile gently, reaching for his empty champagne flute.
He pulls it back from my reach, “I’ll get us another glass. They’ve waited this long for me to greet them. What’s a little longer?”
I can’t help but stare as he walks away from the bar, jewelry and sheer shirt sparkling beneath the last rays of orange sun and yacht lights. My eyes linger on his delicately tattooed fingers curled around the glass in his hand. I mingle with other team members, drinking a few more glasses of the sweet alcohol, but my thoughts never stray too far from the British owner of the yacht. As the night continues, I find myself growing tired of the constant commotion in the Monaco harbor. My forearms press against the smooth railing, and I lean my weight into the structure keeping me from the Mediterranean below. My eyes follow gentle waves lapping against the side of the yacht.
“I think he’s got a soft spot for you.”
I turn to look at Susie who stands next to me, holding out a glass of water which I graciously accept.
“Who?” I ask her, sipping from the glass in my hand.
She leans into the railing with a laugh, “Don’t be daft. Lewis, you knob.”
I smile gently, shaking my head as I look back to the sea, “We’re just similar, Susie. I think we understand each other more than we’d like to admit.”
“Please,” she scoffs as I turn back to her. “I see how you both look at each other. I’m not sure what’s going on there, but it’s something. I’ve caught both of you with that look ever since Bahrain.”
I laugh at her, trying to hide the nerves suddenly settling in my stomach, “What look?”
“I’m not sure what the look is exactly, but you both do it. Your eyes sometimes follow each other when you think other people aren’t paying attention, or you’ll both share a look that is quick but telling. It’s obvious you’re dying to get each other alone,” her elbow prods me gently with her words. “Don’t try to tell me I’m being delusional, either. I did enough of that with Toto to know.”
I try to find an excuse--some reason as to dispel her observations or shift her conclusions--but nothing comes to me. I stare at her, slack-jawed and glossy-eyed, with an empty champagne flute in one hand and a glass of water in the other. My voice shakes with her revelation, both in fear of being caught by others and fear of my emotions being caught by Lewis.
“Is it obvious?”
Susie places a hand on my forearm gently, shaking her head with a soft smile, “No, but you know you could have told me, yeah? I don’t tell Toto everything.”
I nod my head, “I know, and I’m sorry. It’s just complicated in ways you wouldn’t believe.”
“I’m sure it is, considering your roles and responsibilities--what’s proper and what isn’t,” she nods. “But I’m here to talk about it if you want. I’m here as a friend, not as a team principal.”
I turn to her, holding one of her hands in mine, “Thank you, Susie.”
She nods, squeezing my hand back, “Of course. This is clearly weighing on you.”
I take a deep breath, looking around to make sure no one is too close before beginning, “It actually started in the villas on the trip we were talking about earlier. It was an accident, but we both were a little tipsy and we had been arguing all day. Tensions came to a head, and we ended up sleeping together.”
Her jaw drops, “Oh my god, you so fucked on the balcony, didn’t you?”
I nod my head with a cringe, and she answers back in a hushed whisper, “I swore to Toto I heard you guys out there, and it sounded a little friendly we’ll say, but he told me to just go back to bed!”
“I told him we had to stop--it was just a vacation thing and everything would be normal back at the track,” I begin again. “It worked for a bit, but then we were celebrating the 2017 championship, and it happened again. I guess it’s been happening ever since then.
It’s easy, yeah? We’re always working and traveling. We trust each other. He knows what I like, and I know what he likes. It just makes our time on the road a little easier and less lonely. Plus, it’s fun to sneak around sometimes.”
She grins wildly, “I’m just dying to know. How is it?”
“Life changing,” I grin at her, and she squeals like a schoolgirl. “Like jaw dropping, earth shattering, voice gone.”
“I’m assuming you’re still seeing each other sometimes,” her eyebrows raise. “Is that what Colorado was about?”
I nod gently, biting back a smile as her jaw drops, “So, I actually went with him out of concern following the season. I didn’t want him to be alone up there, and I knew Toto would give me the okay to work remotely for a bit. It essentially turned into a sex fest.”
She laughs at my comment, clutching her chest as she laughs, “I should’ve known you were getting it somewhere. You were way too laid back over the break every time I talked to you.”
“It was nice to spend that time with him, though,” I say. “Time to just be whatever it is that we are instead of sneaking into his driver’s room or my office at HQ.”
“You’re joking,” she starts. “His driver’s room and the motorhome? Your office? You’ve not been caught yet?”
I cringe at her words, “Okay, so, reminder that this is as my friend, not as my boss’ wife and partner in crime.”
She nods, “I’m scared, but I’m listening.”
I take a deep breath, rushing through my words as if she won’t be as upset if they come out quicker, “George may or may not have caught us in my office after the car launch.”
“Oh my god,” she breathes out, fingers pressed to her forehead. “I can’t believe how risky you’ve gotten.”
“It’s his fault!” my voice raises in volume, drawing the attention of some people which causes me to grow quiet again. “It’s like he completely clouds my judgment. I can’t get enough.”
“Well, based on what I’ve seen tonight, I’d say the same for him,” she starts. “He can’t take his eyes off you with that dress. Did you wear it on purpose?”
“What do you mean?” I ask her. “I wanted to dress up some for the yacht, and I thought this dress gave a Mediterranean feel.”
“It does, but it also makes your ass look good and gives him easy access,” she says with a shrug. “Have you not heard what they say about sundresses?”
I shake my head as my friend responds, “All you need to know is that he hasn’t looked away from you all night. If I had to guess, he wants to fuck you on his yacht if he hasn’t already.”
My cheeks burn red, “Are you serious?”
“Absolutely!” she elbows me. “I think you should go find him, and you’ll see I’m right.”
“So, you want me to find Lewis to see if he’ll fuck me on his yacht?”
“Oh, I already know he will, I just want to see if I’m right about the sundress. It’s a hypothesis I’m testing with Toto,” Susie grins as she nudges me toward the bar.
Hey eyebrows quirks, “After everything you just told me, I think I’m allowed to tell you that.”
She pushes me again toward the bar, turning away and making her way back to her husband as I step across the deck into the plush interior of Lewis’ yacht. He leans against the counter of the bar, ring-adorned fingers around a glass of water, as he speaks to some guests I don’t recognize. When he sees me approaching, dress blowing in the breeze making its way off the ocean, he smiles widely, introducing me to the people he was talking to. I stand by his side as he finishes his conversation, offering responses and head nods where appropriate. I try to hang on to the conversation, barely catching questions about my work as I become acutely aware of the driver next to me.
“She’s the best in the business,” Lewis smiles, answering on my behalf. “She keeps my ass in line and on time. We’re lucky to have her on the team.”
The guests laugh at his comment, with one of them in a designer dress shirt speaking up, “I’m sure she keeps you busy then with all your media.”
He grins broadly, “And other things. I do pretty much whatever she asks.”
I bite down hard on the inside of my cheek at his words, and my arms rests on the bartop to keep my knees from giving out. It’s a smooth transition that doesn’t draw any attention from the guests, but Lewis notices immediately.
“It’s a good working relationship,” I nod my head. “We both understand what makes each other tick, so we know our boundaries pretty well. I oversee the communications of the team, but I pay special attention to Lewis’ schedule.”
“We’ve pretty much grown up in the team together,” he smiles, but there is a gleam in his eyes. “I’ve learned a lot about her since we first started working together.”
The guests ask the driver more questions, but I lose all focus on them when his hand brushes the back of my thigh, dipping beneath the fabric of my dress and hidden from the view of the guests in front of me. His cool rings ghost across my skin, and I breathe in sharply as the metal sends goosebumps across my skin. One of the guests notices, and she looks at me with concern in her eyes.
“Are you alright?” her voice is gentle and gaze soft.
Mentally, I want to turn around and kick Lewis in the shins for being this risky, but all I can manage is a weak nod of my head as I focus on his fingertips on my skin.
“Just feeling a bit seasick,” I muster. “The champagne isn’t settling great, either.”
Lewis bids a goodbye to the guests, promising to take me for some fresh air. I say goodbye to them as we pass, and Lewis is sure not to let his hands linger as we walk past them. My brain is hazy as we make our way back toward the deck, and goosebumps continue erupting on my skin from his touch and the sea breeze. I’m grateful for the darkening sky to help hide my red cheeks, and I take a deep breath of the cool air before turning to face him.
Words fail me when he comes into view, and I stare at his features beneath the glittering lights of Monaco. Warm light from the interior of the yacht illuminates his skin in an amber glow, and his jewelry glints as he shifts in front of me. His tattoos peek out from beneath his sheer shirt, and my fingers itch to trace along the familiar ink. He has a braid tucked behind each ear, and he runs a hand across his beard as he watches me with a hard gaze.
“Can this not be a team space anymore?” I whisper, barely loud enough for him to hear over the partygoers that remain.
He smirks as he leans in a bit closer, my eyes never leaving his face, “That’s your decision, love. You’re calling the shots.”
I look around at the remaining guests, seeing Susie and Toto across on deck on the other side of the yacht. He has his arm around her as they lean into the railing, laughing about something as we pass other boats.
“I told Susie about this,” I whisper, voice quiet as he looks at me. “Tonight. She asked me about it.”
I anticipate a reaction from him, but he just looks at me with his stoic expression, voice steady with a rasp working its way through his words, “What did she ask?”
“She said she thinks you have a soft spot for me,” my voice grows even quieter as he takes another step closer to me, blocking me from the rest of the partygoers. “She said she’s seen the look we give each other.”
“And what are these looks that Susie sees?” his voice falls deeper, eyes boring into mine.
“Ones that scream we want to get each other alone,” I mumble, breathing deeply as his chest brushes against mine.
“And what else did you tell Susie about us, love, hm?” he asks with a dark look in his eye. “Did you tell her how willing you are for me? All I have to do is call you my pretty girl and you’ll go weak in the knees?”
My eyes flutter shut at his words, and I bite my cheek to keep from doing anything that will draw the attention of the other guests, “I told her about the balcony in Italy, and I told her why I went to Colorado. I told her about the office when George came in.”
Lewis smirks, taking another glance around the remaining guests, “Why don’t you be good, and head up toward the upper deck, yeah? When we’re done, you can tell her all about how I ruined you on my yacht with half the team on it.”
“Lewis,” I breathe deeply, eyes meeting his as my thighs press together beneath my dress.
He catches my movement, and his fingers suddenly rest on the small of my back. They sink into the light fabric blowing in the breeze, and I shiver when I can feel his body heat radiating through the thin fabric.
“I’ll tell everyone you were feeling ill,” he reassures me, fingers lightly pushing against the small of my back to nudge me forward. “I’m just being a good friend and taking care of you.”
His voice changes a bit at the word friend, and my feet follow the momentum of his push as I take hesitant steps across the deck. Guests blur by me as I focus on the pathway toward the upper deck, and I don’t stop when Lewis does to tell some of his engineers that I’m not feeling well. I continue my trek up the steps and through the interior, emerging on to the upper deck in silence. Partygoers below laugh and cheer, and glasses clink as they consume more alcohol. I turn around when I hear footsteps, and my worries ease as Lewis appears with a gentle smile. He stands on the other side of the deck for a moment, eyes raking across my figure as his smile grows.
“God, you look stunning tonight,” he whispers, eyes coming back up to my face.
“Susie said it’s the dress,” I mumble, taking a step toward him. “Apparently sundresses are the thing to wear around you.”
He nods approvingly as I stop in front of the plush bench, “She was right. I haven’t been able to look away from you all night, but it’s not just the dress.”
He takes a step toward me, hands finally grasping my hips roughly as he spins us around. He guides me toward the entrance of the upper deck, pressing my back gently against the tinted glass, and his knee slides in between my legs as I whimper. Goosebumps rise on my skin as the sea breeze blows across us, and his broad back blocks some of the chilled wind. My hands rest around his neck, fingers tracing across the collar of his shirt and the pendant of his necklace that dips beneath the sheer fabric. My fingers linger at the top of the compass tattoo on his chest.
“I’ve been thinking about you all weekend,” I whisper, looking back up to his eyes. “I’ve been waiting for this.”
His knee wedges itself deeper between my legs, and I gasp as his thigh rests against my core. He smirks as he leans in toward my jaw, lips brushing across my skin leaving barely-there kisses. My hands grasp at his shoulders, and I roll my hips gently against his thigh as he presses it more forcefully against me.
“I can tell,” he whispers quietly, lips pressing against my collarbone as he flexes his thigh beneath me. “You look so pretty trying to get off on my thigh.”
“Lewis, please,” I whimper, hands crumpling the expensive fabric around his shoulders.
His lips come crashing into mine, tongues clashing as I continue to roll my hips against him. Lewis grips my hips with a bruising force, guiding me against him. I moan into the kiss as my core presses against his muscled thigh, and he pulls away with a heaving breath.
“You act like I don’t do this to you with everyone around,” he breathes into my ear. “Like you don’t want them to know what I can do to you.”
I tip my head back into the glass, “They can’t see me like this. They can’t know.”
“Why?” he grunts against my neck, his leg splitting me open so my back is the only thing pressed against the tinted glass. “Don’t want them to know you’re not so bossy after all?”
I nod my head with desperate whimpers, fingers clawing at his shoulders, “Can’t let them know I’m this weak.”
“Weak?” he scoffs. “No, not weak. You’re strong, love. You take whatever I give you and do whatever I ask. You’re bossy, yes, but not weak.”
I moan his name again, louder than before, and he chuckles quietly as he curses, “Fuck, you love when I tell you how amazing you are.”
I nod my head, feeling all of my logic and reason fall overboard as I swivel my hips against his thigh, “It’s my favorite thing.”
“You look pretty like this,” he murmurs, lips dragging up my neck as his hands dip beneath my sundress. “Playing this little game with everyone below us.”
I whine when his warm hands brush across my thighs and tug at the waistband of my underwear, pulling the fabric down my legs and stuffing it into one of his pockets. His thigh meets my core again, and this time my jaw falls open as the fabric of his creme pants meets my throbbing clit. He chuckles at my reaction, smirking as the crowd erupts in cheers below us as they react to something happening on the main deck.
“Don’t get shy on me now,” he whispers, leaving kisses beneath my jaw. “You have to tell me what you want, love. You know how it works.”
“Lewis, please,” I whisper quietly, squeezing my eyes shut in an attempt to concentrate. “I just want you in me. Don’t care how.”
He chuckles quietly, one of his hands resting at the base of my throat and fingers curling around the sides of my neck gently, “I need more than that, love.”
Words die on the tip of my tongue when his rings slide across the skin of my neck, and his lips meet mine as I whine. The cool metal contrasts to his warm skin, and when he pulls away leaving me breathless, my hands clutch his shoulders desperately as they bunch the sheer fabric across his back. My hips desperately search for a faster rhythm against him, but he stops moving his leg and his hands grip my hips tightly to still my mindless movements.
“Want your cock in me,” I whisper, fingers sinking into the defined muscle at the base of neck and shoulders.
He grins as he leans in to meet my lips, “See, that wasn’t hard.”
My hands immediately fly to his pants, fingers tugging at the button and zipper. He kisses me dumb as my fingers fumble with his zipper and my brain focuses on his tongue pressed to mine. His hands settle over mine, stilling their fumbling as he pulls his lips away from me and his chest rises and falls rapidly. I barely have any time to gasp for air as he guides me toward the plush bench in the middle of the small deck, one hand firm on my hips as the other places my hand on the back of the bench. I follow his direction, putting my other hand on the bench as my fingers curl around the smooth edge and my palms sink into the plush fabric. My heart beats in my chest wildly as I hear the guests below, but my concerns quickly fade when I feel him press against my ass. A stifled moan falls from my lips when I feel him, and he shushes me as his knee slips between mine to push my legs wider. I oblige immediately, gasping when he lifts my sundress up and his hands slide across my hips.
“So pretty like this,” he whispers, hands caressing my bare skin as they travel from my hips to the back of my thighs. “Spread out for me and waiting for me to do something.”
His fingers creep back up my skin, spreading goosebumps in the wake of their trail and settle on my clit. I moan as he circles the bundle of nerves with two fingers slowly, cool rings occasionally brushing my skin in the heat of it all. I push my hips back into him in a desperate attempt to get him to fuck me already, and he grunts quietly.
“You’re so good for me,” he whispers, hands pulling my hips closer to him as I grind against his cock. “You’ll have to be quiet so they don’t know, love. I’m not going easy.”
“Just fuck me,” I whine in response, desperation filling my voice as my hips still mindlessly search for contact against him.
I hear the rustling of clothing, fingers digging into the plush bench as I wait, and as I whip my head around, about to hiss something for him to hurry up, words die on my tongue as my jaw falls open. His tip is hot as he pushes into me, the stretch of him rendering me speechless as he slowly enters me. I don’t miss the smirk on his face as he looks at my dumbfounded expression. My fingers clutch on to the top of the bench so tightly my knuckles turn white, and he stills inside of me when he’s met with resistance.
“Relax, love,” he whispers, hands gently moving my hair to one shoulder as he leaves a chaste kiss against my exposed shoulder. “I’ve got you.”
I push my hips back against him, desperate to feel all of him, and he lets a groan fall from his lips as he bottoms out. He immediately hits a deep spot inside of me that sends white stars bursting across my vision and my knees buckling. His large hands hold my hips with a tight grip as he sheathes in and out of me with an agonizingly slow pace, and his forearms flex as he steadies me on my wobbly feet. With each snap of his hips, I feel like I’m going to topple over as my fingers desperately claw at the curve of the bench. His name leaves my lips in breathless whispers and choked moans. One of his hands slides in between my legs, rubbing slow circles on the sensitive nerves, and I clench around him with a stifled moan.
“You feel so good,” he groans. “You always take me so well.”
My brain turns to liquid between his praise and the mounting pleasure from his increasing pace. His name falls from my lips, and it sounds so desperate that I would be blushing in any other scenario. Instead, I push myself back farther against him as I chase a not-far-off high. As I lean back into him, listening to the obscene sounds of our skin slapping, one of my hands slips off the bench and I start to tumble forward. He never slows down his blistering pace as my hand searches for the bench again for stability. His hand from my hip comes up to my neck, fingers pressing into the sides of my throat as my hand desperately claws at the fabric. His rings press into the skin, leaving red indents as my mouth falls open--too overwhelmed for sound. My whole body trembles with the force of his thrusts, and between the pleasure he gifts me, I’m clenching around him as I hurtle toward the edge.
“Good girl,” he mutters as I steady myself despite my shaking arms. “You can hang on a little bit longer.”
I try to answer him with a vehement no I can’t, but I just shake my head wildly as words fail to form from the mounting pleasure and the toe-curling way his rings press into my throat. No more than a few seconds later, and the sensation explodes across every nerve ending in my body. My mouth is wide open with shameless pleas of his name and gasping for air, and one of my hands drops from the bench to wrap tightly around his wrist still rubbing circles into my clit. My short nails sink into the supple skin on the inside of his wrist, and his fingers tighten ever so slightly around my throat as a high-pitched whine leaks out past my lips. His hips slow before they still within me as I clench around him, and he leaves gentle kisses on my shoulder and the back of my neck as my chest heaves. His fingers fall away from my dripping center and my throat, opting instead to hook one arm around my waist and place his other hand at my hip to give my wobbling arms a break. They still clutch the bench, but some of the burn eases as he takes most of my weight off my arms.
“Lewis,” my voice is breathless, “you need to-”
“In a second,” he coos, lips still ghosting across skin revealed by the sundress. “When you’re ready, love. I can feel you throbbing still.”
I just nod my head, vision returning to normal and chest still heaving for air. I still absentmindedly clench around him, and he groans into my shoulder as I do. He’s warm within me, heavy and pulsating against my walls as we both hold still as possible. I’m the first to move as I lean more weight onto my burning forearms against the bench. His breath hitches at the slight movement.
“You can move now,” I whisper.
“I can take it, Lewis,” my voice is still ragged as I regain my breath. “It’s not too much.”
His lips leave another gentle kiss on my shoulder as he whispers near my ear, “You’re too good to me. What did I ever do to deserve you?”
Aftershocks of my orgasm are still rippling through me as he resumes his bruising pace, and I’m left speechless as he fucks my already sensitive cunt. The wet sounds are obscene, and I struggle to keep shameless whines and pleas from falling from my lips. When I hear footsteps on the steps, closer than anyone all night, I panic as one of my hands flies from the bench to hit Lewis behind me to get his attention. He’s so focused on chasing his high he misses my flailing hand, and I hear George’s distinct accent grow closer. My hand finally collides with Lewis’ arm, getting his attention as his hips stutter against me. He’s close to finishing in the way his chest heaves and his hips lose their steady rhythm, and when he hears the echo of George’s voice, he decides to double down and push himself over the edge.
“I’ll be right down!” his voice is strained as he answers the calls for his name.
I clench around him hard as he cums, hips moving quickly to get him through his orgasm before someone catches us. Through Lewis’ heavy breaths and his bruising grip on my hips, I miss the footsteps as they finish climbing the steps, and I catch a shuffle of Georgre’s footsteps at the top of the staircase. I nearly scream in horror, and my hand on Lewis’ arm smacks him hard before I point to the steps. There was another person coming--a second set of footsteps.
“George, man, come on!” Lewis calls, stopping his thrusts but leaving his cock nestled between my legs.
“Lewis-” I try to get his attention, but when he moves ever so slightly, I’m left speechless as he scrapes against my sensitive walls.
“Lewis, we were just wanting a team picture with-”
Part of my brain wants to scream and the other part wants to launch itself into the ocean. Toto briefly appears at the top of the steps, eyes wide and face red as he ducks back into the staircase. George is standing right behind him. I am bent at the waist, hands clutching the bench and legs parted for Lewis. My ass is covered by my sundress, and Lewis’ cock still pulsing in me is hidden between my legs. Lewis stands with his hands on my hips, and the entire scene is something out of a nightmare or a horror movie.
“Toto, I told you not to go up there!”
Susie’s voice rings from the bottom of the staircase, and I’m frozen as Lewis pulls out from me. He tugs the rest of my dress down for me, smoothing the fabric as he pulls me up from my frozen spot on the bench. When his eyes meet mine, it feels like my heart is in my throat and my mind races.
“Let me take care of this,” he whispers.
“Just bring them up,” I whisper despite the unease in my voice. “They already saw us having sex, Lewis. I need to face them, too.”
“Are you sure, love?” his eyes are gentle, and he waits for me to nod before calling the three back up.
Toto looks mortified as Susie smirks, and George looks guilty as this is the second time he has caught us. Lewis grabs one of my hands with his, interlacing our fingers in an act that sends shockwaves around us. He stands firm as he speaks, explaining enough of the situation to Toto without revealing every detail. I apologize repeatedly, and the entire time Susie smirks from behind her husband. My face is beet red. Once the initial shock has settled in, we decide to go down to keep the rest of the team from wondering what was taking so long for the picture. As we work our way down the steps, Lewis still holding my hand as he guides me down the dark steps, he grins as he speaks to our boss.
“I was thinking about that vacation over summer break,” he starts. “I think we’ll take you up on it. Definitely will need two villas this time.”
Taken Care Of || Peter Ballard x reader
Summary: After you escape with Peter, he makes sure that you’re thoroughly cared for, as well as properly clean.
Warnings: Dark!peter, softdom!peter, ddlg themes, use of a shower head, soft aftercare, dub-con, fem!reader
Word count: 1.8k
Blood. Its scent traveled up your nose and found a home in your brain, it caked itself in streaks on your face and arms, crinkling every time you moved. You were paralyzed as Peter walked with you in his arms, the sight of broken bones and bruises forever etched into your memory.
“I’m sorry,” you muttered to the lost souls of that night, not knowing that Peter was listening to you.
“There’s no need to be sorry, my dear, because of you we have our freedom and they don’t have to suffer anymore,” he smiled, finally setting you down. “I’m so grateful to you.”
You were warmed by his praises and looked down at the ground with a smile on your face. He brought his hands to your face and softly smiled before kissing your forehead, he relished in the softness of your skin and the comfort you gave him.
“Let’s go, my love,” he said as he motioned to you to follow him.
As you continued you came across a house on the edge of a lake, it was huge and you gawked at its size.
“What are you waiting for,” he asked quietly.
“This is yours,” you gaped, still in shock.
“Ours,” he corrected, picking you up again and walking towards the house.
As he passed by a shed, the smell of blood was strong again before it vanished. You crinkled your nose and looked up at Peter.
“What was that?”
“What,” he answered, confused.
“I didn’t smell anything, my love, it might be your brain playing tricks on you. After all, you’re probably tired, it’s been a long day,” Peter assessed.
You nodded in understanding before relaxing in his arms, the steady thumping of his heartbeat put your mind at ease and practically sent you to sleep. The porchlight of the house shined on your face and a feeling of excitement entered your body as Peter opened the door.
“Welcome home, my dear,” Peter said blissfully.
You giggled and scrambled to get down so you could explore.
“Where do you think you’re going? We have to get you clean, you’re absolutely filthy as am I,” he chastised before holding out his hand.
You cautiously took it and followed him up the stairs to a room with a sink and large glass doors.
“What’s this,” you asked as you had never seen anything like it before.
“This is a shower,” he grinned pointing at the corner behind the glass.
Peter chuckled lightly at your confusion. Back at the lab, when it was time to shower the girls and the boys were split up and taken to a shower room that looked like it came from prison, the showers had a button that they would press and lukewarm water would shoot out of the nozzle in five-minute increments. So, he understood your confusion.
For the next couple of minutes, he explained how the shower worked, how if the nob was turned to the left the water would be cold and if it was turned to the right it’d be hot. When the water came out of the shower head, it scared you, making Peter laugh. The pressure of the water soon excited you and you were pushing Peter out so you could hop in.
As soon as Peter was out of the bathroom, you rid yourself of your filthy hospital gown, watching it pool at your feet, before carefully stepping into the shower. The heat of the water surprised you, you had never felt anything more delightful. The dirt and blood that had caked itself onto your skin slowly began to loosen and go down the drain.
“Somebody's certainly enjoying themselves.”
Snapping your head to the source of the sound, you found Peter on the other side of the glass.
“What are you doing,” you asked, embarrassed that you hadn’t noticed him before. “You shouldn’t be in here.”
As you were speaking, Peter began to undress, slowly revealing a mass of pale skin with toned muscles underneath.
“How could I leave a defenseless little girl alone, what kind of caretaker would that make me?”
That silenced you and you began to turn your focus on the water and closed your eyes, returning to the feeling of contentment, now mixed with a growing sense of nervousness. The heat of the water relaxed your aching muscles and warmed you to your core, it took away the bad memories and made them seem like one big bad dream. The hot waterfall took you to different places in your mind, visions of you and peter together having a picnic or just cuddling clouded your head.
You were taken out of your head when you felt something on your skin, quickly opening your eyes you turned around and saw Peter behind you holding a sudsy loofah to your left shoulder and massaging it, moving it down your arm, making sure everything was covered in white bubbles. You stayed deathly still, not understanding the affection he was giving you or how you were supposed to respond.
The loofah trailed to your torso before coming up in between your breast and over the right one, slightly catching on your nipple causing a jolt of electricity to run through your spine. The same thing happened when he ran the loofah over your left nipple. You began to feel a weird sensation forming in your stomach, causing you to shift from one foot to another.
“Are you alright, my love,” Peter asked, voicing his faux concern.
“Yes,” you answered, swallowing thickly. “Of course.”
He let out a soft, ‘Hmm,” before continuing down to wash your hips, scrubbing down to your calves then back up to your hips. You felt shy and the sense of confusion still hung over your head. Looking down, you saw his wet curls and pieces of hair sticking to his neck, you saw your legs covered in bubbles and the dried blood slowly disappearing completely.
Your heartbeat was rising steadily as he rose back up to his full height, reaching up to grab the shower head off the wall. Bringing the nozzle to your shoulders to rinse off the suds, then to your front, and finally down to your hips and legs. The heat of the water had turned parts of his skin red but he didn’t seem to mind and before you knew it all the bubbles had been rinsed off.
“All done,” you asked in a hopeful tone, wishing to go to bed.
“Not quite, sweetness,” he smiled, warmth surrounding his body, not from the water but from the look on your face, your eyes wide in wonder. “We still have one more thing to clean.”
Trailing the nozzle to your stomach and going down. He moved his leg in-between yours to spread them.
“I bet this is dirty,” he chastised.
“No, it's not,” you choked, your cheeks warming at the indecent position you were in.
“Have you ever washed it properly,” he countered, a dangerous edge in his voice.
You were silent and your cheeks couldn’t have been hotter.
“You need to let me take care of you darling,” he explained with a kiss to your forehead as the water hit your core directly.
Your abdomen clenched at the sudden onslaught of ecstasy. You didn’t understand it. Your hand flew to Peter’s free hand which was on your hip. You threw your head onto his shoulder and closed your eyes in an effort to ground yourself, flashes of white and dots of black clouded your vision. Your eyes opened again when you felt Peter’s lips on your cheek.
“You’re doing so good darling,” his soft voice breaking through the static in your head.
“It feels weird,” you gasp.
“That means it's working,” he explained, he loved the feeling of your body on his, fully relying on him and no one else. “You like it don’t you? You haven’t washed it in a long time so we have to make sure it’s clean. A princess can’t be dirty, now can she?”
You shook your head, aiming to prevent the vulgar sounds that tried to leave your mouth. You turned your head, wanting to hide away in the crook of Peter’s neck.
“There’s no need to be shy,” Peter chuckled. “After all, we’re just cleaning it.”
You whined and began to squirm, causing Peter to tighten his hold on you. Feeling the water continue to hit your clit, you flexed your thighs and then your abdomen, feeling pleasure surge through every bone in your body. Your gasps and moans continued to get higher and higher and Peter loved them, he basked in the pleasure he was giving you, and hearing your blissful voice was the most gratifying thing on the planet. After years of enduring the stolen glances and not being allowed to touch you, he finally got to indulge himself a little.
“Peter, something’s happening,” you cried feeling the coil in your stomach tighten even more.
“That’s good,” he smiled softly, kissing your neck. “Don’t fight it, let it happen.”
Your grip on his wrist tightened, and a buzz entered your head before heaven crashed down on you. Pleasure turned your body to liquid and Peter had to tighten his grip on you so you didn’t fall.
“Good girl,” he whispered in your ear, praising you and sending shivers down your spine. “That felt good didn’t it?”
You nodded slowly, feelings of sleepiness seeping in.
“That’s called cumming,” he smiled, stepping out of the shower and grabbing a fluffy towel. “Good girls can cum anytime they want, with permission of course.”
Peter knew that all this information was going through one ear and tumbling out the other, your droopy eyes said that much. Wrapping in the towel and carrying you to your room, Peter laid you on the bed and grabbed a bottle of lotion.
“Darling? Are you still with me?”
You nodded slowly, still drifting away.
“I love you,” he sang as massaged the lotion into your skin, starting with your legs.
“I love you too,” you yawned.
Peter cooed at your naked form, loving how dumb you got. He looked forward to the future and couldn't wait to see how whiny and babbly you would get on his cock. He continued to massage the lotion into your skin, which only helped you fall into a deep slumber. He lathered up some more of the lotion and rubbed it onto your tummy, then over your breasts, making sure that every inch of skin was covered.
Finally, after massaging the lotion into your arms he was done. You had long fallen asleep and were blissfully letting out tiny snores. Peter kissed your forehead before moving you under the covers, he had decided that you would just sleep without clothes, after all, he was tired too.
“Good night, my love,” he smiled kissing your shoulder. “Sleep well.”
Part 2 >
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Could you please write something like this with fez x reader and ash? I'm begging you at this point, I'm at the first stage of grief lmaooo
So I kinda took creative liberty with this😂 I love this idea and thinks it's awesome.
Ash's screams wake both Fez and I up abruptly, our eyes meeting each other's in the dark room as I slip out of bed. This was a common occurrence since the night of the shoot out, Ash's bad dreams consuming him every night. We had let him try to deal with it on his own, letting him know that we were there for him and that we were here to talk if he wanted to discuss what happened.
He was lucky he wasn't killed that night a few months ago, same with Fez. I can just remember sitting in the hospital waiting room with Faye as the two of them were checked out and interviewed by the police. Luckily, they got out with mine and Faye's words against Custer and Laurie. It was surprising that it ended with us winning but it happened and we never wanted to think about it ever again.
Sadly, Ash's brain wasn't allowing him to put it behind him.
My feet carry me out into the hallway of our new apartment, the memory of the bullets whizzing past my head and through the door of the bathroom still haunting me to this day. I take a look back at Fez who slides back down into bed, rubbing over his face anxiously.
I push the door open, my eyes immediately locking on Ash who sits at the edge of his bed, his hands covering his face. His whole body trembles, sweat dripping down his back as I step into the room. His head snaps to me with wide eyes, my presence spooking him a bit.
"I'm 'lright." He waves me off, taking a shaky breath in as I sit down next to him on the bed. My hand reaches up, gently rubbing over his shoulders as he relaxes a bit. I reach forward to the laundry basket full of clean clothes, pulling out another shirt for him. He just smiles appreciatively at me, slipping the new shirt on and tossing the sweaty one to the floor.
"Wanna talk about it?" I ask quietly, my hands resting in my lap as he closes his eyes. The room falls silent for a moment, the echoing memory of gunshots rattle in my ears as my mind brings back vivid memory of watching the shells fall to the floor.
"I keep dreamin' that they fucking shot me in the head instead'a the shoulder." He explains, his sweaty hands running over the blanket beneath him. "That you and Fez were just watchin' me and they just aimed right between my eyes and shot." He mutters, a shiver running down his spine as he trembles. "I can't stop fucking seeing it over and over again. I just want it to fucking stop cuz I can't fucking breathe." He gasps, my arm slinking around his shoulder to pull me to him as he panics. He cries quietly as I rub over his shoulders, tears pooling in my eyes as I press a kiss to the top of his head.
"Ash, you need to talk to us about this shit. You can't keep it bottled up." I whisper, his head nodding gently as he clings to me, his hands fisting the back of my shirt.
"I shot Fez. I know it was an accident- he fuckin' tells me that every day." He cries, tears now slipping down my cheeks as I try my best to take a deep breath. "I was just so fucking scared." He admits, the weight on my shoulders finally breaking as I cry, moving to hug him properly.
"I'm not gonna let anyone touch you, Ash. The drug shit is in the past now, Laurie is in prison, Custer is gone, Faye is down the hall, safe and sound." I reassure him, his face tucking into my shoulder as he cries. "It's over now. You're safe." I coo, my hand cradling the back of his head as he sniffles, the words sounding incredulous at this point.
"Do you think Fez would be mad if you stayed here?" He asks quietly, pulling back to look up at me. Tears drip down his cheeks as I snort, nodding my head.
"Oh, yeah I'm sure he'll kick you ass." I giggle tearily, reaching up to brush Ash's tears away from his cheeks as he chuckles. "He won't be mad, sweetheart. We both want you to get a goodnights sleep for fucking once." I explain, his head bobbing up and down as he slips back under his covers.
I move to sit next to him, my back resting against the wall as he lays down next to me, his back facing me. I didn't care if I was going to have to stay up all night, my hand rubbing his back soothingly. I just wanted him to know and feel that he was truly safe now. That he was safe enough to go to sleep and feel okay.
"Thank you." He whispers quietly, his eyes fluttering shut as I rub his back, the muscles relaxing under my touch as he slips off into sleep. It had to have been the quickest I had ever seen him fall asleep and now I just had to pray that my presence was enough to keep the bad dreams away.
look down on me like that - 5 (explicit)
genre: slow burn enemies to lovers hatefucking coworkers au, smut (w some eventual angst)
pairing: yoongi x reader
summary: your asshole coworker min yoongi has made it his personal mission to ruin your life.
word count: 11.4k (you're welcome 😌)
contains: ~explicit sexual content~ !! *deep breath in* YES THERE IS ACTUAL FUCKING HAPPENING - EVERYONE REMAIN CALM. also i promise this is the most unhinged reader gets lmao. alright let's go: one night stand/stranger sex, semi-public sex (bathroom of a bar), fingering, spanking, a truly gratuitous blowjob, orgasm denial, a smidge of dirty talk/namecalling, finger sucking?, protected sex, semi-awkward sex lmao, the hatefucking is HERE 🙌🏻 plenty of alcohol mentions as always,, so much alcohol. this chapter also features a couple fun cameos - kihyun of monsta x and wonho 💜
A/N: hope y'all enjoy this absolute CHAOS!! i have so many lovely friends who cheered me on while i was writing this, far too many to name, but i fucking adore you all 🥺🥺 and i do want to specifically shoutout @kiestrokes because the ~spicy twist~ in this chapter would not be HALF as good if it wasn't for her and her big beautiful brain. srsly she took a half-baked idea i had and made it insane. god i love that woman. ALRIGHT ENOUGH BABBLING - ENJOY!!!!!
read on AO3!
chapter four | masterlist | chapter six
“Try this.” Jimin yanks an emerald green dress off the hanger and chucks it over his shoulder, nearly hitting you.
“Ugh, I hate this one,” you groan as you hold the offending item up for inspection, pinched between index finger and thumb. “The fabric is so itchy.”
Your best friend whips around, hands on hips, when you question his taste. “I’m sorry, did I just hear you going back on our agreement? Is that what this is?”
You groan, flopping over onto your bedspread, doing your best not to mess up your hair. Jimin had, understandably, been pissed when you’d called him immediately upon leaving the office last night, hands still shaking as you cradled the phone against your cheek. You think you have permanent hearing damage from the anguished wails your best friend made as you finally admitted everything you hadn’t told him. And you certainly could have done without the appreciative noises he made after he forced you to describe Suga’s dick in explicit detail.
It’s not like you aren’t constantly thinking about it, anyway.
Especially now that Yoongi has specifically told you everything, everything he wants to do to you. The words swim back to you in pieces whenever you aren’t actively trying to suppress the memory. Finger that tight little pussy. Spank you until you bruise. Fuck you like the slut you so clearly are.
God. You’ve been horny for 24 hours straight. This can’t be good for your health.
Jimin had nearly disowned you for letting secrecy infiltrate your friendship for the first time in over a decade, but then he’d realized how truly distraught you were as you just kept babbling into the phone about Suga, too far gone to make any sense.
“Jesus fucking christ, it’s not the end of the world!” He’d finally interrupted with a frustrated groan. “You really think Suga is the only man in the world who can fuck you senseless? He was probably overselling it anyway. Having a pretty dick doesn’t guarantee he knows what to do with it.”
At this point you’d stumbled onto the bus home, and you remember smacking your forehead against the cold glass of the window with a whine at the words pretty dick, your mind already departing on another Yoongi spiral.
Jimin’s peal of laughter rang in your ears. “I’ve never heard you down this bad in my life, good god girl! We just need to get you laid so your fucking brain can work right again.”
“Please,” you’d grunted.
“Alright, I’m coming over tomorrow, and we’re going out.” He’d paused then, and you knew there was more even before he continued. It was like you could hear his evil smile. “And I get to pick your outfit.”
You’re snapped out of the memory as a second dress is tossed your way, this one hitting you square in the face.
“Either the green or this one. You’re still in the doghouse, ma’am,” Jimin reminds you.
You pull the second option up to examine it, already grateful for the softer feel of the material. Jimin loves to put you in shit that you’d never wear— usually dresses that he bought for you, or bullied you into buying. You think you already dress pretty racy when you go out, but Jimin likes to take it to another level, always encouraging you to show more skin, more tits, more ass. He’s definitely responsible for this number even being in your closet: dark burgundy in color, it’s tight, short, and the cutouts leave very little to the imagination.
You whine softly despite yourself. “Do I have to? I’m going to freeze to death.”
Jimin has already moved to sit at your desk, examining his hair in the mirror you use to do your makeup. He’s in one of his favorite going-out shirts, one he claims “makes even the straight boys look twice”, a blue and white striped button down with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He doesn’t even bother making eye contact with you as he peers at his reflection, fiddling with the silver hoops in his ears. “I dunno. Depends on whether or not you value my friendship.”
You roll your eyes at his dramatics. “I can’t stand you.”
“Will you shut up and put your damn freakum dress on already?” He rummages through your makeup bag without asking until he finds what he’s looking for, a tube of Fenty gloss that he dabs in the center of his bottom lip.
“That is not what freakum dress means,” you say with a laugh as you stand to strip out of your sweats, but he’s already reaching for his phone that’s connected to your Bluetooth speaker, another requirement for the evening in order to keep your friendship intact. Beyoncé starts to blast as you pull your shirt over your head and suck in for dear life.
“So, what exactly is the plan?” You ask as soon as you swallow down another shot, nearly shouting to be heard over the noise of the bar. Jimin made you do a couple in your kitchen before you left, and though you haven’t even been out for an hour, you’re already straddling the line between tipsy and drunk.
He shoots you a look. “Don’t act so innocent, like I haven’t personally seen you go home with random dudes.”
Your gaze flits over the mass of bodies out on the dance floor. “I mean, yeah, but…” You shrug, grimacing slightly. “I don’t know, it’s been a while. And we’re not in college anymore.”
“What about him?” You look back at Jimin and he nods his head behind you. You do your best to be subtle as you glance over your shoulder to see two guys a couple of tables away.
Jimin makes a face like it’s obvious. “Are you kidding me? The absolutely built daddy with the red hair?”
You examine them more closely, scrunching your nose up a little. He’s cute, big as hell, and you certainly notice his bubble butt in those tight pants. But it just doesn’t feel right. “I don’t know that he’s my type.” When your gaze lands on his friend, dressed in all black, dark hair skimming over his eyes as he leans in to say something, your heart flips in your chest. Now that could work.
Turning back to Jimin to say as much, you realize that he’s already brushing past you. “Well I’m not stupid,” he scoffs, and you scramble to follow after him as he stalks confidently across the room.
He’s already talking to them when you catch up. “Hi boys. Care for some company?”
They glance at each other, and you can tell Jimin’s presence is clearly unexpected but not unwelcome. He wasn’t wrong: nobody can resist him in that damn shirt.
“Sure,” red-haired daddy says with a shy giggle, and you have to bite back a smile. You were not expecting a guy that built to react so softly, and you already know your best friend is going feral on the inside. There is nothing Jimin loves more than a man he can fluster. Especially one who can make him pay for it.
His friend flags down a server and orders a round of shots for the table, then gives you a small wave as Jimin takes the liberty of giving his name and yours. “I’m Kihyun.”
“Hoseok,” Jimin's target is clearly squirming under his intense gaze. “But my friends call me Wonho.”
“Can I be your friend?” Jimin purrs. You’re nearly laughing at how quickly he lost the plot of trying to get you laid, but he’s also such an intense flirt that it nearly works as a wingman maneuver, in its own weird way.
You scoot a little closer to Kihyun as Jimin and Wonho disappear into their own conversation. Up close you can really admire how attractive he is, full lips and a wickedly sharp jawline.
“Hi,” you say with a smile, surprised to find yourself slightly nervous despite the alcohol coursing through your system.
“Hi,” he says back, and he looks like he’s about to say more when the server reappears with a tray of four shots.
“Thanks again for these,” you say as you reach for one, and he waves it off. You glance over at Jimin and Wonho, assuming they might want to toast as a group, but Jimin is already hooking his elbow around Wonho’s ridiculous bicep and making a not-at-all-subtle comment about how big he is, intertwining their arms before they each throw the shot back.
You look at Kihyun again, who is biting his lip nervously, and you can feel your face heat up. You’re no Jimin, so you settle for gently tapping your shot glass against his. “Cheers.”
He echoes the sentiment and you down your drinks simultaneously. You shiver a little as you swallow, but you’ve had enough that you don’t even feel the burn of the alcohol.
“So,” Kihyun’s eyes flit over to Jimin, then return to you. “Do you two come here a lot?”
You shrug. “We rotate. Jimin likes this place more than I do. You?”
He laughs softly. “Not really. Honestly, we’re both homebodies, but we try to get out every so often. Always nice to meet new people.” It’s so quick you nearly miss it, but you swear his eyes jump down your figure and back up again.
You try to ignore the little voice in your head reminding you of another pair of eyes; dark, calculating, wandering over your body. Not now.
“I couldn’t agree more,” you say, because it’s true: a new person is definitely what you need in this moment.
Before you can ask a follow-up question, you hear Jimin, talking loudly so that he’s audible over the music. “Your thighs look so good in those pants!” You have to resist the urge to smack your head against the table when you look over to see him attempting— and absolutely failing— to wrap his small hands around the circumference of Wonho’s leg, who is giggling like a schoolgirl.
You glance back at Kihyun, who is equally enraptured. “I’m so sorry,” you say quietly. “He is unfortunately always like this.”
“You know where else those thighs would look good?” Jimin’s voice lowers as he asks the question, and you watch Kihyun’s eyes go wide.
“Do you want to dance?” You say quickly, and he nods so fast you think his head might fall off. You start to break away from the group, his hand slipping to your waist, when Jimin smacks the table so loud that it makes you jump.
“Hey!” He yells, and you turn back, but he’s pointing at Kihyun, who instantly looks terrified. He leans in, as if to divulge confidential information, and Kihyun takes a tentative step towards him.
“Just so you’re aware,” Jimin starts, and you know it’s going to be bad. “She needs to get dicked down. Severely. Hope you’re ready.”
You close your hand around Kihyun’s wrist and drag him towards the dance floor, eager for a distraction to keep you from murdering your best friend.
Now that you’re actually in motion, you can feel the last couple of shots quickly catching up to you, the room blurring slightly at the edges. At the center of the dance floor, the thudding bass is loud enough to make it hard to think, which is exactly what you need right now.
You’re grateful not to have to force any more conversation, both of Kihyun’s hands slipping to your hips as you start to move in time to the music. It gives you free reign to admire him up close, and damn, he really is gorgeous. He’s only a little taller than you in your heels— probably about the same height as Yoongi, though his frame is slighter, smaller. You watch as his dark hair falls into his eyes again and he reaches up to sweep it off his forehead— Yoongi’s hair is a little longer, and he certainly has much better hands, but other than that—
You have to squeeze your eyes shut when you realize what the fuck you're doing. The whole point of this encounter is to stop thinking about Yoongi. Not pick apart this absolute stranger in comparison to him.
You desperately wish you could get another drink, but you know that would push you all the way into “drunk” territory. As much as you hate admitting it, Jimin was right: you really need to be able to consent to sex tonight. You’re gonna have to get through this the old-fashioned way, with sheer fucking willpower.
“Are you okay?”
Your eyes flutter open to meet Kihyun’s concerned gaze. “Yeah, yeah, sorry. Just, uh. Thinking about work.” Not a complete lie.
“Well, don’t,” he says with a soft laugh. “It’s the weekend. You should enjoy it.” His hands press a little tighter, pulling you close until your body is flush with his. His breath ghosts over your neck as you hear his voice in your ear. “That dress looks really good on you.”
A different voice echoes in your mind before you can stop it. Spread your legs for me. Show me what’s under that dress. You can’t help but wonder if this is what it feels like to literally go insane, and then you grab Kihyun’s face with both hands and kiss him in a desperate attempt to not think anymore.
You can feel him freeze, clearly not expecting it, but after a second his mouth starts to move against yours. His hands slip further down towards your ass, and fuck, it occurs to you that you are still incredibly horny. You need this to happen as soon as possible.
Pulling away and sliding your hands to Kihyun’s shoulders, you tilt up to speak into his ear. “Do you live near here?”
His eyes go wide for at least the third time tonight. “Y-yeah, not far.” You see his tongue dart out to lick his lips.
“I don’t know how to say this politely,” you admit with an embarrassed smile. “But my friend wasn’t wrong. About… what I need.”
He pauses for a moment, and your stomach twists as you prepare for rejection, the reasonable reaction considering you basically jumped this man like a crazy person. But then he smiles, leaning into you so he can keep his tone soft. “Come on, then.”
You follow Kihyun as he guides you towards the exit, keeping one hand pressed to the small of your back. It’s hard to miss the other half of your group making their way through the crowd— Wonho is large enough that people quickly shrink to get out of his way, but his gaze is entirely transfixed on Jimin’s ass in front of him. You nod in their direction and Kihyun follows as you push past bodies to reunite.
“Are you leaving?!” Jimin asks, and you can only nod. His eyes jump to Kihyun. “I told you, you better give it to her!” He shouts it so loudly that people standing behind him glance over their shoulders, but he is fully unfazed, now brandishing his cellphone. “And I always have her location on, so if you murder her, I will come find you!”
With a roll of your eyes, you lean across the circle so that Wonho can hear you. “Take good care of him, okay?” When you pull away, you swear he’s blushing as red as his hair, and he nods sheepishly.
You turn back to Kihyun. “Ready?”
The door to Kihyun’s apartment barely has time to close behind you before you find his lips with yours again. He presses you up against the wall of the entryway, and you waste no time in moving your hands over his body. His shirt and pants hit the floor in quick succession.
When he reaches for the hem of your dress, you cover his hands with yours to stop him. “Do you— is it okay if I keep it on?”
“Yeah,” he murmurs, breathless. “Yeah, okay.”
He kisses you again and you let him guide you backwards through an open door into his bedroom until you feel the mattress hit the backs of your knees. You perch on the edge of the bed and glance around the room, taking it in. It’s clean, if minimally furnished, and your stomach flips when you see a nondescript work desk tucked into one corner.
You look at Kihyun when you feel his hand gently rub your thigh, encouraging you to spread your legs.
Your gaze jumps to his desk, then back to him. “Do— uh… Do you think you could bend me over your desk?”
He seems a little dumbfounded, and takes a second to find words. “Wh— I— yeah, yes, I can do that. I just—” he clears his throat. “Do you need, like, foreplay, or…?”
You stand up again, knees shaking slightly. “I’ll tell you what to do, does that work?”
It must, because he kisses you, eventually starting to move towards the desk. When you’ve gotten far enough, you feel him tug at your hips, encouraging you to spin around so your back is flush with his chest. His hand slides up to your shoulders to gently press you forward, and you brace your forearms on the desk, already breathless.
“P-pull my dress up,” you manage to instruct. His hands caress over your thighs, then move to the hem of your dress, pushing up until your ass is fully exposed for him.
Get a good look at that ass you were tempting me with, the voice in your head finishes for you. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to focus on this moment, this man. Not any others.
You look back at Kihyun over your shoulder in an attempt to stay present, spreading your legs a little wider. “Touch me.”
He slowly moves a hand from your thigh up towards your core, and you feel his fingers just barely brush over the fabric of your underwear. The rush of contact after so much anticipation is enough to make you shiver slightly, but his touch is so light, so gentle.
Gentle is not what you need right now.
Keeping yourself held up on one arm, you reach the other behind you to forcefully tug your panties to the side. “Your fingers, Kihyun,” you hiss.
You tip your head forward and swallow down a whine of relief as he presses a digit into you and starts to rub circles. “How’s that?” His voice purrs in your ear, and you whimper as you nod.
It feels good, especially when he adds a second finger, but it’s not enough. He’s too soft, too tentative.
You look back at him again. “Can you spank me?”
You’ve officially lost count of the number of times you’ve surprised this man tonight. “I— what?”
“Like, smack my ass?”
“Like this?” He asks, but you barely feel it when he brings his hand down over your ass.
“Harder,” you say almost instantly, realizing after the fact that you could probably stand to be a little nicer to this random stranger. “Please.”
Kihyun’s second attempt is better, enough to make you groan softly as the sensation of the sting mixes with the movements of his fingers pressing against your front wall. He does it again, harder still, and you wiggle your ass back towards him— you need more, more than his hands can give.
“Kihyun,” you gasp, “want you to fuck me.”
“Yeah? I’ll fuck you right here,” he grunts. At least he seems to be genuinely into it, you think to yourself gratefully. He smacks your ass a final time and you bite down on your lip as he withdraws his fingers. “One second.”
You hear the sound of him opening a drawer somewhere in his room and retrieving a condom, and you let your eyes flutter closed until his hands brush over your hips again.
“Yes, Kihyun, please,” you beg, your head dropping down onto your forearms. “Please fuck me.” Desire is wound up so tight inside you that you can’t think about anything else; you need this so fucking badly.
He makes a strangled whine as he presses into you, and you move your hips back onto him, gasping slightly at the stretch. “Fuck.”
“God, you feel so fucking good,” Kihyun groans, and he starts to roll into you with steady thrusts that brush the head of his cock right over your g-spot. You push backwards, matching his rhythm, and he’s not wrong: it feels good.
But it’s not enough.
“Harder,” you groan, your voice muffled in the crook of your elbow, and you hear Kihyun grunt as he picks up the pace, hips snapping against your ass. Better, but somehow still not what you need.
“Please, Kihyun,” you encourage again. “Fuck me like a slut.”
“Jesus,” he breathes, and for a second, you wonder if you’ve finally broken him. But then his hand cracks over your ass, hard enough to take you by surprise, and he starts to thrust even faster.
“Is this what you want?” He asks, and his voice is tense, almost angry; something about it makes your walls start to flutter. Your orgasm is so frustratingly close, yet somehow beyond your grasp.
And then you hear that all-too familiar voice in your head. I want to make you come so hard that your legs shake. Before you can help it, you moan a little at the memory. The way Yoongi leveled his gaze on you as he spoke so calmly, in a way that had you believing every single word. You can feel your core starting to tighten at the very thought, and once your brain realizes that’s what will get you there, it’s like the fucking floodgates open.
“Oh fuck,” you groan, and you can hear him grunt in agreement, like he’s close, too.
You’re helpless to stop it now, too desperate to come. Yoongi’s voice, his face, his tongue, his hands, his cock. It’s all you can think of. You gasp as everything inside you tightens and starts to pulse.
“Shit, shit, I’m gonna come,” you whine. So hard that you have no choice but to scream my name as I wreck you, the voice in your head finishes, and you dig your nails into the desk beneath you as you reach your climax.
Your back arches, pleasure washing over you, and you cry out. “Yes, Yoongi, yes!”
There’s a moment where his hips stutter, and then he pushes all the way into you one last time with a grunt of effort as he comes, too. Your heartbeat starts to slow.
And then it occurs to you that the man fucking you is absolutely not named Yoongi, and you smack a hand over your mouth.
“Oh my god,” you say softly, voice muffled, and you remove your hand as you start to straighten up. You can hear Kihyun still breathing heavily behind you, but he’s otherwise silent as he releases his grip on your hips and slides out of you.
“Kihyun,” you turn to watch him cross the room to the en-suite bathroom, where he briefly disappears to dispose of the condom. Face burning with embarrassment, you awkwardly maneuver to readjust your underwear and pull your dress back down over your ass.
When he reappears in the doorway, you try again. “Kihyun, I am so sorry. I—I don’t—” you fumble for what to say, knowing full well you don’t have a good explanation. At least not one that doesn’t make you sound insane.
“It’s cool,” he says, but he’s clearly uncomfortable. “I mean, you know. Shit happens.”
You glance around nervously for your phone before realizing it’s back on the table in the entryway where you tossed it in the throes of passion. You shoot Kihyun a weak smile. “I should— let me call Jimin. I can get a ride home.”
Kihyun laughs dryly. “Yeah, I’m gonna take a wild guess that he might be a little busy. I can take you home. It’s not a big deal.”
As much as your pride wants to refuse, you don’t exactly have a backup plan. “I would really appreciate that,” you murmur.
The drive is silent and painfully awkward, Kihyun turning up the music just loud enough that you get the indication that he doesn’t want to talk. As the lights of the city stream by, you can’t help but wonder how everything got so fucked up.
When Kihyun pulls up to your apartment complex, you indicate where he can drop you off, and he reaches over you as the car slows to a stop to politely open the door.
“Have a good night,” he says firmly, and you can barely manage a word of thanks before you slip out of his car and head up the stairs to die of embarrassment.
Jimin shows up at your door late Sunday afternoon, a takeout bag of haejangguk tucked under one arm, gushing incessantly about the various ways Wonho threw him around all night. It feels like he babbles for an hour, until he finally takes a break to sip from his own container of soup, and prompts you with a raise of his eyebrows.
“Your turn. Was your mission successful?”
You keep your gaze firmly planted on the floor as you recount what happened.
“Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
Jimin decides that you’ll try again next weekend, promising he’ll be less distracted. You’re not positive you’ll survive that long. You preemptively text Jungkook asking to take the week off from boxing class - your stomach is such a fucking bundle of nerves that you barely sleep at all Sunday night, and you know the next five days spent in constant fear of running into Yoongi is only going to make it worse.
Those same nerves creep up into your throat when you unlock the doors Monday morning, Jungkook waiting patiently behind you with his hands wrapped around the straps of his backpack.
Dread blooms inside of you as you move to place your purse on your desk, and then you make a split-second decision, spinning back to face Jungkook.
“Hey, JK?” The nickname is unplanned, just sort of comes out, but you see him visibly brighten. “Are there any open desks on your side of the office? I think I need a change of scenery.”
He nods, eyes wide. “Yeah! I’m actually all by myself right now. Sunye is on maternity leave for the rest of the month. You can use her desk.”
You gesture for him to lead the way and he does, heading past the break room and walking backwards down the hallway to keep talking to you. “Is there something wrong with your normal desk? We can always put in a work order.”
“Uh, no,” you scramble, trying to find a good excuse. “It can just be a little distracting, you know. People coming in and out all day. I’ve got a lot of stuff I need to be heads-down on this week.”
The excuse sounds flimsy and false to you, but he seems to buy it. “Yeah, makes sense! I’ll try not to distract you too much.”
He does a full 360-degree spin on his heels as you turn the corner at the end of the hall, and it’s enough to make you laugh softly despite yourself. There’s a small alcove with a desk pressed against either wall, and you don’t even have to ask which one is Jungkook’s. The standing desk is dotted with tell-tale signs of Baby Star Candy: an empty shaker cup, a mini tub of protein powder, several fidget toys tucked beneath his monitor. A small collage of polaroids is taped to the wall where you see him smiling with friends, throwing up a peace sign in nearly every single one.
Sunye’s desk is mostly empty, save for a few framed photos of her with her husband and two young kids. You drop your purse down and take a seat as Jungkook chucks his backpack under his desk, both of you reaching to retrieve your laptops.
Outlook hasn’t even loaded before he’s turned around and talking to you again. “So how was your weekend?”
You grimace reflexively at memories you’d rather forget, and Jungkook misinterprets the look. “Oh, sorry, no distractions. I’ll be quiet.”
“No, no,” you shake your head. “It’s not you. My weekend was fine. What about yours?”
He laughs, looking a little embarrassed. “I mean, honestly? I’m super addicted to this new mobile game that just came out. I feel like I blinked and lost two days.” He’s already reaching for his cellphone. “Want to see?” You roll your chair across to his side of the room as Jungkook leans over to show you the little island world he’s nearly 500 levels into. After a few minutes, he seems to remember himself.
“Shit, you specifically said you came here to focus. I’m sorry, I really will leave you alone now.”
You bite down on your bottom lip. “No, it’s okay, JK. I— honestly, I wasn’t being entirely truthful when I said that. I don’t mind the distraction at all, actually. It’s kind of complicated, but… it would be nice if I could hide out here for the foreseeable future.”
He looks at you, clearly surprised. “Of course. Whatever you need. Is everything okay?”
You wince a little, with no idea how to answer that question.
His voice drops. “Is it Suga?”
“It’s complicated.” You repeat with a sigh.
An unfamiliar emotion flashes in Jungkook’s eyes. You’ve never seen him angry before, but you’d guess this is what it looks like. “Hey, seriously, if he’s being aggressive with you, we should do something about it. Report it or something.”
You have to suppress the urge to laugh in his face. Like Yoongi being aggressive with you isn’t exactly what you’ve been fantasizing about for days.
“No, it’s not like that,” you reassure him. “I think we’re just two people who are better off kept apart from each other. That’s all.”
Jungkook nods slowly, and it’s clear from his expression that he wants to pry more, but is forcing himself not to. “Okay.”
There’s a heaviness of unasked and unanswered questions in the air, but the two of you manage to lapse into corporate smalltalk as you roll back over to your desk and dive into your workday.
Jungkook eventually has to peel off for a few virtual meetings, and watching him work is its own source of entertainment. If it’s a meeting that requires his focus, you can tell because he leans in close to his monitor, staring at spreadsheets or data visualizations with a look on his face like he’s using every single brain cell he owns.
You can also tell when he’s put on calls where he clearly isn’t needed, because he’ll spin in a full circle at his desk with a glazed over look in his eye. There are even a few times where you glance up to see him silently doing what you vaguely recognize as TikTok dances, and you have to clap a hand over your mouth to keep from outright laughing.
The day rolls on, and you’re neck deep in drafting a communication when Jungkook’s voice breaks your concentration. “Do you like ramyeon?”
Your head snaps up to see him lean down under his desk to grab his backpack. He unzips it to retrieve two containers of instant noodles, and when he offers one to you, you give an approving nod. “I usually bring two in case I get extra hungry. I’ll make it, come meet me in the break room when you finish what you’re doing.”
You genuinely believe him on the first day, but when he just so happens to bring a second lunch on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday, you start to get a little suspicious.
Friday has you stuck on a working session straight through your usual lunch hour, and Jungkook disappears without a word, returning as you’re pulling your headset off with two to-go salads in a plastic bag.
“I ordered one, and they gave me two. Crazy, right?”
You quirk an eyebrow at him to signal that you don’t believe a damn word, but you still thank him as you follow him down the hall to the break room.
“You’re coming out tonight, right?” He asks over lunch, and it takes you a second to remember the planned happy hour your boss has scheduled for the office. You’re torn between never wanting to see the inside of a bar again, and the overwhelming desire to drink as much as you can on the company’s dime. Ideally enough to obliterate the brain cells that store your memories of last weekend.
In the end, your cheapness wins out. Plus, given that it’s a social work event, you’d bet your entire salary that Yoongi will be nowhere to be found. You figure it might actually prove to be a good distraction. “Sure, yeah. At least for a couple drinks.”
“Cool,” Jungkook smiles a little as he spears a piece of chicken on his plastic fork. “Let me know when you’re done for the day, we can head over together.”
As much as you’d like to blow off early, a phone call that was supposed to take fifteen minutes ends up lasting over an hour. You mute your headset briefly to give a loud sigh, and shoot Jungkook a silent pout in apology when he meets your gaze, but he just flips his phone around to show you the progress he’s making on his island. At least he’s good at keeping himself entertained, you think with a smile.
Finally the person leading the call seems to come to the extremely delayed realization that no one is going to make any more progress on the issue after 5 PM on a Friday, and things wrap up pretty quickly after that. You and Jungkook gather your things and head for the front, and the office is a ghost town.
Your eyes drift down the opposite hallway towards the Genius Lab, your pulse quickening a little. You’ve checked the lab every evening this week and have luckily only found it empty, but you’re nearly an hour ahead of schedule today. And you don’t exactly have a great track record with Yoongi when it comes to Fridays.
“I should probably…”
“I can do it,” Jungkook cuts in softly. You’re hit with the automatic urge to say no, to shield him from this chaos in any way you can. But it would be really nice to not have to deal with Yoongi for one fucking day.
“I would appreciate that,” you reply, and Jungkook is already striding down the hall. You pretend to busy yourself on your phone as you hear a knock, then the electronic beeps of him punching the code into the door lock. When you glance up, you see him push the door open and stick his head inside, then promptly close it again.
“He’s gone. Let’s get out of here.”
The bar your boss has chosen is only a few blocks away from the office, and Jungkook holds the door open for you to enter first when you arrive. You don’t see your group right when you first walk in, and you have to round a bend in the layout of the building before you spot the long table of familiar faces.
You move to take a step forward, but Jungkook nearly imperceptibly brings a hand to your elbow to stop you. He says nothing, which is unlike him, and you start to ask a question.
“Wh—” the words die in your mouth when you see Yoongi smiling politely into a glass of whiskey, seated at the table next to your boss. His gaze flickers up to meet yours. Your stomach twists as you watch the smile immediately drop off his face.
“We can go,” Jungkook says quickly, but you know you can’t give him the satisfaction.
“It’s fine,” you say, and it comes out a little more harsh than you mean it to. “We don’t have to sit near him.” Jungkook follows your lead to the opposite end of the table. When you take your seats, he almost immediately gets sucked into a conversation with some of the audio engineers. You do your best to at least act like you’re following along, but it feels like the room is spinning despite the fact that you’re entirely sober.
That absolutely needs to change, you quickly determine. You’re sitting at the corner of the table, so it’s easy enough to slip out and get to your feet. Jungkook glances up when you do.
“I’ll be right back,” you say, and your tone must be direct enough that he doesn’t ask any follow-up questions or offer his company. Which is fine, you think to yourself as you cross the room. You’re perfectly capable of walking to the bar and ordering a drink on your own.
At least it feels that way until you sweep your gaze across the room, waiting on a bartender to acknowledge your presence, and realize Yoongi is headed straight towards you, empty glass in hand.
Fuck fuck fuck.
You set your jaw, determined not to let him smell your fear, and renew your conviction to flag someone down and get a drink as fast as possible. When Yoongi takes a seat at the barstool next to you, you will your face not to react. But you’re not quite fast enough to remember to tell your mouth to stay shut, too.
“What are you doing here?” You snap, refusing to look him in the eye.
“I wanted to talk to you,” he says, voice even, and you blink hard. You don’t know what you were expecting, but it wasn’t that. “I figured an event with free alcohol was a good place to start. Let’s hope no one wore their good shoes tonight.”
Setting your jaw has turned into fully gritting your teeth, and you’ve never been more grateful to see a bartender when one approaches. You order quickly, and see Yoongi silently lift his empty glass as a request in your periphery.
“What do you want, Yoongi?”
When he hums and doesn’t respond right away, you glance over to see him running a finger around the rim of his finished drink. Just his fucking hand is enough to send a shiver up your spine, and you tear your gaze away.
“Well, for one, I honestly have to say I was surprised when HR didn’t personally escort me out of the building Monday morning.”
Your head snaps up to look at him again as you parse out his meaning. “Really?”
Yoongi’s gaze meets yours, his brows slightly pinching together as if he’s surprised that you’re surprised. “Uh, yeah.”
You’re so shocked it takes you a minute to form words. “I— I mean, it’s not like it was unprovoked.”
He makes a face as if he’s considering it, shrugging a little. “I suppose.”
As you drop your gaze to the wood grain of the bar, you can’t help but wonder if that was meant to be an apology. You barely have time to process that thought before the bartender returns, setting your drinks down, and you reach for yours like a woman dehydrated. When you take a sip, it’s strong— exactly what you need in this moment.
You’re already halfway off the barstool, very ready to get back to your seat at the table, when Yoongi speaks up again.
“Do you want to hear a funny story?” Something in his tone makes you pause, and he keeps going.
“I heard from an old friend a few days ago. We used to be really close, but lately I don’t think we’ve talked in…” He shakes his head in disbelief, like he’s trying to think. “God, probably years. I’ve been so focused on work. You know how I get.”
You physically recoil at his strange candor, how comfortable he suddenly is with implying that you know him. Your stomach is already starting to turn, though you can’t put a finger on why. It just feels like he’s playing with you.
Yoongi rolls his glass between his palms as he continues. “So you know, we catch up, ask how life is going, all the usual shit. And then my friend— Kihyun, that’s his name— Kih starts telling me about this crazy hookup he had last weekend.”
You nearly drop your drink as your blood runs cold. Yoongi continues the charade, pretending like he’s telling you something you don’t already know first-hand.
“He said he got approached by this super hot girl out of nowhere, and that she was fucking desperate for it. Barely said two words to him before she was asking him to take her home. And once he did, he said the sex was wild. I mean, it definitely sounded great to me when he gave me the play-by-play.” He pauses for a moment, and when he speaks again, there’s a new tone to his voice, almost aggressive. “Straight out of one of my own fantasies, really.”
You take a nervous gulp of your drink in hopes that it might help cool down your burning face— whether it’s from shame or rage, you can’t tell.
“And get this.” Yoongi’s voice is grave now, all pretense of telling a funny story gone as he turns to fully face you. “You’re never gonna believe whose name she cried out when she came. Because it sure wasn’t Kih’s.”
The shock of his words, at the fact that he knows this, is enough to freeze you where you stand. You’re nearly shaking with the chaotic storm of emotions swirling in your brain, and it takes every ounce of willpower you can muster to keep your voice steady as you fix him in your gaze. “I don’t see that it’s any of your business who or how I fuck, Yoongi.”
“Oh, I think it’s absolutely my business when you’re calling them my fucking name. And I don’t understand why you’d settle for imitation when you could have the real thing.” Despite how livid you are, you don’t miss the way your pussy flutters at the smug look on his face.
“Maybe it’s because your friend doesn’t come with all the strings attached that you do.”
“Strings?” He quirks an eyebrow. “I wasn’t planning on dating you, sweetheart.”
You can’t believe how dense he is, and you slam your drink down on the bar. “No, Yoongi, but you’re my fucking coworker. Have you ever heard the phrase, ‘don’t shit where you eat’?” He chuckles dryly into the rim of his glass. “It’s a bad fucking idea.”
He examines you as he takes a sip of whiskey, then finally speaks again. “Here’s the way I see it. We are both sane, consenting adults, very capable of being rational about this.” You scoff in disbelief at how calmly he can say such a thing as you take another long pull from your drink. “There’s obviously a lot of pent-up feelings going on. I’m not saying we have to be friends. Hell, we don’t even have to like each other. Sometimes it’s more fun when you don’t.”
Not expecting that commentary, you nearly choke on the ice in your glass. Yoongi gives you a moment to recover before continuing.
“It seems to me like we could establish something that would be mutually beneficial. Get some of that energy out. If anything, I think it might help both of us actually focus on our work, and that would in turn benefit everyone. It’d certainly be a lot better than the two of us running around like a couple of horny teenagers the way we have been lately. It’s not a purely selfish thing.”
You hate that his stupid logical argument makes sense to you. You hate it so much that you finish your drink in one swallow.
“Look, I’ll make it easy for you,” he says, eyes locked on you, his voice dropping into a lower register. The tone immediately takes you back to the last time you were in his lab. The things he said to you. The things he wanted to do to you. Heat pools in your belly before you can tell it not to.
“I’m going to head back to the group. You get yourself another drink, come join us, and take some time to think about it.”
He leans in to speak the next part directly into your ear, his voice quiet. Every nerve ending in your body lights up at the feeling of his breath against your neck. “Then I’m going to get up and go to the restroom. I’ll give you three minutes to discreetly excuse yourself and join me. If you don’t show, I’ll drop all of this and leave you alone. Promise.”
Yoongi pulls away, shooting you that trademark smirk, knowing full well that he doesn’t have to explain what will happen if you do decide to join him. He already has. Then he slips off the barstool, glass of whiskey in hand, and strides back towards the table.
When you order the next round, you ask for a double.
You do your best to act like the world isn’t ending as you return to your seat at the table. The conversation continues around you, without you; you can only stare dumbly at the empty space between two of your coworkers as you take a long swig of your drink. You’re vaguely aware of discussions of upcoming mixtapes and the Grammy’s, but your brain can’t process anything over the roaring in your ears, the pounding of your heartbeat in your gut— and a little lower.
You feel insane, enraged, and deliriously aroused.
You have no concept of how quickly time is passing, no clue if it’s been an instant or an hour when you see movement from the other end of the table out of the corner of your eye. There’s no self-control left in your system to keep your jaw from going slack, to keep you from unabashedly watching as Yoongi gets up from the table and strides confidently across the bar toward the restroom. He doesn’t so much as glance in your direction.
“Are you alright?”
You whip around at Jungkook’s voice, having completely forgotten there was anyone else in the room. It takes a second for you to snap your mouth shut, and then you realize you have to open it to answer his question.
“I— uh—” You can barely string a sentence together. “My drink is really strong.”
“Do you need some water?”
When you nod, he’s up in a flash, heading towards the bar, and you realize as you watch him disappear that it might have been a bad idea to let yourself be left alone. Because now you have no distraction from the way every cell in your body is screaming at you.
It’s obvious that there is a right choice and a wrong choice here. And you’ve tried so hard, for so long, to be smart. To deny the truth, to say no and go home, to channel the energy out in any other way. But none of it has worked. You still want this terrible man to do terrible things to you, maybe now more than ever. And you’re so fucking tired of making the right choice.
So tonight, you resolve with a final sip of your drink, you’ll make the wrong one. Fuck it.
You slip away from the table before Jungkook returns, following the same path Yoongi did towards the back of the bar. When you reach for the handle of the restroom door, your pulse is racing, enough that you nearly jump out of your skin when the door swings open before you can even touch it. You glance up to find yourself face-to-face with an equally shocked looking Yoongi.
“Your three minutes are up,” he says dryly. Rather than bother with a response, you bring your hand to his chest and firmly shove him back inside the single stall room. You hear him laugh a little as you follow after, pulling the knob and turning the lock into place behind you.
When he takes a step toward you, there’s nowhere for you to go except flush against the door. You watch his eyes drop down your body and back up, taking his time, shameless. His gaze lingers on your mouth.
“Didn’t think you’d really do it,” he murmurs, eyes glinting.
“Call it a lapse in judgment.”
There’s something about the situation that makes you feel like Yoongi has the upper hand— like he expects every part of this to go according to his plan. That, you decide, simply will not do. And then you drop to your knees in front of him.
“Oh my god,” Yoongi breathes, taking a small step back to give you room. “You’re a whore.”
You do your best to shoot a death glare up at him. “I don’t have to do this.”
He smirks. “I meant it as a compliment, honestly. Respectfully.”
That’s it. You’re determined to suck that smug fucking look off his face. “Hands to yourself,” you say firmly. “If you touch me, this all ends.”
Yoongi’s eyes widen, as if he wasn’t expecting you to be giving any orders. But then he nods, raising both hands in the air as if to indicate compliance. You lower your gaze and realize he’s already straining against the fabric of his joggers, which do nothing to hide how hard he is, the thin material clinging to every inch.
In one swift motion, you tug both his pants and boxers down his hips, and you have to actively suppress a soft sigh of appreciation. Yoongi’s ego doesn’t need any more feeding, but damn, his dick is even better up close: long, pale, and pretty.
Glancing back up at him, you maintain eye contact as you lean forward to teasingly trace your tongue along one of the prominent veins that runs the length of his shaft. His eyes are dark with lust as he watches you. Despite being on your knees, a thrill of sheer power runs through you when you see him swallow hard, his Adam’s apple jerking in his throat.
It occurs to you that you are extremely ready to torture this man.
When you reach the tip, you just barely slide your lips over it in an open-mouthed kiss to the head of his cock, your tongue swirling in sloppy circles. You can hear Yoongi breathing now, clearly trying and failing to suppress his shaky exhales at your work.
Tilting your head to find the right angle, you take more of him into your mouth, then bring a hand to his shaft to guide the head of his dick to one side. You don’t miss the quiet groan you elicit from him as you let him press against the soft wall of your cheek to create a bulge. He makes the same sound again, louder, when you rub your tongue firmly along the underside of his shaft while you do it.
His hips jerk under your touch as you start to move the hand wrapped around him in slow, deliberate strokes. You recenter him in your mouth and bob your head along his length in time, now sucking firmly. Yoongi’s breath catches on a moan as you keep your tongue pressed tight to his shaft and match the movement of your head to the deliciously slow pace of your hand.
The sound only encourages you, and you lean forward to take even more of him until his cock briefly brushes against the back of your throat. You hold him there for a second, then swallow.
“Fuck,” Yoongi hisses. You can feel him twitch a little in your mouth, taste it as he leaks precum onto your tongue. You tip back for a few more shallow thrusts, just tormenting him, then repeat the action, humming this time as he hits your throat. His knees nearly buckle.
You glance up at Yoongi as you pull back again, lashes fluttering, and you have to keep yourself from laughing around his cock at the look of pure distress on his face. Now that you’re watching him, you realize his hands are flexing desperately at his sides— it’s clearly taking everything in his power to follow your no touching policy.
Good, you think, and then you lean forward to swallow him down and keep him there, taking as much as you can until your nose is nearly flush with his pelvis. You bob your head, guiding him up and down your throat, choking slightly but too determined to stop even as your eyes start to water.
“Oh my god,” you hear him groan, and your eyebrows raise at the sound of a loud smack. When you look up, still working him in your throat, you realize that he’s helplessly banged a fist on the bathroom door and is now bracing himself against it. You watch as he rakes his other hand through his hair, his head tipping back with a gasp as you increase your pace in response. His hips shudder as he starts to buck softly into your mouth. “Y-yeah, keep doing that, oh fuck, fuck—”
At what feels like the last possible second, you pull off his cock with a soft, wet pop, swallowing down the precum in your mouth. You wipe at the corners of your lips before getting to your feet, legs shaking a little more than you’d like from how long you’ve been on your knees. As you meet his gaze, now at eye-level, it seems you’ve certainly achieved your mission: Yoongi’s usual smug appearance has been replaced with a look of frustrated desperation, courtesy of one denied orgasm.
“Why should I let you get off that easy?” You ask simply, and he makes a noise low in his throat, something between a groan and a laugh.
“Fuck, you are such a bitch.” He advances towards you, and you find yourself backing up, this time until your ass is pressed against the countertop of the bathroom sink. He’s staring at your mouth again, looking at it with what seems to be a little more reverence now that he knows what it’s capable of.
“Am I allowed to touch you yet?” His voice is so low, his mouth so close to yours, that it makes your core ache. The noises you sucked out of him have unfortunately only turned you on even more. “Or are you going to make me beg?”
As much as you’d love to see that, the desperate throb that’s been steadily building between your legs has now overtaken your desire to tease. “Yes, Yoongi, you can touch me.”
The words have barely left your mouth and his hands are already on your hips, firmly spinning you around. You have to clutch the edge of the countertop just to stay upright, but you only feel yourself getting that much wetter at the rough way he handles you. You shiver as he shoves the hem of your dress up to expose your ass, and you can’t help yourself, leaning forward to give him the best possible angle, too desperate for anything less.
“Fuck,” Yoongi breathes, and you’d swear he almost sounds appreciative.
You don’t even have time to process that thought before his hand cracks down over your ass, so hard that it nearly knocks all the breath out of your lungs. You inhale a shaky gasp, your mind reeling in its attempt to catch up, but Yoongi is already pulling your panties to the side, perfect fingers sliding between your folds. There’s no hiding how drenched you are; your upper thighs are starting to stick together with arousal.
Without warning, he presses two fingers firmly into you, and it’s enough to make your jaw go slack. You outright moan when they find purchase against your g-spot, rubbing in tight, expert circles. He could make you come right now if he wanted to.
“You’re so wet for me,” Yoongi’s voice is low and smug, and you don’t need to see his expression to know that cocky smirk has returned to his face. “Been ready for it all night, huh?” You whimper a noise that isn’t disagreement.
“Good,” he says firmly, pairing the word with another smack to your ass. You’re too far gone to try and hold it back now, not with the way his fingers are working inside you, and you moan again. “Because we can’t take too long,” Yoongi continues. “Don’t want anyone getting suspicious. Which is really a damn shame, because there’s so much I want to do to you.”
When he smacks your ass one more time, even harder, and couples it with an insistent press of his fingers against your front wall, you have to grip the edge of the sink for dear life. Your cunt squeezes around him; the noise you make is practically a sob.
He huffs a laugh as he withdraws his fingers, and you glance up to see him retrieving a condom from his pocket and tearing it open. “Wrecked already? And I haven’t even fucked you yet.”
You try to compose yourself, but just watching the way his hands work as he rolls the condom over his leaking cock has you aching, clenching around nothing. You really are fucking wrecked— nothing has ever come close to this.
Yoongi’s hands come to your hips, pads of his fingers digging into your skin, and you feel the head of his cock against your entrance, sliding lazily through your folds but purposefully not pressing into you.
“Yoongi,” you whine. You’re too far gone for this teasing.
“You have to tell me what you want,” he says, his voice dark.
You can barely even think a sentence, and you try to push back on him instead, but he keeps you held firmly in place, hands squeezing into the flesh of your hips. “Tell me,” he insists.
“I want you to fuck me,” you manage, and you look up to meet his gaze in the bathroom mirror.
He licks his lips, and you realize that he’s having just as hard a time restraining himself. “That much is obvious,” he says, and you can hear the unsteadiness in his voice now. “How would you like to get fucked?”
You’ve had enough alcohol to brazenly tell the truth. “Like you hate me.”
It may be the first genuine smile of his you’ve ever seen.
“Gladly,” he replies, and then he thrusts all of himself into you at once. You collapse forward on the countertop, crying out at the feeling.
“Yeah,” Yoongi grunts, a little breathless. “You like that?” He pulls nearly all the way out and slams into you one more time, pressing his hips flush with your ass until you feel overwhelmingly full. Then he starts to properly thrust, moving at a pace that can only be described as ruthless.
“Oh, fuck,” you gasp, your head dropping down as you scramble to brace yourself against the counter. You practically yelp when his hand cracks over your ass again.
He leans forward; you can feel his chest graze over your back, his hips still snapping into you as he grabs your jaw with one hand and forces your gaze up to look at him in the mirror again. You watch as he runs two fingers along your bottom lip in an unasked question. You let your jaw go slack to allow him to slip into your mouth.
When your lips close around his fingers, you find yourself a little grateful to have something to keep you grounded to reality. Your eyes flit up to Yoongi’s face, and his gaze is piercing, eyes totally fixed on you.
“You look so good like this.” His voice is hoarse, strained from effort, and he continues to drive into you, never slowing. Your own hip bones dig into the bathroom counter, shocks of pleasure-pain rippling through you with each thrust. Little moans and whimpers spill out from your mouth around his fingers at the sensation, and you can feel your climax starting to build.
Yoongi withdraws from your mouth, that same hand moving down your body to slip into your panties and circle your clit, earning a gasp from you. His other hand keeps a death grip on your hip as he thrusts, and he straightens up again, the head of his cock now rubbing so perfectly over your g-spot that you hiss.
“Did Kihyun fuck you like this?”
The question catches you off-guard. “N-no,” you gasp, and the hot coil of your arousal tightens in your core. Yoongi’s cock stroking into you, his hand working your clit, the feeling is overwhelming, dizzying. “Oh, god.” Your head presses into your forearm as you give yourself over to the pleasure. You can only distantly hear Yoongi’s voice continue, somewhere between coaxing and demanding.
“I didn’t fucking think so. So why don’t you say it? Tell me who fucks you right. Tell me who you fucking hate.”
The fingers on your clit are unrelenting now, and your edge approaches fast and hard.
“Y-Yoongi,” you breathe, and it feels too good to say his name and mean it. “Yoongi, fuck, Yoongi.” A loud moan rips through you as your legs start to shake. “Oh fuck,” you gasp, “I’m coming, fuck, yes—” You nearly sob as your climax hits you hard, and your walls flutter around Yoongi’s cock over and over in what feels like an endless orgasm.
The pleasure rolls through you, and you look up in the mirror to see Yoongi grit his teeth as he picks up the pace of his hips. A look of desperation paints his face, not unlike the way he looked when you were blowing him, and you know he must be close.
“God fucking damnit,” he grunts, each word punctuated with a thrust, and then he tips his head back and pushes all the way into you with a moan as he comes.
For a moment he pauses like that, gazing up at the ceiling, chest heaving with effort as his dick twitches inside of you. “Holy shit,” he breathes, and then he starts to laugh softly in what appears to be disbelief. “Fuuuuck.”
You haven’t fully recovered, so you can only watch, still gripping the countertop for dear life, as he slips the condom off, chucks it into the trash can, and pulls his boxers and pants up. He gives his reflection a once-over in the mirror, running a hand through his hair, and you’re amazed at how quickly he’s put himself back together. The only indication that he was literally just railing you is the way he’s breathing heavily.
Yoongi notices you watching him and gives your ass one more firm slap, hard enough that you flinch a little.
“Wait a minute or two before you head out,” he instructs, and you nod dumbly. He crosses the room, opens the door, and slips out, all before you can even so much as think a coherent thought.
It takes several more minutes for you to get your shit together, but you eventually manage to readjust your underwear and smooth your dress down, though your legs are certainly still unsteady when you make your way back to the table. You can’t help but shoot a glance over at Yoongi as you pass, and you’re shocked to see him laughing and chatting it up with the group of coworkers seated around him. You see clear expressions of surprise on their faces, too— because he’s never like this. Except, apparently, mere minutes after fucking you.
You don’t even bother to sit down, instead grabbing your purse off the table and slinging the straps over your shoulder.
“Wow, there you are,” Jungkook’s voice drags you out of your thoughts, and the look of concern on his face just makes your stomach turn. You genuinely have no idea how long you were gone for. “Are you okay? Your face looks flushed.”
You don’t know how to answer his question, so you don't. “I think I’m gonna go home.”
“Do you need a ride?”
You shake your head quickly. “I’ll call a friend.”
Perched on the curb outside, you clutch your phone for dear life as you pull up Jimin’s contact to call him. The line rings and you realize you’re shivering; you don’t think it has anything to do with the weather.
You don’t even give him a chance to say hello when the call connects. “Can you come get me?”
He groans on the other end of the line. “Why? I already took my pants off for the night.”
“Baby mochi, please.” You whine, but you know only the full explanation will get him out of bed. You drop your voice a little. “I just hatefucked Suga in the bathroom at the company happy hour. I need you to come pick me up immediately.”
Jimin’s apartment is a ten minute drive away, but you swear he makes it in five.
“Well, well, well,” Your best friend’s voice is smug as you slide into his passenger seat. “If it isn’t the company whore.”
“Shut the fuck up, Jimin.”
Come Monday morning, you’re racing down the hallway to the conference room, quietly cursing yourself for being late. You’d seen the email from your boss moving the usual Tuesday pull-up to first-thing Monday, but then you’d gotten so tied up with other projects you’d forgotten about it entirely. It was only once you were in the break room, trying to get your caffeine fix in, that you’d glanced up at the wall clock and realized it was already ten after.
Focused as you are on getting to the meeting quickly— and just as importantly, not spilling any of your coffee— you’re completely unaware of your surroundings until it’s too late. You nearly smack directly into Yoongi as you approach the conference room simultaneously.
He smirks as you jump back in surprise. “We have got to stop meeting like this.”
It’s the first time you’ve seen him since Friday; you’ve been hiding out in Baby Star Candy’s corner all morning. “We’re late,” you say, flustered enough to state the obvious, and he shrugs like he can’t disagree.
“I got distracted.”
Yoongi must notice the way your eyes start to widen. “With work,” he clarifies quickly. He reaches around you to place a hand on the conference room door, and you hear his voice low in your ear. “Amazing how much easier it is to focus today, huh?”
Straightening up to put some space between you, he pushes the door open and gestures for you to go first. You swallow hard and try to keep your composure as you enter the room, briefly apologizing for being late. Yoongi follows behind you silently, slumping into the open seat across the table. You take a sip of your coffee to settle your nerves, which turns out to be a horrible idea when your boss speaks.
“There they are, perfect timing. You’re the very two people my next announcement concerns.”
You just barely manage to keep your drink in your mouth. When your gaze flits to Yoongi across from you, he looks similarly shell-shocked. You can’t help but wonder if you’re about to get fired in front of the entire team.
“We’ve managed to secure funding for the Grammy’s at the end of the month,” your boss says brightly. “We’ll be flying Suga out to do a press circuit as well as attend the award show and surrounding events in-person. We think it will be a great opportunity to network with American artists, try to get his name out there and work on our international appeal.”
“And of course,” your boss’ gaze lands on you, “we all know that our Suga isn’t the most extroverted, or good with schedules, for that matter. We figured he needs a wrangler, and who better than our very own admin?”
You swear your heart stops beating. Your boss keeps going, reminding the team to connect with you about temporarily taking back any deliverables you’ve been handling while you’ll be out of pocket for Grammy’s weekend and subsequent travel time, but you barely process a word. This can’t be happening.
An entire weekend of forced professionalism, in Los Angeles, with the man you just hatefucked in a bathroom. What could possibly go wrong?
chapter four | masterlist | chapter six