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pedgito · 2 years

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𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐛𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐭 pt. ii ✧ ˚ · . 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary: a night of bad choices leads to misery in the following weeks, neither of you managing to get the other out of your mind. teasing, hateful words, and a birthday party lead to another mess you can't be bothered to fix.

cw: 18+ (minors, dni) teacher/student relationship, age gap (21 & 29), corruption!kink (eddie is well aware of what he’s doing), max is readers bestfriend, praise words (good girl) eddie has a kink for being called sir (he can't admit it to himself), bratty!reader (sorta), more angsty touches, fingering & oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, and a hate fuck, they're both down so bad for each other

word count: 9k - part one, part three, part four

The pit in your stomach never fades, only growing larger as the days went on, terrified to face Eddie after the sequences of events that took place, one bad choice leading into another. You didn’t even have the chance to touch him, not really—and it seemed like he was okay with that, like he didn’t want it at all.

You could’ve easily just been another notch on his belt, another depraved and willing woman, falling for the teacher, opening themselves up to the consequences that came with it.

Monday is dreadful as you walk into his classroom, his front turned to the board, writing out something rather furiously, focusing himself on the task in front of him rather than greeting the class like he usually does.

But he doesn’t owe you anything, so why should you care?

It wasn’t like he violated you in the passenger seat of his van—you willing allowed the defilement to happen and you knew you were weak enough to let it happen again, but he seemed stuck on the idea that it was never going to happen again and he could live with himself by just ignoring you and acting like nothing ever happened—his gaze doesn’t even falter as it lands on you, careful hands placing the assignment on his desk.

“I need to see you after class.” His voice is low, eyes connecting with his. They seem darker, less warm than usual.

“Okay.” Your response is meek and quiet, weary of the others around.

And while he rambled through his own lesson, it felt like a personal attack, hands flexing as he talked, arms crossing and uncrossing, or how crudely the front of his slacks tightened over his groin, leaving little to imagination in your own mind—you hadn’t seen it for yourself, but there was no questioning it; he knew what he was doing.

He stops you at his desk on your way down the steps, the strap of your bag held tight in your grip. “Here,” It’s a white sheet of paper, a mountain of text you couldn’t be bothered to read. You shoot him a confused look, eyebrows furrowing in annoyance, “it’s a class transfer paper.”

You could feel the rage flooding your body at the admission, roughly shoving the paper back into his chest.

“Excuse you?” You ask, voice low as the last of the students lingered out the door, “I have every right to take this class.”

“Look, I don’t want to argue—“ Eddie starts, but he’s cut off by the clipped response you throw at him. The door to his class swings close on accident, probably bumped by a passing student—either way, you weren’t holding back.

“Fuck you.” It’s harsh and laced with venom, Eddie’s face twisting up in a mix of annoyance and frustration. “You’re not kicking me out of your class.”

He didn’t feel any better about the ultimatum than you, but it was the right thing to do. He couldn’t live with himself, having you sat across from him in his own classroom, much like the rest of his students—but know exactly what you sound like when you fall apart, all by his own bidding. He had to fix this while he still had the chance, even if he was battling every doubt in his body that told him not to.

“It’s not personal—I just don’t want this getting out of hand.”

“That’s not how this works,” You spit at him, fingering wagging between the both of you, “there is no this, to be clear—don’t you remember what you said?”

“That’s not why I’m—“

“No, shut up.” You cut him off once more, beyond the point of respect. Eddie’s shirt flexed against his chest as he shoved his hands into his pockets, letting the painful assent of insults rain down on him. “You’re the one that crossed that line—not me. And if you’re bothered, get over it—you’re an adult, aren’t you?”

Yes, he was. An adult in a position of authority over someone who he so desperately wanted to take over his desk, the back of his van, literally anywhere you would let him. But, none of that was possible.

He allowed himself the small taste he craved, it was enough.

“Would you just listen to me?” Eddie pleads, voice tight and stressed as he speaks.

“You didn’t even bother to consider how I would feel, Eddie.” You reply, speaking his name out into the empty room. He tenses, hand flying over your mouth abruptly.

You realize how risky it was, speaking so openly. There’s a small tinge of regret and a look of apology as you push his hand away, hating the way his touch lingers against your fingertips. “I’m not transferring—I have no problem ignoring you, if that’s what you want. But, you’re not going to fuck with my classes.”

Eddie knows there’s no getting through, no forcing you out of his class or his life, and if you could ignore it all, why couldn’t he?

“You can speak now.” You tell him, feeling satiated by how hard he took your words, seemingly backed into a corner.

“I don’t think you’d listen anyways.” And it doesn’t come off harsh, at least you don’t take it that way. It’s factual, you could genuinely care less. The anger had dissipated slightly, but it was still brimming, begging to spoil over if he made one wrong move.

It was a shame how easily it turned him on—which was proving his point exactly, he couldn’t stand to be around you like this.

“Probably not.” You agree, watching the crisp sheet of paper crumple in his hands, but it’s really not enough.

You pluck the paper from his grip, ripping it in half, turning it once, then ripping it again. It sent the message you wanted to be received.

Fuck his ultimatum.

“Are we done here?” You ask lightly, torn pieces floating to the trash as you release them.

“Uh—yeah,” Eddie replies quietly. He seems deflated at the failed attempt, “we’re done.”

He watches you leave wordlessly, wondering how badly he fucked himself over now.

—

“There’s no way,” Max argues, twisting the towel in her long fiery, wet hair, “Eddie isn’t like that.”

“What? Rude?” You ask, legs crossed as you reclined back on your tiny twin bed tucked in the corner of your shared dorm room. “I take back what I said the other day—he’s an asshole.”

“You didn’t even tell me what happened,” Max points out, eyes staring back expectantly, “—just that something did and then you did that thing where you go quiet and pretend I’m not seven feet away from you every night.”

The silence drags, curling in on yourself as Max stares you down.

“Was it that bad?” Max asks softly, tossing the towel into your shared laundry basket before timidly stepping your way, squeezing herself on the bed beside you. “Did he hurt you?”

You shake your head in amusement, not that you knew Eddie well, but he didn’t seem to hold that type of anger or resentment toward most people.

“I have no problem burying a body with you, you know that.”

“Oh my god, Max—it’s fine.” You insist, her eyes still watching you intently, nothing but absolute honesty shining through her features.

“So you had sex and then he asks you to transfer from his class?” She assumes, trying to piece it all together.

“We didn’t even have sex.” You admit, the words sticking to your tongue in a weird way, leaving a taste in your mouth that you couldn’t describe. “I’ve just never—look, it’s not a big deal. I’m just annoyed.”

“Annoyed because you like him? Or annoyed because he tried to kick you out of his class?”

It was a fair point and you couldn’t deny the sentiment you shared for both.

“You’re so predictable.” Max laughs, pushing herself from the bed and toward her own, digging through her pile of papers scattered over her unmade bed. “Anyways, here—“

It’s a card, covered in felt cartoon balloons and plastered with ones. It was an invitation to a birthday party—Nancy had told you about it, you vaguely remembered.

“Steve really wants you to go,” Max pushes at the subject gently, “But, Eddie’s probably going to be there—“

“I’m still going,” You assure her, “He can get over it.”

Max smiles wide, glad to have you back to your full unashamed self.

“Remember, I’m always a call and a shovel away.”

—

Class is dreadful to say the least. Eddie is so painfully bothered by your presence that it rubs off on you, letting it slip through your expression and remarks in class, more than you liked.

There’s a heated debate going on, about cadence and how the pace of a song can affect someone’s mood or anxiety and it’s flurry of words, people trying to interrupt every chance they could, and it’s mostly harmless until you finally decide to speak up against the crowd, interrupting Eddie’s response—and he really doesn’t appreciate it.

“I’d really appreciate it if you'd raise your hand.” He remarks, lying to himself. He didn’t care, he just wanted to see your expression fall, it surely did.

“How is that fair?” You ask, voice up an octave in disbelief, “No one else has.”

“You had something new to input, no?”

“Well, yeah—“

“Then?”

You scoff, slumping back in your seat in defeat, whatever tangible thought you had now gone.

“Fucking prick.” You mumble under your breath.

And he definitely hears that.

—

In the midst of all the hate, you remember the music that Eddie was kind enough to let you borrow, stuffed underneath your bed in a dark corner.

You are almost hesitant to keep it for yourself, willing to bet he didn’t have the courage to ask for it back, but as much as you hate to see his face, you’re also desperate to bother him as much as humanly possible.

Get under his skin and drive him mad.

“Hey, do you still have that dress?” Max turns to you with a contorted look on her face, suspicious at your sudden question.

“The black one that has that slit on the side?”

“Yeah, the one that cuts really low in the front.”

“Babe,” She says endearingly, “What are you up to?”

“Just hand it over.” You demand, making a small grabbing motion with your hand as Max sifts through her closet for the supposed article of clothing.

And you don’t feel the need to get too dolled up, but it’s important to play the part, pulling your hair back to show off more skin than necessary, the sleek black material clinging to your body perfectly, cut low enough that your breasts peak out middle, scandalous enough that even Max was blushing, averting her eyes in the other direction.

“It's yours,” She relents, motioning to your figure, “that thing has never looked that good on me.”

“I’ll be back in twenty.”

Max doesn’t question it, because deep down, she knows—and poor Eddie, but he deserves every bit of the karma he has coming for him.

At least you’re smart enough to forgo heels, deciding that your worn out converse were, while not stylish, still practical in your trek across campus, cold autumn pricking at your skin. It seems childish in hindsight, but all the more worth it as the sun sets, hoping to catch him at just the right moment.

When you do finally manage your way inside the music study hall, he’s shoving the key to his classroom into the doorknob, preemptive in his escape off campus, even if he still had another hour before he was technically unavailable. He seems impatient and eager, ready to bolt out of the building as soon as possible.

“Eddie,” You call out desperately, his head whipping in your direction, his normally pulled back hair flowing against his shoulders, “wait.”

He looked too good like this, perfectly tailored slacks and his shirt loose, unbuttoned and relaxed for the day, you could even see the guitar pick hung around his neck on the dainty chain, something you didn’t notice he wore underneath the disguise of what he was trying to be, covering up for what he actually was.

“It’s late.” He notes, eyes racking over your body unashamed, and that does nothing to ease the ache that fills your cunt at the sight of him. It truly was unfair how easily he affected you.

“Sorry—I forgot about these,” You held up the culprit in your hands, remembering how insistent Eddie had been about getting them back—you could still feel the grip of his fingers as they dipped into your skin, “didn’t want you thinking I was trying to steal them.”

Eddie sighs softly in defeat, unlocking his door and swinging it open in one swift motion. You smile cheerfully, slipping past his tall frame, noticing how quick he is to scoot away from your body, desperate to create as much space as possible.

“Jesus,” You laugh, “I’m not gonna bite you.”

And maybe that wasn’t entirely true.

“Can you hurry?” He asks, voice clipped and rough, he looks exhausted, rubbing his free hand over his face lazily. “I need to get home.”

You’re almost disappointed in the way he doesn’t care, doesn’t even flinch at the view of your breasts as you lean down to place the music back on its shelf—but it’s because he won’t make eye contact with you, eyes locked to the chipped linoleum floor like glue.

“Sorry,” You apologize, traveling the expanse of the room until you’re standing in front of him, leaving him no other option but to look at you, even if it’s only briefly, “didn’t want you more pissed at me than you already are.”

Eddie scoffs at that, leaning himself against the doorframe slightly, blocking your escape—not that you wanted to. He glances down at your shoes, making a small noise of amusement as his eyes travel up, stopping raptly at your breasts before landing on your face, a forced, but sweet smile waiting to greet him.

“Going out tonight?” Eddie asks harmlessly, you shrug.

“I was thinking about it.”

“It’s a Tuesday.”

“And?”

It’s not like he knew your schedule—not that you would be caught dead at any type of party or bar at this time of night, this early in the week.

“This isn’t going to work.” Eddie says smugly, pointing at your figure casually.

“What are you talking about?” You ask, acting chops not nearly up to par as they used to be, but it’s slightly believable.

Eddie’s tried everything to avoid this—being alone with you, in close proximity, no obstacles to hold himself back.

“Eddieee,” Your voice sings, realizing his wandering eyes and lack of attention, when they lock back on yours it’s palpable—like he knows he’s been caught.

You can’t be bothered to care what he thinks anymore, grabbing his idle and occasionally clenched hand in your grip, pressing it against your sternum, his palm flat against your skin. Your heart is racing under his touch, he can feel it. But, your boldness is still striking, surprising Eddie.

“You can touch, you know?” You tell him, voice soft and welcoming as his fingers pull in slightly, grazing your touch starved skin.

“Stop.” He pleads, but his hand doesn’t leave, not right away.

“What?” You ask softly, “Don’t like being teased?”

And if he wasn’t onto you before, he is now.

He finds the dip in your chest, finger skimming down the line until it rests just about your bellybutton. Your stomach sucks in at the feeling, watching as his fingers lingers, not moving an inch. When you look up at him he’s smiling; smug and annoying and so punchable.

He’s so close—and you want so badly for him to give in, slip his hand underneath the lip of the dress and take you right there, with his fingers, or his mouth, or his dick, it didn’t matter. You hiccuped at the thought, flooding with ache as he pulled his hand away, shoving it into his pocket.

“Don’t play a game you can’t win.” He retorts, your shoulders sagging in defeat. “It’s a nice dress, though—I’ll give you that.”

“Oh, fuck you.” You bite at him, shoving past his body to force yourself out of his classroom, whatever nugget of a plan you had left was gone and it all seemed pointless.

He doesn’t try to hold you back this time, but you can’t be bothered to care.

—-

“I didn’t bring a gift,” You pout petulanty, staring at Max with somber eyes, “—I can’t just walk in there without one.”

“Steve won’t care.” Max assures you, “It’s Steve.”

The man who would throw himself in front of a bus to protect any of you, always treating you just as loved as his own kids. You’ve only seen them in pictures, but Steve felt like a stranger now, and it had your body thrumming with nerves.

You arrive at the house, flooded with distant memories—it was his parents' place, the large and overwhelming home always a refuge for you and your friends when you were much younger and naive. It made you frown, thinking about how you left this place behind; left everyone else behind, besides Max—but even that was a sore subject sometimes.

And he’s standing next to a flurry of little children, running around him in circles asking for rides and desperate little arms reaching toward him in desperation. It’s amusing, a smile pulling at your face. It was something Steve had always wanted and he finally had it.

“Oh my god,” His voice cuts through the music and screaming kids, catching your expression, “She’s alive!”

“Eh,” It’s a noise of uncertainty, not sure if that was all entirely true—you were barely scraping by most days, college stretching you as thin as you could go, “that’s debatable.”

He pulls you in for the type of hugs that remind you of family; familiar and warm, his arms enveloping you and squeezing tight. You let it set, arms crossed tightly over his back as he murmurs something into your hair.

“I’m glad you came.” You smile sadly into the embrace, pulling away eventually at the sound of a much too familiar voice.

“Harrington,” Your temporary bliss was ruined, turning on your heels to watch an energetic and boisterous Eddie walking your way, a toddler hanging on his hip, “found a straggler.”

Your eyes search around desperately, trying to grasp at any excuse to escape off elsewhere, but everyone’s already preoccupied and Max is nowhere to be seen—meanwhile Nancy and Robin are manning the snack station, keeping an eye out for the sugar-filled kids diving back for their fourth and fifth plate.

It amazes you how easily Steve managed to keep up with it all.

“Sorry,” He apologizes, reaching for his son, a tiny spitting image of himself, freckles and goofy grin as he pulled at Eddie’s curly hair, yanking until Eddie gave in and tilted his head toward the child, “here, hand ‘em over.”

“He’s okay,” Eddie assured him, letting the kid ravage his hair with no complaints, enjoying the loud burst of giggles as he pinched playful at the toddler’s stomach, screeching excitedly, “aren’t you, buddy?”

“He can’t talk yet,” Steve points out, watching his toddler stare back in wonder, “—hey, have you met Eddie?”

There’s a tense, shared look between you both before you answer Steve at the same time.

“Yeah—“

“Unfortunately—“

It slips out unwillingly, hate bleeding through your thoughts and spilling out of your mouth. Steve gives you a look—the kind that would definitely come back to bite you later when Steve wanted to be nosey, but he pushed it aside for now.

“Well, I guess there’s no need for introductions,” He decides, finally grabbing his son from Eddie’s grip, much to the young child’s protest, grasping at Eddie’s tie in the process, sending it slightly askew, “where did you meet?”

“Uh—The Hideout, about a month or so ago.” Eddie replies, saving you the struggle of explaining anything to Steve. “Max brought her to one of my shows.”

“Oh,” Steve answers, feeling a small tinge of shame, “I’m sorry I couldn’t make it that night—you know how it is.”

“Dude, you’ve got your hands full.” Eddie laughs lightly, “I get it.”

There’s a lingering pause of silence, eyes lingering on Eddie’s disheveled appearance, still half-dressed in his uniform, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, slacks wrinkled from wear. It was a wonder he’d even show up like this, always seeming pretty adamant about separating his work life from everything else.

“Got any beers?” You finally ask, cutting through the awkwardness.

“Uh, yeah—in the fridge.” Steve answers, wrestling the toddler on his hip who was becoming more restless than yourself. “You remember?”

You nod, bidding Steve a quick wave before excusing yourself, taking a long breath of relief when you are finally alone.

The sip of alcohol is a relief, leaning against the large countertop island, kitchen empty for the most part—most of the crowd was outside, wrangling and chasing the other kids around, attempting to keep the children under control.

It isn’t until Eddie’s pressing in behind you that you acknowledge his presence, jumping away in fear, having been so consumed in your own thoughts that you didn’t even hear him walk up.

“Jesus, fuck—“ You curse, hand clasped over your rapidly beating heart, eyes closing briefly to calm yourself, “Warn a girl?”

Eddie snorts to himself, ignoring your complaint. The fridge door rattles open and he turns his back to you fully, reaching down to grab a beer for himself.

“Scared of me or something?” Eddie teases lowly, beer can cracking through the silence as he opens it, taking one long, slow sip as he stares you down, gaze so scrutinizing it makes you shiver.

“Should I be?” You asked flippantly, face drawn up in annoyance.

This was ridiculous—all the underlying pettiness and jabs. It would be easier to just forget about him completely, but he seemed unavoidable now, forcing himself into your daily life like a bad habit you couldn’t break.

“Steve seems happy to see you.” Eddie notes, turning to you fully, forearm resting against the island. He kept his distance this time, unlike at the bar—still, he was within arms reach, which was all the more frustrating. And his stupid fucking tie, still sitting lopsided around his neck.

“Please fix your tie,” You beg, the obvious lack of care he had for it was driving you insane, “it looks horrible.”

“It’s not bothering me.” He admits casually, shoulders shrugging slightly.

Your eyes are burning holes into his chest, stuck on nothing but the lousy piece of material. Eddie noticed, making a last ditch effort at driving you nuts if this happened to be the last time he ever saw you outside of school—he hoped it was, he surely couldn’t take much more of it.

“If you’re going to keep staring at it, just fix it.” Eddie tells you, moving close enough that you don’t have to lean over, arms flung out to his side to avoid touching you, head tilted back slightly to give you better access.

You wasted no time, yanking him roughly by the tie until he was settled between your widened legs, his own expression pulling up at the boldness, maneuvering him where you needed him.

And maybe he should’ve expected it, challenging you like that—but for what it’s worth, your touch isn’t sensual or aggressive in nature, just pure and genuine need to fix his horrible tied tie and finally put yourself out of the misery of having to look at it.

It was a reminder to you that even though Eddie might seem like he has his shit together, he’s still barely stitched together at the seams, just like you. He was trying to survive, live, make something for himself—teaching wasn’t his first or second career path, but it was all he had to grasp onto right now. Unfortunately, he was already fucking that up for himself to, indulging in things he never should have. He should steer clear of you, he should act like you don’t exist, but now his breath is ghosting over the outside of your hands as you construct the tie properly, explaining as you go in soft, monotone voice—he’s never heard it before.

“Where did you learn?” Eddie asks suddenly, face tilted down toward your hands, his mesmerizing brown eyes glancing up toward your face, holding your gaze. You didn’t try to cross your legs to satiate the ache, it was there, suffering in silence as you tried to push through.

“Are you asking because you want to know? Or because you’re trying to be friendly?”

Eddie shrugs slightly, “Both.”

“I know a lot of things, Eddie.” You decide on, not giving into his weak attempt at being civil with you. “It doesn’t matter where I learned them.”

You pat his chest firmly, admiring your work. He’s never had anyone do it for him and do it well, even Wayne’s halfhearted attempt fell short, as much as he tried. He went to prom without a tie that night, but it was probably for the best anyways.

His chest rises in an intake of breath, your hand lingering against the material for a moment too long—it was almost identical to the position you were in yesterday, completely unprompted. You can’t bare the idea of looking up at him, knowing how hard his gaze was set on you.

“Look—“ The word lingers in the tension thick air, charged and brimming with whatever forces Eddie to graze your thigh with his free hand, dragging against the exposed skin lightly.

“Hey, there you are—“ Max rounds the corner quickly, interrupting whatever was still lingering between you two.

She’s got that smug look on her face, eyes lighting up in excitement on the prospect of finally being right, knowing just how hard it was for you two to resist each other.

“Oh,” She stammers, quickly looking away when Eddie turns on her, shoving enough space between you that it couldn’t have been more obvious of the compromising position she’d just found you both in, “sorry for interrupting.”

She’s swift, grabbing a few drinks and shoving them into the book of her arm, but not subtle at all in the way she glances between you both, failing to hold back the small laugh that escapes her.

“Don’t forget, this is a children’s party.”

If Eddie could pass out from embarrassment, he would’ve.

“You told her?” Eddie spits out in a harsh, hard tone when Max is far enough away.

“She’s my best friend!” You defend, “I’m living with her, I can’t just hide it—she knows you, Eddie.”

“You said you could keep this shit a secret.”

“What? Your one little slip-up?” You taunt, hard facade lifting back up—whatever soft, endearing feeling that had started to spill over was no longer, now replaced with that same bit of rage you had toward him previously. “You think that because you shoved your hand down my pants in your car that we have something going on? You can’t even own up to your own fucking mistakes.”

Though, he never said you were a mistake; not to your face. Still, he can’t help but stare, inraptured by your rage and how clearly pent up you were, something simmering underneath it all.

“I’m not some fetish.” You warn him.

“Neither am I.” He answers back just as quickly, wondering where the sudden outburst surfaced from. “Are you trying to shift the blame on me?”

“I’m the student,” You snap, “isn’t that how this works?”

Truthfully, it was hard to see him any other way than just Eddie—but as he stood in front of you now, still buttoned up and far too proper for a child’s birthday party, it was a painful reminder. This was so, so wrong.

“Screw this shit,” Eddie says defeatedly, tossing the still nearly full beer can in the sink and shoving past you, out to the backyard.

—

“You’re leaving?” Steve asks, rushing up to you.

You couldn’t do it. You couldn’t keep yourself together, not here. “Yeah—look, I’m sorry.”

“Hey, no—it’s fine.” Steve assures you, seeing the mix of pain and frustration cross your face, “just—don’t be a stranger, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. I promise.” You tell him, honestly clear on your face. He could see that something was wrong, he wasn’t that oblivious—but he wasn’t going to push it.

“Just—go easy on him.” He says, nodding toward Eddie’s departing figure.

Your eyebrows pull together in surprise, “Huh?”

“Come on,” Steve chuckles lightly, “you two are so obvious.”

It seemed like everyone knew but the both of you, which terrified you—Eddie had amazing friends, clearly; they were yours too.

Eddie’s halfway down the block, nearing his van hat’s parked in the dark, deadend alcove of the street, when your footsteps come clambering his way, nearly backing him into his own door, nothing but adrenaline and blind instinct running through your body.

“Eddie—“ You say strongly, pulling at his sleeve, forcing him to turn to face you. He’s stoic, face void of emotion, but it speaks volumes. “I wasn’t finished.”

He squeezes a fist, desperate to hold back whatever small amount of restraint he has left, but there is none.

“I meant it—” Eddie spits back, grabbing your wrist tightly as he shoved you against the side of his van, hand traveling up to your throat in a tight grip, forcing you to stay where you are, “fuck this.”

You open your mouth to fit in your last word, but Eddie doesn’t even give you the chance to speak, other hand fisting in your hair as he kisses you—teeth and tongue and anything but sweet and careful, like he wanted to devour you on the spot. You can’t stand the power imbalance, hand coming up to push back, wrapping around his own neck, nails digging into the sensitive skin around his jaw, sure to leave lingering marks for everyone to see—but you couldn’t find it in you to care.

You’re thankful for the privacy, can shielding you both from view—you could only imagine how bad this looked.

You moan openly, unashamed and loud at the way he’s forcing you back, knee shoved between your thigh, pressed firmly against your aching cunt, skirt riding up in the process. The hand that’s twisted in your hair comes to cover your mouth, squeezing slightly to muffle your filthy noises, bound to wake the entire neighborhood if you keep up like this.

Eddie pulls back suddenly, yanking at the freshly tied tie around his neck, ruining all the diligent, hard work you’d put into making it look perfect, balling the material up and holding it against your mouth, waiting wordlessly for you to open. You want to argue, but he’s clearly not in the mood, either—one goal in mind.

“Don’t make a sound,” He says, jaw tense as he presses against you, lifting up the front of your skirt to slip his hand over the front of your underwear, middle finger dragging against your clothed cunt, a small patch of wetness already noticeable from the manhandling, “got it?”

You nod feebly, opening your mouth to let the fabric slip through, biting down lightly—perfect timing as Eddie shifts his hand inside of your underwear, sinking a finger inside of you, the thickness of them a welcomed feeling as your cunt clenched around the digit in desperation.

He’s not kind or gentle in his movements, starting at a steady, rough pace as you gave in, leaning against his van for support, still pressed against the hard line of his body.

You want to tell him it’s not enough—you need more, want more. But, it hangs on your tongue, muffled by the fabric. You whimper, his wet fingers dragging out to rub against your clit furiously, hand shooting down to grab his wrist.

Eddie doesn’t appreciate it.

“Want more, don’t you?” He asks, pulling away from you, yanking his arm out of your grasp. “Answer me.”

You nod quickly—and he’s dropping to his knees on the hard, gravel covered pavement; no doubt those khaki slacks would be ruined for the rest of eternity, but he was risking that, for you.

He’s determined, slipping your panties down your bare legs, tucking the material into his pocket, which should turn you on as much as it did, but the thought is interrupted by a tap against your thigh, “Up.” He tells you, helping you rest you leg over his shoulder, giving him a perfect view of you, “—oh, she’s fucking soaked, isn’t she?”

Another weak nod, the small tinge in your cunt hitting you deep in your stomach, the ache radiating through your entire body. You couldn’t explain it, Eddie just had that effect—-through his words and actions.

“Come here.” He mumbles, canting your hips up, hands coming around to cover your bare ass, forcing you against his face, pussy slotting over his mouth perfectly.

And you can’t believe you’ve ever deprived yourself of this experience, suddenly addicted to the feeling. You’ve felt it in dreams, wondered, hope that it would be as good—it was better, so much better.

You cry against the fabric as Eddie licks broadly, through your folds until he reaches your clit, tongue flicking at the sensitive nub, before his lips close over to suck, nearly knocking you on your ass completely if it weren’t for his hands holding you steady.

“Don’t come,” He instructs—it feels like a punishment, it probably is—but you’re not going to argue, not when he was making you feel this good. “okay?”

You murmur a soft noise of acknowledgement, hands slipping into the hair at the crown of his head, using the momentum to rock his face against you, his tongue dipping inside you at the movement, nose bumping your clit.

He’s relentless, hands squeezing at whatever skin he could reach, desperate to consume every last drop of whatever you had to offer, eating you up like the starved man he was; you’ve never felt more vulnerable and that terrified you. You weren’t going to be able to last long, not like this—he wanted you to break.

You pulled the tie out of your mouth, panting in waves, “Fuck—I give up, I can’t—“ You gasp out softly, “Eddie—“

He subsides, allowing you a moment of relief as he pulls back, mouth looking obscene, covered in your wetness. He sees the look of desperation on your face, silently pleading.

“Get in.” He demands, pulling away long enough to shove you in the driver's side, forcing himself in after you, not giving you any room to escape before he’s pulling you back to him, settled over his lap roughly.

It’s nothing but grabbing hands and harsh, bruising touches as he grips your thighs, your waist, before settling on your face, cheeks pinched between his hand in a tight grip.

“This what you wanted?” He asks accusingly, squeezing at your ass, through the thinness of your silk skirt, the warm press of his fingertips enough to drive you insane. “I know it is.”

“I will shove that stupid fucking tie in your mouth if you don’t shut up.” You practically beg, grinding down roughly against his clothed dick, straining against the zipper of his slacks. Your threat is muffled by his mouth, fighting to overtake control, tongue slipping past your lips with too much ease, like you’d been waiting for this moment since you laid eyes on him.

You can’t believe you didn’t seize the opportunity sooner, a crime that someone with a mouth this good would keep it to themselves for so long, but he sounded much better like this—speechless aside from the tiny, pathetic grunts he let slip out.

“Gonna fuck you.” He seethes out, teeth clenched as you pull back on his hair, head tilting up to look at you.

Oh. Your head quirks to the side, tongue dragging over your top row of teeth teasingly, curling against the corner of your mouth to jut out slightly. “Blind confidence isn’t cute.”

But, you wanted him. God, did you want him.

His hand slips between the space against his slacks, rubbing over himself as he cups your cunt, bare and begging for him to sink into you, embarrassingly so.

“Bodies don’t lie.” He points out, pointer finger dragging up testingly through your folds. You shake your head in annoyance, but don’t make any effort to move his hand, “Don’t believe me?”

He yanks gently at your hand fisted in his hair, rubbing the flat of your palm against his dick, hard and hot under the material and you can feel yourself clenching at the thought of that fitting inside you—if only.

“So desperate to fuck me—fuck your teacher, is that it?” Eddie pushes further, using his own hand to help you start a steady rhythm as he ruts against your hand.

“You know I don’t look at you that way,” You insist, wishing desperately that he’d stop bringing it up, no matter how weirdly deviant it felt to be doing something morally wrong, “god—just shut the fuck up.”

Thankfully, he does, hand returning to your face to squeeze tightly, lips crushed against his in a messy, spit filled kiss. “Fuck.” You sigh, letting the small semblance of pleasure slip out, music to Eddie’s ears, better than any song he’s ever heard in his lifetime.

Eddie slams you back against his steering wheel, thin jacket doing nothing to save the bruise that would form the next morning, his fingers ripping hurriedly at that zipper in an attempt to rid you of more clothes, determined to do exactly what he told you he would—fucking you until you had nothing left to say.

“Cute,” He smirks, staring at the sheer matching top to your skirt, hardened nipples visible through the material. His hand slides up the length of your stomach, breath quickening by the second, his touch like a brand against your skin, “I didn’t think it would be this easy—guess you’re just that needy, huh?”

You yank harshly at the fabric bound in his grip, a small stutter of confusion from Eddie before you’re shoving the material in his mouth, his cheeks pinched between your fingers.

“Don’t. Fucking. Talk.” You stress, letting his eyes search your own. There wasn’t a twitch or waver in your gaze, all seriousness as he stared back at you, nodding like the poor, wrecked man he was. “Condoms?”

Eddie shakes his head furiously, but not in the way that he seemed adamant about not using one—he just didn’t carry them in his van. It’s just your luck.

You hesitate for half a second before throwing all sensible thinking out the window, pulling at the button of his slacks and untucking his wrinkled button up, the smallest groan of relief escaping him as you finally unzip his pants.

“You can fuck me,” You tell him, instructing him to listen to you carefully, “but I don’t want to hear a word from you, got it?”

He nods furiously, teeth clenching against the material.

It takes a bit of skillful movement to get his pants down his legs before he’s quickly pushing at his boxers, letting them slip low enough that he can spring his cock free, painfully hard and resting stiff against his stomach from the curled and compromised position he was in.

You pout playfully, “Cute,” Your voice is soft, pulling your top high enough that your breasts hang free, and he’s quick to shoot a hand out, but not quick enough to escape your grip, “Nuh uh.”

He’s annoyed, eyebrows deep set into his face as his eyes widen. “You don’t get to touch unless I say you can.”

Eddie never felt like this—so willing to comply with your orders, despite how badly he wanted to take you in the back of his van—it didn’t matter how, but he needed that control. Still, he gave it up for you, allowing you to take the anger out on him; in some ways, it helped him too.

He nods obediently, a gentle acknowledgment, letting his hands fall to your thighs lightly, thumbs caressing the flesh there, smoothing against the soft inner most part of your leg.

You lick your hand wet, which shouldn’t make his dick jump the way it does, but there’s no point in hiding his bashfulness now, intrigued by your crass way of handling this—you were on a goddamn mission. You take him in your hand firmly, giving his shaft a few short tugs, thumb grazing against the ruddy tip, spreading the small bead of precum down his shift, helping in the slick slide of your hand, filling the van with the intimate noises of your skin against skin and the barely audible grunts of satisfaction that Eddie couldn’t hold back.

You chortle softly, a small huff of amusement through your nose as you pull at his dick teasingly, noticing how entranced he was in both your hands and the way your breasts sat on your chest, just out of reach.

“What did you think, huh?” You ask teasingly, voice barely above a whisper, “Probably thought I was some soft, easy girl that would do whatever you asked—that’s what you want, right?”

Eddie shakes his head desperately, eyes squeezing shut on a tight tug at his dick, before you slide back down, squeezing at the base. “You like the easy ones, don’t you? All eager to let you fuck them?”

Another pitiful head shake.

“Good.” You say with fervor, leaning forward to mouth at his neck, shoving his hair to the side to allow better access. “I could get real kinky—call you sir, or is that too far?”

He mumbles something around the material, eyes desperately trying to convey emotion. You give him the benefit, slipping the piece out momentarily.

“Shit—call me whatever you want, just let me fuck you already.”

Most of it was harmless teasing, but Eddie was so inherently desperate that he’d agree to anything at this point. You stuff the tie back into his mouth, lifting your skirt until the material was bunched at your waist, perching forward to rub the soft tip against your folds, letting Eddie moan desperately at the sensation.

His cock slides in easily, cunt swallowing him down as you welcomed the stretch, clenching against the perfect grip you had on his dick as you moved slowly, sighing in relief.

“Fuck, it feels good, doesn’t it?”

Eddie nods jerkily, almost approvingly, his hands forcing your legs further apart, which you didn’t really mind—it helped him slip deeper, buried to the hilt inside of you, dick pulsing with each gentle squeeze of your cunt.

You start at a slow, excruciating pace, hips dragging up far enough that the tip of his cock almost slips out, before roughly slamming back down, your chest flushing a deep red from exertion.

He’s suffering deeply, squeezing at the back of your thighs in earnest, trying to meet your own hips as you sink down onto him, again and again—and he’s a wreck, moaning wantonly around the fabric, head lolling back from where it’s still held tight in your grip; he’s never felt so powerless, but he’s almost okay with it.

“This is your fault,” Your voice is strained, Eddie aiming for something deep inside of you as his hips worked against your, “all your fucking fault.”

Eddie practically whines, hands traveling up to squeeze at your hips, before slipping over the curve of your ass—he was terrible at following rules, but you couldn’t be bothered to care, not when he was staring at you so openly, a surge of pleasure shooting through your body as his eyes squeezed shut, cunt clenching down on him at a particularly deep thrust.

He’s shaking his head, holding back the words being forced down by the fabric—and you have a heart, but it’s with deep regret when you slip the fabric from his mouth, soaked with his spit and useless as you toss it to the sound, head titled just over his as he speaks to you.

“My turn,” He remarks snidely, demeanor switching on a dime, left hand twisting in the root of your hair until your neck was straining back, your chest presented perfectly in front of his face, his lips connected with the hardened bud of your nipple as he bites gently at the skin before moving to suck a deep purple bruise on the underside of your breast, revelling in the noises you let slip, a flurry of high pitched moans as he works you over, “so fucking needy, yeah?”

And you can’t answer, mouth hung on a noiseless gasp, your impending orgasm creeping up on you slowly—you could just end it all yourself right now, but where’s the fun in that?

“Not so cocky now,” Eddie chuckles softly, mouth sliding up your chest until it’s settled just above your own, the eye contact so personal it makes your heart palpate—whatever hate you’d had toward him dissipated, replaced with the blinding urge to let him ruin you, exactly how he wanted, “if I knew that fucking you would shut you up—I would’ve done it a lot sooner.”

“Eddie—“ You hiccup, hands clutched against his clothed shoulders in an attempt to keep you balanced and upright, the brutal pace of his thrusts threatening to knock you off balance.

Eddie quirks an eyebrow—and you know, you know exactly what he’s asking for, the wordless gaze testing your own patience.

“I’m not—not calling you sir, it’s not—not right,” You force out, feeling the familiar nudge of a thumb against your clit, his hands like home when they finally touch you, “—thought you hated—hated that word.”

“Not when you say it,” He smiles daringly, his hand unwinding from your have to caress you face, head pulling back in his grip, the pad of his thumb dragging over the soft pillowy skin of your bottom lip, “—don’t think I don’t know what you like being called, it’s so fucking obvious.”

His thumb pressed firmly, rubbing quick circular motions against your clit, pleasure threatening to spill over, but he’s pulling back just as your keen forward, stopping you in your tracks, “What the fuck?” You ask breathlessly.

“Beg,” His voice is rough, nearing his own desperate search for an end, “or I can make this a lot worse.”

And you can play along, “Please—“ You reply sweetly, his thumb dipping in your mouth to press against your tongue, widening your mouth open in punishment.

“Not good enough.” He replies, his warm, calloused hand traveling to the underside of your jaw, face squeezed between his grip—it’s bordering on painful, eyes welling up with tears.

“Fuck—please—please, sir,” His face lights up in both lust and amusement, the words spilling from your mouth shamelessly, “god—just let me come, please?”

“Good girl,” He remarks sweetly, the quick work of his thumb against your sensitive clit bringing you over the edge, hitting you hard and fast, “—fuck, look at you.”

Your eyes squeeze shut, too overwhelmed by the warm sensation that spreads through your body, moaning brokenly against Eddie’s lips, barely grazing your own as you work through your orgasm, cunt clenching down against his own cock—a sharp reminder that he didn’t have much self control to hold out any longer, moving you off of him with just enough time to wrap his hand around himself, coming against the exposed flesh of your stomach, head tilted down as he works through it, bottom lip pulled between his teeth in anguish.

It doesn’t last long though, the blissful peace interrupted by your own voice. “I should go,” You adjust yourself, cleaning up the mess with whatever piece of clothing Eddie hands you, “Max is probably waiting for me.”

“I can drive you—“ Eddie begins to offer, but you can’t be bothered to listen.

“You got it out of your system, right?” You ask rudely, “You don’t have to pretend to be nice to me.”

Eddie stays silent, watching you adjust yourself in his passenger seat until you look somewhat presentable, unlike you’d just been thoroughly fucked over his lap, his hands making a mess of your hair.

“What? Not a fan of one night stands or something?” You ask harshly, watching the way his face twitches in annoyance. “We had sex. We can forget about it now.”

But, of course—Eddie’s nagging voice in the back of head wouldn’t let him. He didn’t want to forget about it. You knew he was fighting with an internal battle of right and wrong—was it really worth it?

“It’s not that.”

“You know what,” You tell him, voice gripped on the door handle as you turn toward him, “when you can finally figure out what you want, let me know.”

He didn’t need the time to figure it out. Eddie knew what he wanted, unfortunately—it was you.

—-

Max doesn’t bring anything up on the drive back to your dorm, which you’re thankful for. She knows, you know she does. It doesn’t ease that complete and utter emptiness you feel after leaving Eddie, both of you defeated from your inability to accept the truth—you weren’t finished with him either.

And your heart nearly drops into your stomach when Eddie catches your arm at the end of class, a long week of sneaking glances at each other, failing miserably at trying to keep your mind occupied on anything else.

“Hold on,” he says softly, your school day nearing its end—you were exhausted and you wanted to curl up in your bed and spend the rest of your day being frustrated there, out of his proximity, “let’s talk.”

“Here?” You ask carefully, “Are you sure?”

“There’s that big game tonight—no one’s planning on sticking around.” Eddie explains, watching the flurry of students and staff exit the building through the window tucked in his classroom door, “I just need you to hear me out.”

For once, you find it in yourself to listen, walking slowly to perch yourself on his desk, hands tucked against each other as you wait, noticing how his hands flexed—he seemed anxious.

“If we do this, we have to be careful,” Eddie explains, he knew that wasn’t possible. “—I can’t lose my fucking job.”

You nod quietly—the ramifications were serious, you understood that.

“And it’s just casual,” He insists, “right?”

Did he really need your confirmation?

“Are you asking me or yourself?” You question, watching his shift closer, thigh leaned against the edge of his desk as he rested, looking down at your tightly clasped hands.

“Answer me.” It’s not demanding, the look in his eyes anything but.

“I’m not going to fall in love with you, if that’s what you’re worried about.” You assure him, a smile pulling at your face—it’s the first time he’s seen it in a while, and he hates how it makes him feel; regretting every word that’s coming out of his mouth.

“And no special treatment,” He adds slyly, “I’m not passing you for sex, so don’t try it.”

“Are you sure?” You test him, finger reaching out to catch at the edge of his pants, pulling him gently until he gets the message, moving himself between your legs.

There’s a slight thrill that runs through you at the idea of getting caught.

“You haven’t let me suck you off yet,” You point out, “so you might want to withhold judgment on that.”

His hands move to rest on either side of you, flat against his desk as he leans in, perched forward, his eyes darkening at the admission, his face so close you could lean in and kiss him—you really wanted to.

“I can tell you’ve never been touched,” He says lowly, “At least, not the way you’ve always wanted to be.”

He could read you like a book, that was clear.

“Does that bother you?” You ask, breath ghosting over his face, his bottom lip pulling between his teeth in suspense, hanging on your every word.

Eddie nods his head slowly.

“A girl like you,” Eddie dotes, leaning forward to rest his lips against the shell of your ear, sending you into a full body shiver, “it’s a damn shame.”

“Want to know a secret?” You ask quietly, face blushing a deep shade of red as he crowded against you.

Eddie makes a small noise of approval, and idle hand slipping between the space of your thighs, squeezing gently. “Tell me.”

“That night in your van,” You take a pause, letting the silence linger, knowing that Eddie was brimming with anticipation, “I’ve never came before—not by someone else’s hand.”

Eddie’s hand grazes the seam of your jeans, cupping your front briefly, daring you to speak another word.

“I mean—my hands are great,” You laugh softly, “but yours—they’re so fucking good. You have no idea.”

“I guess I didn’t really take you for the type either,” Eddie notes suddenly, pulling back to look at you, eyes blinded with lust, “I didn’t even have to ask to fuck you raw, you wanted it.”

You nodded proudly, head tipping up as his fingers caught your chin, letting his other hand that gripped your thigh pull you closer, pressed firmly up against his groin, hard dick straining through his pants.

“Good girls don’t do that,” He whispers softly, “do they?”

You shake your head obediently, your own lip pulling in between your teeth. Your head tilts upwards under his grip, his eyes urging you to speak. You knew what he wanted to hear.

“No, sir”. You answer softly, and Eddie smiles devilishly.

“So we’ll make sure to be careful next time?”

Next time—you can feel your cunt clenching at the admission, nodding eagerly at his question.

Eddie laughs softly, “Good girl.” He comments for good measure, admiring the way your face lights up at his words.

And you wait, seeing if he’ll push it further; he doesn’t, enjoying the look of desperation he held you in, eyes never leaving your face.

“Can I kiss you?” It’s the last thing you expect from him, the normalcy in his tone, no malice or filthy intent behind the words.

“Please?”

He answers the question with his lips, pressing softly against your waiting mouth, tongue sliding over your bottom lip, mouth parting to let him in. It was nice to kiss him without the heat and anger that was there before, indulging in him just because you wanted to.

“Am I gonna regret this?” He asks against your mouth, hand sliding behind your neck to grip it firmly, fingers pressing into the skin.

“Definitely—and I still want my panties back, by the way.”

Eddie snorts into the chaste kiss he presses against your lips, “Not a fucking chance.”

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #my writing #1kfic

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starrbright · 11 months

Text

Inevitability of Nature

Needs. Desires. Wants. It's all human. But what follows after has always been out of our hands; nature.

After you let Professor Nanami had his way with you, some notions rise....and some....conflicts rise as well.

Professor Nanami x Reader

Inspired by the pieces X | X of @shaicutieee. I wrote this for her, and well, of course.....me😁 check them out, it's very good and what made me to write this. Her works are all great as well, I hope you can look at over her blog!! ((:

AFAB READER. fingering. dry humping. vaginal sex. unprotected sex. reader is a virgin. he's still a pervert. nanami as a soft dom?

all my y/n are fat and of color.

9K words. I expected it to be only 5k but you know how it is🚶🏽‍♀️. Hope you guys take time to read this and thoroughly enjoy it!!

Nanami has been through some shit, he really has been. Piles of works, sure. Dealing with people, sure. Deadlines that he sometimes rushed to meet, students he had to deal with, putting up with them because he wants to, not because it's his job, but still he wants to be a good teacher to them even when his work is shit.

But to see you at the back of his class, hiding, avoiding him, ignoring him--was torture.

Nanami, of course, had to what he does; teach. Write on the board like he didn't almost write an explicit word because he was thinking of the time he had you wreathing on his desk. Speak of what he wrote and fight his urge to look at you. Read the remaining bits of his lesson in the book he holds, like his voice is not threatening to crack from how he was recalling how you taste, your cum that he drunk so well. His nerves so high, he had to stop his reading midway, loosening his tie while clearing his throat.

To top it all off, what you wore today is a tight fitted and high wasted jeans, a long sleeved turtleneck. You were hiding, he can clearly tell, how can he not? But of course, that didn't stop your own body to show itself; ample thighs, round hips, belly rolls and round shoulders were hugged so well by the stretchy fabrics. He had a good sight of it when you walked into class, though ignoring him, no less.

You were hiding, afraid, frankly it was still all too distracting and yet it bothers him that you were hiding.

Fucking hell, yes, it really was a torture. So that's why his class ended fifteen minutes too early. A win for everybody, of course, they fled with no complaints or even questions like children excited for recess. And with you; being at the back of the class and having an idea where this was going, you hurried as well, though subtly, well you tried to be. Pulse suddenly all raised as you noticed the room was already cleared.

Nanami stood there leaning his waist back on his table, eyeing you as you just gathered your things and started to walk the stairs. Adorable, he thinks. And such a good student you always were, hands fill with books and other things. He can't let you out of his room without having any resolve.....well, whatever resolve he deemed it to be.

Your eyes only on the ground as you knees and feel the man was staring at you with such gaze that you knew it'll make you want to just fall down on the stairs. As you stepped down on the last step.

"Y/N." Nanami called. Stopping you before you could take a turn. Eyes still on the ground, a view of his polished shoes, clutching your things so tightly on your chest as he stepped away from the desk. "Put your bag and all of those on my desk." He spoke, walking away to lock the door as you heard.

Why did he have such a hold over you? How could you just let him stop you from walking away? Allowing yourself to let him, it was undeniable. Were you that weak or he's that strong?

But if anything, you couldn't be possibly be blamed for it, even if you do blame yourself--because afterall....you've always found your eyes on your professor lingering ever since the first time you stepped foot in his class.

For a simple person you are, seeing a man as fine as he is--you looked. But of course, too much you did and left you in a predicament. Where you found yourself having a smile as you got ready for the day and on the way to campus until that smile went wider when you reached the class you're most looking forward to having. Your heart leaping when he walks in, your back straightening with your smile you tried to keep down, and with your mind that tried its best to focus. Slick you were with showing that you're focused by asking questions that he always answered fluidly.....and because of that, you let yourself indulge that he was maybe too eager to answer you, mind imagining things that a naive person would only do.

And that you were, too naive, too indulged in your own world that you didn't notice he was indulging himself as well. Too naive to not see he had already seen you sighing a smile with your chin on your palm, to not see he held amusement and smugness in his eyes and to not see yourself would be sprawled out beneath his tongue.

Reluctantly, you followed. Still, your eyes are only to his shoes as he walks back to you until the distance ceased to exists. Nanami felt guilty for feeling powerful above your anxious figure, really he did, but the tent growing in him would say otherwise, you could say that was what he was most guilty about.

He holds your chin, soft his touch was as he turns your face up to him. From the calmness of his eyes were, you had your answer, he really is strong, and you were nothing of that within his presence. "Did you not want what happened yesterday?"

Let's be honest, who wouldn't want their fucking hot professor's tongue deep inside them?

"...I...I wanted it..." You couldn't lie.

Relief fills him but there's a few things that remains. "And do you regret it?"

You gulped, hands unclenching and clenching, unsure of the answer. But you spoke before he could, "I'm...I'm scared."

There was many things you could be scared of. His furrowed expression turns soft, another hand of his goes to your waist, caressing it. "Of what?"

How could he be so cruel? You were naive, you realized that, but not too much that you hadn't seen his desire and nothing more. How opposite you feel.

Indeed, there are many things you're scared of; getting found out that you affiliated yourself with the esteemed professor and all that comes after the dreadful happening, of allowing yourself to have his way with you. But most of all, you were scared because you're already feeling for him. How stupid you are.

And surprisingly to you, some anger brews in you because how cruel he could be? Being so gentle and attentive while backing up what he only truly needs.

You shake your head gently, the hold on your chin gone, your eyes turning away from him, putting your hand over his on your waist to refrain his hold that was weakening you. "I don't...I don't know.." It turns out you could lie.

Nanami only kept you in place by sliding his free arm to your hips and he leans down. "Do you want this?" Filling up his needs, whatever that may be.

But if he had seen you having a dreamy look before then it's not too much of a stretch that he can say he knows what bothers you. He's not blind, however aloof he seemed to be, in fact it's quite the opposite, actually--that's why he had and took the chance to swept you off your feet.

Nonetheless, he's still a man, despite that he resents such a person would do....he's still a man; weak to his desires. And afterall....you'd benefit off of it as well, no?

What a bastard he truly was. You felt played. But were you really played or you're just that naive? The notion still stands. As your eyes was on his chest, you washed the anger presenting itself by replacing them with nothingness. Had enough of showing too much. Needless to say, you can't deny that you want what he was asking, no matter how shallow it is, no matter how irritated you are. You still want him.

You meet his waiting gaze but even so with your decision, you couldn't answer.....rather you refused to give him that satisfaction. So you give it to him by locking your lips to his.

Nanami sighs, tensed muscles easing as he mirrors your actions; sloppy and fleeting kisses while his hands roams to your thighs before his arms hooked underneath to carry you to put you on his table. Glad that you laid your things just on the side. He hums a guttural sound as you raked his hair, pulling on them while he deepens the kiss, tugging you closer to him on your hips, your legs locked onto his back.

You dip slightly and he follows forward. His defined and hard body against your soft one, his suffocated cock on your cunt, you feel how hard and big it is that it was so easy to grind on it. Sending a shocking pressure to both of you, your moans being swallowed by one another. Nanami thrusts to you, meeting your moving hips, your jeans just riding up tightly, allowing you both to feel your heats just more. Lips not breaking away but only tongues dancing together, his hands now on your ass to help you assault his cock more and with yours on the sides of his neck, fingers digging on them.

The kiss was turning sloppier; lips dripping with drool while your heads bobs up and down just to meet each other's lips. But your pace underneath was getting hurried, Nanami's pelvis was now hitting your sex like a damn nail, moving no different from how he'd move to drill his cock into your cunt, making you falter but that didn't deter him and just surprised you with his strength by pulling your weight upward so he could ground his cock more onto you. Your things making noise as it moved along with you two. Lips not on each other anymore but you're just dazed with your head a little thrown back while he only trails wet kisses all over your face, finding yourselves nearing the edge.

Tired and aching muscles, you still grind against him weakly while he's still fucking strong as ever. With the strength you can muster, you clenched your limbs onto him as he rutted again, making him stop and clamped down onto you as well. He kept his sinful groan with pursed lips, but even so, by how deep the rumble in his chest was--it made no difference. You came both at the same time, your head now deeply laid back in the air while his is buried in your shoulder. Bodies all tense but still slowly moving to ride the high, essence spilling out, soiling your underwears, continued sounds from both of you.

Still in a trance despite that his high came down, Nanami began to explore you, hands kneading on what he can while he goes to your lips, holding the back of your head with his big hand as the other just continued to grope you. Loving how pliant your flesh was against the fabrics. And you, out of it the moment you came, was surprised to say the least. Barely able to keep up with how needy he was and just as when you were about to call him, his phone rang; telling that his class has truly ended fifteen minutes prior, an alarm that you were familiar with because sometimes he gets carried away and lose track of time.

But of course, he just continued bombarding you with his kissing and groping. You knew if you didn't stop him, there was a chance he'd have you bended over his desk to fuck your brains out, there was no doubt in you that he had thought of that before. The thought made you flinched your fingers tightly to him.

"Sir," you called and to no avail just sealed your lips with his. If it weren't for the severity of the situation and new found opposing feeling for him you'd laugh of how needy he was. You pulled away and yes, he follows but just to your face again, and how fucking glad you were that you're wearing a turtleneck for by now if not, you'd be full of marks.

Nanami fucking grinds himself to you again and for the first time, you let out his name, "Kento," in a moan it came out that you didn't intend to but it broke him out as he stilled. How great it came out from your mouth, and only then he realized your moans earlier were nothing but just incoherent sounds, what a waste it was. He'd have you say his name soon enough, to cry it.

The ringing of his phone was stopped as he turned it off, not even taking his eyes off you as he did after he sat you properly. Heaving breaths you controlled as you take your eyes down, not wanting to see his hazy gaze, see how satisfied he was. Instead you closed your eyes and leaned your forehead to his, while he rubs your thighs softly. "...I should get going," you muttered almost breathless, before you could look up to him, he pulled you by the waist to put you down gently and then you looked up to him after. Taking your hands off of him and tried your best to stop your limbs from trembling. And a mistake you thought it was for he puts a hand on your face, fingers gently rubbing the skin, "Hmm...yes, take care." He mutters too airy, eyes nonchalant again but the way he held it was soft.

There he fucking goes again with his cruelty. You wonder how he wields what he will and you wonder if it was your or his fault that your tears fall as you walked out of his classroom, feeling so stupid, that you know how he was taking advantage of what you hold for him and you resent yourself for relishing in the pleasure. Whatever was left with your pride, it made shame come crawling though you.

Nanami....he was, of course in a different spot......God, what desperation can do to a man....the sounds of prevention mute to his ears and just wanted to continue, the ending envisioned with you bended over his desk to fuck your brains out. If it weren't for you calling his name, he would have risk it.

Yet no shame in him, no guilt he can feel that course in his veins, no anything but the rush of aftermath....and that again, he was guilty of. He sighed, exhaling deeply as he crossed his arms, heads up--he'll have to go clean himself up first before another class begins.

The day went on with minds trying not to be distracted.

And to say you both are right now....was an understatement.

A day has passed after what went yesterday, a day with you avoiding him again despite that you didn't have a class with him, taking all the directions that you were sure of to not cross paths with him, nor even give him a glimpse of your existence far away. A day with you reflecting on your mistakes actions, of what you hold for him. From how you thought nothing of anything but it as you went along with your day, you'd say it took you somewhere, at least.

What more could be said? You like him. Till now, you've imagined how his smile was and how you know it'll make your heart skip a beat. An aspect that made the man more appealing to you, as much as daft you feel for that notion....some would agree, anyway.

....Yes, you like him....enough for you to have some peace with the unspoken agreement you both made. Swallowing your shame rather than pride, you agreed upon yourself to see through the end of what you've done. Newfound vigor to not be let down by your hurting ego. Because after all, what could you lose if you do this? Dignity, reputation, pride, or even degree to make it worse--but hey, the man you like persuaded you to form a no strings attached, as you deemed it to be, anyway--so how could you turn down such an offer?

Be it absurdity or even sad, you'd take what you can get. It's not like the man will have something to put you both in a situation, more than you already both are in.

.....That's.....for some other time...

Distracted you both are right now. Still and again, you're at the back. Nanami was different though, he's not faltering, nor even steal a glances toward you. Instead he was himself, where he spoke fluidly, eyes roaming over his students and of course, to you.

You chuckled to yourself, how could you have missed that? That his gaze was always laced with threatening facade that no one could miss but he played off well. And......no student of his nor the people in the university would even comprehend the thought of the said professor to have your panty still with him. Yeah, that thought was quite hard to forget ever since you realized. "Bastard." You muttered under your breath that hitched when your gazes met again. Immediately though swiftly, you ducked your head on the desk under your arms, feeling caught because you knew he saw what you said and the little quirk of his lips said so. Sure to have some consequence after.

And Nanami was more than pleased to deliver said consequences.

You were the last one remaining again in the room, silence stood still as you walk down the stairs and up until you pass him by his desk, with him just standing against it, but not until he caught your wrist, taking you back to him swiftly, a soft gasp out from you.

"Bastard, huh?" Nanami spoke, encircling his arms on your waist after he took your bag and things from you, putting it on his chair, then yours crawls to his chest so as your eyes to his. Immediately being surrounded by his strong scent of musk, trying not to relish it in the way it can show.

"You disagree?" You dared and it was worth it because you pulled a reaction from him, though only a raise of eyebrows and twitch of his lips, it was new, and amusing.

His surprised in reason was because what you just did was new as well, the same when he saw you utter the word, and now seeing hesitations gone in your eyes. He isn't complaining though.

He nod his head, passing by your question. He rather agrees to it but he won't say it out lout, at least. "You avoided me again yesterday," he states as a matter of fact. Not that he's bothered, really, he's just.....curious, the one that grew every time he walks the same direction he always does that makes him see you but didn't. And with how you are at the moment, it added to it.

You nod, trying not to let flattery or even a little of hope creep in by his words that confirmed for him to notice what you did. "Yes, well....I needed to think." Loosening his tie to open a bit of his well neatly buttoned collar.

He just looks at you, urging to go on. And you laughed lightly, your head falling to his chest.....he didn't need to know all that, even when he seems to want to know about it. "I think....that the door is still unlocked."

Some reminder to keep you steady.

And whatever Nanami thought it was, it's good enough for him because you're back in his arms. He smirked, dipping his head down to you, "We can fix that." He seeked your lips with his, your hands clasping together above his nape and you gasped in surprise as he walks forward while you were forced yourself to do so backwards.

He didn't let you tore off your mouth from him but just continued to kiss you vigorously, his palms going down to squeeze your ass as he guided you to where the door was. Adrenaline pumps high with the possibility of being caught, it tripled when Nanami backs you gently against it with a thud and he locks it.

He stands in between your opened legs, feeling his hard on against your heat as he was now slightly crouching down to meet your arched figure. Glad he was with your chosen attire; a loose shirt that's tucked in your short pencil skirt. Easily giving him access to let his hands roam up to your ass, the skirt riding up while he finally leaves your lips alone and went down to your exposed neck. Your hands goes to his hair, knowing how he likes it to be caressed and you did nothing but that as he gave a sweet attention to your soft flesh down, tempted to leave a mark.

Letting his desire win again, as he had the second to contemplate it while he just trails his wet lips on the skin--he had the time and what a loss it would be if he just left it untainted. So that's why your lips are pursed now because he's sucking on the right side of your neck while you're moving your hips slightly, feeling his cock move against your thinly covered cunt. Nanami grunts on your flesh, a harsh squeeze to your ass cheek, then he sinks his teeth on you, the abundant flesh engulfs his mouth, rolling his tongue above all the while he continues to suck--it had your mouth fall open.

"Sir," you moaned. So fucking relieved that you didn't utter his name this time, a line you know that's meant something. Nanami, too busy for the notion to cross his mind, was only pleased to hear you so he continues while you do yours as well, firing both of your heats with the grinding of your hips, that is.

Figuring that he did enough, Nanami pulls away to see what he did; a visible and wide enough of a mark that no one is to miss, your glistening skin with sweat and panting self, hooded eyes to him and still slightly moving hips. Satisfied he already is, he huffs down to you, pushing the leg between you further that made you gasp and arched up, fingers clasping up to his suit. "Should we continue?" he asked, already knowing the answer but just wanted to taunt you, he can't help it, not when he has you this eager.

You only hum, fluttering eyes, already lost, and you just let yourself be--better than be awake and see how smug he looks while you're weak. But he only taunts you more.

"Answer me." Demanded he. Knowing he won't let up, you gained some strength, your hand reaches to his tie and tug it to pull him closer again. "Yes," you weakly said and that was the only thing he wanted to hear.

Nanami hums as he hooked his arms under your thighs, your back straightened with holding onto his neck. Staring at each other as he carried you to his desk, unfazed by how he effortlessly he took you and just admired how pretty he looked with his blonde hair starting to stick with sweat, running your fingers through them now and beads of sweat falling on his face, fogged glasses, how red his ears and cheeks was. As he put you down, you took his glasses off, the chance finally allowing you to look at his unguarded eyes. Barely able to grasp the reality of being in front of your disheveled and flushed professor, once again. At least with your resolves bound agreed to you.

Nanami can see through how you're gazing at him, to say the very least....he was taken aback by it. Far from amusement now but just intrigue. And he needs to steer the other way before anything. He took his glasses from your hands and hooked it on his collar, then took off his suit, smoothly throwing it back on his chair, before he cuffed up the sleeves on his wrists properly; how you always found that action too attractive.

Breathless you were by his mere actions as he eyes you down before going down to your lips. You sigh into the kiss even when it was brisk and so needy, he dips you down lightly with a hand of his on your back and the other unbuckling his belt. Nanami explored in your mouth until he pulls away, gently laying you down on the wide and long enough desk, pulling once on your legs to angle you closely better to him, legs tightly clinging to his sides with your flat dolls hoes still in tact to your feet, skirt riden up to your waist, exposing your thighs and of course, your panty to him.

You stare up at the man and as the waistband of his pants fall a little, your eyes went down as he palms himself over his fitted boxer, seeing how packing he was, your lips parted, breath hitching as you were quite scared. He chuckled a little and rubs your thigh, "I won't hurt you," he spoke reassuringly. He may be a bastard but not so much, so he has to calm his nerves down when he feels how wet you are as his hand goes to your heat, slick leaking through your cotton underwear, just as he took off your panty short. Large and thick fingers massage your slit through the fabric.

"Sir....I-" you let out quite loudly, chest rising up and down. By your eyes, hesitating voice and your hands that tries to reach his wrist, he knew what you wanted to say--and fuck, some disgusting urge he shakes away because otherwise, he would have let loose and destroy your virgin cunt.

Nanami breathes from his mouth, not stopping his rubbing with your clothing mound, "I know, I know.." he coos, his other hand going up above your waist, feeling the belly rolls and up to your breasts, fondling them. Overwhelmed already by his ensuring actions, a hand of yours went to his that was fondling you, squeezing it while he took off your panties and laid it beside you.

You pursed your lips so hard as you knew what was next when he cups your mound. A kept sound echoes out of you once he lined one finger in your entrance. It'll be a tight fit, he thought with how your cunt was already spasming on his one finger--it makes his cock throb more, feeling his slick leaking out. "Easy.....easy," he mumbles when you gasped and squeezed his hand you were holding so hard as he slid in the finger further.

Deep and slow breaths you make to soothe yourself though with how he's looking down at you, it only helps so little--and he just adds another finger, "Shit-" you hissed. Twitching, he guided down his hand you're still holding onto for dear life to your belly, pressing down on it, "You're doing well."

If he keeps on speaking like that while looking at you, his strong digits sliding in your walls, no less--you'd lose whatever cogs remains in your brain.

Hummed moans rumbles from your pursed lips as his fingers stretches you gently, easily done by how wet you are and the way he's guiding you. Eyes rolling back to close your eyes and let him take his time with his fingers in you.

Nanami, despite how his boxer is already soiled, pulsing of his cock so strong that it battles against the beating of his heart--he only eyes you as his two fingers penetrates your cunt nice and easy. Almost unable to believe that he'd be fucking his student raw, a virgin, no fucking less. He's beginning to get dizzy at this point.

He then turns his slow pace a little bit faster, in and out they slide. "Ha," you continously pant as he find his fast rhythm, thick and long digits getting sucked in by your walls, eyes opened now while he's hurling his fingers again and again, hips bucking to move against them and he allows you--just as pleased you were eased already.

"God," you heaved breathily as you already feel your stomach was on a rollercoaster but with just added so much heat. By how deep he was plunging in your walls, how wide his big fingers were stretching you, and the fact that this was your first time as well, you knew you were close.

Nanami feels it, too--easy to know by how you're now scratching his hand you haven't let go, shallow rising of your stomach and your wavering grinding. He almost chuckled but he just smirked, turning his pace much more faster, "Sir!" you gasped but immediately covered your mouth, suddenly clenching all of you but he just continues to drive in and out his knuckles deep.

Wide and frantic gaze stares through his calm ones as fucks you by his fingers, the table was already creaking weakly. As his other hand was freed, he used that to rub over your clit, pushing you to your edge. "Mmhgh-" eyes rolling back again as you let go. Squirting a little of your fluids with thick and white comes out of your cunt slowly, his colored cream shirt tainted a bit and unfortunately for you, his damn watch as well, though Nanami could care less about it but just watched you ride your orgasm and easing you through it. Shaking limbs that moves weakly to let the pressure stay while he gently massage your insides.

You moaned by your lips parting slightly when he takes out his fingers and the other goes to caress you, keeping you awake from your hazy state. Then you're humming as he cups your roaming head, keeping it still to make you look straight to him. You wonder how he could still ask what he asked when he's licking his fingers off of your cum by his tongue, "Should we continue?"

His calm voice only echoes in your ears but you didn't need to be told twice again, hypnotized with pleasure, and well....him. "Yes, yes, yes," you pant, nodding, not caring how needy you must sound.

Nanami wastes no time to take down his boxers, springing his cock free, his red and wide tip that leaks with his pre. You gape at him, your head a little away up from the table, fully woken up and frankly, scared again. "I got you," he spoke firmly, rubbing your thighs to leading his one hand to caress your ever soaked heat. "Hmm?" He waits for you to utter at least something and you nod, though hesitantly. Enough for him. Because truthfully, he doesn't know how long he can wait more.

He strokes his length, making it dribble out more cum and he hums while he still rubs your mound. "I won't make it hurt, angel." Assured he and you nod again, the name somehow doubles the fluttering of your insides. The man above you who was entranced by your cunt which was smeared with your cum and clenching onto nothing, couldn't take it anymore and lines himself up to your slit. But he doesn't enter yet and instead slides his length against your folds, eliciting hisses and gasps from both of you.

"Fuck," you swore, your head instinctively falling back on the table, feeling his hard member rubs on you, your hands just fisted to your sides. Nanami yanked up your shirt, showing your soaked stomach and breasts underneath your bra, he'd bite and mark you up if only he had the chance at the moment. But he isn't complaining with what he's got now; his aching cock that massages itself on your fat cunt. Up and down again and again until a thin paddle of both your slicks is made on the floor, that he no doubts will just double later on.

Fucked out you already were and Nanami can't wait to see how you'd be once he finally gets to be in you, a few more firm thrust that he's doing right now and he knows he'll have you gushing out again and of course, he. With actually a hard and final thrust, hard that it truly contracted his thick and hard length against your mound, you gripped his sides by your legs so tight as you came. Nanami was no different, it had him clenched his knuckles on the table, up to his neck frozing as well as he reached his peak.

By now, his hair was much more wet and falling down to his head, dropping of sweat to you, and fuck--how greatly lewd he looks as he relished his high, head up to the cieling, showing his veiny neck, thanks to what you did earlier by loosening his tie that crippled his shirt now, cuffed up sleeves that hugged his muscled forearms so well, the expensive watch of his glimmering, his chest heaving.

What the hell did you got yourself into?

As he got back, he looks down to you, stroking his length once again, his curve straightening, lining the tip to your entrance, that much already makes you take a deep breath, your hands finding your thighs to dig into. "Relax, I got you," he says, his eyes sharpening a little, guiding his cock in with his hand to finally be in you though just the tip yet. Nanami's eye never left you even when you already were sucking the little bit of his length so tight, but just kept his attention to you, ears sharp to your little sounds, making sure you won't hurt even a little. "I got you..." He mumbles along with your whimpering, his other hand caressing your soft belly while he stilled as you ground yourself by finding where his hand was and held it.

Nanami opened his hand to hold yours properly, fingers clasped together; a little surprised by the action, he took that chance to move a little, your said hand twitched hardly on his as your thighs did. "Is that alright?" he asks after, the little added inch in you making you lightheaded already but by his firm yet gentle aura with his hand squeezing yours, is what soothes you greatly.

You nod tiredly with closed eyes, you hum a small 'yes' and he hums as well, lightly tugging on your hold to make your eyes open and look at him, which you do. You're both pulsing against one another, you feel it, so much; it's quite aching but not because of how it's hurting but because of how nicely he felt even with his thick length--your cunt just wanting for more.

Some luck you had. Desired as well by the man you like, even though it's not the same way as you think of each other....suppose it can count for something....with him being as your first time, no less. And how could you complain when he's being so gentle, patient to not hurt you, even though it was his wanted need that's put you here, he's patient to ease you first. If you didn't know any better then you could say that alone is making you fall for him more.....but you do.

You're not blaming yourself this time though.

And Nanami seemed to be patient, it truly looks like it, but believe that it has ran so thin ever since earlier. His needy cock that's being sucked so well by your cunt, only the tip and a few inch he's in and it's so much already but still not enough. What keeps the last thread of sanity that's holding his mind together is your glossy eyes, his hand that you keep on squeezing.....and your trust in him to keep his word. Because after all, he wouldn't want you to be scared again, run away from him and leave his need.

All the while your minds ran, Nanami was inching himself further little by little until he's halfway, relieving him some of his aching as your walls engulf him. "Mhmm, you're doing so good." Placid tone that he mumbles out lowly as he rocks his hips a bit. Another of your hand goes to where you're holding his, needing support from his girth that opens and continues to impale in you while you just let broken moans out.

"Eyes on me, sweetheart, we're almost there." You don't know how much more you can take by his mellow words, and you did your best to bear his heavy gaze while he was still going in. After for what it felt like for so long, Nanami finally found himself to the end of you, his pelvis directed so closely on your heat, his cock fully sheathed inside you, giving what he was deprived of for a while since he's taken a notice of you.

He sighs with closing his eyes as he turned up his head, basking in the warmth of your walls that spreads all over him, your little cries as a melody to his paradise. What a view it was, his chest that's seems to be constricted by the tight cloth clinging to his sweated flesh, curves of his muscles showing, that was rising up and down slowly by how deeply he was breathing--some pride manages to swell in you for it was you, well, rather your cunt that made him like that. But you can say the same with his cock that was impaling you.

Kneading your thigh, he looks at you, "See? You did so well, hmm?" You can only nod, tears falling to the side of your face. Any other time, you're sure you would have feel pathetic but no, he was anything but made you feel everything but it.

"I need to hear you speak, angel." Nanami spoke, his nod urging you on. You nod a bit frantically, licking your lips, "....Yes, yes...I'm okay," you say breathlessly.

Seeing how you are, that gives him grant to move again, he pulls back his hips, his length slowly following out and he sees how soaked it was, veins more visible. Then he goes in, slowly again, giving you time to still get used to him, seeing how your cunt was tightly pressing on his length, making him hissed with clenched teeth and jaw the second he was pulling out and your walls welcoming him in again.

"Mmhgh," you moan as he continues to slowly drive in you, unable to believe that it didn't hurt even once despite that he was so big and long, just filling you up completely and warmly; all because he made sure of it.

Nanami's slow pace began to turn steady, his hand still on your thigh but just gripping it now, "Talk to me, sweetheart," he says, and you wonder how is his voice still firm like that.

You try to bite off the shy away in speaking of what he was insisting to know, and of course, by his demeanor that never seemed to fail to work on you, you answered. "It's good.....so good...." you murmur, eyes fluttering but still you had a glimpse of his satisfied face--at this point, you have no energy left to protest to it, even just to yourself, because all of you was being outweighed by his pulsating cock in your heat as it slips in and out, every vein of his you feel it contract against your walls, his tip that only threatens to reach your deepest end. Only that and you already see your end to be so near. You know you're in some deep shit because he hasn't even begun yet.

He kept moving his pace, still not letting up to his want that tempts him to drill his cock into you without remorse or whatsoever. Rather, he continues to put you first and it's not even so hard anyway, because he knows even without penetration yet, you're not so far to cumming again. "You're almost there, hmm?" Nanami urged as he eyes your cunt that was leaking of white drops already before he looks at your strained face. Only a few more then it'll finally pay off.

"Hnggh..yes..yes.." You let out a whiney voice as your tears don't stop falling. With the sounds of your liquids squelching, feeling how your cunt continues to leak, his cock plunging in, his hand that never stopped caressing your flesh and your hold on him he as well hold, you had your release. "Shit-" you choked, uncontrollably bucking up your hips and clenched thighs on him so hard that your walls did as well, which made Nanami's breath hitched--"Shit." The sudden action, choking his own member, shockwaves through his nerves.

Both of you lost in the euphoria, though Nanami had to ground himself because at the moment it was all about you, as much as he was damn grateful for what you unconsciously did, he needed to help you ride your end, and to see you at it, made it all worthwhile; as you keep grinding to him while he feels your creamy slick coats his cock that he continues to rut in you gently, ( you both no doubt that his own was mixing with yours the moment he went in you ) your nails drilling on his knuckle, he only dismissed the little spots of blood that shows, and just watched on how you were shaking, listening to your sounds that you keep on breaking as you knew you can't be too loud.

"Ha....fuck," you dragged too breathy, your hold on him weakening, vision just black spots, slowly coming down from your high bliss, still you feel your cunt fluttering even when both of your movements has ceased. Nanami takes his hand from you gently, needing to flex it as it was slightly hurting before coming it up to your neck, his strained fingers reaching until to your chin, "Angel, stay with me," he murmurs, fingertips faintly rubbing your skin, making your dizzy eyes open to peer at him.

You hum, weakly nodding to his touch, too out of it to pay mind to it. "Are you okay for us to continue?" If you still have some hold of yourself or had the energy, you would have giggle or even laugh, maybe be even a little annoyed, roll your eyes--the literal situation amusing as he was still in you, of you just down from your release, and he's still asking if it's alright to continue. But whatever is left in you, how he was being, you can't deny what you somehow feel in your heart.

Managing and choosing to let your lips curve a little, "...Yes...I'm okay...please.." To Nanami's ear, you plead. And as said before, he may be a bastard but not cruel to not give what you were asking for.

So finally, fucking finally--he has himself moving through you the way he was craving for. His pace began slow and steady again, both of his palms laid flat on your sides on the desk, gripping down strongly on the wood to gain momentum in his thrust. Leaving you to hold on his wrists, your muscles pulling as your arms were only just long enough to reach for him, the grip just adding to it.

Your hold was the only thing that was keeping you from breaking, knowing what you were feeling right now will only just get worse; knowing what's only left is him speeding up and fill you up to no end.

Of course, that's what he does. Babbles of his title, curses, incoherent sounds out from you while he only lets out guttural groans and low rumming hums that vibrates through you, along with skins slapping against each other...and the table creaking strongly.

With the time you had that was much past far already and charting the dangerous remaining time you have now. You both know that one round is all you have, Nanami is fine with that, more than it because he'll fucking make the most of it.

....And because of that, you know you have to keep the burning knot that's already building up inside you or longer than you can to make it all the damn better. Which is what you do, by digging your nails on his skin once again...limbs clenching so mightily against him to give you strength with keeping it in. To give back what he gave you, is what's in your mind--pathetic as that sounds, you want to keep it.

Nanami sees through you sees through your teary eyes that still somehow gets lost in your head while he was fucking you. Adorable, again is what he thinks but no amusement just intrigue, again. He lets it stay this time, be it a heat of the moment so as you've said before, part of him knows that it's not.

Then he surprises you when he slows down, the curling fire in you follows down not too soon, making you blink your tears away too many times to look at him rightly to see if your senses were doubting you, but because you see his waiting eyes that's painted calmy....satisfyingly, your face furrowed before you scoffed disbelievingly, ''Bastard," of course, like you've guessed, he'd savor it well and that's how he does it; by warming his damn cock inside you, even in the midst of fucking you, he just has to stop and bask in your heat, beating against each other. But is he right for doing that because it is fucking good.

"Believe me, I know, sweetheart," he now admits. That makes you raise your brows and smirked, teeth showing, but before you could relish your amusement, he went back to it again. Cursing at him and that only urge him on.

Only by a few thrusts he started again, that knot in you easily builds just as easy how it went away, making you remember to hold on and you bear it as you feel he's not so far now.

Fast and deep is how he hits you, his cock twitching every time he finds your end, hips rising slightly each time that happens making his knot overflow and by that, he knows he's close. So he made his pace even more faster, because of it; it feels like he's ramming into you deeply now despite that he really not anymore because of his speed.

Out of his control that his pace had become uneven, hips stuttering and he's cursing and hissing now. "Speak, sweetheart." Hastily he lets out, tightening up all of him before he hears your answer. "Inside," you breathe brokenly and that cracks his damn easily just as yours. His bottom stilled against in you and you raise your hips to meet his final thrust that makes all of him spill in your gushing cunt.

"Fuck," Nanami swore as he continues to let out his cum, his cock beating still strongly as if it's his own heart, gently rutting in you to ease you both, your cleched state beginning to move again, stirring the heat further more, finding your vision back. "Fucking hell." You curse, so fucking overwhelmed; trembling limbs and flinching all the while, not letting up your death grip on his wrist. Nanami doesn't even feel that but just your cunt that still sucks him in, trapped in his own doing as your eyes were locked together while staying high.

Aching and trembling muscles as the man helps you sit up gently. Feeling all the soreness come down. You just sit there with closed eyes as Nanami fixes himself up and you're surprised when you felt a hand on your face, he doesn't say anything but just brushes your hair out of the way and dab his handkerchief gently on your soaked skin, a few tissues as well. After that, he fixes your shirt, all that until you're fully woken up, able to grasp what he was doing, but despite you're quite taken aback, you don't say anything, well not like you could anyway by how your throat was burning--and of fucking course, he's standing again in front of you with a water bottle.

Shaking arm, you drank it all. He then carries you bridal style, knowing you're sore and because of the mess down front of the desk. "Can you stand?" He asks, still carrying you, looking at you're limp head on his chest. "I'll try," you weakly answer and he lets you, but still his arms are around you and glad you were because your legs gave out immediately. You laughed weakly, holding onto him, Nanami doesn't show anything but his neutral face and just held you up. Making you hold onto him properly as he fixed the rest of your clothes, including sliding your panty back up to you.

Presentable enough, enough to not let suspicions grow. "Are you able to walk by yourself or shall I go with you?"

You gape at him a little, almost finding him funny. "Suspicions is what we're avoiding,"

"I won't have you falling again."

Quite late for that.

You laughed, clutching your bag. "I'll be fine, I'll do my best."

He doesn't stop there. Is he dense with what he's doing?

"Will you be okay?" Though you know what he was implying, his hold on your cheek, how he's caressing your arm, is what reflects his concern.

Either he's real cruel to treat you like that when he knows what you feel for him or he's just truly kind and you're just far gone swayed, letting your heart cloud anything else.

"I will." You nod, squeezing his hand for the last time before going but not before asking to insist ith helping with the mess that he just dismissed, ever the gentleman.

Quite the day you both had.

Stolen glances, given gazes that dangerously stays when distances are clear. All of that.

All of that until you see each other and take and give what you can for as long as time can offer.

All of that until Nanami can't take anymore of your gazes that you hold with so much likeness for him, hell, it might be even more. It's getting in the way of what he only wants. You're getting in the way, because fuck, you're getting to him and that's not what he wants, no he doesn't want that, he doesn't want you and what you hold for him.

Well....at least that's what he keeps telling to himself....especially right now that he sees you speaking animately with your seatmate in his class, and it's been going on like that for a few days that it's got his attention, the said person listening to you intently and quite frankly if he's not wrong, he can see that they're eyeing you the way he has been, back then. Lust.

And what he doesn't do just told him that he's in deep shit; letting you converse with them even though class was about to start, rather than calling you out and see you frown because of him, it was his fault anyway that he came in late.

What the fuck did he just do?

Worried is what you are as you feel he's been strange, more than usual, you suppose. Worried that your charade that seemed to be going so well, especially for your own satisfaction of feeding to your desires not of needs that he only seeks but what you've made into much more than that--worried that it'll end soon.

Speaking of that...you don't even bother to curtain it but just let it show, because come on, it's not like it was a problem, right? Surely he's not bothered by it because you do nothing but just look at him, speak to him in a way that no one has and until now, can. Surely he's not affected by it, no?

....It was then you concluded, rather reach that at this point, he has been. Some hope you were right.

You weren't worried anymore that your charade will end.

With the little courage you have, it was enough to drive you greatly.

And it's what Nanami has dreaded when you're now face to face alone in his classroom once again. He's unsure of what he's dreading, to be honest, just that dread is keeping him on his toes.

He eyes his shoes as his waist was leaning back against his desk, he doesn't want to look at you, afraid to see how you're gazing at him, what you hold in them, afraid that he's afraid, afraid he'll mirror your gaze.

But when you call his name, half of it gone away. "Kento," you call, tipping your head down gently. There he looks at you, breathing deeply. The man doesn't speak but just stares at you, however you're not flustered by it this time as you see nothing was behind them anymore but just him.

Your drive takes over, with pursed lips you smile before speaking, "Do you want this?"

For the first time, you see him smile, losing his composure as he puts a hand on his face, a laugh breaking. You were much right about your heart skipping a beat when you see his smile.

He's truly lost and knows there's no running from it. No sense in doing so. A bastard he is or maybe even cruel, but never a coward. Nanami reaches out for your hands and you give it to him. "Yes."

You only smile, stepping closer to him as he opened his legs and leaned your foreheads together. Closed eyes, he whispers, "Forgive me."

"I know,"

"Allow me to start over."

"As you wish."

A new agreement came to light driven by only the truth and sealed by a kiss.

Which was interrupted by none other than the two esteemed professors besides Nanami; Gojo and Geto. Opening the door with a key in Geto's hand, the two entering in so smugly with Gojo laying out his hand to Geto.

"I told you so. Pay up."

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solarwonux · 1 year

Text

Business Proposal || knj (2/?)

pairing: namjoon x f!reader || ex friends to lovers!au friends to lovers!au

Genre: fluff, angst, smut, slow burn, fwb!au, non idol!au, unrequited love

Warnings: slow burn, angst, namjoon is pretty much not the nicest dude lol (will add more as it progresses), kinda sugar daddy au but not really. It will make sense I promise.

Rating: mature, 18+

w.c: 9k

Synopsis: Namjoon is living on borrowed time, and it’s time to cash in. His father is months from taking his last breathe and his life long dream is to watch his oldest son say “I do.”

a/n: Hello, this is longer than I expected it to be, but anything to get the story moving. LMK your thoughts and if you want to be added to the tallest! Enjoy!

m.list

prev || next

“I thought you stopped smoking.”

Jungkook jumps at the sound of your voice, eyes wide like a deer caught in the headlights. The burning cigarette in between his index and middle finger. He opens his mouth to say something, but decides against it and closes it, shaking his head. He looks out into the backyard, and takes another puff of his almost gone cigarette.

You sigh and go to stand next to him, leaning against the porch railing as you stare out into the same backyard. Silently wishing it was Spring again. Mrs. Jeon and Lia’s backyard always felt magical. Filled with flowers and greenery that always made it feel like a dream. But in the winter months it was barren and depressing. Nothing exciting grows except for the Lenten Roses in a pot next to the last porch step.

“Bad habits die hard.” He shrugs, taking another puff. “You should know.” He looks over at you, blowing out the cloud of smoke in your face.

You cough, fanning the cloud away. “You’re an ass.”

“Sometimes you ask for it.” He shrugs, throwing the white stick on the ground and squashing it with his boot. “Shouldn’t you be inside, gushing about wedding dresses and invitations with mom, while dad kisses Namjoon’s feet for once again being the perfect son.”

He stuffs his hands into the pocket of his pants. You sigh, coming to stand next to him, wrapping your arms around his waist and hugging him tightly. “Don’t be like that.” You whisper. “You’re lightyears a better person than your brother.”

His chest shakes with a humorless laugh. He has the urge to push you away but you’ve always been the only one with the ability to see through the perfectly curated images he and his brother have built over the years. “It’s always the same. I’m always the degenerate, the one who broke the rules growing up while Namjoon followed them. I’m the one who dropped out of college but he’s automatically the better son because he didn’t, and is now working on his PHD. While I work at a small flower shop, with a freelance photography job on the side. I’m the leech they can’t seem to get rid off.” He lets out a shaky sigh before pushing himself away.

“Jungkook d–”

“No, don’t say anything because you’re helping him knowing very well what he’s done to you. You’re feeding into what they want, and you can tell me it’s to benefit yourself. But how many times did I offer to help you pay out your student loans? How many times did I offer to help you find a better job? And you never took it because you wanted to do it yourself and I respected that boundary. But now that he comes back and offers you the same things with an added marriage proposal on top. You suddenly decide to take up on the offer.” He rants, running a tattooed hand through his long hair. “It fucking sucks because I know he’s going to hurt you and I don’t know if I can be there for you when he does because even if I have never had any sort of romantic feelings for you. I do love you and it hurt so much seeing you so broken and not being able to do anything about it.” He paces, invisibly mapping out the situation with his hands.

“And I can’t even fully hate him either because he is my brother and not many people understand our relationship but I know he loves me. He just has this weird ass way of showing it, and if he hurts you again, I’ll be put in the middle and I don’t want that because I can’t leave you alone and I can’t leave him alone either.” He breathes out, dropping his head feeling defeated.

It’s everything he wanted to tell you yesterday at the flower shop, but he didn’t want Yoongi to see him like this. Truthfully he wasn’t going to let you know either, but seeing the happiness on his parents' faces made him feel more bitter than usual.

You walk to stand in front of him, placing your hands on top of his shoulders. “Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

Jungkook clicks his tongue in annoyance before shaking his head in disbelief. “I know a part of you still loves him and I know that part will fall for him the second he starts acting like the old Namjoon again. I can’t stop you and I can’t stop him either.”

“You out of all people know that I’m not the same person I was then and you know why. You’re right the person that loved him is still inside here but she knows better. I won’t fall for him the way I did then and what happened that night won’t happen again.” You say, hugging him tightly again. “I appreciate you worrying about me, but I can take care of myself.” You whisper, rubbing his back lightly.

He sighs, finally hugging you back and kissing the top of your head gently. “I wish it was Jimin instead.” He adds, making you laugh a bit at the end. That was a whole new can of worms you didn’t want to get into.

At least not now at your fake fiance's parents house.

“I was scared.” He admits, burying his head into your neck. “When you called me and told me to pick you up in tears. I honestly never wanted to kill anyone more than I did that night.” He whispers. You blink away the tears forming in your eyes. Jungkook’s never been honest with you about what he felt that night. You never asked because you were scared of knowing the truth. And now that he’s voiced it you can’t help but feel your heart break all over again.

“I’m sorry, I did–”

“No, don’t be sorry it’s not your fault that he–”

“Am I interrupting something?” Namjoon’s curiosity breaks the two of you apart in an instant. Quickly you wipe away the fallen tears from your cheeks. You step away further from Jungkook while he does the same, avoiding eye contact with the older man as if you’ve been caught doing something you weren’t supposed to.

Namjoon has always had a wild imagination, hence his profession of choice. And right now his imagination is running him up a road he knows he shouldn’t go down. He had been looking for you for at least fifteen minutes, and when he heard your voice along with Jungkook’s voice coming through the patio screen door. He couldn’t think straight, especially not after hearing his little brother be so vulnerable, but he also couldn’t help but wonder what else the two of you were talking about.

As far as he’s concerned the infamous fight between the two of you happened in your old bedroom. Your parents were out on a date and he had come over so you could look over one of his essays. He left your house in a hurry, getting on his bike and pedaling as fast as he could to get away from your house with his heart pounding against his throat.

Had you gone somewhere else after?

Now, he needed to know, only because his curiosity would not let him forget until he knew. It was one of his fatal flaws. Probably the most annoying one.

“Um, I know you came with Kook but it would be weird now if you left with him.” He too feels weird, especially because the two of you looked like you’ve just stolen three cookies out of the jar before dinner. He hates it, it only feeds the little curious demon inside of him. “I have to be somewhere at five so I came to tell you that I’ll take you home but we have to leave in like fifteen minutes to beat the traffic.” He nods, scratching the back of his neck before taking a look between the two of you, and it suddenly hits him like a truck.

Wait, were the two of you secretly seeing each other. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Wait, but what about that Jimin guy? Hold on, were you seeing the of them at the same time, hol–

“It’s fine we are done here.” Jungkook looks over at you, giving you a smile to ease your overwhelming anxiety, and walks to the entrance, patting Namjoon’s arm before heading inside.

There’s a pregnant pause between the two of you, before you decide that it’s been long enough for you to go back inside too. Before you even get the chance to move, Namjoon speaks up, burning his stare into yours.

“Are you seeing each other?” He voices out, finally giving in. He regrets it because the look on your face makes him realize that he’s said the wrong thing.

“You’ve been saying a lot of stupid shit lately.” You shake your head, taking it as your sign to leave. If you have to be in a car with him for an hour. You might as well save your energy. His genetic material is full of nonsense. “I’ll wait for you inside.” You say walking in and leaving him alone in the barren patio.

He can’t help but wonder about a lot of things. All of them start and end with you.

Namjoon is driving.

It’s a view you never thought you would ever see. Back when the two of you were friends he had very strong opinions about driving. The one time you asked after he showed up at the coffee shop drenched in rain water.

He said, “The world will be better without me on the road.” He laughed running off to ask the workers for a towel.

“What?” Namjoon says after stopping at a red light and looking over at you. One eyebrow raised.

“Nothing, it’s just strange.” You shrug. “I never thought I’d see you driving.” You point out, watching as the red light turns green. He steps on the gas, making a smooth right turn and glances over at you. A smirk painted on his features.

“I got tired of biking everywhere.” He says, leaning his right arm on the middle counsel. “This is also more convenient than asking JK to drive me everywhere when it rains or snows.”

You nod looking out the window. “What happened to priding yourself in having a small carbon footprint and world peace or whatever?”

Namjoon chuckles, shaking his head “I still bike most of the time just not to moms house or when it rains. As for the world peace thing. I don’t think being off the roads will stop wars.” He pulls the car to a stop and looks over at you again. Now that the two of you are alone he can’t help but think that maybe you did get a little prettier than what he remembers. Though you still don’t compare to all the women he’s ever dated. Most of them being nepo babies or supermodels. You’re still quite attractive, maybe in another life he wouldn’t have thought twice about sharing a life with you. But you still weren’t the woman of his dreams. Though, the more he navigates through life he’s realizing that such a person simply doesn’t exist.

If they did he wouldn’t be here in the car with you.

“Oh,” you jump up as if you just remembered something important. And before Namjoon can begin to understand what was happening the light turns green again and he’s pressing on the gas pedal. “I forgot to give this to you.” You say, holding out your hand in his view of sight with his mothers ring.

“Keep it.” He says without missing a beat. You’re shocked and you’re about to fight against him, but he beats you to it. “We’re going to be spending lots of time together. It’d be weird if you didn’t wear it when we’re together.” He reasons. It makes sense but you hated every second that passed by in which you had it on.

In a few months it wouldn’t be yours anymore. Plus it just felt wrong to be wearing it knowing it will someday go to someone else.

“You can just keep it and then when we go to places together, just give it to me.” You nudge his arm with your open hand. He glances down at it before looking out to the road.

“No need, you’ll be moving in anyway.” He nonchalantly says, shrugging his shoulders as if he didn’t drop another bomb on you.

Moving in?

This whole deal was taking turns that you didn’t expect. You knew he offered you a house in which you honestly weren’t going to take. But you didn’t think you’d be moving in with him. From what Jungkook tells you his apartment is more of a museum than a home. And you like your little apartment. It was perfect for one person, it had everything you needed and it was close to two subway stations. It was absolutely perfect and the rent wasn’t crazy expensive.

Rent.

That’s another thing to take into consideration. Would he make you pay for rent if you did by some miracle agree to moving in, because you’re more than positive you wouldn’t be able to afford it. Not now with your passable income from the flower shop. Of course, that chapter of your life will soon come to an end, but even working as a professor in your prestigious alma mater wouldn’t be enough to pay whatever crazy amount his rent is.

“Hold on, that wasn’t in our deal.” You close your hand in a fist and bring it down onto your lap turning your entire body to face him.

Namjoon rolls his eyes. “The cats out of the bag what would people think when they figure out we are engaged but not living together.” He pulls up into the parking lot of your apartment building and puts the car in park. He turns his entire body to face you, one hand gripping onto the steering wheel. “I don’t think you understand how crazy mom can be. She will be over unannounced every other day now that she knows we’re getting married. It’s best to avoid all those questions because they can get invasive.” He states, turning off the engine and opening up his door. He looks over at you. “I can’t stay long but I’ll walk you to your door.”

You were beginning to get annoyed with how nonchalant he was acting about all of this. For a person who claims this was all fake he seemed to be trying his hardest to make it seem as real as possible. You’re starting to wonder if you should set up some ground rules first before you make such a serious decision.

What if you do move in? When all this is over what will happen to you?

You have no doubt in your mind that he will kick you out the second he gets tired of this scheme. You have no doubt in your mind that he will begin to act like this never happened. It is what he does best. He crosses boundaries and when you make it known he acts like he didn’t and that you were in the wrong the entire time.

It’s what happened then, but this time it will be different. This time you’re determined to keep your guard up as high as a skyscraper. This time you won’t fall for his smile, his charm, his laugh or his heart. This time you’re going to put yourself first and to be able to do that you need to have a serious conversation. Set some ground rules before you can continue anything else.

“Namjoon, wait.” You say as he’s getting out of the car. He rounds the front and opens the passenger door for you.

“What, I need to be somewhere in fifteen minutes, let’s go.” He rushes out looking down at his Rolex then you.

You get down from his car, stepping to the side as he closes the door. “We need to talk about this.” You use your pointer finger to single the space between the two of you.

He lets out an annoyed sigh and pinches the bridge of his nose. “We will, but not today. We can have lunch next Wednesday after you come in for training.”

“Namjoon I just don’t think you understand. You’re making all these choices without getting my opinion first. I understand you want your parents to believe that we are actually engaged. And I understand that you have a lot left to lose. But you’re not the only one in this. I get to have say in this too and I–”

Namjoon holds his hand out to your face, blocking your words from coming out. “I get it and believe me I would love to talk about it because we have a lot of things to discuss but I really can’t today. I have a dinner meeting with a coworker and I need to pick her up in—” he looks down at his watch and up, “-in ten minutes.” He finishes and starts walking in front of you.

A dinner meeting? On a Sunday? With another woman?

You don’t want to be that person. You firmly do believe that men and women are able to be friends without anything romantic and sexual happening between them. But he’s acting a little bit suspicious and you can’t help but wonder if he’s going out on a date.

God, you’re so annoyed it’s honestly becoming very tiring. And you’ve only been fake engaged for a few hours. You can’t begin to imagine what the next months will be like or for however long he plans to keep up the scheme.

He calls out your name. He’s standing in front of your building entrance, snapping his fingers to hurry you up.

“I’m not a dog.” You roll your eyes, and push past him. You press the button to the automatic door and hold your hand out before he can take another step. “And I don’t need an escort.”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“And you’re going to be late for your date.” You state stepping inside, leaving him floored with your little outburst. He wants to follow you and tell you a few choice words, but the ringing of his phone keeps him from pressing the button again.

He can talk to you another day. Right now you’re right about one thing. He is late. Even if it’s not a date like you have just assumed. He hates being late to places.

In a relationship.

The little phrase next to yours and Namjoons name has been haunting you since you got the notification last night. Least to say you had not gotten a wink of sleep. You had messaged Namjoon asking him what it was all about. The two of you had not talked since Sunday and making your fake relationship official on Facebook for friends and family to see was definitely something you didn’t see him doing.

It had caught you by surprise. What surprised you the most was the comments underneath the status, offering you kind words and congratulations. The few “it's about time,” comments had set you off. You weren’t sure if it was because you were engaged or because the two of you were engaged to each other. It had your mind racing in all sorts of directions.

Yet, what really didn’t let you sleep was Taehyung’s messages and Jimin’s cryptic “it all makes sense now,” text you had woken up too.

Your fake fiance always prided in living a life away from the drama. And while he’s having a blast living a fantasy you were on the other end receiving nasty messages from your friends and what you assumed were women he had been with once upon a time.

It was all getting too much. You were supposed to be enjoying your last shift ever at Euphoria before you ventured off into the world for bigger and better things. But here you were blocking comments and ignoring Taehyung’s angry spam and Jimini’s nasty comments, with a knot at the base of your throat.

You’ve never hated Namjoon more than you did now. Since he was ignoring you, probably annoyed with your constant pleading to delete the status. You would have to wait until you saw him again next week to scream in his face.

What didn’t help was that Jungkook had called in sick, so you were stuck with the brooding owner, sending you a glare whenever he heard you sigh.

“Okay, out with it. What has you acting like the queen has died?” He cuts a stem off a rose, before placing it in the middle of a few baby breath branches.

You put your phone down, face down hoping it would somehow keep the notifications from coming. “First the queen has died. Second, Namjoon is so fucking annoying. I…ugh.” You let out a frustrated sigh. Probably the thousandth one of the day before putting your head in your head, cradling it.

The headache that you had woken up with after three restless hours of sleep was only growing to be worse. You hear the older man laugh before patting your back awkwardly. “I think this is the part in which Jungkook would be saying I told you so, but I still fully support you getting the bag you deserve, and unfortunately whatever he did is part of the consequences you just have to face.” He states proudly before retrieving his hand and going back to the bouquet he was working on.

You raise your head, hoping your glare would bury him six feet underneath the ground. “You’re no help sometimes. I don’t know why I even ask for your advice.”

Yoongi clicks his tongue before shaking his head, “You see that’s where you’re wrong. You didn’t ask for my advice. I’m just telling you the honest truth. Now if you can’t take it then you shouldn’t have accepted the deal in the first place.” He shrugs, wiping his hands on his apron before grabbing a pair of scissors. He goes to the ribbon wall behind him, taping his chin with the tip of them in thought.

“What did he do this time anyway?” He says getting a hold of a lavender one and measuring it before cutting it off.

You lift up your phone, opening it quickly and navigating yourself through the homescreen before clicking the bright blue app. “This! He did this without letting me know.” You extend your phone showing him the status.

He leans his head forward squinting his eyes before breaking out into a smile. “Congratulations, I knew the two of you would be perfect together.” He jokes, making you groan out in annoyance. He chuckles, cutting up some flower bouquet paper. “Jokes aside, that is an asshole move, but what else would we expect from the devil himself.” He says grabbing the bouquet and placing it in the middle of the pale pink paper. “You knew what you were signing up for.”

“Ugh, I know, I know, I know. I don’t need you to remind me.” You push yourself off the counter as soon as the bell to the shop dings signaling someone has walked in. “It’s the aftermath of his actions that’s sending me up the wall. I really ha–” You turn around putting your best customer service smile only for it to fade away the minute your eyes come into contact with ones you’ve grown up with.

The warmth they once held for you is gone, now replaced with stone cold anger.

“Jimin.”

“Do you want to explain to me what’s going on?” He pushes his way past you and walks to the aisle full of supplies. “Because the last time we talked you told me you weren’t ready to be in a relationship and as much as it hurt I respected that but now you’re here engaged. And to Namjoon?” He says exasperated. You follow him, thanking god the shop was empty because this wasn’t where you wanted to have this conversation.

You knew it would eventually come and you would have no other option but to have it. Yet, lately the world has been throwing curveballs at you left and right since Namjoon came back into your life. So, what else could you expect?

Plus Jimin has never been one to keep his emotions bottled up. It’s one of things you admire most about him. When he was angry he would voice it. When he was sad he would cry freely and explain why. And when he was happy and in love he had no shame in letting the whole world know. Which is why you couldn’t continue anything with him anymore. Even if he was the one that made you feel comfortable again in your body and encouraged you to explore things with him. You didn’t feel anything towards him other than friendship. It’s not like you didn’t try. You did the moment you realized he had fallen for you months ago. It’s probably why you prolonged cutting things off with him, but you couldn’t do that to him anymore.

Not when he had verbally confessed and was giving you everything he should’ve been giving to someone who didn’t view him as more than a friend. The two of you should’ve listened to everyone who said it was a bad idea, but both of you were stubborn. That’s something you aren’t afraid to admit. Unfortunately the decision the two of you made almost a year ago was now coming back to bite the two of you in the ass. Though for some reason it felt like you were getting the shorter end of the stick with everything that had gone down in the last few days.

Maybe you were cursed?

“Min I can explain.” You whisper yell, reaching out to him. He retracts, throwing his hands up and steps away from you.

“No, I don’t need you to explain anything to me. I saw what that man did to you and you went back to him after cutting things off with me.” He spits out, venom laced in his voice as he cards a shaky hand through his already messy hair. He stops for a second biting his bottom lip and looks over at you.

“Were you seeing him while we were together? Were you with me when he couldn’t be with you? Because I can’t even begin to explain how fucked up that is. Especially for someone like you but I guess I didn’t know you as well as I thought I did.” He rants, his hands shaking as he finds somewhere to put them to hide the visible anger he is feeling inside.

“It’s not like that Min, please just let me explain.” You plead, taking cautious steps closer to him. Gripping your apron tightly to keep yourself from crying. This is why you admired your oldest friend for the longest time. He wore his heart on his sleeve whereas you couldn’t let yourself cry in fear of looking pitiful and weak.

He takes one final look at you before shaking his head. “No, I don’t want anything from you. I just want you to stay out of my life.” He says before walking past you, bumping your shoulder with his and walking out.

This is what you feared the most. Losing him. You did have the intention of telling him what was happening when the time was right. This whole situation with Namjoon wasn’t something you ever intended on keeping a secret from both him and Taehyung, but of course you could never walk at your own pace.

For as long as you can remember nobody ever let you march to the beat of your own drum. Everyone around you always forced you to act whenever it was suitable for them. And right now as much as you were at fault too, you couldn’t help but blame Namjoon and his impatience.

Every day that went by, you realize how much this was inconveniencing you rather than benefiting you like you had originally thought.

“Now, I think this is the part in which Jungkook would say I told you so.” Yoongi speaks out from behind you.

You roll your eyes, shake your head and send him a glare. In a haste you untie your apron and rip it off. “I quit.” You say walking past the counter and throwing the fabric onto it.

Yoongi shrugs, trying his best to give you a reassuring smile in which it looks like he’s in pain instead. “Impossible when you only had five more minutes left of your final shift.”

That’s the last thing you hear him say before walking into the back and finally letting your tears fall down.

You’ve had your fair share of heartbreaks in the past.

When you were five you had your first boyfriend–Paul. A blooming relationship that lasted merely three days. On the first day of school he gave you a note with a poorly drawn flower and “I love you” written in the center. In his best five year old handwriting. On the second day he kissed you in the line on the way to Spanish class–dared by his best friend–Pedro. And on the last day, he played with you on the playground but on the way back to class he was holding hands with another girl.

Your first heartbreak.

Then you embarrassingly harbored a crush on him for three years after. In fifth grade–Christian had stolen your heart as soon as you saw his crooked smile and overly slicked back hair, but of course he had picked the prettier and meaner girl in class–Yuni.

Your second heartbreak.

Though, the infatuation didn’t last long, you forgot about him as soon as you entered middle school. But you remember your heart beating out of time when you saw him at Sunday school. You were in seventh grade. Your body was changing. You felt awkward as hell listening to a sermon while fantasizing what it would be like to hold his hand.

When you were fifteen on the other hand. All hell broke loose.

You fell out of love with a lot of firsts in your life, and everything felt so black and white. Things that made you happy. That you viewed as pillars slowly started fading away. It started with ballet, then it trickled down to your studies. You didn’t feel like doing anything, your feelings were confusing and you felt angry with everything and everyone around you. To add the cherry on top your crush of possibly four years broke your heart–Jung Hoseok.

He was perfect. He was tan, tall, and handsome. He had a beautiful smile with moony eyes. He was funny and smart and loved to dance. You had met him during your first dance practice back in seventh grade. All it took was a smile, a wink and a killer freestyle for you to fall head over heels for him. He was nice, he sat with you during lunch whenever Taehyung and Jimin had a different one. He helped you out with your math homework and he even cracked jokes about your favorite boy band at the time. He would ask you about your day and make sure you didn’t skip your meals.

Jimin and Taehyung were so tired hearing you yap about him twenty four seven and so they offered to help you out. The three of you came up with a plan on how to confess to him, but all of that went down the drain one Wednesday afternoon.

The tears didn’t start falling when you saw the self proclaimed bad boy holding hands with one of the popular girls from school–Harley. They came after when you ran out of the dance studio because Of course it had to be her. God had blessed her with the perfect genes. The perfect hair, the perfect smile, the perfect body, and she was a way better dancer than you. She was beautiful and you were a colorless painting next to her that lacked detail. You had acne on your forehead, and even if you had ditched the contacts and braces a year prior. Your hair was still frizzy, and your body wasn’t desirable. Your boobs were practically non-existent, your hips were too wide and your stomach wasn’t flat

It sucked because you seriously thought he could’ve been it. He had been it for a while. You pulled back. Curating a home in a fantasy world, caging your heart in. Despite your friends being protective over you like a little sister. Their protection was nothing compared to how locked up you had your heart. That is until you met Kim Namjoon–and that also ended in a disaster. After that you didn’t give a fuck, you let men come and go. Use you for their needs until one night you awoke from your slumber. Sadly it had already been too late.

Jimin was there to repair you brick by brick. He helped you rediscover yourself in more ways than one. He helped you feel comfortable in your body. Something that was so foreign to you it took lots of trial and error. Yet, you broke him.

Despite all the heartbreak you have experienced in your life. This had to be the one that hurt the most, because you hurt him, and nothing you do will ever bring him back to you.

All because you wanted to have the upper hand.

This is why you disliked Kim Namjoon. Just like he brought you back to life he had dulled you at the same time. He made you feel special but at the same time ordinary; and because of him–though it wasn’t his entire fault you were equally to blame–you had lost one of the most important people in your life.

In honor of such event you had been avoiding the world for the entirety of three days. On the fourth day–today–you had finally forced yourself out of bed.

It was your first day of training at your new job which meant you were going to be in the same room with your nemesis AKA your fake fiance. Listening to him brag about how much better he is at everything.

Everything was a shit show.

You purposely took the longer route, hoping it would work calming you down. The Cherry Blossoms were finally blooming, signaling the end of a bitter winter and the birth of a new chapter in your life. You had hoped that Jimin and Taehyung would have been here for the ride, after you explained everything. You didn’t get the chance too and now the two of them were acting as if there wasn’t a decade of memories between the two of you.

Your phone buzzed in the pocket of your hot pink slacks. You weren’t going to be teaching yet, just observing some classes and following Namjoon around while he condescendingly explained what your life would be like as a University Professor.

Are you close? - N

You rolled your eyes at the message. You had been scheduled to come in at ten-thirty. It was ten on the dot and he was already rushing you. You begin to wonder if this is what it was going to be like the entire time the two of you will be together.

Don’t forget to wear your ring, we’re going to mom’s for dinner tonight. - N

The annoyed sigh made its way out of you before you could stop it. You hope that it won’t always be like this. Him making plans for you without consulting you first. Or him outing the relationship is such an irresponsible way without letting you know. If he was going to make every single decision for you, then you will call things off. You had taken the entirety of your night writing down a list of demands in order for you to continue things.

Well it was more of a list of things that annoyed you about him. A list in which you only hoped the two of you could come to a compromise. You don’t want to change him. Mostly because he is stubborn and doesn’t see anything wrong with himself no matter how many times people close to him have mapped it out for him. He won’t turn the other way keeping his ground. All you want to do is meet in the middle for however long he wants to keep this charade up.

One of my TAs is waiting for you at the front of the building. I’m assuming you know the way. She will show you around and I will meet you for lunch. Don’t be late. - N

The third text came in making you grip your phone tightly in your hand. Even when he wasn’t around he somehow manages to make you want to scream out in anger.

I’m five minutes away.

You reply, putting your phone away and ignoring the last text he sends you. You will not let him ruin your last few minutes of freedom.

Eunseo is amazing.

She immediately greeted you in high spirits and complemented your hot pink blazer and slacks combo. And offered to carry around your bag because to her it seemed too heavy, but you refused.

Despite having attended HYBE U almost a decade ago. It hadn’t changed much. There were a few new buildings to compensate for the enrollment capacity, and a carpark where dorms used to be. But other than those slight changes nothing had changed. Even the large field in between the common hall and the dorms was still the same. The trees always bloomed beautifully in the Spring. Though you couldn’t ignore the pang you felt in your chest while walking through the field with Eunseo as she talked about her classes and how much she looked up to Mr. Kim.

This was where you found out you were in love with Namjoon all those years ago. It was Fall, the foliage was at its peak and the leaves were just starting to fall down. The two of you had decided to meet here instead of the cafe that day to enjoy the weather a little more before it turned gray. There was a particularly strong wind and the leaves came rustling down landing on the two of you making the both of you laugh. The sun was shining in the most perfect way possible, his skin glowed underneath it and something inside of you turned.

That day all you could do was think about him. You fell asleep dreaming about his smile and woke up expecting his scent to cloud over you like a blanket.

It was so beautiful yet tragic and you had never turned back since then.

That is until he turned on you.

With the way Eunseo was describing him. You could almost picture him being the same way he was when he tutored you. According to Eunseo he was funny, kind and really cared about his students. He always went out of his way to explain the material in ways his students could understand, and listened to everybody’s opinion extensively. But he also challenged them and pushed them to work harder.

He loved his job and profession more than anything in the world. It’s something you always did admire about him. Even on late nights or when the stress was too much for him to handle. He always found a way to look at it in a different light. For some time you had wished he would’ve done that with you when you confessed your feelings to him. That night he was someone you had never known. It was like something switched off inside of him and he became the heartless jackass you’ve come to know about in recent years.

“You’re very lucky. He will be such an amazing husband.” Eunseo said bringing out of your long train of thought. You stopped dead in your tracks, surprised as she giggled at your reaction.

“H-How do you know.” You clear your throat, bringing your hand up to your chest and playing with the little aquamarine pendant you never take off.

“He told me before I went down to meet with you.” She shrugs, grabbing onto the straps of her backpack. “Don’t worry he’s only told me and I don’t have many friends to tell. So your secret’s safe with me.” She winks turning around and skipping away.

You shake your head and follow her trying to keep up as best as you can. Maybe wearing heels wasn’t the brightest idea, but it was your first day on the job. You need to make a good impression on your future co-workers. In which you hadn’t met yet, but you assumed it was because Namjoon would be the one to introduce you and he was currently in a lecture.

You jump when you hear your name being called from across the field. You turn around quickly as Namjoon makes his way to you. His beige trench coat blowing in the wind. The combination of his nike’s, light blue jeans, and airy button down shirt was more casual than what you expected. Even his hair wasn’t styled. He looked stress free or a normal person.

“Mr. Kim, I have taken care of her and now I am returning her to you in one piece. Just like you instructed.” Eunseo says from beside you. You look over at her. She’s wearing such a bright smile on her face. Her proudness over such a nimble task makes you chuckle. A moment you will never forget now because it’s made you realize how much you desire to inspire someone.

The same way Namjoon has inspired her.

“Thanks Eunseo.” Namjoon replies once he gets closer, stuffing his hands into the pocket of his coat. He looks you up and down, raising his brows before turning over to his student. “This doesn’t mean you’re getting extra credit or an extension on your next paper.”

“It was worth the shot.” She smiles, sending him finger guns making him laugh. She turns to face you, “It was so nice to meet you Mrs. Kim, I’ll be sure to keep on the lookout for your class next semester.” She says giving you an enthusiastic thumbs up. “I’ll see you in class Mr. Kim.” She finishes before turning around and heading down the path leading to the library.

“She’s not going to turn in her paper on time.” Namjoon says from next to you shaking his head. “But she’s one of my best students. Somehow her papers always manage to impress me even if I threaten to take away a whole letter grade for every late paper. It somehow motivates her to do even better and I can’t.” He sighs and looks over at you. “Did you find everything okay, I’m sorry I couldn’t meet you. I told the office to schedule you after my classes today but they refused. Even being head of a department has very little perks.”

You look around quickly to see if anybody was around. There were a few students making their way to classes but each of them were engrossed with their phones or notes or conversations amongst themselves. They weren’t paying any attention to the two of you. So, he didn’t have to act so nice. “You’re so strange.” You comment, widening your eyes and covering your mouth as quickly as possible.

Namjoon rolls his eyes before sticking his hand out for you to take. “And you’re so nice.” He retaliates. The slight pang of bitterness slicing through his words. You almost feel relieved that he was still in there somewhere.

“Thanks, you bring out the best in me.” You take his hand, watching as he interlaced your fingers with his, forcefully pulling you to walk.

“Whatever, let’s just go to lunch. I’m starving. We can talk about things then.”

Okay you take it back. HYBE U was definitely still not the same.

There was a whole dining hall with the bougiest restaurants that you one hundred percent would not have been able to afford when you were a student here. You assume that’s why it’s pretty empty, except for a few faculty.

Namjoon and you had been sitting in silence since the two of you sat down after ordering. Your mouth almost fell open when you saw an avocado toast for almost twenty dollars. Thankfully Namjoon had offered to pay. Now the two of you were waiting for your overpriced food in complete silence. You weren’t sure what to say if you were honest.

Hey thanks for the job, you're still an asshole though.

My best friends hate me because you ruined my life and now they think that what we have is real because you decided to make it official on Facebook. And like who uses Facebook anyway you old man.

In the end you settle for the nice quiet, listening to the ambience around you until your food arrives. The waiter carefully places your plates in the middle of the table and the two of you quietly thank him. Then Namjoon clears his throat, grabbing your attention.

“I usually bring my own lunch but I like this place whenever I forget to cook.” He cuts the toast in half and puts one of them on your plate, and makes sure you get a piece of avocado too.

“You cook?” You tilt your head to the side, picking up your utensils and poking the soft egg in the middle, letting the yolk run.

Namjoon nods, placing some pasta on your plate. “Jin taught me a couple years ago.” He hands you a napkin and starts filling up his plate. You have no idea who this Jin guy is. Namjoon says his name as if you’re supposed to know already, but you’re curious. Namjoon was a genius but he was a complete incompetent buffoon in the kitchen. You can’t explain how many times you witnessed him and Jungkook fighting in front of you whenever you were over their house because he always burned the simplest things. It would stink up the kitchen and Jungkook would lose it because he always lost at rock paper scissors and ended up being the one to clean the kitchen.

“Who’s Jin?” You wipe your mouth, and take a bite of the pasta humming in delight. Maybe the price of the food was worth it.

“He owns the gym Kook and I go too. He sometimes comes over, you’ll meet him soon.” He clarifies.

You nod, letting the silence consume the two of you once again because what else are you supposed to say. Instead you just take another bite of your food.

Maybe if you prayed hard enough, Jungkook would waltz in and break the awkward air looming between the two of you. Of course you had things to say to him, but how were you supposed to bring it up if the conversation wasn’t going down the route.

“Kook’s mad isn’t he?” Namjoon puts down his fork and takes a sip of his water. “I saw him at the gym last night and he almost beat the shit out of me.” He chuckles like it’s no big deal.

“He’s not the only one.” You retort, reaching into your bag and taking out a sheet of notebook paper in a plastic sleeve and place it on the table. Not the most professional looking thing but you were short on time.

“Lo–” Namjoon starts, you assume he’s going to defend himself and his actions. But he doesn’t get very far because you immediately cut him off.

“No, I understand you want everybody to believe whatever this is.” You say pointing between the two of you. “But there’s not just one person in this act. You can’t keep making choices without consulting me first. The brunch was fine. I was able to come up with something on the spot. But the moving in is not, nor is the fucking Facebook status or telling your student or the dinner we have with your mom tonight.”

Namjoon rolls his eyes, “It’s a stupid status is not a big deal.” He takes a bite of pasta. The nonchalance in his demeanor causes the anger you had somehow managed to push away resurface once again.

“It is a big deal Namjoon. Because of that stupid status, neither Jimin or Taehyung are talking to me. You didn’t give me the chance to tell them and finding out through the internet is a pretty shitty thing.” You try to reason. He pokes his cheek with his tongue and crosses his arms.

“Isn’t Jimin the guy you were with at the party? You two were pretty close.”

“He was my best friend. But because of your actions he’s cut off all communication with me.”

“Maybe it’s a good thing the two of you aren’t friends anymore. He looked pretty comfortable touching you at Taehyung’s place.” He says looking around then you. Yeah, you’re adding this to the list of dumbshit he says. Hopefully by the end of this you’ll be able to publish a whole book.

“Are you listening to yourself?” You say tapping your ears. “You sound so dumb right now.” You shake your head, suddenly losing your appetite. He does bring out the worst in you, and you’re beginning to regret ever saying yes in the first place. “Jimin and I used to fuck and sure things were a little rocky between us since the night of the party. But I still care for him. He's still someone important to me and you’re not respecting that. You outed our relationship to the whole world without consulting me first and you keep doing shit without asking if I am okay with it.”

“It sounds like you’re just looking for someone to blame instead of owning up to whatever you did to your precious Jimin.” He shrugs, digging into his avocado toast. You truly want to dump his iced americano all over his head, but your hushed voices are getting a bit louder and people are starting to take notice.

“You’re completely missing the point. This isn’t about me or Jimin’s relationship. This is about you not willing to see that in order for this to continue you need to include me in big decisions like that. I am my own person Namjoon. I have a life outside of this, and you can’t just expect me to stop it and be at your mercy whenever you need me. What if I had plans tonight?”

“Then you cancel them. This is important.”

“Fucking hell, are you not listening to me. I honestly have no idea how to explain this to you in an easier way or without sounding like a broken record. I’m not a doll Namjoon, you can’t wind me up when you need me. I am a fucking human being and you’re not treating me like one. If this continues I will literally call this whole shit off.” You pick up your fork and forcefully shove some pasta in your mouth.

“You can’t do that. You promised.” He accuses with his finger, furrowing his brows in anger.

You roll your eyes and swallow. “Just like you, I can also break promises.” You shrug before sliding your forgotten list towards him. “These are my rules, if you can’t follow them then I swear Namjoon I’ll call your mom and tell her everything, and it would totally suck I mean this job seems to be amazing.” You threaten crossing your arms in front of you.

He huffs, snatching the list from the table and reading them. This time you welcome the silence as you wait for him to finish. After what seems like his third run through he puts the list down again, your bubbly handwriting makes his head hurt a little. He could never understand why you always wrote in colorful pens and marked your i’s with hearts.

In his opinion it was overrated and you were a full grown adult, not a toddler.

“You can’t expect to change me. This isn’t forever.” He says like he’s reminding you. Despite you being his fake fiance he never really assumed you would expect him to remain monogamous. He was still a man with needs and he refused to touch you in that way.

“I’m not asking you too. I’m asking you to meet me in the middle and respect me a little more. I know you hate me but I’m not your biggest fan either. Yet, I agreed to this and I am here.”

He tugs his bottom lip in between his teeth in thought. He stares into his plate of food for what seems like hours. He could do that. Maybe things won’t be so unbearable if the two of you were just walking side by side rather than on opposite ends. He also can’t deny that you’re a little right, this was harder than he assumed. You are definitely not the pliant girl he knew once. Maybe this version of you excites him a little, but of course he won’t ever admit that to anyone. He’s already having a hard time admitting it to himself. If you’re going to ask him to meet you in the middle with your annoying list of demands then he’s going to ask the same of you.

Eye for an eye.

“Fine, but only if you agree to move in with me.”

“That’s ridiculous. I don't understand why I can’t just be at my place. I mean you just said this wasn’t forever.” You mumble.

“Ahh then I guess I’ll just rip this up.” He says taking out your sheet of paper and holding it out in front of him ready to shred it.

You panic and hold your hand out to stop him. “Fuck fine, I’ll move in with you.”

“Perfect, I’ll clear out the guest bedroom this week and you can move in on Saturday.” He smirks, and resumes to his meal.

Once again he’s won, but you will find a way to have the upper hand one of these days. “This is so dumb I still don’t understand your reasoning.”

There’s a part of Namjoon that also doesn’t understand it. That part of him he’s pushed away for years. It’s the part of him that wants you there with him. It’s incredibly selfish. He’s aware he’s asking too much of you already, but he hopes having you in his home will give him an excuse to come home. Lately, he’s been tired of just his plants and artwork receiving him when he gets home.

Yet, that’s something he won’t ever admit out loud either.

“It just makes things easier.” He shrugs, shutting down the conversation. Leaving you to wonder if his actions have more meaning to them than his words.

#kdiarynet #btshoneyhive #bts imagines #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts fluff #bts scenarios #bts smut #bts angst #bts namjoon #namjoon smut #namjoon fanfiction #namjoon imagines #namjoon fic #namjoon fanfic #bts x reader #namjoon x reader

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kiwisbell · 8 months

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Security Details: Chapter 2 [frankie morales]

Frankie’s long-time friend enlists his help. He's more than eager to accept the job. The problem is that he's in love with her.

chapter 1 | chapter 2

pairing: francisco "catfish" morales x f!reader

rating: 18+ (mdni)

tags and warnings for entire fic: abusive relationship (not between frankie and reader), murder, violence, BAMF frankie, protective frankie, possessive frankie, soft frankie, mutual pining, yearning, reader is not named but has a call sign (fox), frankie is dumb but he's got the spirit, angst, smut, fluff, partners to friends to lovers, happy ending, frankie spends most of this fic in his feelings, telltale signs of a fic written by a hopeless romantic, unprotected piv, breeding kink, creampie, oral sex, consensual somnophilia, english and spanish dirty talk, frankie going feral to keep his girl safe, possessive sex, blood and injury, undefined age gap

tags and warnings for this chapter: unrequited love becomes requited, unprotected piv (don't follow my lead), oral sex, frankie eating pussy like a king, blood and violence, frankie is unhinged, protective frankie, possessive sex, consensual somno, creampie, breeding kink, frankie morales fucks

word count: ~ 9k

chapter 2: oh, but i'm singing like a bird about it now

It takes him two hours to tell the entire story of what happened in Peru. It happens over dinner: the most disgusting canned ravioli he’s ever eaten and the most tolerable canned green beans. They sit opposite one another at the tiny two-person dining table, basking in slats of orange sunlight that filter through the closed blinds. He can’t risk anyone seeing her here now that she suspects someone is following her.

“That’s…” She blows out a breath, poking some beans with her fork. “Jesus, Frankie. I’m sorry. That sounds like a really shitty few weeks.”

Sorry? All the shit he’s just confessed to doing for some pathetic fucking bags of money, and she’s sympathising? He must look bewildered enough to make her giggle, if a bit hysterically. “It’s just…” She drops her chin into her palm. “Two hundred and fifty million.”

He stares at her for a moment. The golden light on her face and the way her eyes glimmer. “Yeah.”

“And you got on the boat with five.”

He’s beginning to understand. “Yeah.”

“And…” She bites down on her lip. “You signed away your earnings.”

He doesn’t think either of them are able to pinpoint what causes the laughter, but soon they’re both in tears, choking and wheezing over something that is probably not funny at all. Tears are streaking down their faces and the tiny home is filled with the sound of cutlery clanging as they shake uncontrollably. Their minds are not their own, and when the laughter ebbs, they are left smiling at one another. It feels like it did before, for a wink.

“What would you have done with it?” she asks.

He sips his beer—the fridge is still stocked from his last stay here. “Two years ago, it would have been an Aston Martin or a lifetime’s supply of cowboy boots.”

“And now?” She’s drinking, too, but she dug around the stores for a bottle of red wine and poured some into a mostly-clean mason jar.

“Now…” Frankie sighs. “Lifetime’s supply of diapers and baby food.”

“I don’t know, Frankie. I like your cowboy boots.”

“Nah, see, now I know you're lying.”

“What the fuck are those?”

“What?” Frankie looked down at his boots. “You don't like ‘em?”

She covered her mouth with her hand, but it didn't shroud the shaking of her shoulders. “No. No, Frank, I don’t.” She touched her hand to her heart. “I looove them.”

“Don't be mean, Foxy,” piped up Santiago from the back. “Those bastards were paid for with blood money.”

She gasped. “Don't tell me…”

Santiago hoisted Frankie’s arm into the air and whooped. “Divorce does wonders, folks!”

Frankie flushed hot while Fox bit down on her lip. He felt dirty—wrong—for being glad about the split, for wanting the woman in front of him for far longer than he ever wanted Lisa. He felt like a cheater. “Cálmate,” he grumbled to Pope.

She just laughed, rubbing a knot out of his shoulder. “If we're going to set a good example for your daughter, we have to teach her honesty. I think your boots are hideous. And yet”—she swigged her beer and kissed him on the cheek—“you somehow pull them off. You must teach me your ways.”

Frankie watches a car speed by through the blinds and makes sure it disappears from sight. “You ever notice him acting strangely?”

“He would miss dinner or come to bed late,” she says, “but I assumed he was working late, like he told me. Or cheating.”

Frankie frowns. “You wouldn't have cared?”

She scoffs. “Please, Frank. Of course I would care. It’s not like he would let me leave. I knew he was a recreational user, but I started to notice calls on the phone logs and missing links in email chains to and from a man named St. John—Matt said he was a higher-up at his company, but I think it's an alias. Started to feel like he was hiding something more than just another woman.” She rubs her brow. “Had a lot of thinking to do while I was… away. And things add up.”

“He got put away,” says Frankie. He only speaks to remind himself of the truth. He won't hurt her again.

“Only because of this.” She points to her face. “I know it sounds paranoid—”

“I believe you,” says Frankie. “Like you said, you've never steered me wrong.”

She smiles. “We should sleep. You drove all day, and I had to listen to your music all day.”

“Hey.” Frankie points at her. “Driver picks music, Foxy. Don't insult Metallica.”

“Go to sleep,” she says again, disappearing back into the hallway where she'll stretch out in that twin bed. He putters around in the kitchen, scrubbing their plates a little too hard, arranging the cushions and blankets on the couch with a little too much force. Lying with his eyes fixed on the yellowed popcorn ceiling, the old ache in his back throbbing up his spine, Frankie loathes this house. He detests the colour of the walls and the way the floors would creak under your weight even if you weighed eighty pounds. He hates the uncomfortable furniture.

He hates that she has to be here.

He hates himself for letting his head get stuck so far up his own ass he never mustered up the courage to tell her how he loved her: that her smile makes him ache, that he craves her presence the way he used to crave nicotine, that she's it for him. He hates that she's been wasting her time with assholes who only hurt her while he's been wasting his time yearning but not acting. If he's too much of a coward to tell her, he'll show her.

He’ll show her exactly how worth it she is. He’ll make sure she knows that he'd die for her the way she nearly did the day she took that bullet.

They're used to waiting in a profession like theirs. She's accustomed to hours and days upon rooftops and inside inconspicuous vans. She's used to the way it makes her joints creak with disuse and her eyes sore from rarely blinking. They've been in this safe house for a week, and they're out of food.

“No.”

“Frank—”

“No, Fox.” He’s frowning in frustration. It's a different frown than his concentration frown, which is altogether different from his needy frown—the one he gets when he's neglected. Her favourite grumpy dog. “It's too risky.”

Her bruises have mostly healed, along with the cut on her lip. But he'll never forget them. He’ll never forget seeing her walk into the kitchen in Santiago’s home, the terror that flooded him.

“Everything’s risky if I’m being stalked,” she reasons. “I can't hide forever, Frankie. Especially not if we don't have any leads.”

His nostrils flare, and she knows she's in for more arguing. “I can go. You should stay here.”

“I know you can, Frank.” She gestures toward the windows. “Has anyone followed us here?”

“Not that I’ve seen,” he begins, “but—”

“I’m getting cabin fever.” She folds her arms over her chest. “I know you are, too. That's why we're arguing.”

He huffs. “We’re not… arguing.”

She smiles. “Good. Isn’t it better that we don't split up, anyway?”

He gets pissed off when his friends are right, sometimes. Whenever he's arguing with Santiago about something easily Googleable (she'll do just that—look it up and wait patiently with the phone screen turned away until they're finished their shouting match), he'll grind his jaw and sulk for a bit when he's in the wrong. Then, he'll slap Santiago good-naturedly on the cheek and they’ll move on. Being wrong about such trivial things leads to being wrong in the real world. Making the wrong call. Getting someone hurt.

He's always been a bit of a worrier.

But he doesn't get mad when she's right. Because she makes it sound so sweet, so gentle, and all he can do is laugh. Of course she's right. He was stupid to argue with her in the first place. It's much safer if they travel together. He can keep her safe. He can.

He fucking will.

“Get one of my sweatshirts,” he says. “Don't take off the hood.”

She rolls her eyes but does as he asks. Indulging him. He will earn the right to be indulged again. The sweatshirt is his, an old and too-large grubby thing, blue (his favourite colour), and it swallows her. He waits until she crosses the room to collect his wallet and plants himself by the window, rubbing a hand down his face and splashing some cold water over it for good measure. Jesus. Get yourself together. Fucking asshole.

They slip into the truck and he pulls out of the driveway after making triple-sure no one lingers nearby. She draws a knee up to her chest so she can rest her chin on it, always detesting the feeling of her feet on the ground. It’s as if she can taste the tremors in the ground on her tongue and needs reprieve from them.

“Those jeans aren’t yours,” he says after a too-long silence. He hopes she isn’t put off by him memorising the articles in her closet.

“Matt’s,” she says idly. “Got blood on mine. I felt like I wanted to fuck him over in some small way. Taking his pants probably wasn’t the best method.”

He says nothing, but he sets his jaw and turns into town. It’s small enough that it borders on a hamlet, really; there’s a single Food World and a gas station, which are connected to one another. He can see every single home from here, stuck in the middle of nowhere on this lonely country road. It’s almost pleasant.

“What’s your favourite piece from my closet, Frankie?”

Shit.

She says it teasingly, a smile tugging on one corner of her mouth. It’s the kind of smile she gets when she’s trying not to, biting down on her bottom lip. He can’t quite grasp the depth of his own want, the way his chest lurches and his fingers twitch toward her. His body knows him before he does. He wants to lunge across the truck bench and put his mouth on hers, slide his hands up her—his—sweatshirt, and feel her: her strong, soft, capable body, her scars and bruises he’s memorised in their years together. He wants to hear her gasps and whimpers, different from any cries of pain he’s heard from her lips before. He wants to make her feel good. And she would feel so fucking good.

“You really wanna know?” he says.

She’s already looking at him when he parks at the Food World. “Yeah, I do.”

“That blue sundress,” he tells her, “the one you wear for the Fourth of July every year.”

Her brows lift a little in the middle, stretching the scar on her nose, and she’s so adorable sometimes it makes him hurt, makes him forget that she’s killed people with those fingers twiddling in her lap, makes him keep talking even though she already fucking knows what her dress looks like. She’s the one who wears it.

“It’s got these… I don’t know, these fuckin’ bows. Yeah, they’re bows. On the shoulders. You have to re-tie them when they get loose. Your face scrunches up when you concentrate, the way it does when you’re on a roof, watching a target through your scope.” Frankie watches her eyes scan his face, every inch, every freckle, like she’s trying to memorise it before a test. “It kinda—sorta flutters when there’s a breeze, y’know? It’s… nice.” He clears his throat and turns his head away, looking through the windshield. “You look nice in blue.”

Recalling the way her hips curve in that flowy fucking dress, the way she glows and shines and makes everyone shield their eyes from the glare, Frankie knows why his favourite colour is blue.

And Christ, the way she looks at him after his humiliating admission… The weight of her gaze, the slow blinking, the way her lashes brush her cheeks, the sheer power she imposes upon him when she watches him like that. He feels like he’s the biggest and smallest thing in the universe. He feels like suffering too long under that look will turn him to ashes.

“Frank,” she says, a name shoved out, dreamlike in quality. “If you’d told me you liked it so much, I’d wear it every day.”

He lets himself laugh. “Even in winter?”

“I have snow boots and a parka for a reason.” She lifts one shoulder in a half-shrug. “Haute couture, no?”

He needs to get out of this truck. He needs to get out before he does something he’ll regret. “C’mon,” he says, “let’s make this quick.”

The Food World is mostly deserted. There are two cashiers, one drumming his fingers on the counter and the other resting her chin in her palm. People mill about the aisles, mostly in similar dress to theirs, sweatpants and sweatshirts and ratty jeans. Muzak crackles through the overhead P.A. systems. Nothing immediately prickles at his instincts. Frankie lets her walk ahead, lingering behind her. He doesn’t like people at his back, never has: an old soldier’s itch. Even waiting in lines makes him sweat a little above the brow. She’s never been that nervous, but she understands. She reaches backward every so often and squeezes his hand to make sure he’s still with her.

From here, he can’t exactly help but look at her ass in those too-big jeans, the flare of her hips, her legs. His hood is secure atop her head, morphing her into a stranger to the world, no longer the beautiful beacon with the cuts and bruises on her face. Frankie, in his own jeans and his grey T-shirt and his olive green button-up, cap snug on his head, looks just as unassuming—save for the permanent frown on his face.

“We need these,” she says when they reach the empty baking aisle, though he isn’t sure why they’re in the baking aisle. Until he sees her hold up two boxes of cake mix. Chocolate and birthday confetti.

“We do not need those.”

“Cat,” she says, her voice dropping low, nearly a fucking purr. Does she know what she’s doing? What she does to him? “You are too grumpy to function. It’s your birthday in a couple days. What if we’re still in that stupid house because of me? You’ll have no cake to celebrate.”

“I don’t want to celebrate getting older,” he says, gently plucking the boxes from her hands. It makes her eyes widen, a deliberate, dirty goddamn move, until she schools her face to look like she’s about to cry. He flicks her on the nose. “And that… is a rotten play, Fox.”

Her pouting mouth makes him want to pounce, to shove her up against the shelves of boxed mix and wipe that look off her face with his mouth. His fingers. His cock. God, he needs to get a grip.

“You aren’t old, Frankie,” she says softly. She reaches for him and gently pries his fingers, one-by-one, from the box of chocolate mix. He lets her. “Your life deserves to be celebrated. We’ll do chocolate, okay? It’s understated.”

But he feels old. He remembers the first day she was introduced to the team: her fresh-faced and bounding with energy. He, mid-thirties at the time, was hesitant to accept a new member of the team. He and the guys had already gelled, known one another for years in Basic before they were slapped together, and Frankie didn’t know what to make of the sniper, the stunner. But she slipped in, made them laugh and silenced any doubts with that perfect fucking aim, and made him feel like an asshole for ever thinking she wasn't the perfect choice. She's always the perfect choice.

Your life deserves to be celebrated.

“Okay,” he relents. “Chocolate. Now get out of this aisle before you convince me to buy whipped cream.”

She beams up at him and it's worth giving up his pride. “And don't give me any of that shit about this being your fault,” he says, guiding her toward the produce. “It's his. You know it.”

“It was my decision to rope you in, Frank. You're the only one I trust with my life like this.”

It's such a vulnerable, soft thing that escapes her mouth. Absently, his hand finds her waist, squeezes. She looks up at him, her face obscured by half a shadow thanks to the hood, and he's worried he's gone too far. But her lips part, her breath leaves her in a sigh, and she whispers, full of conviction: “I mean it.”

Frankie tries to rein in his breathing, shifts the cyclic stick back toward the space between two walls, his lungs. Overrides the spin-out by looking in her eyes. “I know you do,” he says. “I know, baby.”

She brings his knuckles to her mouth and kisses each one. He loses control again. Fuck, he's not even scanning his surroundings. He's lost himself in her, in that gentle smile she gives him. There's solidarity in that smile. Forgiveness, almost. “For the record,” she says, “it wasn't a hundred guys.”

Just like that, he wants to slap himself all over again.

You've been fucking around with a hundred other guys because you wanted me? Tell me how that makes sense, honey, because it doesn't make a goddamn inch of sense to me.

He hates himself. He hates himself so much, and he'll never be good enough to—

She's laughing.

Why the fuck is she laughing?

“You have a tendency to get mad,” she says, still snickering a little. “And when you get mad, you run your mouth. I was hurt and drained and fucking humiliated from being the bitch dumb enough to date him for two years. And what you said hurt. But I shouldn't have walked away.” She shrugs. “Wasted so much time already.”

He shakes his head, vaguely unable to comprehend what she's saying. “How…” He clears his throat. “How can you say that? I was a fucking asshole. I called you—”

“You didn't call me anything.” She picks up a lemon and inspects it. “How do you feel about lemon meringue?”

“I've never had it.” He grasps her wrist. “What are you saying, Fox?”

“I’m saying that we've both been idiots. How have you never tried lemon meringue?”

“Mom never made it.” He slips his hand under her hood and cradles the back of her head. Look at me, he wants to say. Don't stop looking at me. “I’m sorry, Fox. I’m sorry for everything I said. I pressured you. I was so angry for what that dickhead had done to you, and I was so desperate for you, I didn't give you the space you needed. I am… so. Fucking. Sorry.”

He shakes his head and shifts his thumb to trace the edge of her jaw, eyeing the nasty bruise. “You took a bullet for me. You and your infinite fucking wisdom. Jesus, you’re perfect. Knowing how much the world has burned you… It kills me, baby. I never wanted to hurt you, too, and I did. Don't forgive me. Please.”

Don't forgive me until I’ve earned it. I’ll never earn it. You're too good for this world, Foxy. You're too good for me.

She lifts her hand to his, her fingers curling gently around his wrist. She hasn't stopped looking at him, her breaths coming a bit shorter, a bit bruised. “Frankie,” she whispers. “There's someone watching us by the doors. Don’t look.”

His stomach plummets. He threads his fingers through hers and keeps her tucked to his side as they bypass the produce and head straight for the canned food aisle. “Grab what you need,” he says. “Make it heavy.”

A good makeshift weapon: a bag full of cans. He doesn't have his gun on him. It’s in the glove box. Fuck. She begins to swipe canned corn, beans, and ravioli into their reusable bag and he never lets go of her hand. “Relax,” she says, hoisting the bag up onto her shoulder and rubbing his arm in soothing lines. Up and down. Up and down. “It's okay, Frank. You're with me.”

He wants to believe her, but he's panicking. “Got everything?” he asks, trying to keep his posture casual even as his mind shifts gears. Keep your eyes open. Be ready. Keep her safe.

For the love of all good things, keep her safe.

“I’m ready,” she says easily, not a hint of her anxiety translating to her face. “Could’ve used that lemon, though.”

“If you want to bake for me so badly, honey, just tell me,” he says, not looking at her, keeping his head on a swivel for the someone she was talking about. “Describe him to me.”

“Tall, white, wearing all black,” she says quietly. They make their way toward the checkout. He wants to grab her hand and run to the truck, but they can't exactly smuggle out a bag filled with clanking metal cans.

She reaches the counter first and smiles at the man behind it, immediately rushing to place all their items on the belt. “The man in all black,” she whispers to the man, never once dropping her smiling façade, “he’s got a gun. Please call the cops. I think he's following us.”

They both crowd together to shroud the cashier from view as he carries on bagging their groceries at the same time he reaches under the counter and presses the panic button. “How will you be paying?” he asks, all-too easily.

Frankie looks behind him. The man, not facing them, rings out a single banana at the opposite register. The woman behind it looks polite but faintly rattled. He gathers the girl at his side a little closer, tucking an arm around her waist and slipping his hand into the pocket of the sweatshirt she wears.

“Thank you,” says the cashier when she hands him a folded handful of bills. Frankie guesses he's thanking them for more than the money. “Have a great day. Stay safe out there.”

They both nod their thanks and walk as briskly as they can out of the store without drawing suspicion. Frankie doesn't hear any footsteps behind him, but he still fumbles with the keys in his rush to get her in the vehicle.

She's got one foot still planted on the side step when she hazards a glance toward the doors of the Food World, and screams, “Frankie, down!”

He ducks at the same time he drops his shoulder to tackle her to the ground. He can't quite manoeuvre them quickly enough to prevent her from slamming hard into the ground; he watches her slam her shoulder against the asphalt at the same time the gunshot goes off. Frankie lands hard on his back, but they're both scrambling to get behind the truck. There isn't time to lick their wounds. The cans have spilled from the bag under the truck. One, filled with baked beans, nudges Frankie’s foot and rolls to a stop.

He keeps his hand pressed against her back as they move, grounding himself in her. She's still alive. He's going to keep it that way. “Fuck,” she says, daring to peek around the truck. “It’s him. Plus another guy at our eleven o’clock.”

“Get in the bed of the truck,” he says, handing her the can. “Smash the back window and crawl inside. Get the gun from the glove box. I’ll be right behind you.”

She nods, clinical in her analysis of the situation. Her face is grim, but she knows it’s their only option. Frankie unlatches the tailgate and pushes at her thighs to help her up while keeping her body as low as possible. She cracks the window with the edge of the can, but it takes three total hits to break the glass. It seems only one of the men is armed, the one who had followed them into the Food World. The other is making his way around the vehicle to flank them. Frankie ducks low to avoid one shot in particular, and he can hear it whizz past his ear. She’s inside the truck, crawling toward the glove box and wrenching it open. She flicks off the safety, leans out the broken window, and aims for the man closest to Frankie: the one holding the gun, who’s currently trying to kill him.

It makes his ears ring. The shot fires hardly a foot away from his left ear, but he knows who’s fired it, so he doesn’t flinch. Next to him, he hears a body topple and flips onto his back. She hops out of the truck and checks to make sure the man is dead before she circles the truck to accost the other.

Only he isn’t there.

“Frank?” she says, not meeting his eyes, still scanning her surroundings. “Where—”

It happens too quickly. Too quickly, even, for Frankie to bark a warning. He can only watch in terror as the man springs out from behind the gas pump and tackles her to the ground. She loses her grip on the gun in the tussle, her head smacking hard against the pavement. Visibly dazed, eyes unfocused, she reaches blindly for the man’s throat, but he pins down her arms at her sides, his thighs bracketing her writhing legs as she tries, unavailingly, to kick him in the balls.

Frankie doesn’t think when he acts. Terror and rage flood him. They are thick and cloying in his throat. They cloud the reason. The methodical soldier flees.

He’s bigger than the man atop her. He’s also angrier. His body barrels into him, knocks him aside, sending them both rolling across the ground. Frankie doesn’t reach for the gun. He doesn’t even try to. He just balls his hand into a fist and breaks the man’s noise.

Blood sprays, splattering the man’s face and Frankie’s knuckles as he yelps, a gurgled, helpless cry. But Frankie doesn’t stop. He can’t. He won’t. He punches, again and again and again. The face is a target, a pinkish round thing with eyes and a crooked nose and a mouth. The nose splits at the bridge, blood seeping. The whites of the eyes stain red. Blood vessels snap. Lips swell. At some point, the target stops crying, stops moving. He’s piloting, he’s in control, he’s so fucking out of control he can barely see.

Cyclic stick. Window panes. Rotor blades. Scope. Rooftop. Stars. Laughter. Her.

“Frankie.”

The target is red now. Blood and skin and bone. His own split knuckles, beginning to hurt. His senses sharpen at the sound of his voice, but he doesn’t stop. Only slows down. He can’t stop. What if he gets back up?

What if he hurts her again?

Faintly, he registers her stumbling toward him, hands and knees, desperate. Clawing at him. “Frankie,” she says. “Frankie, he’s down. Please. You’re done. It’s done.”

Finally, he pitches backward, as if someone has thrown him off the body beneath him. It’s the only way he can imagine stopping. He wants to go back for more, but her hands are there: one on his chest, pressing against his heart and calming the erratic beating, and the other cupping his face in her palm, like he’s something to be cherished.

“You did it,” she pants. His hands fly backward, slapping against the asphalt to keep himself from tumbling onto his back. She’s still holding him.

There’s a thin dribble of blood on her temple. It’s minimal. It’s nothing. But his hand flies to the nape of her neck. “You’re bleeding,” he croaks.

She laughs again, a bit raspy, a bit hysterical. “So are you.”

“He…” Frankie swallows, thick, smoke and fire and fear. “I didn’t see him.”

“Neither did I.” She kisses him on the forehead. It’s gentle, so gentle, and when it’s over, she rests her forehead on his. “Hear that?”

He does. Sirens. The police have arrived. “Means we need to get up,” she says. “Are you all right, Frank? Can you get up?”

She shifts back to help him stand, but he blurts out, “Wait. Wait.”

Panic flitting across her face, she returns to him. “What’s wrong?”

He shakes his head vaguely, not really feeling it, his vision sharpening to her. Her eyes are her mouth and her mouth is her nose and her nose is her ears. She’s whole and she’s here, in front of him, and he needs her to know.

“I love you,” he says.

The smile creeps up slow, but when it arrives, it knocks the breath from him. “Sounded just as good out loud as it did in my head.” Her fingers find the collar of his button-up, and she grips it hard. Her eyes bury him deep in the earth. “I love you, Francisco. But you knew that.”

“Wish I knew it sooner,” he huffs, leaning in so he can finally, finally, kiss her the way he’s wanted to for so long.

But a shadow looms over them, and a policeman awkwardly clears his throat. “Sir, ma’am, are you able to stand up?”

One policeman was all the department could spare, apparently. She and Frankie rose to greet him, explaining the situation as best they could. The man, unconscious but not quite dead on the ground, did not help Frankie’s case, but the cashier corroborated their story, having seen the entire affair through the windows of the Food World.

They were questioned for too fucking long at the station. They were supplied with a bag of ice for his knuckles, and another for the gash in her temple, as if to make up for keeping them there for ten hours. The bloodied man confessed, once he woke up from his Frankie-induced nap: a lackey for a trafficking ring who was enlisted to kill her for getting too close. Frankie, too.

He drives them back to the safe house instead of St. Augustine. Frankie has too much to do, too much to say. He can’t stand any more car rides in total silence.

“So,” she sighs when she follows him inside, “that was a total fucking—mmmph!”

With a grumbling sound from deep in his chest and a faint shake of his head—why fucking wait?—Frankie crowds her, the door closing at her back, and slants his mouth to fit hers.

Her hand flies up to cup his cheek, keeping him close, the other at his back. His strong back, his broad shoulders, the scruff of his patchy beard. Fuck, she can feel all of it. Frankie keeps it gentle, holding back, his hand finding a home at the back of her neck. He just kisses her.

She smells like oranges and blood and… fuck, like him, still wearing his sweatshirt. And kissing him. His head is spinning, his chest tightening, her perfect fist wrapped around his heart, squeezing until it pops. He wants it to. He wants to die here. He's finally here, and he's kissing the girl of his dreams. Love taps at the barricade of his skull, knocking at his ribs, asking to come in. He opens all of him.

“I love you,” he says, grinning against her mouth. “Fucking love you.”

She laughs breathlessly when their teeth clack together, but neither of them can hold back their smile. “You saved my life,” she says, lifting the cap off his head so she can tangle her fingers in his hair, too-long since its last cut. “The scales are balancing, Francisco.”

He laughs, too, somewhat delirious from the taste and the smell of her, nudging his nose against hers. “Can you feel it?” he asks, placing his palm over her years-old bullet wound.

“I feel it everywhere,” she says, angling his head so he can't help but look her in the eye. Good. He wants to see all of her, all the time. “Tell me again.”

He puts his forehead to hers and kisses the tip of her nose. “I love you. Te amo. Can’t fucking help it.”

She scans his face, eyes pleading. Outside, a bird chirps. He's surprised to discover that life exists outside the two of them.

“I want you to show me,” she says.

And he will. God, he will. She is the air he breathes. He kisses her like it, dipping his head low to catch her mouth again, harder and firmer, opening up her mouth for him. He slides his tongue against hers and swallows every needy sigh she loosens from her chest. His hand slides from her hip to her back, splaying his fingers underneath his sweatshirt and pressing her to him.

“Frankie,” she whispers. The force of such a gentle plea tears at him, rends all his limbs apart, and catches on what's left of his restraint. A fish hook. It tugs until he bleeds, an open wound for her.

He pulls away just long enough to grasp at the sweatshirt. “Take it off, Frankie,” she says, breathless and panting. He does. He'll do anything she asks.

It lands in a heap by the door. Underneath, she's wearing the shirt she wore this morning, a simple white tee, and he grunts in frustration. “Too many clothes,” is vaguely what comes out of his mouth as he tugs it up over her head and revels in the way her pupils dilate. He may as well go the whole nine yards, he figures, unclasping her bra and bearing her to him. Her back arches and her tits press up against his chest, keen and wanting.

He stares for a moment, his cock an aching and persistent presence in his jeans. He doesn't know what to do first. He's obsessed. He wants to possess her, be possessed by her, sink into her until it's unclear where either of their bodies begin. “You're fucking perfect,” he says.

“You can take a picture if you want,” she teases, pushing up against him and lifting her arms around his neck. He really fucking loves the sound of that: a small printed picture he gets to look at whenever he can't have the real thing. “But kiss me first.”

He finally gets his mouth on her again, sated and not altogether. His calloused hand finds her rib cage, fingers brushing the swell of her breast. He's too rough for her; she's delicate, smooth, perfect. He’s got a pilot’s hands.

“Jesus. You’re so soft,” he grunts into her mouth, kissing her until her lips are bruised. He shifts to the corner of her lips, her Cupid’s bow, the gentle curves of it that fascinate him. He finds her jawline and traces it with his lips, enjoying the way her breathing begins to go shallow as he moves to her ear, biting the lobe before sucking and licking at the spot below it.

“Frankieeee,” she mewls, grinding against him. He makes a gruff noise into her throat as he breathes her in deep, breathing in the scent of her the way a drowning man sucks in air at the ascent.

“I know, baby,” he mumbles, slipping his hand down to her jeans and toying with the button at the same time he kisses her shoulder.

“Want to undress you,” she says, pushing her hips up against his hand. “Please.”

Frankie’s never heard begging sound so good. He nods against her skin and pulls away, only to hoist her up and wrap her thighs around his hips. He swells a little with pride at the needy whimper that leaves her at the show of strength. “Bedroom,” he says into her ear, nipping at her lobe again.

She nods frantically. He lowers her onto the bed and she lifts herself up to grab at his shirt. He laughs at the eagerness, but it sobers to hot and heavy arousal at the sight of her concentration, her devout eagerness to get his clothes off. He helps her shrug him out of his button-up and lifts his arms for her as she takes off his shirt. Her lips part, her pupils dark and wide, and he's stunned. Stunned by her blatant desire, her inability to hide it. “Never thought…” She trails off, chest heaving.

“What is it, baby?”

“Never thought I’d get this,” she says earnestly, thumb stroking his jaw. “You.”

He kicks off his shoes and socks, holding her firm around the waist. She stands on her toes and kisses him, deep and true. “You've got me,” he tells her, breathing it into her mouth. “I’m yours, baby. I’ve always been.”

“Frankie.” Her lips are on his jaw, licking at the patch of skin that breaks his beard, then his throat, tasting and licking him the way she wants to. “I love you so much.”

He curses. She's revelling in him, and he loves it. He can't let go of her, can't stop himself from parting his lips and squeezing his eyes shut at the way she lavishes his throat with her mouth. She begins to make her way down his chest, sitting down on the bed so she can travel all the way down to his navel. His breathing is jagged, torn at the edges. He needs her so badly. She needs him so badly.

“Baby…”

She hums, busy pressing kisses to his ribs, fumbling with his belt, the button, the zipper, at his jeans.

Frankie bends down and notches his hands at the back of her thighs, half-tossing her farther up the bed. He pulls off jeans and boxers and briefly allows himself to grin at the sight of her sucking in a breath when his cock slaps against his stomach, hard and leaking. He isn't an idiot. He knows he's big. And it feels fucking good to know she wants him.

He crawls up her body and tilts her chin up so he can kiss her. “I want to taste you,” he says. She gasps when he cups the heat of her through her jeans.

“Please,” she says, writhing against him. Frankie yanks those godforsaken jeans down with little mercy, and she chokes out a laugh. “You really hate those things.”

“They're his.” Frankie tosses them across the room. “I want you to walk out of here forgetting he ever touched you… His fucking hands on you.”

She grounds him with a thumb brushing over his chin. “I’m yours,” she says. “Yours, Francisco.”

He grabs her ankle and locks it around his hip, forcing her legs to spread wide. The wet spot on her pink panties is unmistakable. “Mine,” he says under his breath, pressing his palm against her clit through her underwear. She whines his name. “Fuck, honey. You’re mine, huh?”

She nods, lifting herself into her elbows to watch him peel her panties down her legs. “Yeah,” she says. “Yeah, I am. Please…”

Frankie’s cock twitches at the sight of her glistening core. He shifts onto his stomach and, without warning, spreads her folds with two fingers and flattens his tongue against her slit. “Ohhh!” she cries, thighs trembling at the first touch. “Fuck… Frank…”

He flicks his tongue against her clit and presses his hips into the mattress to relieve some of the ache in his cock. Her moan is long and low, her hands grabbing, needy, nestling in his hair and holding on. He groans at the taste of her, the sweetness, nectar and sharp tang, so wet for him. For him.

Frankie can't get enough. She tastes so good, and she moans so loudly for him, out here in the middle of nowhere, that he can't find it in himself to pull away from her cunt. Instead, he wraps a hand around her thigh as the other presses down against her belly to keep her still. He licks her clit until she's quivering and shifts to her entrance, circling it with his tongue before plunging inside and lapping up the slick that pours from her. She cries out with pleasure when his thumb circles her clit.

“Your fingers,” she pleads, brows drawn up in the middle. “Want your fingers.”

Her face, flushed and needy, might make him come on the mattress. “You want my fingers, baby?” he says softly, still swiping her clit while his lips occupy themselves with kissing her inner thighs, the so-soft skin there.

“Wanna know how it feels… to be one of your helicopters,” she says with a breathless laugh.

He hums, bringing her clit into his mouth and sucking hard. She screams his name. “You're not a machine,” he says.

“You fly them like you wanna fuck them,” she gasps, writhing as he suctions his lips to her clit again.

He smacks the side of her thigh. “Only wanna fuck you. If you'll stay still.”

“Oh, please.”

He can't tell if it's a genuine plea or her smart mouth, but he wants to see her come so badly he doesn't respond. He dives back in, sucking and lapping at her clit as two fingers trace her hole and sink in to the knuckle, prodding at her front wall. “Fucking wet,” he mumbles against her, but it's lost in the vibrations that make her cry out from the stimulation.

“F—fuck, Frank, I…” Her eyes are unfocused, but he keeps his on her nonetheless. “I’m gonna… fuck—!”

He presses his fingers up against that spongy spot and laps at her clit while she comes, drenching his fingers in her hot slick. “Fuck,” she croaks, her body melting into the mattress. “That was…”

“Not over.” He sits up and leans over her, locking her leg around his hip and kissing her deeply. She’s boneless and pliant in his arms as he manhandles her hips up onto his thighs, sliding his cock through her wetness. She shivers. “I need you, baby,” he rasps. “Need you so fuckin’ bad.”

“Want you inside me, Frankie,” she says. “Fuck me, please. Make me yours.”

It's all he needs. Frankie pushes the head of his cock past her entrance and squeezes his eyes shut at the hot tightness of her. “Jesus.”

“You're big, Frank,” she says with a strained laugh. “Fuck, you're so—big!”

He pushes more of himself inside and groans at the unrelenting grip of her walls around him. It's airtight, it's wet, it's fucking heaven. He's died. He must have.

“I can take it,” she moans, her foot pressing at the small of his back, trying to pull more of him inside her. “I can, Frankie.”

She's so determined, so adorable in the way her brow scrunches, and he's so in love. He pushes inside until their hips are flush together and feels embarrassed by how good it is, so soon. It's been too long since he's buried himself inside a woman’s body, and hers is sending him fucking soaring. “Fucking… Hold still, honey. Can’t—fuck, you're so tight. Don't move. Just give me a second.”

She grins, head falling back into the pillow. “Can't… do that… to a helicopter.”

Frankie pulls out halfway and thrusts inside her sharply, hissing at the spark of pleasure that ricochets off his spine. “Smartass,” he grits out, relishing in the way she blindly reaches for the bedsheets and curls them in her hands.

“Frankie, honey, fuck me,” she says, rocking her hips against his.

He does. Of course he does.

Frankie begins to move inside her, establishing a rhythm that gets her moaning under him. He fucks her the way she wants; he fucks her to make her his, forever. He gets so deep inside her he feels his head prod her womb, and it doubles him over.

He drapes his body over her and humps her like an animal, kissing her until their mouths can barely fit together with the harsh thrusts that shift her body up the bed. His lips latch onto her jaw, nipping at it, then her shoulder, holding her body with the reverence it deserves, fucking into her until she's crying on his cock.

Frankie lifts her legs up onto his shoulders and bends her in fucking half. “Fuck!” she screams. “Frankie!”

“Hold on, baby.” She brings her hands around her thighs, and the angle deepens deliciously. He fucks her hard, biting the flesh of her calf, grunting about how good she is, how good she takes him, wrapped around his cock.

She drinks it in, swallowing thickly. “Wanted you… so long…”

He's punching the breath out of her, and he gently unwinds her hands from her thighs so they fall back down around his hips. He hooks a foot in the crook of her knee and rolls them over until she's on top. He places his hand on her belly. “Feel me?” he says, bucking his hips up into her.

She chokes on whatever she was about to say and lets her head fall back. When her eyes meet his, they're lidded, lashes spidery on her cheeks and her gaze heavy with lust. “I feel you,” she says. “Fuck, you're so big. So deep.”

He plants his feet on the mattress and holds onto her hips, grinding her against him. She shudders, grasping his shoulders, when her clit rubs up against his navel. “No fuckin’ idea,” he grunts, “how long I’ve been picturing this.”

“You ever dream of me?” she asks, her hair falling over her shoulders. The one and only deity he’s ever believed in. “I dreamed about you,” she confesses, squeezing her breasts in her hands. Frankie can’t believe what he’s seeing or hearing, even though he’s balls-deep inside her. “Touched myself thinking about you. Thought about you taking me… Fuck, I think I’m dreaming.”

He takes two handfuls of her ass and bounces her hard on his cock. She yelps, nails digging into his shoulder. “That feel like a dream, baby?” he says. “You have any idea how crazy you make me? Every time you fucking touched me, smiled at me… Jesus, eres tan… so beautiful.”

“Frankie,” she moans. “It was so hot watching you beat the shit out of him for me.” She glides long and slow up and back down his length, guided by his hands bruising her hips. “Fuck, you’re so strong.”

Frankie is lightheaded from the admission. He threads his fingers through her hair and pulls her down to him by the back of her head, baring his teeth against her cheek and he fucks up into her. It’s deep and she’s helpless in this position, taking his cock and clinging to him with cries of his name. “You like me protecting you?” he rasps into her ear. “Like me getting all bloody for you?”

“Fuck—yes!” she gasps.

“Show me how much you like it,” he says. “Ride me.”

And oh, she rides him. It's like she's possessed, a feral little fox, lifting her hips until he's barely inside her and twisting on the way back down. His vision goes white with the feeling of it. “Fucking… Muy bien… No puedo… Baby, you're so good.”

She rocks on him, grinds, bounces, until he's seeing stars burst behind his eyes. It's good. It's really good. She just keeps going, riding him hard, the shitty mattress squeaking under their bodies. He squeezes her tits in his rough hands, pinching her nipples. Her moans turn to whimpers.

He sits up and pulls out of her abruptly. She protests vaguely, but she’s so cockdrunk she can barely form words as he flips her onto her stomach and secures a pillow under hips. He has the perfect view of her ass from her, her head turned as far toward him as she can manage, cheek pressed into the mattress. He places a hand on the small of her back. Frankie slides into her from behind, and her moan is so loud, so desperate, that he begins to fuck her without mercy, without abandon.

“Ohhhhh… Frank—fuck, I can’t… fuck!”

“Yeah, you can,” he coos, grinding deep, pressing up against her front wall. Her ass arches up against him. “Are you my girl?”

She nods frantically, her cheek scratching the mattress as the force of his thrusts rock her entire body. “I’m your girl. I’m your girl.”

“Nobody fucks with my girl.” He pounds her so hard the room echoes with the sounds of his hips slapping against her ass, the squelching of her wet cunt around him. “My—perfect—girl.”

“Fuck. ‘M gonna come, Frankie,” she moans, face-down, fisting the bedsheets.

He can feel it. She’s squeezing the life out of him, trapping him inside her, begging for his cum. “Where?” He barely manages to push out the question.

“Inside,” she pleads. “Fuck, inside me, please. I want your cum.”

He can’t refuse her. He doesn’t want to. “I’ll give it to you, baby. Come for me.”

She stiffens and shudders, moaning his name and pulsating around his cock. He works her through it, thrusting shallow and urging himself toward his own peak, until she collapses onto the mattress and mewls like a fucking cat. “I love you, Frankie,” are the words he hears.

He does, pushing himself all the way inside her until he can’t even see his fucking cock anymore. He drowns her cunt in his hot cum, spilling deep and groaning her name, all while her pussy flutters around him and urges more, more, more out of him. When he finishes, he collapses on top of her, a canopy over her back, his lips finding her shoulder. He can’t muster the energy to pull out of her, let alone move, but she doesn’t seem to mind.

“My big strong man,” she giggles.

He huffs against her skin, moving to the crook of her neck, where he buries his face. “Fucking Fox.”

“Yeah, baby, you just did.” She’s still giggling, and it’s infectious. He grins into her throat, laughing until he’s wheezing.

“Jesus Christ,” he manages, certain he’s smearing tears of laughter all over her. “We should probably eat dinner.”

“Are you hungry?” she asks. “Can you move? Because I’m not. And I can’t.”

He’s still chuckling. “I’m on top of you, baby. ‘Course you can’t move.”

“Good. Keep it that way.” She reaches around his head and scratches her fingers at the nape of his neck. He purrs against her. “We’ll eat when we wake up. Go to sleep, Frankie. I’ll be here when you open your eyes.”

He shifts off her slightly, pulling out of her as he moves onto his side to look into her eyes. He tucks her hair behind her ear. It’s matted with sweat and his manhandling. “I love you,” he tells her, just because he can. Because she loves him, too.

She grins, sleepy and worn. “Wake me up,” she whispers, her fingers lovingly tracing the grey in his beard, “whenever you’d like. However you’d like.”

He can’t help but squeeze her ass where his hand rests on it. “You serious?”

“I’m always serious, Francisco.” Her eyes flutter shut, and he doesn’t say another word.

He lets her sleep and watches until he follows.

He blinks awake to her hair tickling his nostrils, her soft back flush against his chest. He's seen her asleep before, memorised the way she looks when her lips are slightly parted and her even breathing gently rustles the hair in her face. He's so familiar with it. But he's never seen it so close, never felt the way her warm naked body curls gently into his, never been able to smell the lingering scent of citrus and sweat that clings to her. He's never been able to lean in and kiss her shoulder the way he does now.

She's yours.

Frankie is aware of his hard cock, slotted against the cleft of her asscheeks, needy for a wet, hot place to bury itself inside. He's aware of the way her body looks so tempting, so sweet. As his brain comes slowly to life, he becomes aware of the words she said last night.

Wake me up however you'd like.

He bites back a groan when she shifts in her sleep, her ass rocking back against his erection. Frankie reaches between their bodies and swipes two fingers through her folds. She's wet. No, she’s fucking soaked.

I dreamed about you.

Maybe she still does.

Still slick with his cum and her own arousal, she’ll take him so easily. It's blinding. Frankie's mind goes hazy with need, his body acting independently of his mind. He lifts her thigh and hooks it back around his hip, slotting his cock at her entrance. In her sleep, she hums, and the gentle sound rattles around in his head as he slides his cock inside her until he bottoms out.

He has to let out the rumbling sound that tears at his throat, so he buries his face in her throat and begins to fuck her from behind, pushing out little breaths of exertion into her skin.

“Mmmmmfrankie,” she mumbles, her eyes still closed, body still limp and malleable.

It’s deafening. She grips him so tightly, her walls sucking at him, begging for him. Frankie kisses the spot below her ear, sloppy and desperate, coaxing her awake with each languid drag of his cock.

“Frank,” she gasps, her eyes cracking open, her head turning, her lips seeking his, desperate and fuzzy with desire.

“Needed you, baby,” he groans, fucking her harder now that she's awake. She whispers his name, her voice crackling with sleep, still not coherent but grabbing greedily at his cock with her cunt. “So fucking good. Wet for me even in your sleep, huh? Muy hermosa, can't take you anywhere.”

She whimpers, head resting on his shoulder, lifting her arm just to bring him closer to him, fingers threading in his messy hair. He gravitates to her, lips on her ear, her jaw, her shoulder, every-fucking-where. “Gonna… gonna keep me locked up here?” she says, throat clicking with drool. “Fuck me whenever you want?”

Frankie grinds, making her cry out, gasping with the effort of taking him so deep, pressing up against the spot he knows will make her crumble. Stardust on his fingers. “Maybe I will,” he muses. “Nobody can fuckin’ touch you that way.”

“Frankie!” she screams, but it's muted, croaking with disuse. “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.”

She's a mess around him, debauched and so beautiful, pinching each knob of his spine with the pleasure it gives him to see her break because of him. It’s disarming.

He hooks her leg higher, securing his arm around her thigh, pulling it back, fucking her harder. Deeper. He's so deep he knows it’ll take. It’ll fucking take, and—

It won't. She's got an implant. But fuck, Frankie imagines, rutting into her like a fucking monster, pressing up against her womb and giving her a piece of him that connects them forever. He reaches around her body and rubs her clit because he's about to come, and she comes first. She has to.

She does. Crying out his name, grabbing at him with her needy hands, she soaks his cock. Fucking soaks it, her slick sticky on his thighs and making it oh, so easy to take her harder, deeper still. The sounds are filthy and obscene and wet, and he tangles his fingers in her hair to pull her head backward. She's squirming and squeezing around him, begging for him to come inside her.

He does. Spurt after spurt of hot cum finds its home at the deepest part of her, and there's so much it dribbles out around his cock and mingles with her own wetness. Frankie groans into her ear as he comes, rocking shallowly, not stopping until he's given her all of it. The slick noise as he pulls out makes his cock twitch even more, but they're both tired, spent, and in need of a shower.

“Oh my God,” she mutters into the pillow, panting. “I can't walk.”

Frankie chuckles, sliding off the bed and tugging on her ankle. She protests with a little whine. “You're cute, baby, but don't be lazy. Gotta clean you up.”

“Don't wanna,” she says, wiggling her ass at him, giving him a glimpse of the cum slipping out of her hole, the mess he made of her body.

He covers her body with his and bites the flesh of her asscheek. “Frankie!” she squeals.

“Get up,” he says, giving the bite mark a gentle smack.

She finally turns over and, pouting, follows him into the bathroom. “You think it's over?” she asks him, locking the door behind them even though nobody else is in the house. Force of habit.

Frankie turns on the shower and places his fingers underneath the stream to test the temperature. “If it isn't,” he says, “we’ll figure it out.”

She smiles up at him. “You need a haircut, Francisco.”

“Lost my favourite hairdresser for a bit,” he says, pulling her naked body up against him. “Made some mistakes.”

“Maybe she'll take on her favourite client again,” muses his girl, brushing his hair away from his forehead with her fingers. “We waited so long, Frankie.”

Her voice holds melancholy, the drip of knowing misery that they've wasted years yearning. But Frankie kisses her forehead and cradles the back of her head. “You and your infinite wisdom, baby. Don’t you have something for me?”

She laughs, and it's like the bells at midnight. “I’m fresh out,” she whispers, resting her cheek against his chest. “But maybe my wisdom is that I love you. It’s the best choice I’ve ever made.”

THE END.

#pedro pascal fic #kiwisbell's fics #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales smut #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales fic #frankie morales fluff #francisco catfish morales #frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfiction

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transfemmesam · 1 month

Text

supernatural fic rec list

(mostly for me to keep all my favorites together. all on ao3) (be nice, i’ve never made one of these and the format is new to me)

Try asking by @applecrumbledore

Wincest, 7k words, rated T. Outside POV.

“Jerry says he saw them going at it in the back of that car of theirs outside Atlanta last year, I swear to God.” “Listen, man, I don’t like them either, but that’s a low blow. Jerry’s a fucking pervert.”

The sound of dead leaves by clavicular and unhappy_ghost

John/Sam + wincest, 6k words, rated M. Sam POV.

John looks at Sam in a way no father should. Sam aches when Dean smiles. The shadows that loom over Sam Winchester are not just those of the monsters lurking in the night.

Echoes of Hell by The_Nightbreaker

Gen, 35k words, rated M. Sam POV.

It wasn't real. He wasn't in Hell anymore. That's what he tried to tell himself over and over. But two centuries of torture don't disappear in a day. Sam struggles with visions of Hell, fighting to maintain his grip on reality. Dean hates that he can't protect his brother from what isn't real—but curse him if he doesn't try. When the boys stumble on a case with ties to the Devil himself, will they be able to pull themselves together in time to stop the sacrifices? Or will the echoes of Hell finally overtake them? Aka, season 7, but the plot is Hell trauma, not leviathans.

Evening Shadows by withthekeyisking

Gen, 2k words, rated T. Outside POV.

Sam is hallucinating the monster who tortured him for nearly two centuries, Dean feels like he's failing his brother, and a diner waitress bears witness.

Lesser Evils by Dyed_Red

Wincest, 9k words, rated E. Dean POV.

“So you’re just gonna, what – torture us for an hour while your guys hightail it to Buffalo? That’s your master plan here?” “Oh I can do a lot in an hour or two, Sammy. Like having your surrogate daddy here carve Dean a new face. Like backsliding you off your pretty bandwagon. Like…Seeing how far big brother will go for his sweet baby Sam.”

Prophecy of an Abomination by ashitanoyuki

Gen, 88k words, rated M. Sam POV.

Sam wants to be normal. Sometimes, it's harder than he'd like to keep faith in God. Or: a story of religious!Sam plus powers!Sam culminating in horrifying Sam whump (with eventual comfort to go with the hurt). A character study of the first two seasons that sharply diverges in season two.

he’ll follow me down every street, no matter what my crime by according2thelore

Wincest + Meg/Dean, 17k words, rated M. Dean POV.

“What do you want, Sam?” Sam stands up, so Dean is forced to look up into his face. Sam turns them slowly, so the small of Dean’s back bumps into the polished wood of the counter. “I want…” Sam says, eyes flicking down to Dean’s lips and Dean knows when something is too good to be true, knows that this can’t possibly be real, knows— “Christo.” Dean rasps, just before Sam’s lips land on his, eyes open wide. Sam’s eyes flash black. “Whoops,” Sam says casually. A thread of tension stretches between them, almost interminable, and then they both move at once. The demon in Sam’s body slams Dean back, and Dean crashes against the bar. ~~~ A rework of S2E14 "Born Under a Bad Sign" with Meg!Sam and Dean instead of Jo for WincestWednesday on tumblr's July Event, prompt "Favorite Episode" (with a cameo from the second prompt "Blood")

You’d Have Loved Her (But You Won’t) by punkrock101

Gen, 5k words, rated G. Sam POV. (compiler’s note: this is my personal favorite fic of all time)

Sam never got to tell him. Sam never got to tell anybody.

Flowers in the Impala by Evendar

Wincest, 2k words, rated M. Outside POV.

Kate wants them to be a family - really, she does - but there's something wrong with John's boys.

—-—-—

that’s long enough for now, i think. feel free to reblog with your favorite fics as well

#supernatural #spn #wincest #samjohn #fic recs #spn fic #txt #holy scriptures

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sitp-recs · 4 months

Note

hi Liv! do you know any fics (drarry or rarepair) that have themes of queer identity or lgbt community please? 🌈

What a wonderful ask, I love stories exploring coming out, queer identity and the sense of community 💜 I listed below some personal favorites, I’m sure I’ve read more but I didn’t want this post to get too long! You’ll notice that Writcraft is mentioned one too many times - I highly recommend checking their full catalogue as queer themes are strong and recurrent in their works.

Drarry

what draco does on thursday nights by @ihopeyoubothstaysafefromharm (G, 1.5k)

harry didn't know what draco does on thursday nights. until he mistakenly comes over with takeout. OR, draco has a queer writing group.

Pride by @writcraft (E, 9k)

Harry and Draco form an unlikely friendship after the war. Even as the friendship becomes more, Draco is quick to push Harry away before they become too deeply involved. As Harry fights to save an iconic wizarding pub and gay safe-haven from being closed down, circumstances force Draco to confront his true feelings head on.

the way you make me glow by @softlystarstruck (M, 11k)

In a cottage next to the sea, love blossoms. Or perhaps it’s been there all along.

When You Kiss Me (What A Lovely Way To Burn) by Femme (E, 22k)

A drag fairytale of New York in which Draco wears red lipstick and Potter can’t get enough.

Welcome to the Broom Closet by incapricious (E, 23k)

Harry thinks he knows how his life will go: Become an Auror. Marry Ginny. Have a family. But then he sees an advertisement in the paper that no one else can see, and his life is turned upside-down. The Broom Closet: you can be anyone you want while you're there, but you won't remember it in the morning.

The Light That is Blinding Me by leontina (E, 23k)

After Flourish and Blotts stop stocking the books of Harry’s favourite author, he is directed to a queer bookshop and discovers it’s owned by none other than Draco Malfoy, who has more in common with Harry than either of them realise.

Harry Potter and The Bisexual Awakening by Writcraft (E, 23k)

Harry is perfectly content being single, heterosexual and living in Godric's Hollow with his very clingy rescue dog, Snitch. When Draco Malfoy turns up on Harry's doorstep demanding that Harry teach him how to drive, things quickly become a lot more complicated.

Dragons Don't Know Paradise by @teacup-tai (E, 51k)

In 2004, when Remus spends two scary weeks in the ITU due to complications of pneumonia and his HIV condition, Sirius walks around the house like a ghost and Harry finds comfort and strength in Draco through a chat in an online LGBT forum. Harry falls for him, but Draco has a lot of secrets and, before long, will need to come clean—even if he believes that no one is able to understand a dragon.

The Beauty of Thestrals and Other Unseen Things by Writcraft (E, 63k)

Harry has terrific friends, an amazing girlfriend and his job as Head Auror enables him to work on challenging cases and Ministry reform. He just wishes he could work out why he’s been so out of sorts. When Draco Malfoy is arrested for gross indecency, Harry’s comfortable life begins to unravel. He’s forced to decide if it’s worth risking everything for love in a world where following his heart is a criminal offence.

Little Compton Street by Writcraft (E, 65k)

Draco is lonely, Harry hates the press and it won’t stop raining in London. Harry discovers a magical street that’s close to disappearing forever and Draco realises he’s one rainy night in Soho away from finding everything he’s been searching for.

Out and the Open by HenryMercury (M, 75k)

The war is over, and Draco finally has the courage to decide who she is. The war is over, and Harry finally has the freedom to decide what she likes.

Little Deaths and How to Avoid Them (or Draco Malfoy's Guide to Stop Dying and Start Living Instead) by nerakrose and dustmouth (T, 96k)

Malfoy is way too interested in coroner reports for somebody who's definitely not looking for ways to die, Harry wants to be friends with him, and Ginny wants to break up with Harry.

Pages of You by @wolfpants (E, 101k)

Summer, 1980. Harry is floating between university and becoming a Real Certified Adult. He's not ready. He really isn't. In a desperate attempt to have the Best Last Summer ever, he takes a casual job at his godfather's bookshop in London, starts an illicit pen pal affair with a wordy posh boy that he's catching feelings for, all while dealing with the son of Sirius's business rival, one Draco Malfoy, insufferable know-it-all extraordinaire.

Rare pairs

With a Look by earlybloomingparentheses (Ginny + Deamus, E, 5k)

Now, twenty years old and done with boys and looking forward very much to putting her hand down some lucky girl’s shirt later this evening, Ginny looks at Dean Thomas’s gold-painted fingernails and feels heat pool between her legs.

Rebel Rebel by @teacup-tai (Sirius/Remus, E, 6k)

Sirius has just turned twenty and life is changing around him, blossoming, like Remus wrote in his last letter. This is a story about life and exploration, about feeling lost and finding oneself in other people's bodies, about building love and community. This is a story about hope and sex and growing up.

Independent Love Song by Writcraft (Ginny/Millicent, E, 6k)

Millicent Bulstrode is a tailor and Ginny is losing her mind over a woman in a tweed blazer and burgundy brogues.

testosterone (sounds like a spell) by pauraque (Justin/Hannah, E, 8k)

Justin never returned to Hogwarts after the Death Eaters came. He's found that the Muggle world offers other kinds of transfiguration — a body alchemy far more powerful than any magic spell. Sometimes he wonders if anyone even remembers that once, years ago, he was a novice wizard. As it turns out, one person does, and it's the one person he'd most want to.

Winter of '79 by Writcraft (James/Sirius, E, 17k)

Post-punk Britain is in the grip of another brutal winter, Thatcher is in power and Muggle gay bars keep getting raided for no reason at all. Sirius just wants to find somewhere to go drinking with the best mate he definitely doesn’t fancy. When they’re directed towards a tatty Soho sex shop during a night out, neither James or Sirius expect to find a magical street that will change their lives forever.

Pansy, Rows, and Mutual Wanking by @violetclarity and kysprite (Pansy/Hermione, E, 27k)

Eighth year. Hermione's ready. She's going to study, have fun with her friends, and ignore her new roommate's obnoxious wanking habits. And alright, maybe she wouldn't be so annoyed with it if she'd had any good sex in the past. But that doesn't mean she wants Pansy Parkinson to teach her how to wank… does it?

Friends of Dorothy by Writcraft (Harry/Snape, E, 22k)

When Harry Potter sees Severus Snape on a date with another wizard it sets him on a journey of self-discovery that leads to the Friends of Dorothy Detective Agency and a Niffler called Toto.

How We Were Warriors by Writcraft (Harry/Snape, E, 51k)

A homophobic attack in London’s Soho brings Harry to New York City to discover more about the past. Still haunted by love and loss in the eighties, Severus just wants to forget. In Manhattan’s Greenwich Village, past and present collide, and in one another Severus and Harry find hope for the future.

Play Me Like A Love Song by Writcraft (Minerva/Will, E, 68k)

Minerva McGonagall doesn’t believe in love at first sight, which is why her instant attraction to drag king Wilhelmina ("Will") Grubbly-Plank is so unexpected. War tears apart the wizarding world and as one battle ends Minerva and Will must fight once more, this time for the lives of their friends on Little Compton Street. A love story spanning five decades defined by music, laughter and tears, in which love is not always easy, but it’s always worth fighting for.

#asks #anon #lgbt recs #coming out #queer history #queer community

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athina-blaine · 3 months

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Bloodweave Fic Recs (01/21/24)

[banging ladle against pot] Come get y'alls soup!

Previous fic recs here, here, and here!

skin deep by howeverlong (G, 800+ w || Hurt/Comfort, bonding over covering up scars) Astarion pouts. “Why, Gale,” he simpers. “You're normally so accommodating. What if I actually came to ask you something?” / Gale gathers himself together. “Well. What can I help you with, then?” / “Oh, I didn't,” says Astarion. “But what if I had?”

Some Culinary Advice by Asidian (G, 1k+ w || Pre-Relationship, Cooking, Fluff) The air smells fresh and vibrant, resplendent with the scent of growing things, and wood smoke, and – Gale pauses in his reverie. Sniffs at the air, delicately. Burning soup. It smells quite a lot like burning soup.

At Arm’s Length by varsicles (T, 1k+ w || Pre-Relationship, Canon Typical Violence) Astarion is a puzzle that Gale is determined to unlock. It’s unfortunate that one of the keys is his own grievous bodily injury.

All-Consuming by bloodweaving (shipwreckblue) (T, 2k+ w || Pre-Relationship, Chronic Pain) He can’t really call it hunger, is the thing. What the Netherese Orb does to him is something entirely different.

Ante Up by LuckofTymora (FelixFelicis) (M, 1k+ w || Established Relationship, Non-Explicit Sex, Fluff) The lads get up to a bit of gambling at Elfsong Tavern and turn it into a competition. Neither one particularly likes to lose. Pillow fighting ensues. Also they are in love.

The Inconstant Moon by FridayMorning (M, 4k+ w || Hurt/Comfort, Developing Relationship, Angst with a Happy Ending, Post-Canon) “You’re going away. Someplace I can’t follow.” / Astarion blinks. Remembers the body beneath him. Feels the palm cupping his cheek. They had not even gotten to the good part. They had not gotten to the good part again since reaching it on Astarion’s grave. How many moons ago was that?

Sigils by Cowboyselkie (M, 8k+ w WIP || Alternate Universe - Historical, 1890s, Angst, Gothic Horror) “My previous clientele are usually more particular in what it is they want protection from, you see.” / “I do,” said Astarion, his voice trailing thin. He was quiet for a moment. “Vampires.” / “Pardon?” / “That’s what I seek protection from,” he said, more clearly. “I want my home to be safe from vampires.”

Deo volente by cyranonic (M, 9k+ w WIP || Post-Canon, Angst, Slow Burn, Implied/Referenced Torture) The villains are defeated. The heroes claim their victory. Astarion sinks down to exactly where he started. Gale plots his apotheosis. Somehow, they meet in the middle.

Missing Piece by thealphaaxolotl (M, 10k+ w || Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Torture) Astarion was moving before Tav could respond. In a second, he was across the room, pinning Gale to the wall with a knife to his throat. “What,” he said, lips curling into a snarl. “Have you done with him?” / Or, Astarion doesn't realize he has feelings for Gale until the wizard is taken by Orin.

The Season by Linnetagain (M, 59k+ w WIP || Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dancing on Ice AU, Ice Skating, Slow Burn, Enemies to Lovers) In which Astarion is an ex-olympic figure skater and Gale is a famous musician. They get paired together as Dancing on Ice's first ever same sex couple. Shenanigans ensue.

Untouched And I Want You So Much by Lunarwench (E, 2k+ w || Body Worship, Control Issues, Predetermined Boundaries) This is about Astarion being in control. Not so much being in control of Gale, but being in control of what happens to his own body. In control of how and when his body is consumed, if he allows it at all. After so long with no bodily autonomy, no say in how he was used, no say in his pleasure or pain, sometimes Astarion needs to remind himself that the only person in control of his body now is himself. Or; Astarion works through some issues, Gale is there to help.

a delicacy of undeath by shroomonabroom (E, 3k+ w || Ritual Cannibalism, Angst, Dead Dove) Gale finds an alternative cure to vampirism: a spawn needs to kill and then consume their Master’s heart.

squirm by TheEarlGreyAlpha (E, 3k+ w || PWP, Inappropriate Use of Evard's Black Tentacles) “Well, good to know.” He held out an expectant hand, and waited for Gale to return the amulet to him. But when the wizard finally stopped his preening and noticed, he was clearly in no rush to hand it back.

Beg by Salazar101 (E, 4k+ w || Boot Worship, Hair-pulling, Begging) Astarion has what Gale needs to stabilize his orb. He just wants him to beg for it, is that too much to ask?

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bloodweave #fic recs

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raccoonspooky · 1 year

Text

I got a wonderful commission to write Bubba going ham over some tig ol biddies in a dead by daylight setting, so I sure did write the FUCK out of that. This is just a ton of fun. Big boy gets feelings so very quickly. Listen. The first time you're given free reign over a nice pair of tits, you're gonna lose ur fkn mind ok.

(Rated E. 9k words. x Fem reader. DBD setting. Mild mommy kink. Sub!Bubba. Porn with feelings. Bubba POV. y/n device is not used in this fic.)

First few paragraphs and other links under the cut!

It’s not often that the cannibal thinks of home. The Entity doesn’t spoil him with free reign of his memories and it tells him it is a good thing. Spare the rod, spoil the child. The sentiment rings in his thoughts and it speaks in his grandma’s voice, giving him a little taste of something he once loved so very much. In the fog, he does not dwell on hurt. If his master does not want him to remember the bloody end of things that brought him here and the heartbreak and fear that he used to carry with him, then he’s glad for it. The Entity rewards him for his understanding. He’s a good boy, a smart boy and so willing to submit. The Entity’s talons are entwined with his very soul and it feels like love. Feels like family.

Little whispers tell him that he’s meant to be here and he’s welcome to all the spoils his heart desires if he serves his purpose. The saw is the only family he has left and the Entity is kind in never keeping it far from his person. He is a tool to the all-knowing, something much much larger than Texas and he is happy to follow its commands.

He sleeps, dreaming of all the wonderful things the Entity spoils him with and he’s a glutton for the sense of warmth and sunshine. It doesn’t matter if it's fabricated. He loves it nonetheless. There’s fresh laundry on the line, shirts billow in the breeze—, Grandpa’s withered hands feebly shake as he deals out another round of cribbage. Mama’s still alive, she’s workin’ on her stitching in a rocking chair that has floorboards creaking with her movement. His brothers are at the table and no one’s bickering. He has no bruises, no one snaps at him for gurgling out his happiness and the kitchen smells like apple pie. Bubba would do anything for more of this, he’d do anything to stay right here forever— but he can already feel the pull of the Entity’s call.

It’s a gentle thing. It tells him to wake up and put on his tie. There’s work to do and it needs him to put on a brave face. He is a killer. He is a weapon and it needs him to slaughter the little bugs that have weeviled into its endless fields of fog. Rot starts small. One maggot becomes many in just a few hours. Fresh meat starts to turn the moment it’s left to sit. It's a big place in this world beyond and he’s so glad to be given such an important job.

Soon, he comes back into contact with his body and his fingers tighten around the handle of his saw with purpose. The world around him feels like a soft quilted blanket that’s pulled up to his ears, he’s safe here. Loved even. The Entity loves him and he loves it too. It saved him from the bad people who woulda killed him, who killed his brothers and left his home in ruin. Go on now, it whispers, using a voice that makes the hair on his arms stand on end. Its tone has him feeling small. Show ‘em what you’re made of. Don’t disappoint me.

He knows what realm he steps into before it stitches itself together, the air turns crisp but it’s dead in his lungs. A metal gate creaks on its hinge and dry corn stalks whisper to each other, sharing secrets in the distance. He’s in a barn and the remnants of the fog tickle his ankles as if asking him if he understands its joke. He doesn’t understand, but the licking sensation has him giggling nonetheless. This place is one of his favorites, it reminds him of home. The air’s colder though and the farmhouse that looms across the cornfield is not at all like his.

At the edge of all this, there's a sense of hunger that has his tongue anxiously rubbing against the roof of his mouth. There’s movement all around him, cold breeze sneaks through his clothes. The Entity leads him like a shepherd, pointing him in the direction of where to go and its guidance is almost chastising. He should know this by now, he should know what it needs of him. Something implores him to pivot on his heel and his anticipation is met with a metallic BANG that cuts through the realm’s relative quiet.

In an instant, hesitant trepidation cuts to rage. The Entity is hungry, it’s always hungry. It’s the Cannibal’s job to provide all that it asks for. What good is he otherwise? He charges toward the noise while tasting iron at the back of his throat, he can smell the trespassers on the wind. With his weapon raised above his head, he turns a corner to meet two strangers. His saw barks and snarls like a hungry dog. He’s snarling too. Violent, animal noises strangle out from his throat in greeting toward a man with a funny haircut and a pretty girl who scream in startled terror. The generator they were working on sputters black smoke that assaults Bubba’s nostrils and he grunts in displeasure. He’s not a fan of the smell and it adds to the sense of violence that urges him into attacking.

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#TCM Leatherface #bubba sawyer #x reader #slashers #slasher fandom #slasher x reader #dbd fanfiction #dead by daylight #dbd #dbd bubba #dbd cannibal #leatherface #texas chainsaw massacre #poki writing

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spotsandsocks · 1 year

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A Boy Like That

The retirement home fic is finally finished. Hope you enjoy it.

A Boy Like That 9k Teen

The thing is, he can’t say no to Buck. He tries, he really does (ok so it’s a token effort most of the time) but it always ends the same way. Buck grinning in delight as Eddie capitulates. It can be something small, like getting two flavours of ice cream in the store instead of just one or something bigger like, Eddie looks around at his surroundings, volunteering on your day off at a retirement home.

He doesn’t have a clue how Buck got started helping out here but he does know how he got roped in.

Yesterday he’d asked Buck if he was going to be free today, hoping he’d get to spend some time with him and Buck had said he was busy with such a genuinely disappointed expression that it made Eddie’s heart skip.

The reason he was unavailable had been a bit of a surprise; apparently Buck is now a regular volunteer at the Leafy Glades retirement home.

Buck had waxed lyrical about how much fun he had there, he talked about helping out with cooking classes and that he’d leant to knit. Eddie had actually seen the idea take form in Buck’s eyes the moment before he said “hey you should come too.”

So now he’s standing in a room watching Buck being greeted like the prodigal son while he lurks, wondering why he’d agreed to come. He looks across the room at Buck’s beaming face and knows the answer.

“Hey there.” He turns to the voice, “You’re looking a bit lost there soldier.”

The man addressing him is anywhere from his late seventies to mid eighties, he’s sitting alone at a table in front of a puzzle that he’s barely started. The man’s white hair contrasts with his dark skin, and age hasn’t reduced his stature , he remains a big man, still in shape even now, he might not be smiling but his eyes are kind and he looks slightly amused by Eddie’s obvious floundering. “You wanna help me out?” he gestures at the puzzle.

And Eddie shrugs and thinks, why not and takes a step forward. Later when he looks back at everything that happened next he realises he had no idea how big a step it actual was.

The man is called Ray and Ray is - well, Ray is not what he expected. He visits with him the following week and again until it’s become a regular thing and Eddie learns more and more about him each time.

Ray’s ex army, that much was obvious the second he clocked Eddie’s own history so easily, saw it weighing on his shoulders, although that weight has lessened recently.

So he holds himself and talks like a man who's seen service but there’s more to Ray than that; Ray likes to talk, he reminds him of Buck like that. Eddie doesn’t mind because he likes to listen and before he knows it he has a new friend.

Ray shares all kinds of things about himself, the music he likes and his obsession with motorcycles. How he learnt to cook late in life but had wanted to learn so much earlier. He promises Eddie his favourite recipes.

Ray is an old black and white movie buff, but also has a soft spot for 80s classics, and while he loves baseball he hates technology. Eddie feels a kinship with the man and finds that he shares more and more about himself as they talk and Ray listens, and sees more than Eddie ever meant him to.

Ray has a dry wit and keen eye, he knows everything that’s going on and is happy to share the gossip; before he knows it Eddie’s in deep with various in house dramas. He gets over invested in a love triangle Ray points out and Ray’s prediction as to who will choose who is proved correct when Alyssa and Carlos are finally seen hand in hand. Eddie hands over his ten dollars as gracefully as he can.

They’ve both been speculating on who the culprit is in ‘the conundrum of the completed crosswords ™’ (Ray’s description; he’d been particularly pleased with himself about it too) and both of them are delighted to be in the right place at the right time to bear witness to the epic showdown as the person who's been finishing Jim’s crosswords behind his back is revealed.

When Jim finally catches Lionel red handed the explanation that he was ‘ just being helpful’ does not go down well. Jim definitely does not consider this type of behaviour “helpful” and lets Lionel know in no uncertain terms with words unlikely to be used in any crossword anywhere. Eddie and Ray sip their coffee and appreciate the entertainment until the two are separated.

He also finds himself involved in a heated debate about pecan pie of all things. Ray started it, boasting about his family recipe and then at least three other people were claiming to have the best recipe. Eventually the only way to settle the increasingly volatile arguments was to bake five pies (he had to put his mom's recipe into the mix) and have a bake off.

Of course Buck got involved with that, rounding up the residents to do the tasting and ensuring fair play all round. Eddie wasn’t even mad when Ray’s pie won because it was by far the best he’d ever tasted. When Ray gave him a handwritten copy of the recipe Eddie felt honoured.

The weeks go past and Eddie feels a real bond with the old man, they have a lot in common; apart from sushi, Ray loves sushi and Eddie can’t get on board with that. Buck turns up for that debate too and is firmly on Ray’s side, the traitor.

One conversation they have in particular stays with him, it’s the only time Ray’s mentioned someone called Jesse. Judging by the tone and the look on his face Jesse is or rather was Ray's wife, the love of his life, that’s what he said.

Eddie thinks she must have been gone for a while, it obviously still hurts Ray to think about her, but the look on his face when he remembers takes years off him.

Eddie finds he envies what he had, that the love they shared has been etched into him. He aches for a love like that, but he knows it’s not meant for him. He knows that what he wants is out of reach but then one day when he’s least expecting it everything he thinks he knows about that starts to shift on its axis and it’s all Ray's fault.

Eddie visits Ray on his own sometimes now, if Buck’s days off don’t match his own but today they’re both here and he can hear the other man’s laugh bouncing around the room. He keeps looking over at him. He can’t help himself, he never can.

Ray slides a tricky piece into their most recent puzzle with a satisfied sigh, he nudges Eddie to get his attention, then with a sly smile says something, in the most nonchalant voice Eddie’s ever heard, and it slices right through his defences.

“You know, he’s very handsome, that boy of yours, nice eyes, kind smile.” There’s a minuscule pause “ you can tell he’d do anything for you.”

And instead of pretending he didn’t know who Ray was talking about Eddie looked straight at Buck. Like an idiot. Like a damn fool in love.

Ray continues, relentless, “hope you know you only find a boy like that once in a lifetime. You should do something about it before it’s too late.”

Eddie flushes guiltily but tries to evade anyway “I don’t know what…” he stops, Ray’s looking right at him a silvery eyebrow lifted and the old man chuckles “don’t even try it son.”

Eddie swallows, Ray’s right he’s blushing so hard there’s no point pretending he doesn’t understand.

The terrible man next to him smirks, there’s no other word for it, “ he’s a sweetheart, you’ve got good taste, reminds me of my husband.”

Eddie’s cheeks are flaming and of course that’s when Buck chooses to bounce up to their table.

continue on AO3

#buddie #911 fox #eddie diaz #evan buckley #911 on fox #911 fic #911fic #Buddie fic #buddie fanfiction #911 fanfiction #retirement fic #spotty scribbles #eddie x Buck #buck x eddie

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mha-platonic-yanderes · 2 years

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Touya's Daughter: A Brief Moment With A Kid Your Own Age

TW: Mentions of - Abuse, Grooming, Forced Impregation, Child Purchasing, the Hero Public Safety Commission, General Cursing, Westernization of Japanese Characters because I am Bad At Research (and a dirty American)

If you’d been raised how the Hero Public Safety Commission wanted, you’d probably be a hero by now. Gifted with flames and rivaling Endeavor in pure firepower.

But the HPSC can’t get everything they wanted, and your mother died so you could escape their clutches. Solar power, harnessed and kept inside of her released all at once, creating a supernova and exploding the building, alongside her.

You were in another part of the facility, where you could easily get away. A plan you two made, one where each of you knew the risks involved.

And besides, the HPSC taught you that sacrifices brought justice. And freeing one kid whilst killing the people who expirimented, tortured, forcibly impregnated, and bought you from your parents all those years ago was a thing your mother was willing to do, even if it killed her.

But that’s all said and done. Now you’re just a kid on the streets. A kid who has been raised since birth to be a villain incinerator and charismatic hero to the adoring public, but a kid nonetheless.

Kids like yourself aren’t watched by society. Dirty and easily overlooked, you blend in with the other homeless vagrants, shifting into the background and being seen as a blight on society. You never had anything to your name and whilst you would sometimes get luxuries—usually after a well done mission or the death of another classmate—you could see that your contemporary beside you was actually rich. Probably a runaway after daddy cut their allowance from 10k yen to only 9k—a travesty, surely.

“You can’t just stand there, you know.” You speak first, “they’ll notice you and try to call a cop to wrangle your ass back home. Sit. Blend in. Stay for a while.”

He looks at you, blond hair laying flat against his head, falling ever so slightly across his forehead, but not covering his crystalline eyes.

“And what if I want to be found?” His eyes don’t leave you, but his face is unimpressed. A typical rich kid. You’ve seen plenty of those, even before your escape.

“Then you have run away in the first place.”

“And who says I’ve run away?”

“I’m taking a guess.” You look up and down at him, “school clothes, but no bag packed. Pocket change, but nothing substantial. No food, no water, no shelter—you didn’t plan this did you?”

“Scoot over.” He slides down the brick wall, his white button up shirt briefly getting caught on its rough edges, “I attacked a kid with his quirk.”

“So?”

“Generally,” he replied, “that’s frowned upon.”

You roll your eyes. Society and its rules aren’t something you’ve ever thought up, lest it’s laws you must follow. And even those are things you’ve broken and disregarded, now that you’re not a Commission pawn.

“What did you do? Shoot a little flurry of snow his way?”

“I slapped a kid in the face and copied his quirk so that I could turn around and move him with my mind, which he kept doing to all of my stuff behind my back.” The kid replies, “I’m not an idiot; I knew it was him. Shouldn’t have done it though, especially because I’m trying to go to U.A.”

“Another hero hopeful, huh?”

“What person doesn’t want to be a hero?”

“I’ve done enough heroics.” You laugh, “but good for you kid. Don’t be an asshole to the homeless when you get big.”

“Thanks.” He replies, “so… you’re really homeless?”

“Does this look like a home?”

“I didn’t think it would happen to a kid my age.” He remarks, “you could come back with me, get a shower and be back with your parents.”

“They’re dead, but thanks for the notion.”

“Oh.” He reaches into his pocket, “it isn’t much, but here. Take it.”

You take the money as he stands, “Heading back so soon?”

“I just needed a breather. Something away from school.” He answers, “I’m not even a kilometer from MPMS.”

“Gotta get faster if you’re going to be a hero.”

“I will.” He replies, “Will I see you around?”

“Can’t stay in one place for too long.” You reply, “but I’m, Y/N.”

It’s a name you gave yourself when you ran, since you were only known as Solar Flare within the Commission.

“Monoma.” He says, “Goodbye.”

You stand, heading in the opposite direction with your backpack and the cash, “Goodbye.”

#touya's daughter revamp #platonic yandere #yandere mha #yandere bnha #bnha #mha #mha platonic yanderes #reader insert #yandere todoroki clan #yandere todoroki family #part one #technically doesn't have any canon todorokis but i need to build the story fist #also has monoma #for some reason

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themculibrary · 5 months

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Sex Worker AUs Masterlist

Links Last Checked: January 21st, 2024

1000 Dollar (ao3) - Jerana steve/bucky E, 5k

Summary: Camboy Steve does a huge mistake and meets with one of his viewers, Bucky, who isn't only the most handsome man Steve had ever seen, but also the most dangerous person in New York. If Steve could only resist his charm.

Ain't No Rest for the Wicked (ao3) - Kellyscams steve/bucky E, 305k

Summary: Steve's just moved back to Brooklyn after spending ten years in California trying to make a life for himself as an artist right after high school. Having escaped to the other side of the country following the sudden death of his mother, Steve feels guilty about abruptly leaving all his friends for so long, unfulfilled, scared and nervous about started college at his age, and unbelievably lonely. So when he meets Bucky Barnes, a young sex-worker, at a bar the night before his first day of classes, temptations might be too high to resist.

One night paying for sex with the most sinfully gorgeous guy is nothing to brag to the papers about, huh?

S'not like he'll ever see him again anyway...

...Right?

Call Boy (ao3) - L1av steve/bucky E, 149k

Summary: Bucky Barnes was skyrocketing through promotions at his advertising firm. Now, a partnership position is opening and if Bucky wants to see his name on the building, he needs to impress not only Mr. Tony Stark, but his wife Pepper. To do this, it takes a team, a couple to be exact. Bucky asks his ex-wife Natasha to set him up with the perfect girl, blonde, tall, thick thighs and huge tits, but with the personality that’ll get Pepper all smiles.

What Bucky gets? Tall, blonde, thick thighs…and a penis. Can this male escort pretend to not only be Bucky’s fiance but also impress Pepper enough to win Bucky the promotion? Is he going to impress Bucky enough to get him to sleep with him?

Steve loves working for his tip.

Charcoal Can Get Everywhere (ao3) - AdamantSteve clint/phil T, 2k

Summary: Clint is a stripper, and he kind of accidentally stalks his favourite customer... all the way to an art class.

Dancing (ao3) - annanWaters pepper/natasha E, 9k

Summary: Autumn, and they're back in New York. Tony's kept his head on this trip-- mostly-- but when Pepper sees a familiar face onstage, she may not be able to keep hers.

Egyptian Heat (ao3) - Davechicken layla/marc, khonshu/jake, layla/steven, steven/khonshu/marc, steven/marc, layla/steven/marc E, 69k

Summary: It’s been less than a month since Marc Spector died.

Being the Fist of Khonshu still hasn't fully been explained, but it comes with some... monthly side-effects.

Moan for the Camera (ao3) - kuki peter/wade E, 10k

Summary: Taking photos of himself as Spiderman was enough to get through high school, but as a college student Peter needs more of an income. He creates SweetiePetie69, a barely legal twunk camboy with a sudden and large following.

Wade Wilson follows a lot of camboys (and girls) but his absolute favorite is SweetiePetie69.

Natural Talent (ao3) - 27dragons, tisfan bucky/tony E, 47k

Summary: Bucky is Boss of the Commando territory, carved out of Hydra's territory with blood, tears, and sweat - mostly his own. He has a reputation in other territories for being hard and ruthless, but his own people know him as a generous, considerate leader. He protects his land and his people, but otherwise keeps his head down. He has no intention of getting embroiled in any of the other territories' disputes. That is, until Bucky finds himself in possession of a beautiful companion and learns that the man is far more than he appears.

Red Lights Over the Water (ao3) - SkyisGray steve/bucky E, 9k

Summary: Bucky Barnes isn't a very good stripper. Steve Rogers isn't a very good hooker.

Risky Business (ao3) - squadrickchestopher bucky/clint/natasha E, 5k

Summary: “Oh boy.” Clint grins at him. “So I’m an escort and a spy tonight? I’m pretty sure there’s a movie about this somewhere. This is like...sex espionage.”

“Sexpionage,” James says, “is the term. Except you’re an escort masquerading as a spy, not a spy masquerading as an escort, so I’m not sure if it applies.”

Salt, Sweat, Sugar (ao3) - RockSaltAndRoll steve/bucky E, 12k

Summary: Bucky has worked for the Adult Entertainment Industry for a couple of years now while he sees himself through college. The money is good, the people are great and the sex is awesome - altogether it’s great fun. It gets better the day he gets paired up with new guy Steve Rogers who is just about the cutest barely legal twink that Bucky has ever seen in his life.

sinners to saints (ao3) - ignisgayentia (orphan_account) steve/sam E, 5k

Summary: Usually burglary did not end in such good fortune. Bucky's a down-on-his-luck sex worker and CEO Steve Rogers has caught him trying to burglarize his house. Instead of getting upset, Steve offers the poor guy some food and a place to stay, and Bucky wants to pay him back. Steve tries to convince himself that he's not that kind of guy . . . until he is.

Strictly Professional (ao3) - Siancore sam/bucky E, 9k

Summary: Bucky Barnes is an adult film star. He has booked a job with his sometime-scene partner, Steve Rogers’ friend as a favour to Steve. He checks out some of Sam Wilson’s work and finds himself attracted to the other man. Will he be able to keep it strictly professional when they begin to film together?

Stripped Bare (ao3) - cooper_west clint/phil E, 17k

Summary: Clint never planned on being a stripper, but then he never planned on being blind either.

Temperature Control (The Watched Pot Never Boils Remix) (ao3) - BrighteyedJill steve/sam E, 620

Summary: Sam is one of Steve's favorite clients, because he knows exactly what Sam likes.

You Get What You Pay For (But Some Things Are Priceless) (ao3) - velvetjinx sam/bucky E, 4k

Summary: Sam meets exotic dancer Bucky and hires him to be his date at a work dinner. But with changing feelings involved, things get a whole lot more complicated.

#themculibrary #masterlists #marvel #mcu #au #smut #sex tw #sexworker #sexworker masterlist

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fullsunsets · 8 months

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3| Fine Line | Jaehyun

Jeong Jaehyun x Female!OC Park Hana

Angst + Fluff + Mature

Word Count: 9k

Warning/Notes: No graphic sex scenes, but minors should still be careful with the following: alcohol abuse, crude language, allusions to corporate abuse, and allusions to sexual promiscuity. Korean characters would be using the Korean age system. Jaehyun is less of a loser for once. Jamie uses she/they pronouns. Some people still think Haechan and Hana are dating, but don't worry, Haechan fixes it... 😇

Summary: Two exes are brought together when both will be leads for the next anticipated drama. Park Hana, an upcoming actress, is not very pleased to act alongside her ex. Jeong Jaehyun, an established actor, has come to the conclusion he wants her back. Would this new project bring them closer once again or push them apart even further?

PREV | NEXT

When the plane arrived, Hana expected everyone would be able to leave the airport with no problems. They grabbed their things with ease, but the moment they went out of baggage claim, they noticed the big crowd and the road of security guards. Hana looks astonished, she’s accustomed to these crowds in Incheon. On their way to Boston, they had to bypass a worse crowd in Incheon and loads of cameras that made it almost impossible to see. She never expected to receive similar attention in her home city. Of course, she does notice how this crowd seems to be more for Jaehyun than her, with several fans calling out his name and trying to shove their phones to his face. A couple of fans do try to get her attention, some complimenting her or outright saying they love her. But to her discomfort, she also hears some of them squeal over the idea that she’s here with Haechan.

It might be because it is her first scandal and she hasn’t been an A-List for long. This can be dangerous for her career. Although the people in the airport seem nice enough, not everyone is like that and her comment section is proof of that. For the past weeks, not only has fans of Haechan flooded her SNS with their distaste for her, but fans of Jaehyun have also come to threaten her if she dares ruin this drama for him. And the fact that people do not believe them is not even what angers the most. It is the entitlement that people have over her personal life and who she decides to date or not.

Just because she’s doing what she loves does not mean she has to give up her whole private life away. This whole situation is making her somewhat regret coming to Boston. She’s glad she’s going to be seeing her parents in a couple of minutes after going so long without seeing them, however, she’s afraid this will make more people snoop around into her private life. Although the fact that comes from Boston is public knowledge, the only people who know about Hana’s family work and background are Mark, Donghyuck, Manager Jeon, and the CEO. Even when she was dating Jaehyun, he only knew she grew up in a neighborhood named Allston and lived with her grandparents when she moved to Seoul. She was waiting to introduce them formally to tell him the rest, but well, that never happened.

When they get out of the crowd, Hana is relieved and looks for Donghyuck. She then stops in her tracks when she overhears what seems to be Jaehyun’s stylists talking about her and Haechan.

“Are you sure they’re a thing, though? I saw Screenwriter Park be the one to sit next to Haechan instead of Hana when we were boarding the plane,” she hears one of the stylists trying to reason, but when she turns to look at them she notices the other two chuckle as they shake their heads.

“C’mon, Sooyun-ah, you’re so naive. That was most likely on purpose, they’re trying to distract us and have fewer people talk about them. I heard they’re so close he already knows her family,” the tallest one says and Hana starts to walk towards them to call them out, but she then hears someone beat her to it.

“Whether they’re dating or not I don’t see why would that be your business. They’re here for work just like all of us, so I expect professionalism from you three instead of spreading baseless rumors,” Jaehyun reprimands them and Hana looks at him taken aback, not expecting it to be him who stepped in. The stylists all look at him red and start bowing their heads down, probably apologizing but she’s not near enough to hear them.

“I’m not the one you should be apologizing to, save the apologies for Haechan and Hana. I better not hear you gossip about others' private life again,” he promises them as he walks away from them.

She’s about to call his name out, she doesn’t know why, if she’s honest. Maybe to thank him or tell him she doesn’t need defending, especially not coming from him. But before she can call him she hears her name. Her eyes widen after she turns around to find her parents standing a few meters away grinning at her, taken aback, she let go of her suitcase and runs to hug them. Her mother is the first one to hug her, which comes to no one's surprise, but not long after, her father joins in. When they finally pull away, her mom starts to look around and before she can ask her what’s wrong, her mom does the last thing Hana needed in this situation.

“Where is that rascal of Lee Donghyuck? How come he’s not here saying hi to us?” she demands just loud enough for some of the production to hear her.

“Eomma, please, lower your voice, everyone can hear you,” she tries to calm her and her stupid friend finally decides to show his face.

“Eomoni!” he smiles, “I was just waiting for my drive. I didn’t realize you were here,” he explains, making sure that everyone knows he’s not staying with Hana, however, her parents didn’t get it.

“You’re not staying with us? Why would you waste money at a hotel when you have us,” Hana’s mom complains making both Donghyuck and Hana open their eyes as they try to keep everyone else from hearing her.

“Mom, why would she stay with us? He already booked a room,” she says in English, hoping to hide the conversation, but her mom keeps speaking in Korean.

“Hana, it is very rude to let your best friend stay at what I assume is an overpriced hotel when he could stay with us,” her mom insists, but thankfully she explicitly called Donghyuck her friend.

“Yeobo, Hana already said Hyuck-ah already booked his room. They’re here for work, not vacationing around,” her dad comes to help and her mom sighs.

“Besides Eomoni, I have the money to spend. Don’t worry too much,” Donghyuck reminds her with an innocent smile but Hana’s mom scoffs.

“That’s no excuse to be irresponsible with money but I’ll let it go,” she promises and grabs Hana’s suitcases, “let’s go, sweetie, the traffic is a nightmare today at the 90.”

She tells her parents she must say goodbye to everyone, so they wait for her. A couple of people are looking at her and she knows they heard the entire argument to her dismay. She decides to ignore it for now and says goodbye to Director Kim, the screenwriters, and the producers. Before leaving, she and Donghyuck give looks at each other, both realizing they need to figure this out before the rumors get worse. With a sigh, she turns and follows her parents. She knows her actions will be louder than any rumors, right now she just wants to focus on work and her family.

The very next day, Hana arrives in Cambridge at 8 am, a few hours before most people. Her mom made sure she woke up early and ate a full breakfast. At this hour only the camera crew and other staff members along with Director Kim and both producers were around. After saying hi to everyone she goes to her seat and takes a look at her phone. She texts Donghyuck to make sure he’s awake and what they should do today. Before the scandal, she had planned to show Donghyuck around, but now she’s afraid that will only make everything worse.

But overall, Hyuck must be the most annoyed in this situation. She promised him he will be available to relax and focus on his music while in Boston, but now he has to pretend he’s here to help with the production. He loves his work, but unlike Hana, he’s not an obsessive workaholic. At the very least, he’s not yelling out his frustrations at her, but she knows that only means it will be worse when he finally explodes.

Her thoughts are interrupted when she hears a few people and Manager Jeon informs her they hired some local actors for Soojin’s and Chansung’s circle from college. This takes her by surprise so she looks around, she would have expected them to bring people from Seoul. After taking a look she’s about to go back to her phone, but just then one of the actors turns and Hana’s eyes widen.

“What is it? Do you know any of them?” Manager Jeon asks but Hana ignores them as she walks towards the group of actors.

“Naomi? Naomi Moore?” she asks out loud and then Naomi’s eyes light up as she runs towards Hana.

“Hana?! It’s been so long!” she exclaims as both of them hold each other in a tight embrace.

“What are you doing here? I thought you lived in New York now,” Hana points out, remembering her parents and Jisoo telling her Naomi went to New York after graduating. She even remembers seeing pictures of her working on Broadway.

“Well, I was about to move to LA but my agent told me about this project in Boston and I haven’t been home in a while so I had to say yes. I didn’t expect it to be your drama, though. This is a pleasant surprise,” she grins and hugs Hana away, “you have grown so much, honestly. You look stunning.”

Hana blushes, but then looks at Naomi from head to toe. The Naomi she knew in middle school was now a tall grown woman. Her cute short afro from back then was now braided in long box braids that reached her hips. Before she would rarely see Naomi in anything that wasn’t an oversized hoodie, but today she was wearing a long satin bronze skirt and a sheer black long-sleeved shirt. Her makeup was simple but it made her skin glow.

“Well, if I look stunning you look like a goddess. Where’s the awkward theater kid I knew in middle school?” she teases her and Naomi chuckles.

“I know, right? adulthood really changes you,” she admits and then hugs Hana again, “I’m so glad to see you. Jisoo should have told me you were coming. How’s he doing with med school?”

“Busy but great. Sometimes Grandma and I have to remind him to take a break,” she reveals and then she sees Head Producer Park and Manager Jeon come over.

“Good morning again, Hana. I see you two know each other,” he asks with a small smile, something that takes her aback as she’s not used to seeing him show any expression that is not completely blank.

“Oh yeah, we are childhood friends. We went to school together for years until I moved to Seoul,” she explains and looks back at Naomi getting ready to translate, but her old friend surprises her.

“Yeah, her parents used to babysit me when my mother was busy working when we were little kids. I am still close friends with her little brother,” she adds up in flawless Korean. When they were little Naomi picked up a couple of words while being babysat by her family, but she was never fluent before Hana left.

They talked a little bit with Head Producer Park, who explained Naomi was going to play one of Soojin’s college friends. She already knew what character her friend was going to play since the character was also in the webcomic. He explained what they will be filming today and told them to ask Director Kim anything if they had any more questions about the scenes.

Once he left, Hana looked at Naomi still surprised by her friend’s fluency. “When did you become fluent in Korean? Last time we talked you could only say eomma, appa, dongsaeng, and a handful more words.”

“I took a Korean minor in college,” she reveals, “I was actually frustrated I never fully picked up the language despite being around your family for so long and with all the Korean dramas I watched. Then I found out my school offered Korean as a minor and took the challenge.”

They sit together while they wait for everybody else and catch up in the meantime. Naomi tells Hana about her career on Broadway but has decided to move to Hollywood and expand her career. She’s surprised to find out that her old friend has kept an eye on her career as well and has watched everything Hana has been on. She and Naomi were fans of Korean dramas from a young age as it was common for them to sit with Hana’s mom while she watched her dramas, but she never expected her to not only keep watching them even now but also become a fan of Hana’s work. It makes her sad though that she has never visited New York and made the effort to watch at least one of Naomi’s shows, she knows Jisoo has.

However, the conversation shifts when Jaehyun arrives. She sees how Naomi's expression brightens when she sees him and that is enough for her to know her friend is a fan. A part of her wants to warn her, but she stops herself. If she does she might risk others finding out and creating a scandal worse than her and Donghyuck. Just then her stylists come to get her ready for filming. Naomi leaves to get changed herself and promises to talk more later.

As they get her ready she reads the script just to review one more time. She has already memorized the entire script but she always makes sure to read the script right before filming. That way she gives herself more time to think of better ways to portray the scene and any adlibs she might want to add if she finds it necessary. To her relief, today she won’t have any speaking parts with Jaehyun. Instead, Director Kim wanted them to get comfortable with the environment first so they will only be recording them going to class and walking around Harvard like regular students.

Once stylist Im is done she takes a look at her outfit, she also takes a few pictures knowing Manager Jeon might want her to post pictures of today once the drama is released. It wasn’t anything crazy, just light makeup and a Harvard hoodie. She might show this to her dad just to tease him, he might be happy for her now but she knows how much he wanted her to go to a good school.

In set, she sees Naomi, who is now wearing an outfit more suitable for a young college student. She also meets the other actor who will be playing Soojin’s friend. They do quick introductions, his name is Justin Han, and currently an acting student at Emerson. Shortly after, Director Kim calls action and they start the scene. For the most part, they just act like regular students as they walk around campus. The lines don’t start until they’re sitting on one of the benches and Jaehyun (or more like Chansung) is looking at her. In this scene, Naomi’s character takes note that he is looking but Soojin has to pretend to not notice and not be affected by it. The usual banter between friends is when one has someone who seems interested in them. The scene ends when Justin’s character joins in the banter and calls Chansung’s name, Hana then hides as the scene calls for and both her friends try to hold their laughter.

The rest of the scenes are similar, they walk around campus or sit in class while Chansung and Soojin look at each from afar. Noticing each other but being too shy to be the first one to reach out.

A few hours later, Director Kim hits the final cut and everyone starts celebrating. The PR team takes a few pictures to commemorate the official first day of filming. Naomi grabs her and Justin to take a few more pictures of only the three of them. She takes a look at them and chuckles at their faces, they do look like lifetime friends even if they had just met Justin.

“I need everyone’s attention,” Director Kim calls and everyone gathers around him, “to celebrate today’s successful first day of filming I wanted to take everyone to eat. We’re still looking for someplace that will take the whole crew but it shouldn’t take long.”

“No place would reserve a spot for this big crew, I can take you instead,” Hana hears a voice she recognizes and turns in an instant to find her mom and dad standing in the back.

“Eomma, appa, what are you two doing here?” she asks in Konglish and her mom pouts a bit.

“What does it look like? We’re inviting everyone to come eat at our house. Manager Jeon let us in,” her mom explains and Hana is about to decline but Producer Lee first.

“Are you sure you can take us in, ma’am? We’re a big crew,” he reminds her but she grins as she grabs Hana’s dad.

“Oh, I am not cooking alone. My hubby is a great cook as well and will be cooking with me,” she adds and Hana’s dad nods in agreement.

“Well, since you came all the way here to invite us it will be rude to say no,” Head Producer Parks accepts and looks at everyone, “we will be eating with Hana’s parents then.”

After a 10-20 minutes ride to Allston, the crew arrives at Hana’s house. When they come in everyone is surprised by everything her parents prepared, even Hana is surprised herself. The backyard is set up with fairy lights and two big tables to accommodate the crew. They even set up the speakers and put music on. To her embarrassment, they were playing Mark’s songs. Even inside the house, everything was decorated with care and detail. No wonder her mom wanted her to leave to work as soon as possible. She must have this planned for days, even weeks. Both her parents rush to the kitchen to finish the rest of the food.

Once everyone sits down she notices Donghyuck, she knows she was around on set right before filming, but it seems he spent the entire day talking to the producers. She also notices Jaehyun looking around, not talking to anyone. It feels weird to have him here at her childhood home. Years ago she would have brought him here as her boyfriend but instead, he’s here as a coworker. She wonders why he’s not talking to anyone since he seemed normal in set although she never spoke to him aside from a quick acknowledgment from afar.

“I didn’t know Lee Haechan was gonna be here,” Naomi looks at Donghyuck and takes Hana’s attention away from Jaehyun, “aren’t you two from the same agency.”

“Yeah, you want to meet him?” she offers and her friend bites her lip while nodding slowly, “It’s ok, many people might go crazy for him, but he’s just a dude.”

They both stand up and walk towards Donghyuck who at this point finished talking to the producers and was joking around with other crew members until he noticed Hana.

“Oh! Hana-yah! Come sit with us,” he says as he tells the rest to make space for her and Naomi, “who’s with you?”

“Hyuck-ah, this is Naomi, a childhood friend, and Naomi, this is Donghyuck, my best friend, sadly,” she introduces them and Naomi lowers her head for a quick bow.

“Nice to meet you, Lee Haechan,” Naomi acquaints herself, and Donghyuck smirks.

“Donghyuck is fine, anyone who can be friends with this meanie is a friend of mine,” he makes eye contact with a playful smile, “you look beautiful by the way.”

Hana rolls her eyes and thankfully Naomi is not offended because she chuckles at Donghyuck's flirty nature.

“Dude, she’s a lesbian,” she hits his shoulder and he bites his lip a bit embarrassed but recovers right away.

“Well, if you know anyone in the city I am open,” he leans towards Naomi, “I swing all ways, so I’m not picky.”

“Noted,” Naomi humors him, “so I guess this is confirmation that the rumors of you two dating are just rumors.”

After that comment, both friends looked at each other trying not to gag. Hana completely forgot that since Naomi is very into Korean dramas she must have seen the articles and rumors flying around. At least her friend seems to be more perceptive than most people and can call bullshit on those rumors.

“Please, I can do much better than this Gemini menace,” she remarks and Donghyuck rolls his eyes.

“And you think I can’t? I can have all of Boston at my feet in less than a week,” he establishes, his eyes screaming determination.

“One, you can barely speak English, how will you communicate? Two, Manager Oh will kill you if you get into another scandal. Especially since he’s not here to keep an eye on you,” she reminds him but he waves his hand in disinterest.

“Oh c’mon, I know how to be careful. Plus, my rizz transcends languages, it’s not my fault I am irresistible,” he argues and she rolls her eyes.

“Hey, the food is coming. Isn’t that Jaehyun helping your parents,” Naomi announces and both Hana and Donghyuck look at the same time.

Naomi saw right, not only the food was coming, but Jaehyun was helping Hana’s parents bring the food. Just the look of him acting nice around her parents, makes her stand up and try to stop it, but Donghyuck grabs her before she can bring any attention towards her. Thus, she waits until her parents and Jaehyun reach her side of the table. Jaehyun puts down the food and tells everyone to enjoy the food and while everyone thanks him she remains quiet. Her mom notices this immediately and she is quick to scold Hana.

“Hana-yah, where are your manners? Not only did your costar is the one to help with the food instead of you but you don’t even thank him when he does?” she scolds as she hits her back and Hana yelps.

“Eomma! That hurts,” she complains, “you didn’t even call me to help you. Don’t embarrass me around my coworkers,” she adds the last part in English.

“You still haven’t said thank you to Jaehyun-ssi, “ her mother bites back and Hana sighs.

“Eomoni, it’s ok. She must be tired, we had a long day filming, there’s no need to scold her,” he defends her which only makes Hana look away.

“You’re such an angel. Your parents raised a fine gentleman, wish I could have a son-in-law like you,” she praises and both Hana’s and Jaehyun’s eyes widen, “oh, don’t be dramatic, it’s just wishful thinking. Jaehyun-ssi, you already helped enough. Go eat.”

Hana bites her lip, if her mother knew what Jaehyun has done to her she would have changed her mind in an instant. She looks up to notice her dad has been eyeing her since the start so she pretends to be focusing on the food. This is going to be a long night.

The first week of filming went with ease as it consisted of getting accustomed to the Harvard campus and making sure everyone felt like true college students. Hana thought it was a great idea as it aided her to get the right feel of not only being a regular college student, but a Harvard one at that. She has even talked to some of the students taking summer classes and got tips from them.

However, everything started to complicate the last day of week one. That’s when all her speaking lines with Jaehyun started. There hasn’t been the need for too many retakes, just a few here and there. But for Hana, any is borderline criminal. The scenes haven’t even gotten too romantic, just Chansung and Soojin getting to know each other with added tension. If she’s already struggling she cannot help but dread how harder things will get. Maybe Donghyuck was wrong and she’s not the great actress he thinks she is.

The last scene of the day is finally done and Hana is in her changing room looking up frustrated. Today there were only two retakes but Hana can’t shake it off. The last time she ever needed a retake was 10 years ago when she had just started her career. She had even built a reputation of never needing retakes. What if talks of today spread to Seoul and articles of her losing her touch start? She should probably call Manager Jeon over and make sure no word of today’s slip gets around.

Just then her thoughts are interrupted by a soft knock. She expects it to be Manager Jeon so she calls out ‘Come in’ without much thought. But when the door opens she is instead greeted by Naomi who has worry written all over her face.

“Are you alright? You went straight here when the director ended the day,” she asks concerned.

“I- yeah, I’m ok… it’s just, it’s stupid,” she tries to dismiss but Naomi makes her look at her.

“Don’t make me call Donghyuck over,” Naomi threatens and Hana sighs, she can’t believe she has only known Donghyuck for a week but already knows how to use him against her.

“I did horrible today, we had to do retakes and now everyone might think I am losing my skills. I have only been an A-lister for less than 2 years and I am already messing up,” she laments expecting Naomi to feel pity for her but instead, she’s greeted by Naomi’s loud laughter, “You’re the fucking worse, you’re just like Hyuck-ah.”

“It’s just so hilarious how some things never change. Remember that one time when you once turned down a role you auditioned for because you felt like you messed up a line? And that was for a dumb school play. Girl, you have always been too hard on yourself,” Naomi reminds her and Hana bites her lip, she does remember that day.

“But still! I haven’t been at fault for a retake in a decade. I have a reputation to uphold and believe me, Koreans are ruthless if I don’t uphold it perfectly,” she insists and this time Naomi sighs.

“Look, nobody cared today. I haven’t heard a soul talk about it, well, except for Donghyuck. I did hear him joke about the last retake. But hey, we all know he’s a bitch,” she adds and she’s right, Lee Donghyuck is indeed a bitch, “I’m not gonna let you mop for the entire night so give me a second.”

Before Hana can ask her what she means, Naomi takes out her phone and starts texting frantically for what seems forever. She tries to snoop in but her friend just tilts her phone so Hana cannot have a look. After a few minutes, she puts her back on her purse and grabs Hana’s arm.

“Let’s go, we’re going to the bar,” she announces and Hana stops.

“What do you mean the bar? Since when?” she tries to backtrack but Naomi only smirks.

“Now. Hurry, people will be waiting,” she grabs Hana’s things and then drags her out.

When they arrived, said people were already waiting. People Hana hasn’t seen and heard from in years. So long that it took her a few seconds to recognize a few.

“Girl, you look divine. Come here, give me a hug,” Azi gives her a tight hug and Hana hugs him back, “I was so surprised when I received Naomi’s text”

“I also didn’t expect her to invite y’all. It’s great to see you. It’s been way too long,” she grins as she sits down with the rest.

“It’s ok. I’m sure you’ve been busy. We heard you’re a big actress in South Korea now,” Sadie smiles at her as she takes a sip of her drink, “of course, it comes to no one's surprise. We all expected you to become a star.”

“Yeah, and since we have both our stars here I need you and Naomi to give me your autographs, and help a girl out,” Celine pushes two papers toward Hana and Naomi making both roll their eyes.

“Already lost the ones we gave you in middle school?” Naomi asks as both of them sign the papers.

“Nah, I sold them last year,” she smirks as she takes the now-signed papers and put them in her bag, “thanks to the two of you I was able to get a new laptop for grad school.”

“I always said you should have gone to business school instead of law, I swear,” Hana hears a voice from behind them and lets a loud squeal when she realizes who it is.

“Jamie! Oh my, how you’ve been?!” she hugs them tightly as they try not to laugh. Along with Naomi, Jamie was one of their closest friends.

“I’ve been great. I see you’re doing great yourself” she teases and Hana pulls away.

“Well well, Jamie is finally here. And to answer your question, someone needs to become a lawyer in this group. What if y’all need representation?” Celine answers as she chugs down her drink and everyone shakes their heads. If anyone in this group would ever need legal representation is going to be Celine Minh.

They all keep talking and catching up, especially Hana. Everyone keeps bombarding her with questions. Asking her about her time in Seoul and how different it is from Boston. How high school was and if she went to college.

Then the conversation switched to their current careers or ventures. Azi is in grad school for biochemistry but also doing Drag on the side. Sadie is working as an elementary teacher, but she is also engaged to her college partner and thinking to get married next year a day after Yom Kippur. She even gave Hana an invitation in case she’s able to come. Celine is attending Northeastern School of Law. Lastly, Jamie graduated from Berklee and is currently working as an indie musician full-time while giving music lessons part-time. They even showed how some of their songs have become trending on TikTok.

Not long after, they see a pair approach them. The rest of their friends were confused since everyone they knew was already present, but Naomi and Hana recognized them right away. Justin and Donghyuck greeted everyone, the former looking a bit shy while the latter threw everyone a charming smile. To her dismay, it worked and everyone set their eyes on her provocative friend.

“So you’re Hana’s best friend?” Azi asks and then pouts at Hana, “Could have warned us that you have such a handsome friend.”

“Dude, calm your pants. You don’t know if he’s straight or not,” Jamie warns him, which causes Hana to hold back a snicker while Naomi translates for him.

“Oh, I am pan,” Donghyuck responds in the little English he knows and Azi grins as he motions Hyuck to sit next to him and Jamie.

“Azi, he doesn’t even speak English,” Hana reminds him, and both Hyuck and Azi glare at her.

“Sweetie, rizz transcends language,” he answers back, Hana and Naomi look at each other.

“Are you sure it was a good idea to let those two meet?” Hana whispers and Naomi chuckles.

They all keep drinking and talking. Azi and Donghyuck even dance for a little bit. Despite the language barrier the two of them made it work. But to her surprise, she later noticed Donghyuck bonding with Jamie, especially when their music was bought up. The two of them started to show each other their work and at some point, he even grabbed Justin so he could translate for them since Naomi and Hana were busy talking to the others.

Although it is no surprise that Donghyuck got along with Hana’s old friends, she would have never expected he would have bonded the most with Jamie. They were an introvert, and the fact Naomi was able to convince them to come to a bar full of people it’s already surprising as it is. Considering how similar their personalities are, she would have expected Donghyuck to spend the entire night with Azi, maybe hook up or something. But as she keeps seeing them talk about music, she realizes how Jamie is a lot like Mark. She should warn him that Donghyuck is replacing him.

As the night progresses, most of them take breaks from drinking and order some appetizers for everyone. She goes to dance with a few of them as they all have fun. They ask her more questions about her job and how she’s doing in Seoul. Having them all around makes her forget why Naomi planned this in the first place. Right now she’s having the time of her life with friends she hasn’t seen in over a decade.

However, this is interrupted when Hana sees someone approach them and she freezes. Naomi and Donghyuck seem to notice their friend's reaction as they both follow her vision.

“Jaehyun-ssi! I thought you were never coming! Everyone, this is Hana’s leading man. The one and only Jeong Jaehyun,” she gleams as Jaehyun’s ears turn red from everyone’s attention.

“Sorry, I was unsure about coming. I hope I’m not too late,” he explains and Naomi shakes her head as she lets everybody else introduce themselves.

They all start asking him questions. Azi even tries to flirt with him just to be told this time by Jaehyun that he is straight. Her friend doesn’t take long to recover, though. This time Celine is the one who flirts with him, but to her dismay, he also turns her down. Everyone seems to be delighted by Jaehyun's presence, even Justin jokes around a bit with him. But it doesn’t take long for them to notice that Hana and even Donghyuck haven’t talked since Jaehyun arrived.

“Hana, don’t be rude. Your coworker is here and you’re just sitting there all quiet. Even Jamie is socializing more than you,” Sadie points out as they all face her, wondering what got her so quiet.

“Ah…” she blinks a few times, “I think I’m getting tired, I’m sorry. Maybe we should head home soon.”

Everyone looks at her concerned while Jaehyun looks down. They shift their focus from Jaehyun and start discussing if they should start leaving now before it gets too late. As they all plan who is leaving with who she notices Jaehyun approaches her and she looks the other way.

“I’m sorry if I ruined the night. I was also surprised when Naomi invited me, that’s why I almost didn’t come,” he whispers as he tries to explain but Hana scoffs.

“If you knew I wouldn’t want you here you shouldn’t have come then,” she responds and stands up, “I need to go to the bathroom, I won’t take too long.”

Filming in Boston has become more complicated than Jaehyun would have anticipated. Not only has he met Hana’s parents, and been to her childhood home, but two days ago he even met her childhood friends. Years ago he would have been delighted by this. Her family loved him, and her friends adored him, but right now it doesn’t matter. Now he’s just a coworker, it doesn’t matter if they like him or not because he’s no longer part of Hana’s life.

It makes him reflect, though, on the many ways he fucked up. If he hadn’t messed up he would have met her parents long ago. He remembers her parents were coming to Seoul around this time 2 years ago. It had been planned for several months and Jaehyun even suggested he wanted her parents to meet his. They even reserved space at one of Seoul’s best restaurants. However, just a month before they came he broke up with her. Thus, this trip became a reminder of what it could have been.

Not only that, but now with the rumors of Donghyuck and Hana there is nothing for him to do. He knows everything is untrue, Donghyuck most likely came here to support Hana. It could also be because he does not trust Jaehyun. Not that he blames him. He’s the one who brought them together, he vouched for Jaehyun and instead of keeping his best friend safe and happy, Jaehyun left her like she was nothing.

But hearing and seeing others gossip about Hana’s private life and even questioning her work ethic angers him. He still remembers the day they arrived in Boston and his stylists were gossiping about Hana. She was standing not too far from them, shame and anger all mixed on her face. He couldn’t stand seeing her like that so he had to say something. However, he knows he can’t always do it unless he wants to bring more attention to his relationship with Hana. Manager Kim even made sure to remind him of that when he heard what Jaehyun did.

Once they’re both ready to film the first scene of the day they wait for Director Kim in set. Hana is sitting on a bench reading a book. He decides to use this as an opportunity to talk to her. They’re about to film so she can’t walk away if he approaches her. She might ignore him, but he can at least get his words across.

“Hey, what are you reading?” he asks to get her attention but she keeps reading her book so he decides to go straight to the point, “Look, I wanted to apologize again for last Sunday. You’re right, I should have turned down Naomi’s invite but can we please talk about it?”

To his surprise, she closes her book and looks up, but is immediately disappointed when she speaks up.

“There is nothing to talk about. Naomi doesn’t know about us and it’s better that way,” she remarks and then stands up, “Director Kim is here, filming is about to start.”

The cameras start to roll and both of them get into character. Hana's face switches from expressionless to a face full of joy. Soojin and Chansung start to talk about plans for the break, but that’s not the focus of this scene. Instead, this scene focuses only on Chansung and the way he sees Soojin. It’s to demonstrate the moment he realizes how deep his feelings for Soojin go. She’s not a cute girl she met on campus or a small crush, but someone he doesn’t want to part from, ever.

Thus, to show this, Jaehyun pays attention to every detail of Hana’s words. He then moves his gaze to her eyes, getting lost in how she delivers every line. The excitement in her voice and her small gestures. His eyes then go down to her lips, which he regrets immediately. He notices how soft they look, how they move as she speaks. His mind wanders to their taste because yes he knows how those soft lips feel and taste. He looks away embarrassed but thankfully Hana either doesn’t notice or just decided to go on with the scene.

Director Kim screams cut and Jaehyun jogs towards his stylists, still embarrassed. However, when he gets there he finds some of them talking to other staff members and doesn’t like what he hears.

“I know Jaehyun is just a great actor, but do you think there’s something weird between those two? I even saw them talking before filming and there was this odd aura around them. I think I ever heard her say saying ‘about us’ and not wanting someone to know about it,” one of the staffers says and Jaehyun freezes.

“But isn’t she dating Haechan? You don’t think she’s two-timing, right?” Stylist Seo questions, this time Jaehyun clenches his fist but then calms himself and clears his throat to bring attention to himself, “Oh, Jaehyun-ssi. I’m sorry, we didn’t know you were here.”

“Why? Because then I wouldn’t have caught y’all gossiping again? I think I made it clear last time to not spread baseless rumors. Haechan and Hana had already denied the rumors. And regarding me and Hana, nothing is going on between us aside from being coworkers,” he chastises and they all bow down apologetically, “I don’t give third chances so this better be the last time I hear you talk about the matter.”

Stylist Seo, Stylist Lee, and the staffer apologize but Jaehyun tells them to focus on work. Thus, the staffer leaves while the stylists retouch Jaehyun’s makeup and hair. He looks towards Hana's side, her stylists are also doing some retouches but also seem to be having a conversation. Director Kim approaches and it seems he said something funny because Hana starts laughing. She looks ethereal.

After they’re done they film two more scenes with the same outfits. When they are done everyone goes to eat. He sees Hana go with Naomi and Justin, hearing something about eating out. Jaehyun sighs, making sure Naomi doesn’t notice him, and avoids getting invited again to not further bother Hana. In his dressing room, Manager Kim congratulates him about filming but he ignores him as he grabs his food.

As he eats he looks at the script, in a few hours he has to get ready and move location due to the last scene they will be filming. It’s a great scene and as an actor Jaehyun is excited for it. But as Hana’s ex, he is dreading it. He’s talking about the first confession scene. When Chansung and Soojin lay their mutual feelings and start dating for the first time.

When he’s done eating he changes clothes and the stylists come to redo his hair and makeup. In the meantime, he rereads the script and is reminded of when Jaehyun and Hana started dating. It was also late at night and Jaehyun was the one to confess first. But instead of being a summer night, it was one cold December night just a few days before Christmas. He tries to use this memory for inspiration, but instead, it makes him depressed. Thus, when they arrive at John W. Week's footbridge he can’t help but look at the distance in melancholy.

“Jaehyun-ssi, can you fix that expression? Better save it for the breakup scene. Right now I need you two to look enamored, ok?” he hears Director Kim call out and Jaehyun nods as he apologizes.

Jaehyun looks at Hana who is leaning against the brick wall as she looks to the distance. He wonders if she’s also reminiscing on their first day. He tries not to bother her, not wanting to ruin her mood right before the scene. Instead, he focuses on her silhouette and how calm she looks. He remembers what Johnny told him weeks before he left for Boston. To be honest with her, to be clear with his intentions even if she doesn’t believe him.

Just then Director Kim tells them to get in position and the camera starts rolling. Chansung says something that makes Soojin laugh and look away in the distance with a big smile. He wants to stay in this moment, in this bubble where Hana is Soojin and he is Chansung. When she doesn’t hate him and wants to be around him. He uses this and grabs Soojin’s hand causing her to look at him confused.

“If I don’t say this now I am afraid I won’t ever get the courage to say it again,” he moves Soojin’s hand to his chest, just right above his heartbeat, “I hope this shows you how genuine my feelings are. Kim Soojin, I like you and I want you to give us a chance.”

She smiles at him and holds his free hand with hers. In a sudden movement, she feels her get close and his heart stops.

“Today is our day one,” she announces next to his ear, and without thinking about it, he is brought back to that Christmas night and forgets where they are. He grabs her arm and pulls her into a tight embrace. She yelps but instead of pulling back, she hugs him back, he forgets for a second why and gets hopeful. Just then he hears Director Kim and Hana pulls away in an instant bringing him back to reality.

“Cut! Amazing scene. You did great adding that emotional hug, Jaehyun-ssi. Now, everyone, we’re done for the night,” Director Kim announces and Jaehyun looks up at Hana.

“Hana, I’m sorry. I just got lost in the scene, I should have warned you,” he apologizes but she starts walking away, her face fuming.

Before he stops himself, he follows her, not caring if others in the crew are watching. Both of them keep walking until they’re away from the crew and where no one can hear them.

“What the fuck do you want? I told you to leave me alone. The scene is done, everyone is happy, now go back and act like you don’t care about me,” she turns to him and explodes, he stops in his tracks and takes a deep breath.

“Please listen to me once, Hana. I know you hate me and you have every right to but hear me out,” he tries to persuade her.

“I don’t know what’s your goal, Jaehyun. But I’m not something that can be won over, I am not your little prize,” she argues and at this point, he can’t take it anymore and decides to listen to Johnny for once.

“I don’t have a goal for fuck’s sake. I know what I did and I know you won’t ever give me a chance. I don’t want you to because you deserve better. It’s there any goal that I have, I just want you to hate me a bit less. Even that is a lot to ask, but instead of what we have now I hope we can at the very least act like regular coworkers. This is not a ploy to get back at you. I am being genuine when I tell you I don’t want us back together,” Jaehyun blurts out and he notices how Hana freezes, of course not expecting what he just said. He lets himself get hopeful and thinks she might believe him. Instead, he hears a soft sneer come out from her lips.

“You think after everything between us I would ever believe a word that comes out of your mouth? I fell for it once, Jaehyun. I won’t ever commit that mistake again,” she hisses, and before he can say anything else she walks away back to the crew.

No one followed them during their argument and no one heard what was said, but some people had their suspicions. Naomi even asked Hana why she stormed off after the scene and what she and Jaehyun talked about. All sorts of rumors had spread around, but none had spread outside the crew thanks to both their managers keeping an eye. Most of the rumors had a sense of truth, from Hana not liking Jaehyun for unknown reasons to the possibility of him being after her and getting rejected.

However, everything was forgotten two days later when Thursday came. It was June 6, meaning it was Donghyuck’s birthday. To the surprise of even her friend, both Head Producer Park and Producer Lee had reserved a Korean restaurant in Allston to celebrate his birthday a week in advance. Everyone was invited, including Hana’s parents. Hana even deduced it was her mom who helped them pick a place since the owner of the restaurant is a family friend and there is no way that was a coincidence.

Everyone was eating and drinking while music played in the background. It didn’t feel that much different from a regular workplace outing in Seoul. There was laughter, stories, and even people flirting around. It felt great, the aura was amazing.

“Look, isn’t that Donghyuck flirting with Danielle?” she hears Naomi and looks up to find her best friend throwing obvious pick-up lines at the waiter. Horrifying enough, the waiter is the owner’s daughter and someone Hana knows since little.

She’s about to say something, but before she could even stand up she sees Danielle smirk, writes something down, and then put the note in her friend's pocket. A couple of people look surprised, some even start to whisper to each other. But her friend didn’t care that all their coworkers were seeing him flirt around.

“I’ll make sure to call tonight,” Donghyuck winks at her and Hana hears some people gasp in surprise.

Hana didn’t even know Danielle was the flirty type too. They were never close and just saw each other when their families hung out together. From all she remembers, she used to be shy, awkward and rarely talked to guys. Hana thought she was cute but never dared make a move. The fact that Donghyuck is now flirting with her in the open and she returned it blows her mind. Either people really do change or Donghyuck might be right about his powerful charisma.

Manager Jeon goes towards Donghyuck and Hana knows her best friend is about to get an earful. They both leave as Hana can faintly hear Manager Jeon’s nags. Soon enough people are looking at each other and whispering. This worries Hana, it’s not well received when an actor is found to be flirty. Donghyuck has always been a flirt, but never this risky. If word of this gets out it could hurt his career.

She hates this about the industry and the fact she and her friends don’t have a private life. But she can’t seem to understand why Donghyuck would pull out a move like that in front of the entire crew. That’s until she hears a few people talk.

“Well, I guess Hana and Donghyuck were saying the truth,” one of the staffers concludes.

“I tried to tell you those dating rumors were weird. I have heard he’s a huge flirt,” another staffer adds.

She lets the two staffers speak since they haven’t said anything offensive at the very least. Hearing them made Hana realize that Donghyuck might have done this to finally put the rumors to rest. Not that he is trying to use Danielle, she’s sure he is indeed interested. But while in different circumstances he would have been discreet and saved it for later, today he decided to throw everything out the window.

“Donghyuck won’t be getting in trouble for this, right?” Naomi whispers worried and Hana sighs.

“I hope not,” she looks towards the exit Donghyuck and Manager Jeon took but haven’t yet come back from, “He shouldn’t, it’s stupid, honestly. As long as no one starts talking about it out of here I think he should be fine.”

“That fucking sucks, getting in trouble just for flirting. Danielle was interested too, I’m sure she trusts him because he’s your best friend,” she protests and all Hana can do is nod.

“I have a question, though. Have you dated anyone? From what I have seen people over in South Korea don’t seem to take well when celebrities date. Is it that bad?” Naomi asks concerned making Hana stop, should she tell her?

Naomi does seem to respect Jaehyun and get along with him despite barely interacting. She also knows this is not the time and place to reveal her past.

“It quite is,” she admits, “Just the possibility of dating Haechan got some of his “fans” going around saying how much they hated me. Even some of my “fans” went to his SNS to tell him how much he didn’t deserve me. Some would even go on about how disappointed they were with us for it.”

“It still happens here in the US too. Of course, agencies and most serious reporters don’t treat it like it is a crime. I had a girlfriend for a few months last year and when people found out I did some people made comments after shows here and there. How has it been for you?” Naomi keeps asking and Hana grabs a shot of soju and chugs it.

“I have dated, of course, I have. Most of them didn’t last long, though. I had a guy I was seeing on and off in my last year of high school. For the past two years, I have been seeing people here and there. The fear of being found out is exhausting, especially when it’s a gay relationship. But…” she stops herself before she mentions Jaehyun, but as she looks at Naomi and is attentive she looks, she decides to at least share something, “I did date someone for 2 years.”

“2 years? That’s both a long time and so little,” Naomi notes and Hana nods in agreement.

That’s exactly how it felt with Jaehyun, long but also cut too short.

“He was a bigger actor than I was back then. I was for the most part unknown, I was growing, but slowly. We were able to keep our relationship hidden for the most part. And then a reporter almost got us and his agency got mad at him. He decided to break up because I was a liability to his career,” Hana explains and Naomi’s mouth gapes.

“He did not!” she whispers-yells, “Who was the asshole? I want to punch him.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she chuckles in irony, “It’s been two years, I have moved on.”

“But if he still is a big actor I’m sure there will be times you gotta be around him. That sucks,” she shakes her head, “At the very least he must be regretting letting you go. Look at you now. He must feel like a fool.”

At this, Hana looks down a few tables down where Jaehyun is sitting. Right next to him is Manager Kim and other people on his team. His shoulders are down and his face looks somber. Almost as if he sensed her, he looks up and their eyes meet.

He must really feel like a fool now.

MASTERLIST

A/N: Chapter 4 is already done and will be posted by next Sunday.

#Sol's originals #jaehyun fanfic #jaehyun angst #jaehyun fluff #actor au #exes2lovers au #e2l au

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