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#even if it should have been enough of a hint the first damn time I said 'Oh I don't like to date'
chososluv · 4 months
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𝐁𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫
Plug!Choso being a good boyfriend and taking care of you drunk
choso art: @omagatokii
✎₊˚⊹♡ summary: coming home drunk and horny to plug!choso. i got drunk and got in my feels !
🏷 tags/warnings: fem!reader, black!reader, mating press, squirting, creaming, petnames: (ma,mamas) , choso being the best boyfriend, uh something small for the wait on plug!toji and plug!choso 3, sortve proofread this was spur of the moment lol word count: 1.7k
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You should blame your friends really.
You told yourself prior to going out it would only be for a few hours. You would have a couple drinks, catch up, gossip, plan to meet up again soon and then leave. You would head back home and snuggle up to your boyfriend and probably call it in for the night. You told Choso this while you got ready and he listened diligently as he was laying casually sprawled out on the bed, looking at the dress you had on. The dress you picked out silhouetting your curves sensually and Choso tried to listen fully but was so distracted by your ass. However he finally snapped out of it shaking his head, as he realized what you had proclaimed.
"A couple drinks and out my ass you gonna do a lot more than that," he stares at the heels you picked out, "feet finna be hurtin too, mama." He also says, remembering from past experiences and you looked at him over your shoulder, frowning. He shrugged and went back to his phone.
"Why must you doubt me?"
"I don't doubt you," he sucked his teeth, "I know just your ass there's a difference." All you do is pout at his words, knowing he was right but the heels completed the outfit so well. Again, another reason you would be in and out with this social outting.
And to no one's surprise, you ended up not in fact "in and out" and had shots, losing count after five, multiple drinks, and your 10:30 return turned into 2am uber vs lyft ordering session between your friends seeing which one had the cheapest rate. You pulled out your phone lockscreen lighting up and you see Choso. You bite your lip, remembering that your boyfriend was at home, hair down, with grey sweats on and you got excited.
"I need yall lyft or uber to hurry up because I got a man to get home to!" And that was all you needed to say because your friends stopped bickering and settled on a rate.
you arrive home, body fuzzy and otherworldly feeling as you made it through the door of your shared apartment. You manage to catch yourself after stumbling through, ankles and heels throbbing at the pain caused by your heels. You giggle to yourself, remembering Choso was right about these damn heels hurting your feet but you really didn't plan to be out that long. It really was your friends's fault! They were nice enough to send you in the first round of ubers after you dropped hints you were ready to go home and climb your man. That ache you had been suffering with between your legs.
That ache that started hours ago the moment you had your first taste of liquor.
You walk through the bedroom door, seeing a small light illuminated by a phone and you immediately settle on Choso's face. He looks at you. sleepy grin stretching across his lips and the ache on your feet seemed to vanished. You squealed, startling him briefly but then he saw that glazed over look in your eyes and just knew you were gone. You ran over, hopping on the bed and jumping on top of Choso. He grunts at your sudden attack but he doesn't mind, he's tossing his phone to the side to give your drunk ass his full attention.
"have fun?" He asks.
"I missed you so much. Baby, I'm so horny but my feel hurt but I'm so horny." You start spilling your immediate thoughts and he's laughing. He sits up, balancing you in his lap and brings a warm arm around your waist. You mewl, bringing your hands to his biceps but his hands reach for your ankles. He's ready to do his duties of the sober boyfriend before he even lays a hand on you sexually.
"One thing at a time," he's chuckling, "let me take these shoes off for you mama and we can go from there."
"Choso, keep sucking on me." You're pleading, his soft lips wrapped around your clit and he's licking the sensitive nub. He looks up at you from between your legs, seeing your eyes roll back as you drunkenly whimpered for more. He's happy to spoil you all night and to be honest he looked forward to this side of you when you told him you were going out. You promised him you’d only have a couple drinks but when he checked the instagram stories and saw shots were involved he knew you would stumbling in here drink. When the “imy” texts started rolling through he knew that liquor was heading straight between your legs.
You didn’t remember, but you sent him a text 45 minutes prior to arriving home saying he better be prepared for you to “dance on that dick.” You would wake up tomorrow feeling a little embarrassed but would find it funnier than anything.
"Let me see those eyes." Choso says, tongue flicking and knocking you speechless. You whimper, knuckles clenching and fisting his hair. He would moan when you tugged on it a certain way, not thinking you would notice -you did.-
"Chosoo..." You're whining when he licks his finger quickly before sinking into your hole. You take him instantly, sucking him gently and physically asking him to stretch you more. A mewl leaves your mouth, hips stirring as if they searched for another finger.
"Greedy fucking pussy its that alcohol huh?" He teases, sinking a second, then third finger inside with no warning and you whimper. You throw your head back, spine curving and you lose grip of his strands. He chuckles as he continues to curve his fingers deep and earning yelps and moans from you.
"Its the fucking Crown shots," you sigh, "I need that dick now, please Cho." You beg, his fingers not enough and you wanted to feel him deep in your lower stomach. He can't even try to tease you because he's been waiting to fuck you since you put that dress on.
"Don't worry ma, Ima give it to you. Now hold them pretty legs up for me."
To say being folded into a mating press by Choso was satisfying was more than an understatement. You only let out huffs and grunts each time he dug himself back inside you. Your juices spurting out when he nudged his tip just right. You were howling, ankles on his strong shoulders.
"Fuck you feel me in yo stomach, baby?" He grunts in your ear, listening to the way you whine loudly and struggle to keep up each time his large cock left and came back into your little cunt. One of his favorite things about you was just how small you felt against him. He fits you in his massive arms and cradles you to help coax you through getting your cunt assaulted by his cock.
"Cho, want you to fuck a baby in me." You're absolutely out of it, gone and its the first time something like that has ever came out of your mouth. Choso has to hold off from cumming right there, he moans, balls twitching at the thought of you being his baby mama but he reminds himself of your state. You were nowhere near sober and he was damn sure not gonna to try be selfish.
"We'll talk about it when you're sober, ma," You only coo when he kisses your cheek, "right now I want you to focus on cumming on me."
He continues pounding deep in you, balls slapping against the curve of your ass with a lewd and sticky sound. The substances courtesy of your cunt that just continues to leak and ooze with arousal and cream. It's dripping obscenely, decorating your lower bodies and the sheets below. You still cannot form words. Helpless cries and moans left your lips each time he came back bullying his way through your walls. Strangled grunts and gasps for air when his tip kissed the lower parts of you kept Choso wanting to bring his hips down harder. He does, earning a squeak from you and a gush of liquid. He can only groan at his thighs being wet but continues to look at your helpless face. Screwed up and twisted as pleasure consumed your brain and the only thing was him and his cock.
"Cho-So!" You cry out, borderline wailing as you felt that knot in your stomach about to unwind.
"You close baby?" You nod, tears coming out your eyes as the pleasure was becoming too much for you to fathom. Choso only continued, thrusting faster and you choked out before letting out a ear-piercing wail.
"Cho!" You're screaming, legs spasming against his shoulders and your orgasm wails were enough to send him over the ledge. Your cunt squeezed tight around him and it took everything in him to pull out. He finishes, cumming on your stomach and letting out desparate grunts.
"Fuck, ma this pussy will be the death of me." Choso chuckles and you only giggle softly, sliding your legs down off his shoulders. Orgasm knocked the last bit of strength you had in you and now you were exhausted between the post sex haze and the alcohol comedown. You felt your eyes fluttering shut. Choso saw, shaking his head before grabbing wipes you two kept in the nightstand.
"You better not go to sleep you still gotta take your makeup off." Choso shook you after he started cleaning you off. You open your eyes, huffing at him from waking you up.
"Why you gotta be a good boyfriend." You pout, knowing he was only looking after your drunk ass.
"Because I love your goofy ass now get up all you gotta do is get to the sink I'll wash it off for you."
Choso stays true to his word and washes your makeup off. Boyfriend of the year should go to him because not only does he wash your makeup off, but he manages to get you in a quick shower and brush your teeth before you started trying to sleep again. He was just securing the bonnet on your head before you fought your eyes from shutting again. He could only laugh, putting your ass to bed, throwing the cover over you and within moments you were out. Choso took care of himself and came back to hearing you snore. When he slid into bed it was like you were waiting for him because you instantly cuddled up to him, seeking his warmth. He could only throw an arm around you, embracing you with his love and body heat.
He would only do this for his favorite girl.
You.
©chososluv ╰┈┈➤ MASTERLIST!
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gaysindistress · 5 days
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Things that I feel like would happen when you’re in a relationship with Astarion.
I started playing bg3 and i have it bad for this vampiric menace of a man.
misc character masterlist
Warnings: blood drinking, he’s a vampire so yeah
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1. He’s basically a cat but gods forbid you tell him that.
I have a tortie and let me tell ya, she is the sassiest animal I’ve ever met. This cat will climb into the closet just high enough that the dogs can see her but can’t reach her. She will jump into the counter and stare at me because she knows she’s not allowed up there. She will bat at the screen in the window until it pops open and she can escape. But jokes on you! she doesn’t actually escape, she just goes to the back door and meows until someone lets her in.
Anyways this is exactly how Astarion is. He’s sassy but hides it as being a witty nobleman when he’s really just being the sass master. He will do things purely to get a reaction out of people i.e. when he attacked you the first time you met. There was no need to try and pull one over on you like that but he did it anyways because he can. If you get too close to Gale (aka talk to him), he will pout and give you the cold shoulder because gale ‘is such a bore and I’m obviously better company than that, darling.’
He will make the biggest scene if he feels like your attention is being pulled away from him. Oh you’re talking to Shadowheart by the fire later than usual? He’s glowering at your back from his tent until you look over your shoulder at him. When you make eye contact, he’s going to roll his eyes and huff as he throws open the tent flaps. Shadowheart chuckles under her breath because she knows exactly what’s happening.
The longer you’ve known each other, the bolder he gets. He’ll add more each time. At first it’s just the staring and huffing. It moves to glaring at your companion and then waltzing over to you so he say something sassy like “I am not your mother. I should not have to drag you to bed each night.” When that stops getting the reaction he wants, he’ll plop down next you and make every annoyed noise known to man. He might even start to nudge you, extending out one delicate hand to touch your knee or elbow until you get the hint.
But don’t you dare call him out on this. Like a cat, Astarion needs to feek comfortable safe with you. If he gets even a whiff of negativity (or what he thinks is), it sets your relationship back weeks. Pointing out his little feline quirks will feel like you’re complaining or annoyed with him and he can’t handle it. He’ll pull away from you and resort back to his stand offish ways. He’s making sassy but lowkey hurtful comments all of the time. They’re not directed at you because he would never forgive himself if he upset you but that sentiment doesn’t extend to anyone else. Worst of all he won’t feed from you and would damn near starve himself before asking you.
It’s a delicate dance between the two of you but one you would never quit.
2. Feeding from you is difficult for him.
At first it was merely a means to an end but then you became more important to him and now he can’t bring himself to feed from you as much. He would rather never do it but alas blood is in limited supply and you’ve already given him permission to take what he needs. If he can, he finds some other way but it doesn’t always work out. You’ve never asked him why he seems to avoid such a normal task but it’s always on your mind and one night you blurt it out.
I imagine it’s been a long few days and tonight is the first time you’ve been able to relax. Freshly bathed, fed, and now sipping at decent wine, you’re lounging with Karlach and Shadowheart. The three of you have had more than enough wine to be relaxed and have passed over into what Astarion calls ‘delightful chaos’. You’re giggly enough to be entertaining but can still hold a conversation albeit slow and slurred. Your pale elf has been cranky all day and poor Gale has been the target for most of it. You tried to step in and at least lessen Astarion’s onslaught but that earned you the nastiest glare to date. Since then Astarion has been sulking in the shadows or hiding in his tent. You’re the only one brave enough to go near him when he’s like this however it’s still rather dangerous.
On clumsy feet you find yourself just outside of him tent where you can feel the brooding and angst wafting from inside.
“Astarion?” You gentle whisper to the fabric, awaiting his acknowledgment.
“What?” His response is short and biting, similar to how he’s been speaking at Gale.
Assuming he doesn’t realize that it’s you, you say his name again and ask if you can come in. He nearly brings his tent to the ground when he rips open the flaps.
“What?” He repeats with fury and pain in his dull eyes.
It should scare you, seeing him so feral and unrestrained but seeing him causes a wild smile to break out on your face. Your hands go to reach for his face but quickly they fall when you remember that everyone is watching you closely. Whatever wine you drank has given you an armor of courage (and stupidity really). You smile at him with all of the affection you harbor for this ethereal being and slide past him into his tent. The simple action sends everyone else into high alert while Astarion barely contains the hiss he wants to send their way.
When he turns around, he finds you already sitting beside his bedroll with your knees pulled up with your arms wrapped around them.
“What do you want?”
All he gets in response is a blink and then a beckoning to join you. Patting the space next to you, you quietly ask him to join you however he is determined to be cross with you for barging in. He repeats his early question with a hardened glower in your direction.
“Astarion…” you murmur to him, your voice low and gentle, “you need to feed.”
The sheer audacity to utter such a thing infuriates him to no end but you’re right. He does and the sanguine desire is growing far too large to hold in anymore.
He still tries to deny it but his words are unusually weak and he stumbles over each one.
“Come,” you order softly as you move to lay down on his bedroll and brush your hair away, “drink what you need. I trust you.”
Those three words are almost as powerful as a declaration of love to the vampire spawn. He finds himself crumble to the ground and crawl over your divine figure. The unholy need to devour you that he usually despises with his entire being is welcomed as his fangs sink into your neck. One of your hands comes to hold his shoulder and the other cradles the back of his head, keeping him close as he feeds from you. Your gentle touch and reassuring voice overwhelms poor Astarion. He begins to whimper and moan into the supple skin of your neck without even realizing it. When he pulls away to keep from completely draining you, he’s breathless and muttering to himself you how good you taste.
Why he would ever deny himself this divine experience?
3. He refuses to admit it that he loves when you initiate touch.
Because of his past, you’ve decided that you will only touch him if he asks and if you get explicit consent. Most of the time you wait until he invites you in some manner whether that be he telling you to get over here or paw at you like a cat. He appreciates it, he really does but sometimes he craves the feeling that he gets when you ask him.
His favorite, though, is when you ask him if you can lay in him when he reads. You’ve been napping in his tent on and off all day, having chosen to stay back and recoup after the long events from the past week. Most of your companions have been doing the same but Astarion has been trying his hardest to not spend too much time around you. It’s hard enough to not just bask in your affection but even more so when you’ve been cuddled up in his tent all day. When you finally decide to go to your own tent, he takes the opportunity to reclaim his bedroll. It smells of your sweet scent and is still warm from your body, something he secretly craves.
You return to his tent a few hours later after everyone has eaten and settled in for the night. Peering down at him with sleeping eyes, you cross your arms and huff when he ignores you for his reading.
“Yes, my dear?” He quietly chuckles while still pretending to read his book.
“You’re in my spot.”
“We’re in my tent therefore it is my spot.”
You can’t exactly argue with him. You plop down next to him and give him the biggest puppy eyes imaginable.
“Will you at least let me lay on you if you’re not going to move?”
If it could his heart would be doing flips and his cheeks would be red but alas neither thing is truly possible.
“That depends…” he pretends to be uninterested in your request and continues with his straight face as he flips to the next page in his book. He can hear your huff of annoyance and fails to hide the small smirk that tugs at his pale lips.
“On what?” You pry even though you both know this is just a little game and he’s going to give in.
“Ask me nicely.” He drawls in that low seductive voice he uses when he’s trying to persuade you. Finally he flickers his eyes over to yours. That simple action alone steals your breath and chases away any negative feelings you might’ve had.
You crawl closer to him, nearly touching him but not quite as you whisper your request again.
“Of course you can, my dear,” he whispers back while his smirk has fully taken over his face. “Lay your head here."
He pats his sternum and waits for you to settle. Much like a lover seeking warmth in the night, you immediately take refuge in his arms and cuddle as close as you can to him. You feel him set his the book on your upper back when you've found the comfort and warmth you sought.
Astarion begins to murmur the book’s words as his other hands rests at the base of your head. His fingers don’t yet feel confident in moving to thread into your hair but they do softly rub at the tension in your skull. Peace is found in your embrace and he couldn’t be happier that you asked him to join your party all those weeks ago.
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k2ntoss · 3 months
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USING LIPSTICK
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a/n ⭒ i saw this and i had to write it down, okay??? this first one with jason todd bc i can't help it, later i'll do one with dean (i'm insane, i know)
tw ⭒ minors dni, SMUT, jason todd x f!reader, dirty talk, fingering (f receiving), degradation, size kink, spitting, slapping, hair pulling, breeding kink, unprotected sex, p in v, mention of jason's scars, etc.
word count ⭒2.774 (this was supposed to be short 😭)
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jason is almost begging for you to go as his date to another wayne gala since the week started, you like them but not enough to attend so often as he has to go; wearing nice dresses and pretty makeup, the jewerly you have to pick and everything that comes with putting effort in looking good to spend time on a fancy party.
it's early, you've been all evening getting ready and now the burgundy dress sits pretty on your body, fixing it so the slit on your right leg is straight, your hair is done too all tied up in a pretty half up hair style and you're just missing the final touch for your makeup when jason comes into your room "you look fucking amazing, love" you turn around to find his eyes running along your curves, taking in every detail as he walks up to you "is it okay? it's not too much?" you ask while turning around again to give yourself a look on the mirror, smiling softly when jason gets behind you, hands on your waist while he towers over you.
"mhm, it's just perfect" his voice is low, eyes fixed on your reflex while you start doing a small winged eyeliner, the cap of your liner between your lips is making him think a bit too much until he lets out a soft grunt "do you think i should wear lipstick?" you ask him, the question triggers something inside of him when he looks at your lips, slightly parted as you pick up a lipstick from your drawer "or maybe lipgloss, what do you think, jay?" and jason thinks, he does have an answer but he tries to remain calm "lipstick can be smudged, doesn't it?" he asks, there's a light hint of tease on his voice and it makes you reply with a soft hum.
"then lipgloss, but which one" you wonder as you look at the things scatered over the drawer while jason looks at you, a small smirk on his lips before he leans in to press a playful kiss on your neck "i think i know which one" his hands wander on your waist, lifting your dress a little bit before letting the fabric fall just for his hands to run to your back, pulling down the zipper until your dress falls, pooling at your feet "jay..." you warn with a soft chuckle when he growls, looking at your body on the mirror.
"no bra, is it because of the dress or for me to touch you?" he asks in a sultry tone, finger gently tracing the outline of your figure until his big hands are cupping your tits "mhm, mostly because of the dress" you answer in a soft sigh, eyes closed at his touch on your body until he pulls away, taking your hips to make you stand a little closer to your drawer, jason kneels down and picks up the dress and leaves a playful kiss on one of your thighs "sure thing, doll". you see jason on the mirror, he walks until he leaves your clothes carefully placed on bed before he walks behind you; he looks amazing too, dressed on a black suit and a white button up shirt, a bow tie undone on the neck of his shirt is waiting to complete his fit but he's now pressing his hips against yours, half-hard cock grinding on your ass while jason's hands play with your lace panties, pretty red fabric being pulled softly as he bends you slightly against the drawer "i think you look fucking better like this, makes me want to use you until you can't keep your legs on the floor" his eyes are almost predatory now, fixed on your reflex as you wiggle your hips playfully.
"are we gonna arrive late again?" you ask him with a small pout, you know damn well you won't be on time but that's usual for you two because jason is always eager to fuck you before leaving to a gala. a soft scoff escapes his throat before he starts taking off his suit, followed by the sight of him undoing his shirt and then his pants; it has always been a dream to see your boyfriend naked in front of you, broad shoulders and chest, built body and that slim waist that made your mouth water, skin painted with scars but the most calling was that big Y shaped scar on his chest, you always loved to trace it with your fingers or to leave a trail of kisses before you sucked him off "like your views, princess?" jason's words are teasing, he knows the answer but he enjoys seeing you bite your lip and nod as your eyes roam over his body. one hand trails from your waist to your tummy, fingers drawing soft circles on your skin as he kisses your neck, nibbling on it softly and making you tilt your head to give him more room until his hand slides under your panties and his fingers start to caress your cunt, a small smirk when he feels your body reacting to his touch "you're so tempting, baby, that dress makes you look like you're begging to get dicked down... i wish i could just rip it and make you scream like a whore" his thumb is pressing on your clit as two more fingers slide up and down between your lips making you moan softly.
your hands are pressed against the wooden furniture, lips parted as a few sighs escape your mouth to his touch on your body driving you crazy, making you rock your hips on his hand "jason..." you call his name softly but it only earns you a quick glance and a raised eyebrow, you know what the man wants and it makes you shiver "sorry... sir, please" you ask softly and that makes jason's grin go wide "pretty little girl, want me to stuff my fingers on that greedy pussy? i bet you'd love to have my dick deep inside of you but you'll settle for my fingers, don't ya, bunny?" his voice is low and raspy, two digits teasing at your entrance and pushing ever so lightly before he slides them in, a laugh rumbling on his chest when he feels how wet he got you just with a few touches and a bunch of dirty things whispered into your ear but it's always like that because you can't help how much he turns you on, he knows what to do to get you on the mood and it takes jason just minutes until your legs are shaking a little, breath heavy while his fingers twist and move inside of you making a couple of noises that bring a bright blush to your face.
"look at you, baby, how small and vulnerable you look like this... with my fingers playing with you" jason's voice is almost a low growl as he squeezes your cheeks with his other hand making you look at youself all worked up in front of him, you do look smaller and then you're just wishing jason would pick you up to fuck you like a toy "uh, looks like someone is already thinking about what she wants me to do with her... this little pussy is clenching around my fingers" he taunts before pulling his digits out of you, a soft whine leaving your lips before he delivers a sharp slap on your cunt making you gasp and tremble. he laughs, pulling your panties down before he stands up again, his hand resuming on your pussy as he rubs your puffy lips, the wet sound making you want to look away "sir... i need you, please" you ask, obediently because you know that being a brat right now would only earn you being left all needy "need me, princess? you're being so good, aren't you?" jason asks and smirks when you nod enthusiastically, leaning in to press a quick kiss on your neck he pulls away to pull down his boxers and you can see him fisting at his hard rock dick, the sight making your mouth water and your pussy clench around nothing.
he stands right behind you, his hand guiding his tip to your entrance to start teasing you when he lets his dick slide between your folds grinding his hardness against you, it makes you moan but it's still not enough "i need you inside of me, please... sir, i need you to make me take your cock" a small pout decorates your lips as you look at him with pleading doe eyes, biting on your lip hard when he takes a handful of your hair, pulling it at the same time he thrusts in with a rough movement making you squirm and moan loudly " 's that what you wanted, baby? my dick inside of you?" jason asks into your ear as he starts moving his hips, free hand going to squeeze one of your tits, fingers pinching on your nipple while he strokes slowly and torturing for you to grow desperate "y-yes, sir, yes" you nod, your head falling back as he keeps hold of your hair messing it up, making your back arch in a weird angle that will probably let you sore the next few days but you can't help moan with a satisfied smile once he starts to move faster, his hand still kneading on your breast "fucking thight... your body is so perfect for me, doll, even your tits fit perfectly on my hands" jason tone is filled with pride and ownership, that only makes you mewl because you know your body is almost like made for him to fit on you in every possible way "you love how i talk to you, what a pretty dirty slut you are" he grunts in a harder thrust that makes you whine loudly, jason's hand leaving your chest to roam back between your legs to circle roughly on your clit for a few seconds before giving a hard slap against your swollen bud, it makes you clench like a vice dragging a gutural growl from your boyfriend's throat.
"you little freak! you enjoy when i slap that pussy, don't ya?" he mocks you, his cheek pressed against yours as he keeps pounding harder and faster almost as if he will never be able to fuck you again and oh, how it makes you even more needy "you're a sick whore, baby, bet you'll be squirting so hard if i slapped that pretty face of yours while i fuck your brains out" he has a filthy mouth but it only turns you on more and more, making you whimper in a silent plea for him to slap your cheek, desperate to see his hand print red on your face but instead he gives another sharp smack between your legs earning a tortured whine from you "jay! f-fuck... need you to slap my face, please" but he grunts, hand tugging your hair again as his gaze grows stern "how did you just called me, mhm? that's not how you should adress me when i'm giving you what you want or are you already too dumb fucked to think?" his voice is serious and it makes you shake your head "no, sir! sorry uh, i'm sorry" you pout, voice soft suddenly but it's probably a little late "your brain must be turned into a puddle already, how pathetic... just a needy whore, a sick brat" and jason gives hard and deep thrusts with each word, voice low and dominant.
"open your mouth. now" he demands as he pulls your hair again at the same time he smacks your pussy one more time, hand lingering over your sensitive bud as you do as he asked. mouth open and tongue sticking out while jason towers over you, he looks so intimidating it makes your inner walls thighten around his dick, a dry scoff escapes him before he spits into your mouth "swallow it, maybe that dirty mouth of yours deserves that if you want to speak like a slut" he grunts, eyes fixed on yours and a glint of lust when you swallow what he just gave you, letting out a loud moan when he presses a bruising kiss to your lips, biting and sucking on them.
jason brings his hand to your face, calloused fingers squeezing your cheeks again to make you open your mouth again for him to spit into it "that's better... obedient little whore" you moan, fingers scratching on the wood where your hands are still pressed, the mirror allowing you to watch your tense body from your hips to your head and jason behind you, his hips hammering against you while he keeps your head thrown back, crown almost pressed to his chest "can't even talk back, just a fuck toy for me to use and abuse" the words are messing with your foggy mind, making you tremble as you nod absentmindedly muttering jason's name like a mantra, his hand squeezing your face making your words sound muffled and sloppy but you stop when he spits over your sealed lips, leaving them shiny and looking just as filthy as the rest of your body when it was being used in this way; right then is when jason lets go of your hair, his hand moving your face to look at yourself on the mirror "your pretty lips look so good like that, mhm, better than any of those stupid lipglosses" he grins devilishly at your reflex and you can feel your body about to burst to his implication, your climax almost over you and he notices it in the way your inner walls convulse around his dick.
"it turns you on, huh? fucked up little slut, you're about to cum all over my cock for being treated like a stupid whore" he growls in a whisper behind your ear "go on, baby, cum for me" he urges with deep strokes that make him grunt at how thight your pussy clenches around him right before you scream his name when your climax washes all over you, body gripping on jason as a vice "that's a fucking good girl, huh, want me to fill up your needy cunt?" and you nod, breath heavy and struggled. his arm goes around your waist, keeping you on your feet when your legs are about to give up and his other hand goes back to play with your clit.
his thrusts grow sloppy, hips stuttering as he comes closer to his high "mhm, you love it when i breed you, right? gonna put a baby on you one of this days, gonna make you a mama" jason says in a sedative tone as he leans in to talk into your ear, it makes you cry from pleasure and need, his hand on your sensitive clit is making you squirm "god... yes please, sir, i wanna have your baby" a soft whimper escapes your lips turning into a full loud moan when he reaches his climax, his cock bursting inside of you as he paints your walls white with thick load of his seed, a grunt leaving his throat before he presses a long kiss on your shoulder.
"you're so fucking good for me, princess" he mutters with a smirk on his lips, jason's arm is still wrapped around your waist as he holds you on your tiptoes while you're both looking at your reflex "see? your lips look prettier like that... swollen and red from my kisses and shiny too" he teases before kissing your chin making you giggle softly "you're sick too, jay" you say with a bright blush on your cheeks before he lets you down and looks at the hour "we should get ready again now if we want to make it to the gala, baby"
you still have to get on your dress again after cleaning yourself, do part of your makeup again and brush your hair because "it looks better all loose, babe" is what jason says when he's ready and finds you struggling to get your half-up nice again. at least you know that your lips will remain red and swollen for a good part of the night and the gloss, that's something jason will have to fix every now and then when nobody around is looking at you both.
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leighsartworks216 · 7 months
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In The Moonlight
Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader
Lowkey wrote this for @niermortem bc the Astarion hyperfixation goes hard
I've never written for Astarion before and I'm still not 100% comfortable with his speech patterns and stuff but I had to write this or I would not be able to sleep tonight. Tbh y'all are lucky he even spoke at all. I was going to have Tav shush him lmao
Warnings: Cazador, mentions of past abuse, mentions of biting, vague implications of sex, like one swear
Word Count: 1,110
Masterlist
AO3
He’s so beautiful, just like this. The moon reaches through the window and caresses his hair, turning already-bright white into pure starlight. His pale skin glows. And when the sun rises and casts beams of yellow-orange over him, it’s almost as if blood flows through him once more.
You cannot sleep. Despite how tired your body was, your mind couldn’t sit still. It pondered over the day’s events - if you made the right choices, what you could have done better, your companions - endlessly spiraling out of sleep’s embrace. And you would still have been going over these questions and concerns, if Astarion did not look so damn pretty.
He fell asleep a while ago. With a gentle kiss to your cheek and a whisper of thanks, he’d tucked one arm under his head and draped the other across your waist, and drifted off. A hint of a smile still lingered there. Creases by his mouth and eyes proving a simple joy that followed him into his dreams.
It felt wrong to watch him like this. Like studying how his curls fell across his forehead and the flicker of his eyes behind his eyelids was in some way betraying his trust. The thought alone - of ruining this beautiful foundation of trust and patience and understanding - should have been enough to have you close your eyes or turn away. And yet, something inside you yearned for more. An ache in your chest that urged you to touch him, to be closer to him.
And the urge was stronger than your perceived guilt.
Slowly, you raised a hand to his face. At first, all you did was brush the curl from his forehead. The stubborn thing only bounced right back.
Your eyes trailed from his hair to his eyebrows. So often did a crease find its way between them, pinched in frustration or confusion. Your hand followed. With the barest brush of your thumb, you smoothed out the imaginary crease. Astarion breathed in deeply - causing you to hold your own - before sighing softly. His face relaxed even more, shoulders easing into the pillows that cushioned him.
You focused next on his eyes. Deep, bloody red irises hidden behind thin lids that held so much worry and uncertainty and joy and hope. Hope. It had taken so long for the vampire to actually be optimistic about the future. He had no idea what would happen next - between Cazador and the tadpoles, there was little to be optimistic about. When you helped him, despite his original plans to manipulate and use you, he realized things did not always have such awful outcomes. Even your first encounter, with his blade to your throat, had somehow brought you here, together and warm and safe.
Despite being an elf, he had such deep bags beneath his eyes. Even the crows feet and laugh lines that appeared with his smile were unusual. He’d told you sparingly about his life under Cazador. The things he fed on, the poem carved into his back, and the horrible things he did. Undoubtedly, the lines came from that time. Barely eating enough to survive, luring people in with his charms for an uncaring master, being tortured in the dark. Yet, you couldn’t imagine Astarion without them. He was so pretty when he smiled.
You move on to his nose and his cheeks. His features are all well defined, sharp. It makes him seem dangerous, even at a first glance. Like a snake, hiding fangs behind shimmering scales.
Beckoned by the analogy, your eyes flicker to his lips. They’re so soft, despite the way he chews his bottom lip. Where before his kisses were rough, demanding, now they’re slow, careful. He no longer kisses you like he has to woo you over and get you to play his game. He kisses you like he’s savoring the last drop of wine. Even his bites are gentler, pricking your neck as carefully as he can unless you ask him nicely to be rougher.
“Too distracted to sleep, are we?”
His voice makes you jolt. You weren’t expecting his lips to move so suddenly. Nor did you realize before how your hand cupped his jaw and your thumb stroked his cheek. You can feel his smile as he chuckles.
“I didn’t mean to startle you, my dear,” he coos. “But don’t you think it’s a bit late to be admiring my features?”
You take a moment to compose yourself, urging your heart to still from the scare. Damn you for thinking so much about his mouth. Astarion is nice enough to wait and listen as you relax once more, though you continue to trace over his skin and brush the curls in front of his ears back.
“I couldn’t sleep. And you look so beautiful in the moonlight.”
He slips his arm from underneath his head as he turns into your hand, holding your wrist in place as he kisses your palm. “I appreciate it, my love. But it’s been a long and exhausting day, and we both need our beauty rest.”
Red eyes watch, half-lidded, as you smile - he loves it just as much as you love his. Before, he couldn’t care less. Now, oh the things he would do to see you happy every waking moment of the rest of your lives.
The blankets shift against each other as you move to be closer. You tuck yourself into his chest, wrapping your arms around his torso and pressing your face into his neck. You are so warm. He lets out a soft breath as he curls around you, protective and safe all at once. Slender fingers tangle carefully into the hair at the nape of your neck, keeping your head tucked away under his chin.
For so long, he charmed and manipulated people. They touched and got close to him, in ways he quickly detached himself from. For so long. It was still difficult to fathom how he sought it out with you. How he did not go through the motions of physical intimacy, how he actually wanted to be physically intimate in more ways than just sexually. How long he’d been deprived of something genuine like this. He wanted to savor every gods-forsaken minute of it.
Your warm breath fanned across his neck as you spoke. Had he been able to, it would have sent a chill down his spine.
“I love you.”
His fingers curl into your waist, grounding himself into your body as your skin gives under his fingertips. In return, you squeeze him in your hold, solidifying even more that this is real. You are real.
“I love you, too, darling.”
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hitomisuzuya · 6 months
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HIII SUZUUU first time requesting kind nervous lol. For once finally ur requests are open when I'm up 😭 I've been thinking abt scummy scara way too much lately like literally basically imagine just going on a cute date with him only for him to fuck you dumb the second u guys arent in public 🤭🤭🤭
Scaramouche x fem!reader. Scummy Scaramouche. Smut. Edging. Teasing. Degradation. Some date fluff. Reader is hinted in having a metal allergy cause I am allergic to gold jewelry.
Have I said how much I love when requests are worded like this 😳😌 No one should feel nervous requesting from me. 🥺
It was no secret that Scaramouche was a trust fund baby. And the one thing he liked to do with that money is spend it on you. He has to spoil his precious girl, after all.
If there was a cute stuffed animal you looked at for even a second in passing, it was yours. You wanted a book, he bought the whole series for you. You commented on how pretty a piece of expensive jewelry was, he bought it without hesitation. Especially if it was silver. Your skin was finicky about certain metals.
Scaramouche thought silver was prettier, anyways. Not prettier than you. How dare a metal even consider coming close to you.
He always touching you in some way as you walked. An arm around your waist, holding your hand, even sitting down somewhere he had his hand on your thigh. You were taken, damn it, and he needed to make the perfectly clear to anyone who looked.
"Scara, you've spent enough money on me already," You fretted, making him chuckle as he stopped in front of a lingerie boutique in town.
"Nonsense, I insist," Scaramouche replied. Oh yeah, he always insisted. Especially if it meant picking out lingerie for him to rip off later.
God, just picturing how you would look in the lacy black, blue, and purple lingerie to picked out for you was starting to make his cock twitch. "If you need any help, I can come in with you," He said, wishing the changing room door had some kind of keyhole.
"No, Scara, it's okay. I can manage," You said, blushing from how enthusiastic he sounded about helping you put everything on.
That wasn't the point. He needed to see how you looked in them. His imagination was starting to drive him a little crazy. His fingers were shaking with need, and the anticipation of getting his hands on you.
Even the lady behind the counter was starting to give him a stern look. He probably looked something like a dog frothing at the mouth.
With many bags in hand, back you headed with Scaramouche to his dorm. No sooner were you a few steps from it, he was making you drop bags right in the hallway, pushing you against the wall. His hands roamed greedily over your body, biting at your lips as he kissed you.
"Mmmm~," He purred, hooking his fingers through your panties, "you wore the one I hoped you would out of the store." He could hardly wait when you had given him only a price tag to take up to the counter with everything else.
Throwing open his dorm room door, Scaramouche stumbled inside with you, his lips never leaving yours. His hands pawed at your clothes, standing behind you in front of his mirror so he could watch himself remove the lacy purple lingerie. "Purple always looks so pretty on your skin," He kissed and bit at your shoulder as he unhooked your bra, groping your breasts before tugging it off.
Guiding you over to his bed, he pushed you down on it, spreading your legs as he licked a long the inside of your thighs. You squirmed, his spit rolling down the inside of your thighs to soak against the fabric.
"Ha, getting wound already. What a needy slut you are," He purred excitedly, hastily tugging your panties off. His eyes drank in your form spread out before him, just as hastily taking off his clothes. "Can't wait for me to fuck you dumb on my cock, hm?"
You whimpered, grinding needily against him as he pressed the tip of his aching cock on your clit. It sounded so fucking sweet to him that he had to hear it over and over again.
Scaramouche groaned every time he heard you whimper, relentlessly teasing the tip of his cock against your entrance. The way you squirmed on desperation, your walls fluttering and clenching around it was a drool worthy sight to him. His mouth said as much, drool dripping down onto your chest.
"Scara, please, put your cock all the way in me. I can't take much more," You pleaded, reaching down to grasp his cock to try and urge it inside of you. "Cum inside of me."
That sent him feral. Folding your body, and throwing your legs over his shoulder, his slid his cock slowly inside of you. Groaning, he cursed when his cock rested against your sweet spot. Pulling out to the tip, he slowly pushed himself back inside so he could feel your walls clench tight around his cock as he bottomed out again.
Every thrust made you see stars, your eyes rolling closed. Wrapping your arms around him, you clung to him. Scaramouche was determined for the entire campus to hear how good he was fucking you.
"Fuck, look at me when you cum, slut," Scaramouche hissed, pounding himself inside of you, his entire body quivering, his cock throbbing with his approaching orgasm.
Your eyes snapped open, tears welling in them as his lips captured yours to swallow your moans. He bit at your lips, pulling away when your legs started to tremble in pleasure.
"Scream it, whore. Who's fucking you this good, hm?" Scaramouche pushed your legs farther up towards your head, his husky moans only rose in octave as he drove he cock deeper inside of you.
"Scaramouche! Scaramouche! Scaramouche!" The way you chanted his name like mantra, your release flooding around his cock made him cum suddenly inside of you. He left his cock resting deep into your sweet spot, his warm cum ribboning inside of you. You felt every throb of his cock.
Panting, Scaramouche pulled out of you after a few long minutes of feverishly fucking his cum back inside of you. Rolling off of you, he latched one of his lips around your nipple, sucking on it as he scooped some of his cum onto his fingers.
Your back arched off the bed, gasping when he rubbed and hooked his fingers over your sweet spot. You still hadn't entirely come down from your orgasm.
Scaramouche only wanted to continue to make his precious girl feel as good you made him feel. By cumming again all over his fingers.
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Okay, so, to the Good Omens meta analyses writers: I have seen much discussion about the weirdness of Maggie, but what about the weirdness of Nina? Because both of them make me bananapants, and with every rewatch I'm even more flummoxed.
I was thinking about writing out every word exchanged between Nina and Maggie. Because their whole thing doesn't feel any kind of authentic. I am baffled by each of them and both of them. And I might even feel more baffled by Nina.
When I first watched this with my sister, and then re-watched it with my wife, we were all scratching our heads about these two characters who seemed supremely poorly written. We winced at how false and forced their connection is and how flat their characters are. And in Nina's case, I detected no real interest in Maggie until her last few lines of the series when she suddenly calls her "angel" and lectures Crowley about how to have a healthy relationship. ...What? Excuse me, what?? I will likely never recover from the audacity of these two characters reading this particular riot act to Crowley.
I would argue that we don't even get close to seeing Nina and Maggie have a successful conversation, let alone demonstrate mutual romantic interest. Maggie is lost in the clouds of a really strange and wincingly performative pash (honest to god, how can she be out of control crying over someone she does not know? How did it take her so long to learn Nina's name? Why doesn't she know all about Lindsay, like fellow regular Mrs. Sandwich does? How can Maggie truly be a regular who is madly in love with the proprietor when she has managed to never collect any damn intel??!) , while Nina is preoccupied and irritated and upset about her abusive partner, and that comes through clearly in her whole demeanor and her abrupt tonal shifts.
We see Nina no fewer than three times demean Maggie's shop. We see Nina insist on referring to Maggie as Skinny Latte even after she has finally properly introduced herself. We see Nina basically reject Maggie's terrible gift. (I say the Nina Simone record is a terrible gift for two reasons: 1. Nina has made it crystal clear that she gives so few fucks about records that she hasn't noticed they are popular again, and 2. It was the equivalent of giving her a personalized souvenir. Look, it's an item that you have no use or desire for, but it has your name on it! Yeah, you could say Maggie doesn't have a clue about how to conduct a successful courtship.)
Things just get more awkward when they get stuck in the coffeeshop together. Nina hints really hard that she has a controlling partner, then pours herself a drink as she reacts to the big ol' red flag Maggie throws down when she says "No judgment" about her needing a drink. Maggie, in turn, romanticizes the shit out of having a controlling partner, and then says she'd been hoping to speak with Nina.
Then - and this is the crucial bit - we never see them really talk to each other.
I don't like them as mirrors for A & C. I'm hoping someone can tell me why I should. I feel like Gabriel and Beelzebub is more than enough...
And why the fuck doesn't Crowley know anything about Nina or the coffee shop?! He acts like he hasn't even noticed there's a shop located across the street from the bookstore. He's never paid attention to the name of the shop and he has somehow never met Nina. How does this make any sense?
Now, to tag some lovely analysts I follow 😁
@vidavalor @indigovigilance @meatballlady @moonyinpisces @baggvinshield @fellshish @good-omens-meta-library @halemerry @ineffablelunatics @mouseonamoose
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wnderkoo · 6 months
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WATCH | JJK
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୨୧ see what you want to see, but all i see is him right now
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this is a part of my drabble series, read more here!
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Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!
You're late.
For once in your college career, you're late.
Blame your friends for dragging you out on a school night and not letting you go home until almost midnight- it took two iced mochas to pump you with enough energy to make it pass your door.
Entering the classroom, you let out a sigh when the professor doesn't berate you in front of the entire class. Instead, he looks at you with passive indifference, silently beckoning you to find a seat.
The Visual Arts course required a more practical classroom rather than an auditorium, organised with high tables that sat two people- it had the messy kind of aesthetic you would expect in a K-Drama.
When you look to your usual table, you cry a little inside seeing blocks of clay and newspaper scattered on top of it. Though, given how late you were, you felt that it had been deserved.
Scanning the classroom, you're mortified to find that the only spare seat in the class is next to him.
Tattoos, piercings, the hint of muscles beneath his shirt- Jeon Jungkook is everything you should stay away from.
You had walked in on your first day, surprised to say the least when you saw him at a table. He was the last person you expected to take an arts course but Jungkook had surprised you, becoming one of the top students in the class with his unique art style which blew you away every time.
As if feeling you glaring into the side of his head, he lifts his eyes, meeting yours almost immediately. He gives you a smile that hits you right in the stomach- damn him.
You hear the professor cough awkwardly, signalling to you that you need to find a seat.
Reluctantly, you make your way to his table and sit down beside Jungkook, avoiding his curious gaze as you try to listen in to the rest of the lesson.
Today was theory, and since you'd done the pre-reading, there wasn't much to be missed.
Maybe it's your lack of sleep, or the certain distraction beside you, but you can't seem to find it in you to pay attention to the words of your professor.
No matter how straight you sit up and act like the principles of clay are the most interesting topic on the planet, your mind wanders off.
When you hear a chuckle from beside you, your head snaps towards Jungkook.
"What?" you ask in a whisper, not trying to get called on to answer a question for talking, knowing you wouldn't have the first clue to the answer.
"You're on the edge of your seat," he comments, grinning down at you like it's hilarious.
"If you sit anymore forward, you'll fall right off."
Rolling your eyes, you take in his own posture. Jungook was leaning back in his chair, looking more relaxed than you've been in your entire life. Yet, something told you he was still paying attention.
You knew he did well in school, no matter how shocking it was that the boy who partied and slacked off in class got straight As.
"C'mon babe, you can relax."
Your head snaps back to the front of the room, hoping Jungkook can only see the back of your head and not the heat creeping onto your cheeks.
It's five minutes later, with your professor still rambling on, that his words really win you over.
Scooting back, you let yourself relax into your seat.
From beside you, Jungkook gives you a smug smile.
"Better right?"
"Mhm."
Sitting beside Jungkook wasn't as bad as you had thought it would be. He didn't even flirt with you that much, although he did call you 'babe' a few times, each time bringing the same heat to rise on your cheeks.
He had even offered you his notes to help answer the questions from today's theory work.
The second part of the lesson was always practical, and today you were experimenting with sculpting. Discarding your chairs, you roll up your sleeves and get straight down to business.
While you're fighting hard not to break a sweat as you battle the stiff clay, Jungkook hardly blinks as he start kneading the clay and moulding it into shapes.
After some huffing and puffing, you suddenly feel his eyes on you.
"Need some help?" he asks.
"Nope. Doing. Just. Fine."
His laugh is the first thing you hear before you feel his presence unnervingly close to you.
You almost gasp when he slips one hand beneath each of yours, lacing your fingers together.
"There's your problem, your hands aren't warm enough. The clay won't be mouldable."
Throughout much of high-school and even some of college, guys overly mansplained things to you as if you couldn't comprehend them, but Jungkook's tone didn't belittle you or make you feel stupid. He was just telling you what you needed to know.
He squeezes your hands in his for a moment before pulling his hand away. He beckons toward the clay, urging you to try moulding it now, and unsurprisingly the clay is much easier to shape in just a few seconds.
You silently wonder why Jungkook didn't just warm the clay up for you, but you were thankful that he didn't try to peg you as the damsel in distress.
Before you know it, an hour and a half has passed and your clay elephant and Jungkook's mushroom are standing proudly on the desk.
The hallway is crowded as you make your way to your next class, the chatter almost too loud for you to hear your name being called. Looking over your shoulder, you see none other than Jungkook jogging to catch up to you.
"Hey."
"Hey?"
You almost look around wondering if he was calling someone with the same name as you, but you can't mistake the boyish grin he looks at you with.
"Do you have any plans tonight?" he asks, hooking an arm around your shoulders to usher you to keep walking.
You quickly realise that if you'd stay still just a moment longer, one of the football throwing jocks would have bulldozed right over you.
"Probably just reading class material, why?"
Your confusion must be funny since Jungkook laughs softly.
"Let's get dinner together," he suggests, making your eyes bulge out of your head.
Did Jeon Jungkook really just ask you to dinner?
"You want to go to dinner with me?" you ask, looking up at him.
"I mean yeah, that's why I asked..." his hand comes up to scratch the back of his head, and you realise it's the first time you've ever seen Jungkook look so timid.
Jeon Jungkook. Campus heart-crusher Jeon Jungkook. Has a new girl on his arm every party Jeon Jungkook.
Before you can voice your hesitation, someone calls Jungkook's name from across the hall, tearing both your attention and Jungkook's to a certain brown haired man.
You recognise Kim Taehyung's face through the crowd, waving at you and flashing you his box smile.
"Yo Kook! You still getting the beer for the party tonight?"
While the two communicate through loud shouts, you take the mention of a party as your cue to leave. Jungkook was probably only asking you to dinner because he had nothing better to do. He probably just forgot about the party he was clearly needed at.
You push past the doors and start down the footpath towards the other cluster of buildings across campus when Jungkook is once again calling your name.
"Sorry about that," he says with his boyish smile, falling into step beside you.
"So tonight? Dinner?"
His adamancy about this dinner is throwing you off, especially when you hadn't even interacted with Jungkook enough for him to be practically begging.
"Don't you need to get beer for the party?" you ask.
"I can get that done by 6:30 and still be in time to pick you up at 7," he replies smoothly, stuffing his hands into his pockets.
"You don't want to go to the party?"
You can't even mask your surprise, looking up at him to see if he's playing a joke on you.
"I'm sure you'd enjoy that way more than dinner with me," you laugh.
"Nah."
One word, so casually, so confident. You actually believe him.
"Okay, fine. Dinner tonight."
Jungkook all but leaps into the air with a fist up, his elation enough to make a passer-by believe he'd just won the lottery.
You finally reach the English department for your next class, but you stop before the door and turn to face Jungkook.
You stare at him fully, trying to grasp what he was playing at. Unable to read him, you sigh and start walking to the door and with one final look over your shoulder, your words are half a demand and a wish.
"Remember, 7 PM. Don't be late!"
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He's late.
You'd felt bad earlier for letting his reputation and rumours make you question his intentions, but now he was just living up to them.
You'd spent an hour getting ready, and were horrified to find yourself smiling more than once as you imagined how the night would turn out. You couldn't help it, you were excited.
Every minute is a laugh in your face as you wait on the couch. Maybe he had found someone at the party worth staying for.
You felt stupid for believing you really could be different.
You're just about to give up and wallow in bed while cursing men when your doorbell rings.
You have half a mind to ignore him but you also can't help but be curious to see how he tries to save himself.
The door opens to a guilty looking Jungkook, whose eyes light up just seeing you, as if he had expected you to never talk to him again.
Arms crossed over your chest, you take him in.
His hair is a little disheveled like he run his hand through it one too many times on the drive over here. Wearing a simple white Nike t-shirt and black cargo pants, he was making it a lot harder to stay upset.
It also didn't help that he smelled so fucking good.
"Baby-"
You cut him off, pinning with a look that says 'try again'. He winces at your coldness, though he knows its deserved.
"Yn."
"You're late."
"I know, and I'm so fucking sorry. You don't know how fast I drove to get here," he says, looking genuinely distraught.
A part of you feels petty for not wanting to hear him out. Your pride was wounded and maybe it would be better to stay home.
"It's fine, you can just go back to the party."
You're about to close the door in his face when he steps into the doorway, a hurt expression on his face.
"Please, give me another chance. I'll do whatever it takes to make it up to you," he practically begs, looking and sounding close to falling to his knees.
"Fuck, I even got you flowers because I didn't want you to be upset."
You had realised earlier that you never told Jungkook where you lived. You're not sure exactly how he managed to get your number, you think from one of your friends who share a course with him, but he had messaged you earlier and gotten it.
You'd made sure to tell him not to get you flowers (you felt pretentious assuming he would in the first place) because flowers were for dates and this definitely wasn't a date.
Except when he pulls out the bouquet, you almost just forget everything. He could have half assed it and bought supermarket owned flowers, but he went all out. You're not sure where he managed to get such a beautiful arrangement on short notice, but the longer you look at them, the less upset you feel.
"You think you can win me over with flowers?" you chide, except even Jungkook can tell your resolve is crumbling.
"Is it working?" he asks with a smile when he notices your expression is more lighthearted.
"Yes."
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You're glad Jungkook took you to eat somewhere casual enough that you didn't feel like you couldn't talk, but fancy enough that you weren't just eating fast food. A good middle ground served for the conversation that came easy between you while you waited for your food to come.
Jungkook explains why he was late, which you assure him he is forgiven for, and he tells you that he'll still spend however long it takes to make it up to you.
After dinner you split the bill because it still definitely isn't a date, much to Jungkook's dismay.
You spend the rest of the night walking along the boardwalk, seeming to never run out of things to talk about.
You steal a photo of Jungkook being scammed into playing a carnival game. You also capture the moment he turns around, grinning at you after he managed to knock down all of the pins.
He snaps a photo of you holding the massive teddy bear that almost takes up half of the frame.
He tells you to keep it as an early birthday present because this definitely isn't a date, even though he says it as he winks at you.
When the end of the night draws near, Jungkook asks if you want to go on the ferris where which you immediately say yes to.
He leaves the teddy bear by the operator and you're too eager to get on that you miss the $10 he slips to the guy to make the wheel stop when you're at the top.
Jungkook gets in beside you, resting his arm along the back of your seat because it's 'more comfortable'.
The wheel starts moving, and your eyes dart every which way trying to capture all the sights as you rise higher and higher.
You point out buildings in the distance and Jungkook smiles
When you reach the top you almost burst out laughing when the ride comes to a stop.
Turning to Jungkook, you roll your eyes at his cheesy smile. You're aware your smile is just as big.
"Of course you did," you tease, even as you find yourself moving just a margin closer.
"What can I say? I'm a romantic," he says playfully.
You can't lie and say you had expected any of this to happen tonight. Some parts were cliche, sure, but some parts were also just so genuine, so Jungkook.
People can see what they want to see and say what they want to say about him, but in this moment all you see is Jungkook.
Jungkook who won you a giant teddy bear even after being scammed $15 for it. Jungkook who paid for your icecream even though this isn't a date. Jungkook who paid the operator of the ferris wheel to stop when you were at the top.
Maybe it's the kind of cliche where the smart girl does fall for the bad boy. He'll drive you home, walk you to your front step and kiss you goodnight.
Maybe it's the kind of cliche where you want him to.
"This still isn't a date."
The words are said as a joke but Jungkook doesn't have time to laugh before you're pressing your lips to his.
His hand immediately cups your cheek, holding you close as he reciprocates.
And boy does he reciprocate.
His lips are soft against yours and when you sigh softly Jungkook slides his tongue into your mouth.
It's the kind of kiss that takes your breath away and leaves you both panting afterwards. Jungkook smiles at you, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand from when the kiss had turned heated and sloppy.
"Definitely not a date."
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wow look at me uploading again HAHAH please let me know if you're enjoying these drabbles! feedback and comments are always welcome :)
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🏷️: @moonstar127 @royallyjjk
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ghost-proofbaby · 8 months
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FIRST IMPRESSIONS (a barista!eddie x barista!reader au)
summary: eddie faces the perils of being a coffee shop opener, and meets you. you, who's so damn optimistic it should be annoying. you, who makes the job that has given him trouble seem like a cake walk. you, who seemingly bleeds sunshine. god, he should really hate you.
warnings: TWO uses of "y/n", fem!reader (use of she/her pronouns), PHYSICAL descriptors used for reader (she has a nose ring and a septum piercing! that's all), eddie is just a bitter and grumpy idiot.
wc: 5.2k
a/n: i apologize in advance for all the technical 'barista' talk in reference to positions. i tried to elaborate on a few of them, haha. also... yes. i gave reader two nose piercings. it's definitely not even more self-projection psh. (because i have three)
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Eddie Munson is not a morning person.
So, why, for the life of him, he ended up as an opener, he couldn’t tell you. 
It had been a snowball effect. He got tired of working odd jobs here and there to produce enough cash to slip Wayne for bills, decided the quick change made off of fixing up neighbors’ cars or mowing lawns just wasn’t cutting it for his desired spending habits. He was tired of being so restricted by his misfortune; he was tired of watching Wayne pull long shifts only to continue living paycheck to paycheck. He was tired of his friends like Harrington and Buckley having money from their part time gig at the movie store to freely agree to impromptu late nights at Benny’s or seeing the latest slasher films in the theater as they premiered while he had to deliberate over counting change to see if he even had the funds to join in. He was tired of eyeing that guitar in the mall and constantly telling himself one day. 
Eddie Munson had been tired. But now, as he forced himself awake most mornings before the sun even rose, he was exhausted.
Originally, he’d wanted to be a closer. He didn’t mind being the clean up crew, having to spend late nights in a coffee shop sweeping up grounds and scrubbing away the stickiness of the day. But then the hiring manager that interviewed him had hinted towards the fact that their store already had enough closers when he’d spotted Eddie’s availability, made a few off comments about how what they really needed was a couple brave souls to take over opening shift, and that tiresome cycle rang in Eddie’s ears. Before he even had the chance to think it through, in his desperation, he’d insisted that oh, actually, my availability is completely open. I don’t mind working earlier than that. 
What bullshit. Eddie definitely minded working earlier than that. He more than minded it — he loathed it.
Long story short, it had been a series of unfortunate events that led Eddie to where he was now. In his van, fifteen minutes early, staring out at a parking lot bathed in the lingering night as he fought to keep his eyes open. 
The clock on his dash read 4:46 in a taunting blink, flickering against his bleary eyesight and making him question every decision in his life that had led him here. Adjusting to the new job had been easy enough — his trainer was nice enough, learning how to make drinks and what routines were required in the morning had been meticulous but rewarding — except for the time. It wasn’t just his start time that tortured him vehemently; shifts seem to pass miserably slow, the seconds dragging their feet in no hurry to get anywhere in particular. The clock didn’t care if Eddie yearned for his bed and a few extra hours of sleep gifted by a nap. Traffic didn’t either, when he’d hit the highways and catch just the beginnings or the tail end of the morning rush.
You’d think he’d complain more about the commute. But the gas spent on the twenty minute drive to the town over was the least of his concerns.
“Fuckin’ John,” Eddie mutters when a large truck pulls up to the drive thru, a notable regular he’d begun to recognize after not even a month of working there. They had just recently changed their opening time (they used to open an hour earlier, his manager had informed him. Eddie had nearly burst into grateful tears that he’d never experienced that crime of humanity.) 
None of his coworkers had arrived yet. Most lived closer, able to garner extra snoozes on their alarms and shorter drives of contemplation. Eddie only ever envied them on mornings like today.
“We don’t open for, like, another forty minutes, asshole,” Eddie curses out loud to himself, counting down the time until John gives up and drives away. The man would just circle the store like a vulture anyways. He always did; he always had to be the first customer, grabbing his ridiculous coffee order before scurrying off to play cards at the casino, “How do you come here every fuckin’ day and not know that?” 
It took the older man a full four minutes before he finally roughly shifted his truck back into drive, being the farthest thing from gentle as he hit his gas and jerked his vehicle out of the drive thru line. Eddie couldn’t see him clearly through the stubborn darkness, but he could easily imagine that look of irritation at not receiving the caramel frappucino with a quad shot that he seemed to feel entitled to. 
God, that man was a dick. 
Eddie nearly misses another coworker pulling up to park beside him during the spectacle. 
By this point, he’s learned what cars all his coworkers drive. 
Carmen, the fellow barista who had trained him but he now rarely worked with due to her availability being a bit later in the day, drove a bright red 2012 Kia Soul that had certainly seen better days. Nicole, one of the shift leads he worked with often during his opens, drove a small and silver Nissan Versa. The year is lost on him, but he’s willing to bet it was a few years old at this point. James, another shift lead who went by Jamie and never had much to say, drove a Volkswagen that looked to be straight out of the 70s. And that was just the beginning, the ones he could think of off the top of his head while he was still waking up inside his van. 
The car parked beside him wasn’t any of these. He didn’t recognize it at first glance, and found himself doing a double take as his face scrunched up. 
A Jeep. A two-door Jeep Wrangler with vibrant, chipped yellow paint now sat idle beside him. 
Who the fuck drove a yellow Jeep? 
He can’t even bother to be annoyed or fatigued anymore with the mystery presently before him. He can’t see through the tint of the windows, can’t make out the silhouette of who it was. He was well aware that he hadn’t been acquainted with all of his coworkers quite yet – there was a plethora of baristas in the store he’d only heard spoken of in passing rather than properly meeting – but it had seemed like the people who opened always came from the same rotation of sorry suckers. 
Nicole’s car pulls up. So whoever drove the Jeep was not one of the shift leads. 
Five minutes to 5:00 AM, Nicole’s car door opens first and Eddie can hear the Jeep’s engine kill. He’s quick to fumble with his own keys, pulling them from the ignition in a haste and throwing a hand out to blindly grab his apron from his passenger seat.
A deep shade of green. Everyone had one or two of them laying around, and they were the root of the nickname for all new hires: green beans. He had just finally gotten the one embroidered with his name a little over a week ago, and his manager had apologized profusely as she swore it usually didn’t take that long.
Eddie really didn’t care. The moment he started wearing the apron with his name on it, customers had taken to randomly addressing him by it, and it made him fucking uncomfortable. 
“Rise and shine, campers!” Nicole’s voice echoes through the parking lot the moment all three openers are out of their cars. 
Eddie doesn’t answer at first (which isn’t unusual; Nicole was used to his ever-present sleep-deprivation induced silence). He’s too busy nearly tripping over himself as his eyes stay glued on that Jeep, on the door that swings wide open roughly from two parking spaces away as he waits with bated breath. 
Would this new coworker he was about to meet even like him? 
“God, Nicky,” a new voice groans – a girl’s voice.
Ah, fuck. 
Eddie had noticed the mysterious phenomenon of the way everyone who worked here seemed to be attractive to some extent. Nice on the eyes, always smiling and always flirting in a friendly manner to garner more tips. He’d had plenty of bisexual panics in the bathroom anytime one of his coworkers extended that friendly flirtation his way. All the fellow guys (as few as there were) and all the confident girls he’d been in the trenches with – it didn’t matter, they all affected him. 
Hawkins didn’t have nearly as many pretty people. Eddie sort of felt cheated for having lived a mere twenty minutes from a goldmine of such people for so long, completely unaware. But he also felt sort of relieved, knowing that if he were still a teenager barely scraping by in high school, this coffee shop would have been his downfall with awkward stumbles and feelings caught from all those faux smiles and joking winks that his now coworkers laid on heavy with their regulars. 
With this in mind, he doesn’t know why he wasn’t prepared for when you stepped out of the Jeep. Slamming the door shut behind you, your arms were full with an apron that was definitely not green, along with an oversized water bottle and what he thinks is either a cardigan or jacket. A tote bag slung over your shoulder looked to be stuffed full as well. You were a walking cliche for the type of person that people would expect to work at a coffee shop. The type of person that embodied all those jokes of if an alternative person isn’t making my coffee, it’s not going to taste good. 
Eddie should know; he’d been the butt of many of those style of jokes given that he also fit into that category. With his long hair, with his sparse tattoos, with his new nose ring – he knew he was as much of a cliche as you were. 
Didn’t stop him from staring at you, suddenly wide awake. 
“Aren’t you just a ray of sunshine?” Nicole jokes as she rounds the front of your Jeep, stopping and looking between you and Eddie before she says to you, “You’d think after a month’s vacation you’d be happier to see me.” 
You take two steps forward, lining up right between Eddie and Nicole, and suddenly contort your face to be such an over-exaggerated smile that it’s nearly a grimace. Eddie is so caught up in the scrunch of your nose, he nearly misses the way you grit out a sarcastic “Better?” from between your teeth. 
“Oh, that’s the winner,” Nicole cackles, keys jangling as she shakes them and leads the two of you towards the front of the store. Over her shoulder, she continues to joke, “Keep on smiling like that, and I sense a twenty dollar tip in our future.” 
Eddie still hasn’t said a word. What is he supposed to say? All he can do is trail slightly behind you, doing everything in his power to not let his eyes roam over your legs or backside. You were just wearing black jeans, in line with the same dress-code everyone else followed, but they were doing you favors. 
“Y’know, I think I already saw John’s truck this morning,” your voice was surprisingly pleasant despite the insinuation Nicole had made that your first impression should be grumpy. Far less gritty than Eddie’s would have been had he spoken up, “Think I can sweet talk that out of him? Maybe I’ll ask about his wife. Or- Oh!” you exclaim, bursting with sudden energy that should give Eddie a headache this early, “Put me on bar! I’ll douse his drink in caramel how he likes, that’s sure to tug on his wallet- Sorry, I mean heart-strings.” 
Nicole continues to laugh as she fumbles with unlocking the door, and it’s not lost on Eddie that he has never made any of the fellow baristas laugh like that. Although, to be fair, he has never been quite as enthusiastic as you. He didn’t seemingly bleed sunshine like you. Here the three of you were, outside in the dusky beginnings of a morning, and he could have sworn that the sun had already risen from the light that seemed to emit from you. 
It should have made him nauseated. It kind of did, actually. 
You turn suddenly, just as Nicole finally turns the lock, and face him. Your smile is subtle, eyes so wide he wouldn’t notice the bags even if you had any. “I’m Y/N, by the way.” 
You stick your hand out and he can see you sticky with it – with hopefulness, with friendliness, with kindness. His stomach churns. 
Nope. Not a chance. 
The moment Nicole opens the door, he’s barely muttering his name back to you, and is rushing past you to enter the store. His shoulder brushes against yours, and he has to tell himself repeatedly he did not just shoulder-check you. He has to tell himself that it’s okay he didn’t meet your level of enthusiasm. He has to tell himself that you’re just another barista, someone else who makes coffee for a living and that this new energy you bring is just due to that vacation that Nicole mentioned. 
It’ll fade. He’ll be fine. At some point, his stomach has to stop churning. 
It doesn’t. 
Your energy doesn’t falter, to his surprise. Not only are you sunshine personified, but you’re also damn good at your job. Eddie can only imagine how sluggish he’d be if he had a month off from anything, especially a job, but it doesn’t even seem as though you have to dust any of your skills off for the day. 
You offer to take over opening up the ‘drive thru’ aspect of the store, brewing all the coffees and teas without complaint as Eddie lingers in his misery of shuffling through the tasks of opening up the food portion of the store. As he’s sorting the croissants to be replenished, implementing the technique of FIFO (first in, first out), he can hear Nicole still cackling at whatever you’re saying in the back of the house as you clean the syrup pumps. When he’s labeling all the new breakfast sandwiches for the day with their best-by dates, he can hear you humming a few feet away from him over the clicking of the sticker gun in his hand. And when the clock finally reads 5:30 to signify the time of opening, you’re putting on your apron, tying it around yourself more securely than Eddie always lazily did. Even your black apron seemed to fit on you better than his did, as if you were more made for this job than he was. As if you had years of experience to carry on your shoulders, and God, were you carrying them with grace. Constantly smiling, constantly joking. He’d once thought Nicole incapable of even breaking a grin, but he’d hardly gone longer than a minute without hearing her laugh during the time of your opening together. 
God, he sort of hated you. 
You never even mentioned how rudely he’d shrugged off your introduction. Occasionally, he’d even caught you looking his way during the conversation, a soft expression on your face as if you were ready to include him in all the inside jokes at a moment’s notice. 
He made sure to consistently stare straight ahead, never once seeming to glance your way when you wore that expression. 
You were just too nice. You were putting all the other openers to shame right before his eyes, himself included, and he hated you for it. 
Once the store is open, John is the first customer in drive, as always. Eddie wears the headset (the one you’d grabbed for him, sanitizing it and slotting a freshly charged battery in without him even asking. God, he hated you.) and listens in to you greeting the awful bastard, and his stomach does another flip. 
“Good morning, John,” you chirp happily. He couldn’t see your face from around the corner, but he could only imagine that you were wearing a smile. Maybe you even had that damn camera on so that the customers could see you just as you could see them. 
He waits. Anxious to hear John’s grumpy reply, be reassured when someone else also didn’t match your energy. The man had never been pleasant a single day that Eddie had worked thus far. Simply barking out his order, acting offended when someone didn’t recognize him. 
If anyone was going to be cruel to you, Eddie would bet all five dollars in his pocket that it would be John. 
But even John wasn’t fucking mean to you. 
He had replied in the most cheerful tone Eddie had ever heard leave the man’s throat.
“And who am I speaking to?” he almost sounds teasing. It fans at Eddie’s irrational irritability. 
“I’ll give you three guesses.” 
He hates the way your customer service voice was so similar to just your normal voice. A bit squeakier, a bit more polite, but still bottled sunshine. He hates how nicely it caressed his eardrum as compared to the grate of some of the other barista’s tones while on drive thru. He hates that some deep part of him secretly hoped that Nicole stationed you there your entire shift, and that if she did, he would fight tooth and nail to keep this damn headset on. Just to hear your voice. Just to hear your light.
“Only three?” John’s gruff voice scoffs, “There’s only one person who works here who is this damn cheery before eight in the morning.” 
Nicole laughs from where she’s bent over to put down a few of the sanitizer buckets by the bars, shaking her head as she also listens in over her headset. 
“I’m making it easy on you, then,” you say as you suddenly come into view for Eddie. He’s trying to replenish the sandwiches and protein boxes that the store keeps on display for the customer by the register, still working through his morning tasks as he realizes you’ve completed yours.
Man, he fucking hated you. 
You don’t miss a beat as you begin to tap one of the espresso machines awake, punching all the right buttons to pull John’s espresso shot before you turn to make your way towards the cold beverage station. “You still drinking the same thing, old man?” 
“I’m not old.”
“Right, and I’m not already over-caffeinated,” that’s a lie. He hasn’t seen you touch a drop of coffee this entire time, “Just pull on up. It’s a billion dollars, or whatever your total normally is.” 
John’s cackle is cut off by him pulling away from the speaker box, effectively disconnecting the two way mic. Even Eddie finds himself nearly grinning at your reply, but he stops himself. Because you’re annoying. Because no one should be this witty this early. Because the ability to make others laugh this often should be a cardinal sin. 
He stops the grin because he hates you… right?
You do manage to get a tip out of John. Eddie sees it with his own two eyes. It’s a quick deposit of whatever spare change the stingiest man Eddie had ever had the displeasure of meeting has lying around his car, and it happens so quickly while you’re leant out the window to pass the man his receipt that he always requests that Eddie almost convinces himself it didn’t happen. But it did. He saw it with his own two eyes, as he tripped over his two left feet, effectively nearly knocking Nicole over with him. 
The look she gives him makes his stomach twist this time as his heart lurches. It’s a knowing look. It’s despicable. 
She doesn’t say a word until later into the shift, once more baristas are scattered across the floor and peak is in full swing. Eddie isn’t kept on food, and you aren’t kept to manage taking orders or run the window – he’s the one reassigned to the window position as you are moved to the cafe bar. He’s tasked with quick connections before handing out drinks to bored business people, as you fly through making drinks for both mobile orders and any customers that choose to physically walk into the store. 
Nicole puts herself on the position of ‘DTO’ – she greets the drive thru customers over the headset and takes their orders, her tone not nearly as honey-sweet as yours had been. She’s lacking in jokes, she sticks to a script that must have taken her years to make sound even remotely natural. 
Eddie’s just grateful he doesn’t have to wear a headset and listen to her directly in his ear. 
Rush has died down when she turns to him and cocks a brow with her hip. He has the window shut, fiddling with his thumbs as he anxiously awaits for the partner on drive bar to finish making the iced white mocha for the customer currently sitting on their phone. He’s sure the look she shoots his way is in regards to the fact that he isn’t ‘connecting with the customer’ or putting himself through insufferable small talk. 
It isn’t.
“Do you not like her?” 
His head shoots up, fully meeting her curious gaze, “Excuse me?”
“Y/N,” she clarifies, “Do you… not like her?” 
“I don’t know her,” he weakly defends himself.
He had been a dick to you this morning, hadn’t he? What a weak defense for being a bad person to someone who makes this entire store glow simply by being here. 
“You should give her a chance,��� Nicole speaks softly as she leans back on the counter that holds the order screens, “I… She can be a lot, but she’s one of our best. Think of her as the people’s princess, so to speak.” 
He knows you’re one of the best here, just in the short few hours he’s caught glimpses of you. He has no idea how you’re so quick with making drinks, or how you manage to hold such genuine sounding conversations with all of the customers who stand right at the hand off plane. He just gets irritable when they stare at him with prying eyes as he tries (and fails) to keep up his pace. 
“I… I can see it,” he nods, bringing a hand up to pinch his bottom lip, “I mean, John clearly loves her.” 
Nicole gives a pointed look, “He does. She doesn’t take his shit – him and his wife bring her gifts for every holiday. They know her damn birthday and bring her cards. It’s insufferable.” 
He cracks a shy smile at that, “They bring her birthday cards?”
“They bring her birthday cards,” she echoes back to him. Eddie finally receives the drink he was waiting on and turns, quick to hand it out with a soft mutterance of ‘have a good day’. Once he’s finished and the drive thru is officially empty, he faces her once more, “You don’t have to like her as much as everyone else. I know you’re still new and adjusting but… she’s one of the best for a reason.” 
“Because she can turn out drinks like it’s no one’s business?” Eddie questions, side stepping and lifting his chin in your direction as you finish yet another drink, as if to prove his point. 
“That,” Nicole shrugs her shoulders and pushes off the counter, “And because she actually gives a damn.” Eddie’s brows shoot up as he waits for her to continue, “She knows these customers, man. Learns about their lives, hears them out. Remembers the small things. She’s the same way with all of us, too. She once got turned down from being a shift lead because she’s too nice. Have you ever heard of someone being shot down from a job for that?” Nicole pauses, and Eddie can only shake his head, feeling the ends of his ponytail brush the back of his neck, “She has the management experience – she knows how to run this place. Sometimes, I see it. The way she steps up and takes responsibility. She chooses to be that kind even if it makes her seem like a nut job. She chooses to let people hear walk all over her, because she cares. She cares more about treating us as humans or whatever than she does an upgrade in pay.”
“Makes sense they wouldn’t make her a shift, then,” Eddie dares to say, which earns him a sharp look, “I mean, management positions aren’t for the weak of heart. You have to make tough decision-”
“Once, a man was harassing one of our baristas. This dude who was married. Came in like clockwork and picked up a mobile order under his wife’s name, wouldn’t take no for an answer and kept flirting with one of our poor girls. I’ve never really been afraid of her, but I was every time that man stepped foot in here,” Nicole grabs a rag and starts to wipe down the counters with a low whistle, as if she isn’t spilling serious store lore right now to Eddie. As if she isn’t bringing on more questions than answers, “She’s not weak of heart. She’s good of heart. And if she hadn’t been on vacation, she would have been your trainer. You don’t have to like her, like I said, but it would do you well to give her a chance.” 
Trainer? 
Carmen had mentioned something about another barista being the usual trainer. She had even tried to joke around with Eddie that he would have liked the other girl better, something about how she was funnier and easier to get along with. 
You. You were the girl she’d been talking about. The people’s princess, as Nicole had put it. 
Eddie opens his mouth to say something in reply, although he isn’t quite sure what he can say. 
God, he had been a fucking dick. And Nicole was matching sure he felt all seven levels of Hell, of guilt, for it. 
It ate him alive for the rest of his shift. His stomach churned with it. All that guilt gnawed on him from the inside out, using his bones for toothpicks, and he already knew what he needed to do without Nicole saying it.
“Did that hurt?”
The two of you got off your shifts at the same time, as most openers do. At ten o’clock precisely, Nicole was shooing the two of you off the floor, two fresh baristas taking both your places as you scurried to the back. 
He’d overheard the joke made ten minutes prior, Nicole speaking to a fellow shift lead about who would be replacing you, already mourning your absence. She didn’t make such a joke about Eddie.
“Huh?” you look up quickly from where you had been carefully rolling and folding your apron into a bundle. 
Eddie gestures vaguely to his nose again, repeating himself, “Did it hurt?” 
It was the best he could do – pathetic small talk about the nose piercings of yours that had caught his eye. 
You grin radiantly, and he tries to swallow down that instinctive voice that whisper hate, hate, hate. “Which one?”
Right. You had multiple nose piercings. A hoop that matches Eddie’s own, only on the left nostril rather than the right like his, and that septum piercing. He’d probably look dumb to ask about the nostril considering he had his done, and should already know that it definitely doesn’t feel nice. 
“The septum,” he clarifies, “That combination, though, um… It looks sick.” 
Oh, he sounds so fucking stupid right now. He wishes the sticky floors beneath the two of you would split and swallow him whole. 
“Eh,” you shrug, finally glancing away from him to finish wrapping the strings of your apron snugly around the bundle you’d made of it, “My nostril honestly hurt worse. If you’re thinking of getting one,” you pause, and look up, offering him a look of pure mischief. Heart, stomach, mind. They all lurch with that look as you whisper, as if letting him in on a secret, “Do it.”
“I don’t think I could pull it off,” he’s quick to blurt out, eyes widening, resisting the urge to take several steps back and put distance between you two. 
Fuck, he didn’t hate you. It hits him like a truck – this shift had managed to slip through his fingers so quickly. The fastest one to date. Between all of your jokes, all of the laughter you managed to pull out of others and that he had to fight down, the day had flown past as easily as a shift really could. 
He regrets spending the shift moping. He regrets ignoring your introduction. He regrets not giving you a chance. 
“I think you could,” your tote bag now hangs from your shoulder, and you have your keys prepared in one hand as you hold your water bottle in the other, “Everyone says that, but if you can already pull off the nostril, adding a little septum to the mix never hurt nobody.” 
Is your face stuck like that? Stuck with a subtle and shy smile pulling at the lips, making the corners of your eyes crinkle in the slightest? 
He hopes not. If it is, he’ll never be able to have a normal conversation with you. He’ll always be too distracted, too infuriated, too overwhelmed. 
“You’re a very optimistic person,” he almost lets it slip out as a scoff, but refrains, Nicole’s words echoing in his mind. It would do you well to give her a chance.
“I find your lack of faith disturbing,” you casually say to him. 
“Did you just quote Star Wars to me?” 
Eddie is aghast, staring at you with even more awe than before. And you – oh, you look so goddamn proud of yourself and the way you’ve left him shellshocked, smugly lifting your chin and smiling more intentionally. You’re smiling so widely that your eyes pinch nearly fully shut and even more of that sunshine is now flooding the backroom up to Eddie’s knees.
“I don’t know,” you start to step around Eddie, carrying an air of arrogance that would only be so endearing from someone who had been proven to be as kind as you were, “Did I?”
You never give him the chance to answer. You leave him there, standing in the middle of the back of house and not even clocked out yet as you walk away with a bounce in your step and a quick have a good day, Eddie! over your shoulder.
When he’s finally off the clock and having given a half-ass goodbye to everyone on the floor (which no one replied to as enthusiastically as they had yours, by the way), you’re still sitting in your damn yellow Jeep. You give him a slight wave through the windshield as he makes a beeline for his van, and he doesn’t even bother to return it. Pretends he doesn’t see it. Looks straight ahead. If Nicole is watching from the drive thru window that serves as a front row seat to the entire interaction, she’s going to rip him a new one next shift they work together. 
God, Eddie wishes he hated you. 
Instead, he’s left hoping that next time he opens, you’re there to make the time fly. Maybe he’ll be the one quoting Star Wars to you. If he can ever get the stick out of his ass, that is.
taglist: @josephquinnsfreckles
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kteague · 7 days
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No Regrets - part 1
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Pairing: Frankie Morales x Girasol (f!reader) - (Because of You universe)
Word Count: 4.6k
Summary: "She’s asking you if Frankie went too. The question sends your world upside down."
Warnings: angst, talk of past drug use, talk of suicidal thoughts, mention of ptsd, heavy emotions
a/n: this has been posted on ao3 since july 2023 (damn, time flies) so some of you may have already read it over there (and thank you to the sweet angels who have already commented on it over there <3). i had my reasons on waiting to post it here but it's now the only part of this series that isn't posted on tumblr and i think i'm okay to post it here now. Also, part 2 has not been written because what i have planned for it may interrupt some other stories i want to write for these two first.
Because of You - series masterlist
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When you blink your eyes open, the bedroom is still draped in darkness. There’s not even a hint of sunrise as you try to settle your sleep-riddled brain from the abrupt interruption.  The ringing of your cell phone continues as you reach out to grab it, sleep still heavy in your body that you don’t even think to look at who’s calling. 
“Hello?” you whisper, eyes falling shut once again as you wait to find out just how important this call could be.   
It’s Yovanna and she’s crying hysterically.  It’s enough to have your eyes shoot open as you shift to push off your free hand, sitting up more.
“Wait, wait, Yovanna, breathe.  I can’t understand you.  Is everyone okay?” you go to tap Frankie awake but your hand only meets air. Turning your head, you see his side of the bed is empty, the covers pulled up to his pillow.  As you’re trying to make sense of the source of your friend’s panic, your brain is also trying to figure out just where Frankie could be.  A quick glance at the ensuite shows the door open with the light off.
With a quick toss, the covers are moved off of you allowing you to stand up and you still take a peek inside the dark bathroom for your husband.  Yovanna manages to calm herself just enough that you can finally make out what she’s been trying to tell you.  It’s then you find out that Santi was gone when she woke up to use the bathroom.  She found a note that said he was going back to Colombia and he should be back in a couple of weeks.  It’s the last thing you expected her to say, but now, she’s asking you if Frankie went too. 
The question sends your world upside down. 
He wouldn’t.
Not after last time.
You’re quickly grabbing one of Frankie’s t-shirts from the laundry basket and pulling it over your head as fast as you can without moving the phone from your ear for too long.
“I don’t know,” you tell her honestly, worry starting to seep into your nerves.  You rush out of the bedroom and quietly check the girls’ room for him.  Then the kitchen.  The basement.  Nothing.  When you look out the front window, you get your answer.
His car is gone.
“Yovanna, I have to call you back.  I promise you, I will.  Let me try to call Frankie because he’s not home, either.  As soon as I find out anything, I’ll let you know.”
As soon as you end her call, you’re dialing Frankie’s number.  It goes straight to voicemail and the air leaves your lungs.
He promised you.
You spend fifteen agonizing minutes calling him as you scour the house for any sign of a note, but every damn call to him goes straight to voicemail.  Quickly, you send him a text asking him to call you as soon as possible – when he doesn’t respond back within minutes, it only fuels the fire of your concern. But you’re also getting frustrated and you can’t help but fling your phone against the couch.  Thoughts race through your mind of the past several days, playing back every memory with him where maybe you missed a small moment that could have prepared you that he was planning on leaving again.  It was only hours ago that he made love to you, the evidence of it still sticky between your legs – was that his fucked up way of telling you goodbye without actually admitting what was going on?
You run a hand roughly through your hair as your eyes catch the bedroom door of the girls.   Not only to you, but how could he do this to those little girls?  Violeta was too young to remember the last time he did this.  But now?  She’ll have questions.  And poor Rosie is too young to make any sense of it – all she’ll know is that Daddy isn’t around anymore. 
It doesn’t take long for your mind to start heading to the worst.  Tears fill your eyes as your hand presses to your mouth muffling your sobs.  What if he dies over there? How could you ever possibly break that news to those two little sweet faces?  And how could you ever possibly live without him?
“Damn it, Frankie!” you curse him under your breath, your tears seemingly endless as you switch between being angry and absolutely heartbroken.  Sitting down on the couch, you begin to take slow, deep breaths to settle yourself.  You had already been where Yovanna was, except your baby was already in the world when Frankie left for Colombia.  The last thing she needs right now is to have you being equally as devastated when you call her back.
But it's harder than you thought.
Every deep breath is followed by a reminder of why you’re so upset in the first place and it brings you right back to the verge of a breakdown. 
How Tom was fucking killed there.  Something none of them ever thought would happen, which means its possible to happen again.
How you barely handled being a new mother when Frankie left the first time, and now you’re on your own with two small kids. 
How you’ve never been able to shake the rooted, resounding fear of not knowing where he is ever since the last trip.
The ache in your chest is too much and you don’t even think of the girls sleeping when you finally let out the anguished cry that’s been crawling up your throat.  The tears stream down your face, hot and angry, as you take one shuddering breath after another.
Suddenly, a flash of headlights sweeps across the wall in front of you.  Eyes wide, you’re up and turning to the window to see Frankie’s truck pulling into the driveway. The sight has you frozen, your mind trying to come back from the definitive thought that he had absolutely left again.
It doesn’t matter though, because even without your clearer thoughts, your body aches for him and it has you rushing to the front door.  Wrenching it open, the porch light illuminates you standing there in the doorway with just his t-shirt hanging on your body.
Frankie’s brows knit together at the sight and he shuts the headlights off.  You don’t even think about your current state of undress as you head towards the driver’s side door.  As you get closer, Frankie spots the watery glimmer to your cheeks and his face transforms to worry when he realizes you’ve been crying.  Did something happen to one of the girls? He’s stepping out of the truck, eyes glued to you, when you’re only a couple feet away.
“I thought you left again!  You weren’t here!” you immediately throw at him as you try to swallow the lump in your throat, but your emotions betray you and a sob comes out. Shuddering gasps separate your words as you inform him, “Yovanna says Santi’s gone and – and I thought you went too when I couldn’t find you.” All your sense is gone that you don’t even give it a second thought how the whole neighborhood is asleep as you loudly confront your husband in the driveway.   
A look of guilty realization falls over his face and he’s shaking his head as he pulls that familiar tan jacket off his broad frame and swings it around behind you to drape over your shoulders and shield your half-nude body from any prying eyes.
“Baby, no.  I promised you I’d never do that again,” his palm cups your cheek as he keeps a steady hold of the jacket on you.  His thumb sweeps across your skin, brushing some tears away. 
Another sob from your lips as more tears fall and you nod, “I know. I’m sorry,” hands coming up to cover your face, your head in a daze of too many battling emotions.
“Hey, no,” and Frankie wraps his arms around you hugging you, “You have nothing to apologize for. Fuck, I’m sorry.  I didn’t think you’d wake up before I got back. Come on, let’s get you inside,” then he’s sweeping you up into his arms.
Once he steps through the opened front door, he gently places your feet to the ground and he’s locking the door behind him. When he turns back around, you cling to him in a desperate hug, sobbing into his shoulder.  Eyes closed in annoyance at himself, he hugs your body to him, petting the back of your head gently as he presses his mouth to your temple. 
“Mi vida, I’m right here,” he soothes. 
“You weren’t answering your phone,” you tell him through watery gasps. 
“Because I’m a fucking idiot.  I didn’t realize how low the battery was before I left.  It’s dead right now.”
All of a sudden, you move out of his grasp and shove his chest which barely moves your rock of a husband and also causes his jacket around your shoulders to slip off, hitting the floor with a dull thud.
“You can’t just do that, Frank! You can’t just disappear like that without leaving any kind of note! You have no fucking idea how scared I was! You have no fucking idea just what I went through with you after the last trip!” you shove him again and walk away from him, further into the living room. 
You wipe at your cheeks as you stand with your back to him, arms wrapped around yourself.  
Frankie stands there stunned.  He knew what he put you through.  Or at least, he thought he knew. He takes gentle steps over to you, afraid to do more wrong.  Hesitantly he reaches out and touches your hip, but as he feared you step away from him.  Turning around, you instruct him to call Yovanna.
“I know you were with him.  She deserves to know what’s going on.  Call her now, Francisco.”  With that, you walk away from him again and walk down the hall to the bedroom.
You can’t stop the tears rolling down your face as you sit on the edge of your bed, face buried in your hands. Frankie’s calming voice floats down the hall from the living room, his entire conversation in Spanish as he explains to Santi’s pregnant girlfriend what the hell the man was thinking.  You though have no clue what’s being said.
He’s on the phone with her for almost half an hour before you hear him put the cordless phone back in its cradle.  From his movements, you figure he’s picking up his jacket and hanging it up.   Then you hear him quietly open the girls’ bedroom, no doubt checking on them, especially after your shouting.
Once he enters the bedroom, his footsteps stop and you safely assume he’s staring at you.  It’s not long before you hear him start rounding the end of the bed towards you.  You lift your head and look away from him as you weakly wipe the tracks of tears from your cheeks. 
Frankie’s never really shied away from making things right with you when you’d argue, especially after everything with the last trip, so it shouldn’t have surprised you when he takes a knee directly in front of you with his hands tentatively laying against the outside of your knees before finally smoothing them forward along your naked thighs when you make no move to push him away.
There’s an extra gentleness to his tone when he asks, “Can we talk?”
“No,” you stubbornly answer him in a watery whisper, looking down at your lap. It only causes him further heartache at the fact you’re still crying and it’s all because of him.
“Okay, baby,” he answers softly with a short nod, glancing at his hand molded to your skin before looking at you again, “Then I’m going to talk.”  When you don’t respond, he knows you’re at least listening. But before he even begins to explain, he leans down and presses a light kiss to each of your knees, nuzzling against them before lifting his head. 
“I drove Pope to the airport.  He’s looking to find that money we left behind the last time.  He’s desperate to give Yovanna and their kid the best life possible and he wants that extra money in their bank account.  I tried to talk him out of it,” he gives a small frustrated shake of his head, “He brought it up to me again a couple weeks ago and I tried to talk him out of it then too.  But you know him, too stubborn for his own good.  Yovanna’s not happy, but you know that already, too. When he got out of the car, he had me promise that you and I would look out for her while he’s gone.  Take care of her.”
The way you won’t even look at him hurts just as much as the fact that he’s hurt you.  He leans forward and dips his head, trying to catch your eye but you close them in heartache when he tries. 
“Girasol, please,” he desperately whispers, only to see more tears slip down from the corners of your closed eyes.
When you feel his lips press to your cheek, you can’t help the tiny whimper you make.  Frankie only continues to try to make things okay, “You’re right, Girasol.  I thought I knew what I put you through after Colombia, but obviously I don’t – not really, at least.  I hope you’ll tell me one day.  Until then, I’m so fucking sorry, baby.  I’m sorry for sneaking out like that.  You’re right about that too, that wasn’t fair of me to do that to you.  I’m sorry for ever making you worry that I left you and the girls.  I promised you after the last time that I would never leave you again and I meant it, honey.”  He gives you a minute to respond with anything, but you don’t.  You don’t say anything and it makes your husband sigh quietly before standing up.  He leans down and kisses your head; a whispered “I love you so much” against your hair.  
Frankie walks back to his side, taking his cap off and tossing it onto the dresser.  Every few seconds, he glances at the sight of you sitting there, the only movement of your hands wiping the tears that still continue to fall.  He unfastens his watch, laying it down on the bedside table and begins to undress. 
When he’s down to his underwear, he settles on the bed, his back against the headboard.  He’s not going to sleep until you do. 
As much as he wants to keep trying to get you to talk, he also knows that you just need a little time to let everything settle in your mind and in your heart before you’ll talk to him. It takes ten minutes of silence between you two for you to finally turn your head towards your shoulder, not to look at him but so that he’d hear you.
“Every second you were out of the house, I never knew if you were coming back,” you softly start and Frankie’s eyes don’t leave you. “I’m not even talking about tonight,” you add and there’s a pit in his stomach when he realizes now that you’re talking about those months he was using. 
“You weren’t sharing anything with me and all I had was searching for information on the goddamn internet.  Everything about PTSD mentioned how suicidal thoughts were so common.  And then the cocaine,” you trail off, taking a minute before continuing, “…I had no idea if that was making the PTSD worse.  I just – I was constantly worried sick about you, Frankie.  And I was terrified that maybe you felt so alone, and so misunderstood that part of you might have thought it would just be best to go off somewhere and – and kill yourself,” when you speak those last two words out loud, they’re wrapped in a heavy sob that shakes your body.
With tears in his eyes, Frankie lunges forward and wraps his arms around you, pulling you into his lap and cradling you, mouth pressing to your temple as he holds you close.  Your hands grip his arms for support and through shuddering sobs, you force yourself to finish, “Even though Yovanna said it was Colombia, when I couldn’t find you anywhere and when I saw your car was gone, that fear just came instantly flooding back. That maybe you were suffering again and not telling me.  And then there also being the chance that you broke your promise and went away again, and –,” a shuddering sigh, “ – I just fucking panicked.”
Frankie’s heart shatters. 
Tears fill his eyes and he brushes his lips across your wet cheek.  When he whispers the question against your skin, you hear the heavy heartache in his voice, “Why didn’t you ever tell me?”
The question gives you pause as you finally look at him.  At this man you’re so deeply in love with, who has given you so much love and devotion.  This man who is so devastatingly handsome and he doesn’t even realize.  Looking into his eyes, you think of his question and your eyes only well up even more.  With a trembling lip, “Because I didn’t want to give you the idea if you weren’t already thinking it.”
A lump settles in his throat when he looks at you, and the absolute grief written on your face has his own tears finally fall.   
Frankie shakily breathes, “Mi alma,” before he crushes his lips to yours.  Your hands grasp his face as you desperately return the affection. Tears continue to fall from you both and every sweep of your thumbs against his cheeks has you feeling his. You only pull away from his mouth in order to kiss some away. 
His eyes follow you as you move from one cheek to the other, his hand sweetly smoothing over your hair.  You press your forehead to his brow, your tiny shuddering gasps felt against his jaw.  His throat moves with a swallow before his palm gently comes up to your face to keep you still as he guides you back enough for him to see your whole face.
There’s a hesitation from him as his eyes dance between yours.  A caress of his thumb along the wetness below your eye before he shamefully admits, “I had thought about it.  Just once or twice.”
Fresh tears fall as your face crumbles at his secret, “Frankie,” you cry, the worst of your fears being given truth.  Your hands fall from his face to rest on his bare chest.
He has to look away from you, unable to handle seeing the newfound pain in your eyes, but he keeps explaining, “Seeing how bad I was hurting you and knowing that I wasn’t being the husband you deserved or the father that Violeta deserved, it had briefly crossed my mind.  But I didn’t want to be somewhere that you weren’t,” he finally looks to you again, “Selfishly, I’d rather have still been around you, even if it was causing you pain,” a sad shake of his head, “That’s fucked up, isn’t it?”
Instead of saying anything, you press your lips to his in a kiss that hits him so deep, he feels that emotion swell in his chest.  It’s one that reminds him just how much you love him.
You rest your forehead against his, “No, baby, it’s not.  It’s what kept you here with us.  And just so you know, the worst possible pain would have been if you weren’t here at all,��� you lift your head to look into his beautiful, brown eyes and cup his cheek. 
Frankie runs his hand over your hair, eyes never leaving yours, “I don’t deserve you.”
“Yes, you do,” you bring your other hand up to fully frame his face.
“Fuck, baby, I really am sorry for everything.  If I had known any of this, I promise I would have left a note.  I just didn’t want to wake you up so early for nothing.  I would have told you all about it later.”
You give a short nod, “I know. I just – that fear and panic made me overreact. It’s something I have to work on.”
“You had every right.  Don’t be so nice to me when I don’t deserve it.”
“It’s hard not to…you’re really cute,” your lips curving slightly for the first time since he got home. It has him huffing out a small laugh with the unexpected response.
Frankie looks at you so soft, with the most adoring smile, “Girasol, I love you so much,” and then he’s making you squeak out a laugh when he abruptly leans forward with you on his lap, sending you onto your back, laying you out as he hovers over you.  He buries his face against your neck, one arm slipping under your back to hug you as he leans on his forearm.  You hold him tight, petting his soft, curling hair as he leaves light kisses along your neck and to your jaw.
Lifting his head, his lips brush your chin before he’s looking down at you, and with a tenderness that only he has, he uses the back of his finger to wipe away any moisture left on your cheeks from all your tears.
There’s a slight frown on his face, “I absolutely hate making you cry, amor.  Rips me right open.” 
With a hand on the back of his neck, you pull him down for a sweet kiss, “Baby, this was all on me.  You didn’t actually do anything wrong.”
There’s a sadness to his eyes as the width of his palm covers the side of your face, his thumb smoothing along your lower lip, “But the things I’ve done wrong in the past have followed you this whole time.  I’m so fucking sorry.”
It’s enough to undo his work of drying your tears as a few trickles down the sides of your temples at the broken expression on his face, but you give a weak shake of your head, “Who could’ve known? Frankie, as long as you’re okay, I’m okay,” another kiss to his lips, “Are you okay?”
Are you suffering in silence again?
The kiss he gives you is soft, but passionate.  He tries to channel every ounce of love he has for you into this small act of affection that isn’t nearly enough to show you just how much you mean to him.  The rounded edges of your fingernails drag back and forth along the back of his neck as he kisses you nearly breathless. 
When his lips reluctantly leave yours, he keeps his nose nestled to yours.  Each panting breath fans across the other’s mouth, as you continue to caress your fingers through his curls and his hand smooths back and forth along your thigh.
His voice is huskier than before, “I’m okay, Girasol. I promise.  Are we okay?”
You nod sweetly, your other hand gliding down the expanse of his back, “We’re more than.  Thank you, amor, for coming home,” a peck to his lips before a thought hits you and you ask him with some concern, “Does Santi know what he’s doing by himself to get that money?”
Frankie smooths his palm over your hairline to the crown of your head, “He’s not alone.  He’ll be fine.”
“He’s not?  But you guys had gone last time as a cover so no one from Colombia would know what you were really up to. Who does he have now?”
There’s something about the small hesitation from him that makes it click in your head.
With disbelief, you question, “Will and Benny went?”
“Yeah.”
“And you didn’t go?” you ask despite knowing why.
Frankie shakes his head, “I promised you I wouldn’t.”
“Frank,” you breathe out. 
Not understanding your reaction, he asks, “Are you mad?”
With a soft, but sad smile you shake your head, “No.  I just know how worried you probably are right now since you’re not there.  And I also feel a bit guilty that you feel that way, but the fact that you’re still here – I love you.”
“Do not feel guilty.  Your opinion matters in this and I’m sorry I didn’t take it as seriously last time.”
“You have any way to be in contact with them?”
He shakes his head, “But they’ll be okay.  It’s different this time.  They know exactly where it’s at and there’s no one around to fight in order to get it.”
“You wanted to go,” you state.
He gives a weak sigh at you calling him out, “…Only for our family.  We could use more money.  But you and our girls come first.  This, right here, is where I really want to be.”  
Looking at him, you know he means it.  You know how deeply he loves you and the kids.  You run your fingers through his hair and lean up to press a kiss to his chin. Quietly, you share, “I’m so happy you’re still here,” and he sees in the way you look at him that you mean both alive and right here with you. 
“Me too,” he answers back with a tinge of emotion he’s trying to hide.  He kisses you right after, hand cradling your head.  His tongue gains access past your lips and you’re happy to taste him.
Looking up at him, you pet his scratchy facial hair, “You going to be able to sleep?”
“Doubt it,” he’s honest.  You crane your head back to get a glimpse out of the bedroom window and see the faintest of light.  Looking back to him, “El sol debería empezar a salir pronto.”  (Sun should start coming up soon.)
With a grin, “Vamos, mi Girasol.”  As he pushes off the mattress to get up, you sit up right after him.  Both of you pull on pajama pants and shove your feet into slippers.  Frankie grabs the baby monitor and your hand and together you quietly walk down the hallway.  As you pass through the living room, you let him go to grab the blanket at the end of the couch.  He waits those few seconds for you and slings his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close enough to kiss your head before continuing out back with you. 
The two of you lay side by side, cuddled close together on the chaise lounge with the blanket thrown over you.  Frankie’s arm is around you, pillowing your head, his hand slipped under your shirt and resting on your stomach. Every brush of his thumb over the dip of your bellybutton sends a shiver through you. 
You rest an arm on his chest, your forearm pressed to his collarbone as your fingertips lazily pet against his patchy haired jaw.    
Frankie turns his head several times to kiss your temple and whisper sweet words of love in between the slow kisses you share.  When the sky slowly grows brighter, turning beautiful colors of orange and pink, the sun gets halfway up when he feels your fingertips slowly come to a rest against his neck.  He looks to you - your cheek resting against his chest and your lips slightly parted with slow, evened breaths, as your closed eyes have you miss the sunrise.  
He presses a gentle kiss to your head and cuddles you even closer.
He can’t help but worry about Pope and the guys, but he also knows how capable they are, with or without him.  And in this moment with you, he knows he has zero regrets with not going.  Here he gets to love and touch the most amazing woman.  In a couple of hours, he gets to hear the giggles of two of the most adorable little girls that he helped make.  Gets to hear them call for him and have them want to be with him. Here, he gets to see your smile and hear your laugh at any moment.
No regrets at all.
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angstywaifu · 1 month
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I Think I Deserve A Kiss - Xaden Riorson x Reader
Happy Valentines Day for all my fellow Australians and future people! Have some cute Xaden Riorson fluff with the prompt "I think I deserve a kiss."
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It felt like anything that could have gone wrong today, did go wrong. I had woken up late due to being out late on a supply run that didn’t go exactly to plan. Because of that I’d missed breakfast and barely made it to my first class on time. Xaden and Garrick had someone managed to get up on time and be there. Both raising eyebrows at me as I ran in while shoving my arms into my jacket.
During flight training a squad mate hadn’t been paying attention and dove straight down into my dragon and I causing me to come off. Luckily my dragon had been quick to right themselves and catch me before it was too late. Then at challenges another fight interrupted ours, and due to it I’d lost track of my opponent and gotten jumped. And then everything had gone black.
The throbbing in my head was almost unbearable as I woke from whatever slumber I was in. No not a slumber. I didn’t feel rested and no way would I have been able to sleep with all this pain. I open my eyes and squint as I’m blinded by the light above me. I go to sit up, but two very strong hands push me back down. I vaguely hear them talking to me, but there’s still a ringing in my ears. That’s right. I’d been in challenges.
My eyes finally adjust and I see I’m in the healers quadrant, a mage light right above my bed. The curtains are drawn around my bed, giving me some privacy from the rest of the room. A hand firmly grasps mine, a thumb rubbing soothing circles into the back of my hand. I look over to see Xaden sitting next to my bed. I must stare at him confused as he raises his eye brow at me.
”You ok?” He asks, his voice sounds rough. Almost as if he had been yelling.
”No, but..” I pause as I’m unsure what to say. The emotion I see on his face isn’t one I’ve seen before.
”But what?” He asks sternly as he raises one of his eye brows at me.
”You look worried and you never look worried?” I tell him.
I feel his body stiffen at my words. Clearly he had been trying to hide his worry from me. But I’d seen right through him as his onyx eyes had betrayed the hidden emotion. Xaden wasn’t emotionless by any means. But he usually did a very good job at hiding them. Choosing to save them for behind closed doors or around those he trusted. I guess behind the drawn curtains he kind of was.
”You would be to if you saw what I saw.” He stands and walks to the end of my bed, running his hands through his hair.
“What do you mean?” I ask worried.
What had happened? It was just a challenge. We did them all the time. We got hurt all the time. But the pulsing pain in my head told me that this time was probably one of the more extreme outcomes of challenges. In my three years in the quadrant I’d been lucky enough to avoid any major injuries. Till now it seems.
Xaden barely turns to me as he motions to a mirror sitting on the table next to me. I grab it and hold it up to my face. I gasp and almost drop the mirror. It was clear my injuries had been mended as much as they could. But the stitches on my cheek and lip, and the bruise around my right eye and peaking through the collar of my shirt told me I had received a decent beating when they’d gotten the jump on me.
“I should have been watching. But I was too caught up on making sure that damn Sorrengail girl didn’t get killed. And next thing I know there’s screaming across the other side of the gym as that asshole beats you to within an inch of your life.” I can see Xaden’s shoulder visibly shake as he recalls the memory.
It’s then I notice Xaden is not in his training gear. He’s in his normal uniform. As he turns I notice the slight hint of shadows forming under his eyes.
”How long have I been unconscious for?” I ask hesitantly.
“Three. Days.” Xaden practically spits out angrily.
Even though the anger is not directed at me, I still flinch at the tone in his voice. Three days I had been out for. I shudder as I look at my reflection in the mirror. If I had been out for that long my injuries must have been way worse than what I am seeing now. The curtain to my bed is moved to the side revealing the only mender in the healers quadrant. I don’t recall his name as I haven’t had much to do with him. As he approaches me Xaden walks out leaving me alone with him. With how angry he seemed to be I don’t blame him for leaving, but I can’t help but feel a bit sad at him leaving me alone. I sit in silence as the mender tends to my injuries again. Due to me being awake he is able to heal a bit more, and luckily he is able to take away the throbbing headache I had woken up with. With instructions to come back again in a few days and a tub of healing balm I am allowed to go back to the riders quadrant. As I walk through the big doors that lead back to the riders quadrant I find Xaden leaning against the wall waiting for me.
He reaches out and pulls me into his side, before placing his hand on the small of my back as he leads me back to my room. Classes must still be on with how empty the corridors are. We don’t bump into a single person on the way back. I don’t dare try to break the silence as I know it’s better to leave Xaden be when he is in one of these moods. He opens my door and ushers me in, before guiding me over to my bed and sitting me down. He squats down in front of me and places his hands on my knees as he looks at me.
”You should get some rest. I’ll come back and grab you for dinner ok?” He tells me quietly. His voice is void of any emotion. His default when he’s trying to stay calm when he is anything but calm.
I do my best to ignore the twinge of pain in my heart as I nod my head. He softly smiles at me and nods slightly. He stands and kisses the top of my head before quickly leaving my room. As he closes the door I let you the breath I didn’t realise I had been holding in. Xaden is right, I do need to sleep. After being mended I felt exhausted. And even though I had been out for three days, I felt like I’d been awake for three days instead. I place the healing balm I still clutched in my hands on the bedside table before changing into some more comfy clothes and climbing into bed, sleep consuming me almost immediately as my head hits the pillow.
I don’t know how much time has passed, but I feel the bed dip slightly beside me. I open my eyes to see I’ve rolled towards the wall. But I can tell immediately it is a lot later. My room is now dark, bar the soft flicker of a flame. Strange. My mage light is usually much brighter than this. I feel the bed shift next to me again and I look over my shoudler to see Xaden sitting next to me, his face illuminated but a soft flickering light. He seems to be a lot calmer as he smiles softly at me. I roll over fully and my breath catches in my throat.
Multiple candles have been lit and placed around my room, explaining the soft flickering light in the room. On the table, Xaden has laid out food he must have gathered from the dining hall. I’ve clearly missed dinner with how dark it is outside. Next to the dinner he has brought, which is also enough for the two of us, is two big slices of chocolate cake.
I look over at Xaden who is smiling at me, his shoulders shaking slightly with a silent laugh as he looks at my shocked face.
”What is this?” I ask him.
”Well I came to get you for dinner and I couldn’t wake you up while you looked so peaceful. So i brought dinner to you.” He tells me softly. The way his brows furrow tells me he is doing his best to think about his works.
I nod my head slowly. “But why all the candles?”
”Well, I’d actually planned to ask you something, but what happened kind of put a dampener on my plans.” He admits as he looks down at the floor.
”What plans?” I’d asked confused.
I tried to rack my brain for what he could mean. What on earth could he have wanted to ask me the other day?
”I was-” He pauses, his eye brows furrowing again. “I was going, to ask you. To be my valentine.” He finally gets out.
I freeze in shock as he looks up at me. He looks scared. But it quickly changes as he tries to hold back his laughter. Obviously the look on my face is quite amusing for him.
”Left you speechless have I? Thats a first.” He teases, easily grabbing my hand as I go to playfully hit him. “That’s not very nice.”
”It’s what you deserve for teasing me.” I sassily say back.
My breath hitches as he leans in close, our noses barely touching. He’s so close I can see the golden flecks in his onyx eyes, I can feel every breath he takes. He obviously hears it as he chuckles softly.
”I think I deserve a kiss.” He says, the corner of his mouth tilting up in a smirk.
I go to playfully hit him with my other hand. Yet again he easily grabs it as if he knows what I had planned and uses the momentum to pull me closer and into a kiss. His arms snake around my waist, pulling me into his lap, my legs sitting either side of his as I straddle him. The dinner and cake quickly forgotten.
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maybege · 9 months
Text
Big Dick Energy: The Sequel
Summary: An investigation takes you to a mall but it is Aaron Hotchner who takes you to a lingerie boutique.
Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!Reader
Wordcount: 4.9k | Rating: E (18+ only!)
Warnings: explicit sexual content, dom!Hotch, sub!Reader, unprotected sex, fingering, dirty talk, verbal degradation, (semi)public sex, cream pie, then some unexpected fluff
Rewatching Criminal Minds has reminded me of how much I actually thirst for Aaron Hotchner. Other than that, I have absolutely no excuse for this. Read, enjoy, and pretty please leave a comment and tell me what you thought because the possibilities with this dynamic are endless and I am very excited to share it with you! (Though I will need to think of a better title.)
masterlist | crossposted on AO3
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Looking for unsubs truly was a task that looked different every single time. Sometimes you had Penelope work her magic until you could pinpoint them, sometimes you were in direct contact due to a kidnapping situation. Other times you felt like you were playing spies on a big playground. Like right now.
The team had determined that the most likely spot for him to strike next was at a mall and with the entire sheriff’s office playing dress up, you were posing as unsuspecting shoppers on a calm Tuesday morning.
Hotch had decided you were all to split up into little groups. Reid and Prentiss had grabbed the bookshop as their assigned spot and you were sure Derek was somewhere. But before you could choose which area of the mall you wanted to call your domain, Hotch had instructed that you join him. Pretending to be a married couple. In a lingerie boutique.
For a moment, you thought you were hallucinating.
But sure enough, a few hours later, you and Hotch were browsing through the aisles of lace and tulle and mesh and the most delicate of undergarments you had ever looked at. And his presence did not make it any easier not to drift off into any daydreams.
You hadn’t really spoken after what happened on the plan and you weren’t sure if you were glad about it or not. It is like it had never happened. But it had happened. Because your jaw was still sore and you could still hear the way his voice dropped when he had hit the back of your throat. Or how gentle his fingers had been when it was all over. How he had taken care of you.
But by the time the plane had landed, he was back to his cool professional self and you were back to your pining, needy pile of infatuation you became when he was around you.
“I don’t think he is going to show up,” Emily’s voice sounded in your earpiece, “He would’ve hit by now. Maybe we should look at other possible targets before we waste too much time here?”
“I am sure pretty boy is holding his tongue about how time in a bookshop can never be wasted time,” Derek teased and you grinned. He was not wrong.
There was a hint of a smile on Hotch’s face and when his eyes met yours he looked much lighter than before. You watched him, waiting for his decision on the matter and he looked so damn calm, returning your gaze with so much ease. As if you did not affect him at all.
Which in turn made it all the more frustrating to feel your body react to him at the slightest stare. Your heartbeat started going faster, your breath heavier and everything felt so much more heightened when he was around.
How hopelessly did you want to crush on your boss? Your body’s answer, apparently, was a resounding: Yes.
But after the airplane incident, you had no more courage left. You had (kind of, if accidentally) initiated the first time with him. Now, you had to calm yourself with the thought that it was up to him to show you if he was interested.
A ringtone brought you out of your thoughts and you flinched. The young woman at the register picked up her cell phone, not even sparing another glance at you before she started off on what sounded like a very detailed retelling of her last weekend.
Hotch cleared his throat and your eyes fell on him, still waiting for his response to Prentiss’s suggestion.
“I agree,” he finally said, standing so close to you that it looked as if he was talking to you and you only, “We should regroup in a bit. I will see everyone at the office in two hours.”
“Sir, are you giving us a break?” not even the subpar sound quality of your earpiece could hide Garcia’s excitement.
“Yes,” he grinned at you, his hand reaching out and hovering over yours. Your breath caught in your heart because how could one man be so handsome? “I am giving you a break.”
The clicks of everyone disconnecting their microphone were only overshadowed by the sound of your heartbeat in your own ears. Hotch’s intense gaze was still on you and you could not shake the feeling that something big was about to happen.
“What’s your size?”
“What?”
“You have been staring at this piece for the better part of an hour,” he stated, “So I think you should try it on. And I think I should see you in it.”
Your mouth gaped open, not expecting such a blatant statement from your boss. Especially not one who was usually so tight-lipped on all things personal. You swallowed harshly, trying to find the right words that did not betray your eagerness but only ended up nodding at him.
You threw a look at the tags of the set he was holding, making an effort not to also stare at how big his hands were and subsequently wonder what his fingers would feel like inside of you.
Hoping he did not notice, you pressed your thighs together in an attempt to take care of the pulsing that was stronger than you would have liked it to be. But the way his gaze dropped let you know he certainly did notice. You swallowed again, “This, uh, this one should fit.”
Hotch nodded once, turning around while holding up the hanger.
“Excuse me, my wife would like to try –“
Before he had finished his sentence (you tried to ignore the strange skip your heart made when he had called you his wife), the cashier motioned somewhere to the back of the shop without even looking at you. Her phone was still pressed to her ear and her face was turned toward the glass front, probably observing the people milling about instead of the (in her mind) boring, business casual-wearing couple that tried to spice up their equally boring sex life.
If only she knew …
You followed the tall man to the little back room where a row of changing rooms was decorated with lush carpet and velvet drapery. If it did not look so plasticky cheap, you might’ve found it luxurious. Much like the showroom of the boutique, the rooms were completely abandoned and so quiet, the blaring mall music seemed even louder here.
Your eyes drifted to the corner of the curtained entrance.
“There are cameras here.”
“It’s not like we are going to do something inappropriate,” Hotch quipped as he strode to the end of the aisle, hanging the piece of lace into the last cubicle.
For some reason that disappointed you.
By the way he knowingly smirked at you, you knew that was exactly the kind of reaction he had wanted from you. And that gave you a little bit of hope.
You were still questioning what you were doing by the time you had reached him. Was this really happening? And what was this anyway? What was he planning?
Aaron tilted his head, his eyes mustering you up and down and just before you stepped inside, his hand landed on your shoulder. It was warm and heavy and you cursed yourself for how aware you were of him. How everything he did seemed to register in your brain as something of the utmost importance. Especially when he was touching you like it came naturally to him.
“You do not have to do this if you do not want to,” he said firmly, his eyes as serious as ever, “And if you ever want to stop, say Iceberg, understood? None of this will ever affect the way I see you at work.”
You nodded briefly, taking a moment to find your voice. “Understood … sir.”
The corners of his mouth quirked up and his hand smoothed from your shoulder to the very low of your back as you stepped into the small space. “Good girl, let me know when you are ready.”
Your pussy practically throbbed at his words but before you could do anything to embarrass you, he had left you alone, the curtain pulled between you.
When you were alone, you were highly aware that he could still hear you. Still, it afforded you a few precious moments to look at yourself in the mirror and realize that holy shit Aaron Hotchner wanted … something with you. And even if you were not sure what that specific something was, yet, you knew it would be more than worth it.
You rushed to get out of your silk dress and shoes, even going so far as to slip out of your underwear. If there was any time to be brazen it was now.
The piece Hotch had so rightly picked out was a mint green lacey two-piece with a kind of corset bra and high-waisted panties. It looked like the kind of thing one might see on a giant billboard or on a suggested Instagram post. It made you feel like you could have the kind of life where you surprised your (non-existent) boyfriend with some new lingerie or where said boyfriend would take you on a weekend trip to luxurious hotels with good food and even better sex.
Putting on the bra was easy enough but looking at that plastic sticker inside the bottoms made you hesitant. You really did not want to put them on without them having had at least one laundry cycle.
“You decent?”
Granted, he had given you enough time to get out of your clothes. But in your half-dressed predicament, you panicked and threw the panties back onto the hanger. There was no way you were going to try them on like this.
“Kinda,” you replied, feeling a little insecure but also figuring that whatever he wanted to do with you, you would not need panties for that anyway.
In the mirror, you could see the curtain moving and you turned around, facing him.
Aaron Hotchner was way too big in that little entrance of the small space. The dark colour of his suit bled into the dark velvet curtain and his hand looked way too big, the way he gripped that little piece of curtain. He was so close, you felt crowded but also like he was not close enough. Like you needed him closer still.
He did not say anything but just looked at you. His silence made you nervous and you shifted on your feet, crossing your arms in front of your chest and the apex of your thighs.
“Don’t.”
You let your arms fall again.
He remained silent but you watched as his dark eyes took you in. His mouth was in a straight line and you could spot the five-o’clock shadow setting in on his cheeks and jaw. You wondered what it would be like to kiss him like this. His brows were furrowed like he was displeased and for a moment you were afraid he was displeased by you. By your appearance.
Then he met your eyes.
“Do you have any idea how much self-control I invest every fucking day not to bend you over my desk and make you come seven ways till Sunday?”
Hearing him curse (You had made Aaron Hotchner curse, nobody was ever going to believe you.) was such a surprise, it took you a moment to register everything else he said.
“I – I am sorry?” you offered.
“Don’t be,” he murmured, taking a step towards you. The curtain fell closed behind him, leaving you two completely cut off from the world. “When I see you like this, it is more than worth it.”
Your breath caught in your throat. “What happened on the plane …”
“… is definitely something I would like to repeat,” he finished your thought, “If that wasn’t clear before.”
“I – I didn’t think you noticed me like this,” you confessed.
“You’re a good profiler,” his finger brushed over your cheek and he tilted his head, “You really did not notice?”
With wide eyes, you shook your head.
He smirked, “Maybe because you were too busy hiding how needy you were.”
He leant forward, then, his breath ghosting over your face and you were sure you had never been more nervous. The scent of his cologne was in your nose, his neck was so close, all you wanted to do was to reach out and loosen his tie.
And so you did.
“I don’t think I was that needy,” you tried to protest before pressing a kiss to his jaw. The stubble scratched your lips but that only added to the excitement in you. A low rumbling sound came from his chest and you gasped in surprise when he pulled you back, keeping his hand on the back of your neck so you had to look up at him.
His mouth brushed yours in a half-kiss and you could see a twinkle in his eyes. “Well, I’d like to think there were some obvious signs.”
He let his fingers wander down your cheek to your neck before they ghosted over the lace of the bra. Your nipples pebbled at his attention, the lace just adding to the pleasant sensation, and his mouth quirked up in that half-smile again. “Like when I could see your nipples get hard when I was with you in that elevator.”
“That – that was one time,” you protested weakly, arching your back so he could touch you more.
He hummed, “Maybe. But all I wanted to do was this.” His thumb brushed over your nipple again and again until all you could do was squirm against him, trying not to beg him to finally fuck you.
But even in your precarious situation, Aaron Hotchner did not make the impression of a hurried man. His eyes flicked from your chest to your face, completely mesmerized by the reaction he got out of you. And you could tell he liked it when he rolled your nipples between his fingers and your knees buckled when he pulled on them.
“Not to mention that time you sucked my cock on a plane,” he reminded you in a low voice and you could feel the heat rise into your cheeks, both from arousal and embarrassment, “I have dreamed of all the things I could do to you. Have you warm my cock in the office, suck my cock under the desk, hell, maybe keep you in bed all weekend long and make you come until you can only say my name …”
There was a very prominent bulge pressed against your hips, confirming these fantasies turned him on just as much as you and that only fuelled your fire. You let your head fall back, your eyes closed as you tried to imagine yourself just as he had described. Sitting in his lap in his office, feeling him inside you while he worked? That sounded like a dream.
Using the exposure of your skin, Hotch dropped his mouth to your neck, kissing and licking and sucking and just making you feel oh so good. It was so easy to just wrap your arms around his neck and pull yourself closer to him.
When he sucked on a particularly sensitive spot, you gasped out a moan, immediately trying to cut the sound off for fear of the chatty cashier hearing you.
His hands continued their exploration of your body and landed on your ass, effectively grinding you against his cock. Your core pulsed, everything in your body thrumming with desire. You knew how big he was, you knew what he looked like and how heavy he was. The sheer idea of feeling him inside you made you feel absolutely shameless.
Which meant there was still one thing you needed to address before there was no going back.
“There are still cameras here,” you whispered against him, panting when he rolled his hips against yours again. Gosh, he was big.
“Do you trust me?” he asked, just as quietly, and without hesitation, you nodded.
“Then I will take care of it.”
And that was all he needed to say.
Feeling encouraged, you let your hands wander and cupped him through the front of his pants. You could feel the weight and the size of him and a new wave of wetness rushed down your thighs.
Hotch groaned low in your ear, a sound that was even better when he made it just for you. His hand landed on yours, making you massage him through his clothes.
“You were so good for me on the plane,” he murmured in your ear, his other hand kneading the soft flesh of your ass, “Felt like a dream come true having you on your knees for me.”
You did not say anything. Both because you could not say anything and because you wanted to hear what he had to say. Hotch was always such a closed-off person, to hear him speak to you so tenderly and so openly … It made you feel like you needed to keep it close to your chest and cherish it.
“Always had the suspicion there was something bubbling under the surface of the good girl you were pretending to be,” he continued kissing his way down your neck until you could feel his teeth tugging on the bra strap. “But there is nothing quite like finding out you were a good girl all along … but only for me.”
He straightened up to his full height. You had always been impressed by how big of a man he really was (and how good he looked in a suit) but now it seemed even more intense.
Because Aaron Hotchner’s dark eyes were staring right into your soul when he asked, “And you are a good girl for me, aren’t you?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good girl.”
And then he kissed you.
It was passionate and hard and he dominated the kiss so easily, it just made you melt into him even more. His lips were soft and a contrast to the stubble you could feel on his chin. His teeth tugged on your bottom lip, then, and you gasped, following him until he let it fall away.
He chuckled, pressing another kiss to your neck, “Now put your hands against the wall so I can inspect that little pussy. I bet you’re already wet for me, hm?”
Never in your life had you moved so fast.
And he was right, f course. When his fingers rubbed over your cunt, you were embarrassingly wet already. But you could not care less. Not when you were about to be fucked by the one man you had been pining after for months.
You squeaked when a spank landed on your ass, “I’m gonna buy this and so much more just to see you wear it,” he growled, his fingers rubbing over your folds, seeking out your clit, “Just to fuck you in it.”
“Will you fuck me now?”
“That depends,” he murmured, pushing a single finger inside you, “Can you be quiet for me?”
You bit your lip so hard, you were half-expecting to have drops of blood running down your chin. The truth was you did not know but you knew you could try for him. You would try everything for him.
Your eager nod was rewarded with a kiss to your shoulder blade and his fingers went back to circling your clit before dipping inside you again. He hummed, clearly pleased at that and you arched into him, wanting to feel more of him.
The man behind your continued playing with you for what felt like an eternity. Your inner thighs were smeared with your slick, you were sure, and when he pressed his crotch against your ass, you could feel his hard-on distinctly.
“Fuck,” he hissed, adding a second finger as he thrust inside you, “Can you feel how your little pussy is gripping me? It is so so empty without someone filling it, isn’t it?”
“Feels so good, sir,” you whimpered, “Please don’t stop.”
“Oh, stopping is the last thing I am going to do,” he chuckled, his lips brushing over your lobe, “Don’t worry, I am going to take care of you. After all, what kind of man would I be if I didn’t take care of my little whore?”
His words echoed in your mind and settled in your core. He did not say it like an insult, he said it like an endearment. Like he was praising you. And you craved it. You wanted him to call you his, you wanted him to call you anything he wanted to as long as you would be his good girl. Because you know, you just knew, he would reward you for it.
“You really just need an older man to make you come on his cock, huh?” he asked you, his cold belt buckle digging into your ass. His fingers pulled out of you and you pushed your hips back, trying to keep him inside you for as long as you could, the loss of his touch making you whimper.
But then you could feel him undoing his zipper and the anticipation built in your core.
“Uh-huh,” you nodded, pushing out your ass, “’m your whore, sir.”
Your walls squeezed around nothing and, then, finally, you could feel his hand on your inner thigh, pushing your legs apart.
“Deep breath, it’s gonna be a big stretch,” he warned you, rubbing the tip of his cock over your folds. The tingling sensation spread from your core all throughout your body until you could feel it in the tips of your fingers.
Said deep breath get caught in your throat when he pushed inside you.
Hotch was big. You had known that already. But there was a difference between feeling him make your jaw go sore and feeling your walls stretch to accommodate him. He went with slow, small thrusts at first. The kind that allowed you to get used to his size and the kind that made you want him to go deeper and faster and just –
“More,” you did not recognize your own voice, “Please, sir, more.”
“You’re greedy,” he replied smoothly, his hands gripping your hips, “Begging for more as if it isn’t enough having your boss fuck you in public.”
You tried to hold back the whimper but did not quite succeed. But it was sheer impossible to remain quiet when he thrust inside you with control and such precision it made your toes curl. He was large and hit a spot you had not even known existed.
It was even better than you imagined. And you had imagined it a lot …
“C’mon smile into the camera for me,” he angled your head up, face to face with the lens of the camera in the corner. Your adrenaline spiked and despite wanting to pretend like it did not turn you on that someone could just see you absolutely getting wrecked, you could not control the way your walls clenched around him.
“Thought as much,” Hotch rumbled behind you, one hand coming around to your front and finding your clit again, “Got myself the perfect little cock slut.”
“’m gonna come,” you gasped when he tapped your clit, “Sir, please, I –“
“Please what?” he mocked you, his hips snapping against yours, “Don’t forget your manners or I’ll have to punish you.”
The thought of him punishing you almost pushed you over the edge but Aaron Hotchner was right. You were a good girl …
“Please, sir,” you gasped, “Please let me come. PleasepleasepleaseIwannacome –”
He quickened his pace, his cock driving into you again and again while his fingers circled your clit. His lips pressed against the spot under your ear and you pushed back against him, trying to meet his thrusts, trying to get closer to him.
“You can come,” he whispered, his big hand coming up to cup your jaw, “You can come on my cock, right now.”
“You too,” you gasped, trying everything to hold on to that feeling that was just out of reach, just beyond that cliff that you were hurling towards, “You come, too, sir, please, in-inside me.”
“Fuck,” he cursed behind you, his hips stuttering, “You really want that? Want me to fill you up with my come? Think that would tide you over for a while until I can have you sitting on my cock again?”
“Uh huh,” you nodded eagerly, your fingertips flexing against the wall, barely listening to a word he was saying because it only took a couple more thrusts until you came around him.
Hotch swallowed your moan with a kiss and you gripped onto his forearms, anything to keep you standing and somewhat lucid. Everything was a blur and your body felt like it was convulsing and relaxing at the same time. You had never come so hard in your life, you hardly even noticed when he groaned into your ear, his hips stilling against yours as he filled you up. Just like he had promised.
Your heart beat so fast in your chest, you could hear it in your ears and you were pretty sure Hotch could hear it too. But he did not comment on it. Instead, his hand went from your jaw to your chest, softly grazing over the green lace.
“Good fucking girl,” he rumbled, “Knew you would be such a good girl for me and only me.”
Hotch kissed you again, softer this time, and you allowed yourself to properly breathe. “You okay?” he asked you quietly, his hands smoothing over your hips, “Was I too rough?”
You shook your head. “No, it’s just … it’s a lot,” you whispered, closing your eyes to try and slow your breathing, “And – and we need to be back at the station soon.”
“That we do,” he agreed and carefully pulled out of you. You winced at the sensation, feeling his come dripping down your thighs almost immediately. Before you could even worry about leaving any evidence on the carpet, you heard some rustling and then a soft handkerchief was at the mess between your legs, cleaning you up.
You turned your head, finding Hotch kneeling behind you with that furrow between his brows again.
“You look angry a lot.”
You did not know where your words had come from but hell, you might as well run with it now.
The dark-haired man looked up at you, looking unusually amused. “I suppose it might look like that to some.”
When he pulled away and you felt somewhat taken care of, you turned around and grabbed your clothes. Hotch remained standing there with you, his
“Then what is it, really?” you asked him as you slipped your dress over your head. The fabric covered your vision and when you could see again, Aaron was standing again, looking at you with a genuine smile and a twinkle in his eyes.
Damn him for being so handsome.
“I am focused,” he replied, his hand landing on your hip to support you as you slipped back into your shoes. Your hand landed on his forearm, his hand gripping your elbow, keeping you steady.
“Focused on what?”
“On you.”
Your hand froze on his arm. “Oh.”
Suddenly, he was closer again. Standing chest to chest, you could not help but look at his mouth because it was right there and his lips looked so soft and what if this was the moment? What if you could kiss him again and –
“Yeah,” he echoed, his nose brushing against yours, “Oh.”
His mouth ghosted over yours and you closed the distance, kissing him just as softly as he had done before. He did not wait to reciprocate and with his hand still under your elbow, he pulled you flush against him.
He opened his mouth but in a cruel twist of fate, his phone rang and he pulled away. An annoyed exhale left him and you could feel the disappointment when he picked it up. “What’s up Morgan?” he asked, his eyes still on you. his thumb brushed back and forth on your hip and you smiled, feeling elated and excited and so … so …
“Yeah, we’re on our way,” he said sharply, “I thought of getting us some lunch. Have the others text me their order and I will pick it up.”
And with that, he ended the call.
“Picking up lunch, huh?” you teased him, “How very generous of you, Agent Hotchner.”
“What can I say,” he smiled, opening the curtain for you, “I am in an exceptionally good mood today.”
*
When you returned to the main room of the boutique, the woman was still talking on the phone, not paying any mind to you. Relief filled you at the realization that she really had not noticed. Thank goodness because while it was the experience of a lifetime, you would have surely died of embarrassment.
Hotch’s hand burned at the low of your back but this time it did not cause any anxiety. This time it felt like both of you knew it belonged there.
He led you to the register, the woman only interrupting her conversation long enough to glance at both of you, looking very unimpressed.
“My name is Agent Hotchner, FBI,” he said, showing his badge, “We are on an active investigation. I am afraid I need to confiscate your security footage from the last 12 hours.”
“Also,” he added, putting the two-piece on the counter, “We would like to purchase this.”
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ezrasversion · 1 year
Note
hello!! i saw you were taking requests and i couldn’t find any set rule list, so please ignore this if it’s not something you’re comfortable with ❤️ but what maybe some smut where they’ve been in jackson for a bit and the girls there don’t get the hint that he’s taken and reader gets jealous and is the dominant one? also totally marks him so they know. (sorry i don’t usually request smut so im not really sure if i should add more or not but i really like your work so i wanted to try) anyway, thank you if you get to this and again, truly no issue if you don’t. i hope you have a fantastic day/evening 🥰❤️
Hi anon! Sorry this took so long, I had the big writers block for the last few days! I hope this is what you’re looking for!
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You don’t get irritated easily. It’s one of the things Joel likes about you, actually. You tend to be the level headed one, the one people go to in a crisis because you’re damn near impossible to piss off. Damn near, but not quite. And lately, people have been pushing your damn buttons. Everyone has a weakness, and yours is Joel. 
You know he’s handsome. Hell, you’re not the only one who knows it. If he wasn’t so caught up in… well, being Joel, he’d probably be able to have any of the women in Jackson that he wanted. Somehow, he wanted you. Long before you even arrived there, too. Your relationship is concrete. Infallible. Only, there are a few women who don’t seem to have gotten the hint. 
They flirt with him, right in front of you sometimes. He doesn’t seem to notice, doesn’t seem to care, and whenever you bring it up? He’s dismissive of it. 
“I don’t care who’s lookin’ at me, darlin’, I’ve only got eyes for you.” 
Sweet words, yes. And it’s not that you don’t trust him. You do. With your life, with your heart and your soul. 
It still gets to you. Especially when he gets so pissy whenever anyone so much as looks at you. Oh, sure, you like it, and you love the possessive way he fucks you whenever it happens… but it’s given you an idea. Everyone knows now not to flirt with you or touch you, because you’re always, without fail, covered in love bites or have Joel with you, his hand on the small of your back in a not so subtle possessive way. 
It’s your turn. Time to flip the cards, as it were. 
——
Sunlight streams in through the window; it’s snowed overnight again, of course, but it looks to be a beautiful day. 
You’re awake first, for once; you’ve noticed that he sleeps better beside you. Oh, he still has his nightmares, and you’re certain he always will, but you’ve noticed a definite improvement. 
Your idea still bounces around your mind, a way to keep those pesky women away from him for good. Maybe if they know, without any reason to doubt, that he’s yours… they’ll back off. If he was anyone else, you might be nervous. But he’s not anyone else, he’s Joel. Your Joel. 
The thought gives you courage as you curl your body into his, press slow kisses up his chest. That’s new, too. Since settling in Jackson, you’re both far more at ease with sleeping in very little clothing, or, in this instance, naked. 
Your fingertips trail along his arms as you kiss over his heart, keep kissing up to his throat, along his jaw. 
“Hmm? Mornin’, darlin…” His voice is always so much more heavily accented first thing in the morning, sleepy and content. You like that, the change from being instantly alert to allowing himself a moment. 
“Hi there.” You keep on kissing, along his jaw to his lips, kissing the corner of his mouth. 
“Didn’t get enough last night, huh?” He doesn’t sound annoyed, not at all. For all he comments about being fifty six and not able to keep up with such a pretty young thing, he does a damn good job. Honestly, his stamina is fucking impressive. That, and you can feel him, hard against your stomach. Time to put your idea into practice. 
“Never.” You agree, before you roll, catching him off guard enough that you can straddle him, keeping him flat on his back on the soft bed. 
He raises an eyebrow, amused at your sudden movement. He’s used to you being the submissive one, begging him to be rougher, harder, being pinned beneath him or on all fours, occasionally against a wall or on the couch if you can’t make it to the bed. It happens. Even when you ride him, he has the control, and you both know it. 
He’s not used to this, to you straddling him with a sense of purpose, a glint in your eyes as you lean down and kiss him again, a searing kiss to his mouth that’s all passion, all desperation, like he’s the purest drug left in the world and you’re addicted. 
Without breaking the kiss, you grind down against him, letting his hands drift to your waist, guiding you. Slowly, you brush your bare folds along the length of him, enjoying the way he watches you, pupils blown wide. 
You can’t let yourself be distracted, no matter how much you want to be. 
“What’s gotten into you, huh?” His voice is hoarse, heavy with arousal as you kiss the corner of his mouth again, circling your hips, teasing the tip of his cock with your wetness. 
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” You reply, kissing his throat, finding a nice spot to leave your mark. Before he can answer you again, your kiss turns to a bite, sucking a deep purple mark into his throat as his hands shift lower, settling on your ass. 
You can feel his cock throbbing against you; it’s almost embarrassing how much you want him, how easy it would be to simply cave, beg him to roll you over and pin you to the bed. But this isn’t about you, not right now. This is about Joel, and about making sure those damn annoying women in town know that he’s yours. He’s yours. 
“Gonna tease me all morning, baby?” His tone makes it clear he doesn’t mind, not in the slightest, even if the haze of sleep has been replaced with lust. 
“Maybe.” You concede, leaving another mark on his collarbone. “I can see why you do this to me, now…” 
It certainly looks nice, the contrast of the purple marks against his olive skin. 
“Usually I fuck you, too.” Joel comments, and you laugh. 
“Is that your way of begging?” You ask, admiring the string of marks on his throat. Not bad, honestly. Not bad at all. 
“Sweetheart, if I was begging you, you’d know it.” He tries to sound stubborn, but you choose that moment to tease him again, brushing yourself against the tip of him once more. There’s a slight catch to his voice as he says it. 
“Are you sure?” 
He rolls his eyes. “Really, what’s gotten into you?” 
You smirk, lean down and press a kiss to his lips. 
“Maybe I just wanted to prove a point.” Your own resolve is failing slightly, just enough to cut your teasing short; maybe if you had slightly more control, you’d tease him for longer. But you know him, know his patience is limited, even for you. 
“And what might that be?” His hands are still on your waist; you move your own hands to his arms, keeping his movement limited; he’s not taking control, not this time. 
You don’t answer him for a moment, shift yourself, guide yourself to him, sink down onto him slowly. 
“That you’re mine,” you say finally, as every inch of him fills you; it takes a fair bit of effort to sound so in control, considering. He’s not exactly small, not so big he hurts you either, just right, perfectly filling you, the tip of him stroking against your sweet spot. 
“That so?” If Joel had his arms free, he’d be torn between crossing them behind his head, lazing back and just letting you have control, or seizing your waist and flipping you over, taking back control. He’s used to being the dominant one, but this? He could get used to this. There’s something appealing about the way you’re acting. 
“Yes.” You don’t dignify him with a drawn out answer; there are much better ways to punctuate what you’re saying, like circling your hips slowly, letting him feel you tighten around him. There’s an advantage to this position; you can use his arms to brace yourself as you start to ride him, slow at first. 
You can’t help the surge of confidence that comes with having him in this position. You know what sort of man he is, know exactly what he’s capable of. The fact that he’s willingly submitting to you, even if it’s just for curiosity sake… it definitely makes you feel good about yourself, encourages you to keep going. 
“C’mon, sweetheart, this all you got?” There’s an amused glint in his eyes; he knows you’re holding back on him, knows there’s strength in you that you keep hidden away. He’s seen glimmers of it, like when you marked him, but honestly, he wants to see how far you’ll go before you break. 
“Shut up, Joel.” You roll your eyes, lean down to kiss him. He meets you halfway; props himself up so you can change positions, so you’re more sitting in his lap than anything. You have to admit, you like the intimacy of it, the way his chest is pressed against yours. His arms encircle you, but he doesn’t try to take control of the situation, content with letting you ride him, setting the pace, trailing kisses along his chest. 
Even like this, you still have the control, are still the one calling the shots. You wrap your arms around his neck to steady yourself, riding him faster, finally allowing little sounds of pleasure to fall from your lips when he moans. 
“I dunno where this came from, sweetheart,” he mumbles into your ear, “but I kinda like it.” 
You laugh, curl your hands into his hair, your laughter fading into moans and mewls as he starts to buck his hips up to meet you as you ride him, getting deeper, bringing you into a perfect rhythm. 
You need something to do with your mouth to quiet you; you suck another mark into his throat to occupy yourself, satisfied when he groans. 
“Fuck, darlin’, you’re getting good at that…” Joel’s hands caress your waist, up your back, as though he’s trying to memorise every inch of your skin. He could spend all day touching you, and it wouldn’t be enough. 
“Learned from the best,” you reply, resting your head on his shoulder as you pick up your pace. He meets you each time, rocking his hips up to match your pace, for once keeping his filthy mouth to himself in place of a string of moans and growls. 
“You’re mine.” You remind him as you kiss him once more, as close to your release as he is to his own. 
“And you’re mine,” he confirms, hands settling on your waist, holding you in place as he bucks up into you, drawing your climax out of you, satisfied by the loud gasps and moans that fall from your lips. He doesn’t get long to be smug, though; your tightening around him is enough to bring him to his own release; you bear down on him, keeping him inside you, taking every drop that he has to give you. 
He shakes his head, half amused, as soon as he can catch his breath. 
“If anything comes of that… that’s on you.” He warns you. Not that he’d ever abandon you. Never. 
“Oops.” You wriggle on him, getting him deeper, proving your point. 
He drops a light kiss to your lips. 
“You should show this side more often,” Joel says, and then smirks, “you’re cute when you’re jealous.” 
You scoff, admire the string of bites and marks along his chest, collarbones, and throat. 
“Somehow, I think they’ll get the message.” 
821 notes · View notes
itsghvstfvce · 11 months
Text
TAKE YOU BY THE HAND
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pairing : jenna ortega x gn!reader
summary : the night of the met gala is reminiscent of a special night you shared with jenna
word count : 1k
warnings : none!
a/n: a short little something about jenna at the met gala while i work on the next part for 'what's in a name' <3 thank you all so much for the love you've been giving it! i hope you enjoy this oneee
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You sit on your hotel bed as you admire the suit hanging in front of you.
After gaining immense success from your new film, you earned an invite to the Met Gala for the first time. The annual event is known for showcasing some of the best outfits and looks for the year, with hundreds of people tuning in to find their favourite celebrities creatively sporting different luxury brands. Although the Met Gala is known for seeing crazy, big, and loud attire, you and your stylist worked together to be on the simpler side of things for your first appearance.
But if you were being honest, being able to attend the Gala was not the sole reason for your excitement; it’s the fact that you get to attend alongside your longtime girlfriend, Jenna.
The Scream actress was ecstatic to learn that you had also been invited to attend, rambling about how proud she was and how you two should coordinate your outfits. You were on board with the idea and have been discussing with your stylists to make it work. However, Jenna said she wanted to keep her outfit a surprise until you were both ready to make your way to the museum. Even after pleading for hints and sneak peeks, she was adamant on surprising you on the evening of. Respecting her wishes, you eventually stop bugging her about it and tell her you’ll be excited to see the final result.
Your Chanel suit fits you to a tee, and your stylists and manager are stunned at your appearance. You were always attractive, that much everyone knew, but tonight you exude a different aura. You showed confidence and a fierceness that hadn’t been seen from you often, as if a hidden beast was unleashed for the first time.
“I’m sending this to your mother! She’d be so proud to see you,” your manager excitedly snaps pictures of you like they were the paparazzi. You laugh at all of their reactions, feeling your cheeks heat up due to the attention they were giving you.
“Guys come on, it’s just me in a suit!”
“Yeah, but you look so damn good in a suit! Why haven’t we put you in more suits?!” your stylist lights up with glee. Now you were expecting your future premieres and interviews to be done in suits.
After final touches, you head down to the hotel lobby. You patiently wait at the bottom of the grand staircase, conversing with your team. You’re lost in conversation, not realizing that everyone’s attention had been diverted to something else - or someone else. You follow their line of sight to the top of the stairs where you find Jenna.
Your eyes do not leave the girl for one moment. Your gaze is fixed on her as she slowly makes her way down the stairs. Jenna was beautiful, that’s a given fact, but tonight she looked phenomenal. There’s a lack of words on my part to describe how amazing she looked, yet the look on your face was enough to explain how you felt.
“Close your mouth babe, you’ll catch flies,” she places her hand on your chin to gently shut your mouth. You didn’t even realize how close she’s gotten to you, too mesmerized by her appearance. Your girlfriend giggles at your lack of speech and decides to give you a better view by taking a step back and twirling around.
“Well? What do you think?” you’re finally snapped out of your trance.
“Eh, I think I look better,” you tease. Jenna laughs and closes the distance between you again until she’s standing right in front of you, and she brushes off specks of dust and lint from your suit.
“I can’t deny that you do look amazing tonight, mi amor.”
“Says you. You’re beautiful, cara mia,” you add emphasis on the compliment and Jenna smiles as a familiar pink tint crawls onto her face. You wrap your arms around her waist, hers around the back of your neck.
“You know what this reminds me of?” you hum in response, curious to hear what the shorter girl had to say. “Prom night. The way you looked at me as I was coming down the stairs was the exact same look you gave me when I came out of my bedroom and you saw me in my prom dress.”
Your heart swells at the memory. Due to the pandemic, there was no opportunity for you to take Jenna to your prom. However, you still wanted her to have that experience so with the help of both of your families, you planned a makeshift prom in Jenna’s backyard. When you went upstairs to bring her outside, you remember staring at her from top to bottom and all the way around, ensuring that her beauty would forever be imprinted in your mind.
“Yeah, I remember. I can’t believe that was almost 3 years ago now,” you smile lovingly.
“And do you remember what I said to you when we were dancing in the backyard?”
“When you said you felt like Belle from Beauty and the Beast, and that the entire night felt magical?”
“Your memory truly amazes me, but yes. I feel that way right now and it’s how I feel every moment I’m with you,” the last part of her sentence turns into a soft whisper, loud enough for only you to hear. You scan her face to admire all that is Jenna, taking in the features of her perfectly crafted face and you lean into place a kiss on-
“Y/N! Jenna! Over here!”
A sea of flashing lights and the calls from reporters and the paparazzi catches both of your attention, and the two of you burst into a fit of giggles. Your managers tell you it’s time to head to the museum, so you take a step back from Jenna and hold out your hand for her to take. Your fingers interlace with each other in a perfect fit, raising your hands to place a sweet kiss on hers.
“Shall we, princess?” Jenna snorts at the nickname, but finds it endearing nonetheless.
“Lead the way, love.”
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a/n: i know nothing about clothing so i didn't want to try and describe our outfit too much TT forgive me lmao but thanks for reading!
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marvelous-slut · 2 months
Text
Call Back Pt. 2 - Chibs Telford x Reader
It took me forever to write this shit cause my new job has me in a thousand different directions. But here she is. Part two!
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“Hey baby.” Gemma says as you walk through the door. You smell the hints of bacon, French toast and of course cigarettes through out the house. “You hungry?” She asks, you kick off your shoes and plop down into the chair at the dining room table.
“I would offer help but looks like you’re done. Smells great.” You say, Gemma smiles and sits down the plate of eggs. You grab your cup, filling it with orange juice. Trying to make yourself comfortable in the chair, your legs still aching from last night.
“Don’t worry, you can help when I clean this shit up.” You both chuckle, before long Jax makes his way to the table. He sits down only for a moment to grab some French toast and devours it. He pours himself some milk and drinks it in one setting.
“Someone’s in a rush.” Gemma says, putting eggs onto her plate. Jax looks up, shaking his head. Something has happened with the club, you can tell. You can always tell.
“Fuckin’ short on guys again today. First it’s Bobby saying he’s got shit with the baby mom, then Chibs saying he can’t be there today for the gun meet. Something about he has to stay close incase the wife calls.” You drop your fork, picking it up quickly in an attempt to make the shock your feel less noticeable.
“Fiona?! What is that bitch coming back here for? Hasn’t she fucked his life up enough? Bitch should have decided on that when he was in the hospital.” Gemma asks. Hospital? How did you miss it? You question yourself. You visited him frequently after that bomb went off and you didn’t see his wife? You feel froze in place. How stupid? How stupid could you have been to believe anything that bastard said to you?
“Yep. Apparently it’s about their kid, or working out things. I don’t know I got mixed up on what he told me. I’m just pissed cause we’re two guys short now. Even Tig is more reliable right now and that’s saying a lot.” Jax gives Gemma a kiss on the head and gives you a hug before he heads to the door. Clay had already headed out early in the morning to finish up some things at the club house. You feel your hand around the knife that laid on the table, tapping it up and down. Gemma notices and decides it’s her business too of what’s going on.
“What’s with the knife?” She asks. You pause for a moment, thinking of how to get the frustration out without telling her too much.
“Well, just a hypothetical question, if you’d been seeing a man and found out he was playing you like a fucking fiddle the whole time you’d been fucking him, what would you do?” You ask, holding the knife in place now but not letting up on your grip. She lowers your hand down.
“Well baby, I’d be holding a knife just like that. What’s going on?” You sigh, tossing the knife down. Instantly you know, Gemma knows too.
“It’s nothing, just a th-“ Before you can finish your sentence she blurts out.
“Fuck me! This is about Chibs!” She blurts out. “What the hell, how long has it been going on?” You feel your heart pounding in your chest.
“Look, that’s not important. I’m just pissed, he told me he was done with his wife and now this?” You put your hands into your head, forcing back tears. “How could I be so fucking dumb?” You mutter out, Gemma runs her hand up and down your back.
“Listen, look at me.” She says, you look up to make eye contact with her. “Fuck him. I love Chibs. I do, but that’s a sleaze move and he knows it. The best thing I can tell you, act like you’re unbothered. You go to the club house tonight when everyone’s there, you ignore him.” You sigh, throwing your head back.
“Gem. I don’t even wan-“ She cuts you off before you can finish.
“I don’t give a damn, you’re not gonna lay at your house and sulk over this. You’re gonna get your shit together, put on a good outfit and show his ass you’re not bothered.” You look at her and know she means business. “And I won’t tell Clay if you’re worried about it. I’d like to kick Chibs ass myself right now but I still don’t want the bastard to get killed.” You nod in agreement.
“Now, eat, get your ass home and get the crying out of your system and then get ready. Make sure you wear something that shows the girls too.”
________
As horrible as you felt, you managed to drag yourself to the mirror and look at yourself. Not bad for someone who’d been sobbing for a large part of the day. Once you got to the club house, you saw Jax. He looked much more relaxed than this morning. You turn your head and meet eyes with Chibs, he doesn’t even look upset. You feel the anger flowing through your body. Feeling your fist clinch. You remember what Gemma said - unbothered. You look away and keep heading to the bar. Chibs eyes still watching you as you go. A moment passes as you decide on what to drink. Water is probably the best choice, but the booze would surely help how you feel.
“You look sad.” The young familiar face says as he sits next to you. You turn to him, examining him closer up than you had before. Juice was his name.
“I won’t lie, I am.” He smiles softly, pushing a beer toward you. “But this alcohol is gonna help me not remember that. I hope.” You say, taking a drink of the beer.
“You wanna talk about it?” He asks, you smile at him shaking your head.
“It’s better I don’t. What’s up with you? Most of you stay 100 feet away from me at all times.” Juice smiles, looking over to see Clay with Gemma. Since Clay had made the comment a few weeks ago to Juice about how the two of you should ‘get to know each other better’ he couldn’t stop thinking about you. Clay admired Juice, he’d always wanted a son. Jax was close enough to it, but he also knew Jax would never feel that way about him.
“Look, I think you’re a pretty girl. I don’t like seeing pretty girls sad.” You hadn’t interacted with Juice much, most time when you were at the club house he wasn’t or he was passed out inside a crow eater.
“Thanks Juice. You’re sweet. I should have known, you’re the least scary looking one here.” He giggles and rolls his eyes.
“What? The tattoos on the side of my head & the mohawk doesn’t scare you?”
You let out a chuckle, it felt good to laugh and enjoy yourself. You run your hand over the side of his head where his tattoos lay.
“No way. They’re real? I always thought it had to be temporaries you kept putting on.” You joke, he laughs softly. Before you can say anything else, you see Chibs standing behind Juice.
“Juicy boy, can I have a minute?” He asks motioning to you. Juice nods his head, silently upset that Chibs interfered with the interaction.
“I’ll see you later?” He asks, you smile and nod your head. Even blowing him a kiss as he walks away. Chibs motions for you to follow him outside. Once the two of you are outside, he’s pacing back and forth.
“What? I don’t give you attention for five minutes and you’re out with the young Buck aye? Makes a lot of sense. You just want a man to keep you occupied.” You laugh, shaking your head. You should walk away, but you don’t.
“You know what? Fuck you! Fuck. You. You’re the one who lied about your wife, you lied about what you wanted with me and your wife. You don’t get the right to drag me out of a party and try to make me feel bad.” You blurt out, surprising yourself that there aren’t tears running down your face. “Maybe next time you’re trying to play both sides with women, you shouldn’t tell the fucking girls step brother about your issues.” Your back is against the wall as he stands over top of you. His hands against the concrete wall.
“It’s complicated-“ He begins to speak, at this point you didn’t need to hear it, you didn’t even want to hear it. He instantly regrets the comments he made, but it was too late to take it back.
“No. No, Chibs it isn’t. You lied. If you wanted your wife back, all you had to do was tell me that. I’m a big girl and can handle the hurt.” You gently shove him away as he tried to get closer to you. “I’ll make it less complicated for you. I’m done with you, I’m done with this. Enjoy getting your family back. You deserve it. I hope your sorry ass goes back to Ireland and you live happily ever after.” You brush past him and head to your car. Despite the pain that ached in your chest you were proud of yourself. Realizing it was time to stop beating a dead horse. Chibs sighs deeply, he pulls out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. Before he lights it, he hears a familiar voice behind him.
“Something you need to tell me Chibby?” He feels his body go cold, turning around to meet the face of both Clay & Jax.
“Aye. Fuck me.” He says, throwing his hands up in the air.
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passivenovember · 2 months
Text
Billy's leg hair is soft. Like peach fuzz.
Steve touches it when Tommy convinces them to hop the pool's security fence one sweltering night in August even though Steve has a goddamn pool.
"Fuck off," Tommy says.
"Don't be a pussy," Tommy says.
"Leave him alone," Billy snaps, so Tommy does. Whatever Billy says. Always and forever.
So they go, even though Steve's got a pool and a baggie of Colorado weed at home. He thinks it might be a way to prove some sort of point, just for the thrill of it, and he almost says no, almost pussies out, until he sees the bright big smile on Billy's face, and. Well.
Steve's never claimed not to think with dick, so.
Billy's the first to go over. All teeth and bright blue eyes when he says, "I'm the one who fuckin' works here, I should scope it out first," and Tommy agrees because Billy's the pied fuckin' piper now. The King.
"You're a pal," Billy claps a hand on Tommy's neck. Squeezes. "Who's gonna get me over the ridge?"
"I will," Steve says quickly. Too quickly. Showing his ass a little, but. Fuck it. Tommy gets the smiles for operating as Billy's little fuckin' lapdog, but he doesn't get to touch Billy, Steve decides. "I'll lift you."
Billy smiles at him. Small and secret and just for them, "Alright, pretty boy. Gimmie a boost."
Tommy gets to hold Billy's cigarette and suck on the filter where those cherry red lips have been, but Steve gets to fold on one knee. Gets to feel the balding sole of Billy's sneaker press into his thigh. Gets to tangle is fingers in the thatches of hair along Billy's calf and just under the hem of his tiny green Hawkins High Phys Ed shorts, and.
Tommy's green with envy. Like Billy's shorts.
He chickens out just when Billy hoists himself onto Steve's leg, his perky little ass at eye level so they can both watch it jiggle while Billy tries to jam his sneaker toe into the chain link. They stare. Salivate. Catch each other staring and realize that they're competing for this. For Billy. Just like they did with Connie Mitchell in the first grade, and point guard all sophomore year.
Steve raises an eyebrow.
Billy may be the king now but that's only because Steve lets him. Only because Steve thinks of his dick first and only and seceded the throne in order to get at Billy's cock. Threw in the towel, y'know, small losses.
Point is, at the end of the day, Tommy's gone toe-to-toe with Steve Harrington enough to clock a lost cause when it presents itself, so.
He chickens out.
Billy gets his toe into the chain link and calls Tommy a pussy, treats them both to the fuckin' ace view of one ass cheek peeking out from the hem of his shorts before Tommy ducks across the parking lot with his tail between in his legs.
Once he's gone, Billy hops over the fence and lands grinning. Gorgeous. "Damn, been a while since I've climbed anything other than a pair of legs."
Somehow, his shirt is already off. What's left of Steve's brain goes out the window.
"Could use a swim," Billy says. The cicadas are loud as hell.
Sweat makes Steve's jeans stick to his legs. His mouth is dry. Can't goddamn take his eyes off the pink, tender swatch of Billy's nipples. "Totally," He says, lost.
"Hot out here."
"Mmm," Steve says. Losing his mind.
"Tommy took the hint. Nothin' to keep tabs on anymore," Billy tells him. He ducks, trying to catch Steve's eye. When he finally does Billy grins, slow and terrible. "You comin' over the wall, pretty thing?"
--
A skinny dip isn't the most sexual thing Steve's ever experienced, all things considered.
It's the before. The build up. Steve watches Billy undress, like a fuckin' creep hiding in the shadows with his eyes glued to the tanned curve of Billy's ass. He tugs his shorts down and Steve gets that he was commando that whole time.
Damn.
Steve mourns what could've been if Billy's balls had slipped out of his shorts instead of his ass cheek ten minutes ago, pouting until Billy turns and says, "Race me?"
Before Steve can respond Billy's tucking his knees up under himself, slamming like a canon ball into the deep.
Steve struggles out of his clothes and runs toward the water, the soles of his feet burning on the pavement where it holds desperate to the heat of the day.
And the thing about Billy is that Steve's met his match finally. Has known since that first basketball practice last year, when Billy wouldn't stop frustrating the hell out of the other players.
It's like. Everything Billy does, everywhere he goes and everyone he meets is forced out of mediocrity. Forced to be better.
So, they play horse in the darkness. They dunk each other. Race back and forth across the entire length of the pool until Billy wins, even though Steve kept grabbing his ankle to slow him down.
"Damn, princess, that was tragic" Billy giggles, hoisting himself to sit on the edge of the pool and Steve gets a peek at his cock, soft and thick between his legs. "Lucky it was just me and the cicadas here to witness that. Anyone else would laugh you outta town."
"Who would boost you over fences?"
"Tommy Hagan."
Steve snorts, "Tommy Hagan is made of hamburger meat and boxed jello. He's all mass, he'd get too excited about finally being allowed to touch you and you'd fall right through him."
Billy giggles at that, again. High and bright like a church bell, and.
The thing about Billy is that he's gorgeous. Looks like one of those old ass Greek and Roman statues, slick with water that only makes him glow incendiary in the moonlight.
Steve paddles around just for something to do. Probably looks like a fuckin' dork and Billy will never let Steve touch him again--
"Shit, you're cute when you're jealous," Billy says, pushing his hair out of his eyes. Grins when he notices Steve watching him, "Could use a cigarette, Bambi. You got one?"
"No," Steve paddles toward the edge of the pool. "I think I killed a lung, anyway"
"Or two," Billy teases, spreading his thighs a little when Steve gets close enough, and.
That does nothing to help the situation. Steve's out of breath and hard at the way Billy's curls turn into lazy ringlets when they're full of chlorine. Hard at the obnoxious cut of his Superman abs. Hard at the way Billy's looking at him. So.
He can't catch his breath. His lungs burn.
Billy watches him for a moment, thoughtful, before he says, "I don't like Tommy Hagan at all."
Steve laughs. "Me neither."
"Why do you hang out with him?"
Steve shrugs, gripping the wall next to Billy's legs. "'Cause you do."
"Now that's just pathetic. Aren't you supposed to be the King around here?" Billy watches him so more and then grins, slow and terrible, "King Steve, right?"
"Ugh, shut up. I hate that."
"What, you're bored of your crown? You don't want it anymore, baby?"
Steve rolls his eyes, "No."
"What do you want then?" Billy asks. His gaze rests, heavy as a boulder, on Steve's face. His eyes burn a line down the bridge of Steve's nose, all but cutting his skull in half with their intensity.
Steve swallows. Thinks. They're sitting around naked at the public pool, for Christ Sake. Says, "I want you, Billy." and prepares for the sky to cave in around them.
Steve holds his breath.
Somewhere, behind the lifeguard station, an air conditioning unit disrupts the lazy summer air. Steve wills himself to keep steady, to stand his ground and hold Billy's gaze while a million different expressions shutter over him like sunlight.
Finally, Billy cracks. "Are you fucking with me, Harrington?"
"No," Steve says. Too quickly. Showing his ass a little but Steve thinks they may be beyond that, now. His knuckles turn white on the tile lip of the swimming pool, trying to keep the rest of him afloat, "I think. Ever since you got to town I've. Wanted you."
"Wanted me how?"
"I," Steve kicks his feet in the water, stomach swooping with lust and, fuckin'. Embarrassment. "I want--"
Billy cocks his head, considering. "Don't look like you've ever sucked anyone off, sweetheart."
"I haven't," Steve says. Feels a little like a school girl in a porn tape, looking up at Billy through his lashes while he admits to being a virgin, or something. Needing to be shown.
The thing is, Steve probably could've sucked guys off before, now that he's thinking about it. Tons of guys. Every guy on the basketball team, probably, but.
He doesn't say that.
The only guy he wants to suck off is Billy.
So.
Billy smirks at him. Mean. "No shit?" But his cheeks are pink. Strawberry.
"No shit," Steve tells him. "I want to try, though. I want--"
"--You wanna suck my cock, baby?"
Steve flushes bright red, feels flame licking at his skin. No one's ever spoken to him like that, no one's ever--
Steve nods. Wets his lips, and. Billy tracks the whole thing, leaning back on his palms so his abs jump and strain. Fuckin' asshole.
"Say it," Billy demands, voice gruff.
Steve blinks, "Say...?"
"Tell me what you want," Billy tells him slowly, "Ask. And maybe I'll give it to you."
Steve's palms slip on the tile, slick with sweat. "Can I suck your cock, Billy? Will you show me?"
Billy exhales, sharp and fast, "You want to?"
"Yeah."
"You're sure?"
"Yes."
"Why should I let you when Tommy Hagan would--"
"Tommy Hagan would use too much teeth," Steve says. When Billy blinks at him, eyebrows raised, he huffs, "Look, I said I've never sucked a guy off, not that a guy has never--"
"--Tommy Hagan sucked you off?"
"All summer between junior and senior year," Steve tells him. "Small towns are boring."
"That makes me a little jealous," Billy hums, "Why should I let you suck my cock? How do I know I'm not payback?"
"What, for Tommy Hagan?"
Billy shrugs. And Steve knows, alright? He gets it. Being an asshole is Billy's version of foreplay, but he snaps. Desperate. A little bit of a whore, but. Who gives a shit.
"Look, Hargrove, you want me to spell it out for you or something? Let me suck your dick, you fuckin' asshole, I'm not getting any younger--"
"--Gonna come in my pants if you keep talking like that, baby."
Steve swallows. "You're not wearing any pants."
Billy's smirk turns into an awful grin. He stares down at his thighs, spreading them until his cock bobs free, flushed head nodding at the moon. "Well. Would ya look at that."
It hangs in the air between them. Figuratively.
Literally.
Billy grips the base of his cock, thighs spreading until his peachy leg hair grazes Steve's pinky finger, and Steve smirks. Kicks his feet. Swallows. Kicks his feet. "Ask me nicely and maybe I'll give it to you."
Billy exhales a laugh, "You're such a bitch."
"I'd let you come inside me."
Billy groans, "Fuckin' brat."
"Guess you're gonna have to shut me up, then," Steve says, more turned on than he's ever been in his life when Billy tangles his fingers in Steve's hair to pull him through the water.
"Jesus Christ," Billy breathes, shoving his fingers in Steve's mouth and pumping them in and out, in and out just to watch his lips blow fat around the digits. "I'm gonna fuck your face," Billy says, matter of fact, "Tap my thigh if you want me to--"
"Jesus Christ, are you gonna fuck me or not?"
Billy laughs again, a little winded, and forces Steve to take him to the root. And. Okay. Steve's never taken a cock down his throat before. It's nice, Steve likes the pressure and immediately he's addicted to the way it cuts off his air supply. He relaxes around Billy's length which is a fuckin' feat, because.
Look.
Steve doesn't remember this hanging between Billy's legs at school. He focuses on breathing when he can. Some poor pool boy is gonna have to use the net to scrape his come out of the water in the morning for $3.50 an hour.
He hopes it's Billy.
Thinks he'll have to use his father's name and make some calls to get it to happen.
And. Judging by the sounds Billy can't hold in, looks like he's met his match in Steve, too.
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kooahae · 6 months
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After Last Night: The First Date
So...I got encouraged about starting the ALN drabble series since I kind of hinted at it, and received feedback to do so...you voted and the first date wins!
Summary: It’s official! Jungkook wants to have the perfect first date. 
Pairing: best friends to lovers, Jungkook X female reader 
Warnings: None really, maybe a few curse words, light choking during a kiss, This is really fluffy and cute. Jungkook is a simp and we love that for OC! Pet names, kissing, just super cute!
Word count:3K -got carried away bc I love them :)
Read part 1 here if you haven't already <3
Read the next drabble here
It’s been about two weeks since he asked if he could be your boyfriend. He has been busy with work and everything, but he’s still made time for you. He just knows you deserve more than cuddles and sex -not that he hates either of these by any means. Jungkook has been on his A-game the whole time. He's made sure to plan the most perfect date. You haven’t pressured him about one, but he still feels he should treat you like a princess.
He had Jimin call up Yoongi- who is really hard to get ahold of. Partially because he’s revealed he plans on expanding on the restaurant he owns with Jungkook’s older brother. Luckily today, Yoongi had a bit of free time. He even tried Taehyung, but he was busy helping Namjoon set up a new space. Namjoon left the company due to Seojun’s promotion. Hobi was out of town working on some fashion pieces for his upcoming collection. Your brother was way too obvious, and If he had tried his older brother Jin- you really would have known. So yup, that leaves Yoongi. 
Jungkook’s currently in the flower shop getting a custom bouquet of both of your birth flowers. He was still stuck on what color paper to get them wrapped in.  He swears he didn’t know it would be this difficult. He just wants you to be impressed, he wants you to feel like you made a good choice trusting him with your heart. So today has to be perfect!
“Hi, do you need help?” An elderly woman approaches him at the perfect time. Paying attention to her clothes, Jungkook can tell she works here. 
“Uhh…Yeah what color paper should someone get, does stuff like that matter?” He asks her as he looks at all the different ones in front of him 
Jungkook has bought flowers before, but he never went to an actual florist for them to make his own bouquet combo. He would just buy someone the ones in a grocery store most of the time. 
The older woman chuckles “You’re asking about paper? She must be special, I’d get a neutral-colored paper so it doesn’t take away from the flowers. Plus, you’re gonna put them in a vase. Don’t think too much.”
He nods. She’s right, this is her field of knowledge anyway. 
He’s still not satisfied though. 
“Mmm, can I double the amount of flowers? This doesn’t seem like enough.”  he rubs his palms against his jeans, his bottom lip poking out at the bouquet in front of him. He’s down bad, and there simply aren’t enough flowers to give someone as pretty as you. 
“A big bouquet? she’s definitely special! Sure thing. I’m gonna take a guess and say you’re the tiger lily in the situation?” She questions him gathering more flowers. 
He runs his hands through his hair and looks down at his shoes. Damn, he really is obvious. It’s not his fault, he just loves you that much. “How did you know?” He questions. 
“You have smitten lover boy written all over you. You’re worried about paper. I’ve never seen someone so stuck on that. Most men just let me wrap them in whatever, or choose black.” She continues. “Would you like to add a message?”
He nods and takes the pen and card from her. Writing a simple and sweet message. He pays, thanks her for the help, and makes his way
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His next stop is setting up the rooftop of your favorite childhood hideout.  He even asked Jimin and his mom for baby pictures of you both to put into a snow globe. He’s been coming here thirty minutes before work every day to make sure the floor was swept, the area was free of any trash or things that could make you fall. You guys haven’t been here in a while. 
He decides to check in with his older brother Jin, to see if he thinks what he’s planned is a good idea.
“Hello?”- thankfully he answered his call. 
“Hey hyung, are you busy? Do you have a moment?” Jungkook is desperate for a second opinion. 
“Sure. What’s up?”
“I’m really nervous. I know you’re probably tired of me calling you about my girlfriend, but can I tell you what I’ve planned? Can you tell me if I’m being a little paranoid about her not liking it ?” He says while glancing over his work, phone pressed to his ear, scuffing his feet as he walks to have a seat. 
“Sure Kook, go ahead. I’m listening. Also not tired of hearing about your girlfriend, yet. At least this is one I actually love, and approve of.” Jin really does love you, you’re like his little sister in a sense. Always at the house to spend time with his baby brother as a kid. He’s fond of you for sure. 
“A rooftop dinner, at our childhood hideout”
There’s nothing but silence. 
“Uhh…Hyung…why haven’t you said anything? Is It childish?” Jungkook is really nervous. What is taking Jin so long to answer?
“I’m here. You had more than one so I had to think. The one on the roof? That’s cute man! “ Jin’s impressed. That’s a good sign. 
“Yes, that one! I made a bunch of her favorite foods, set up a projector for movie night, and got a flower bouquet It’s a mix of our birth flowers, and bean bags for the movie, I also got her a gift but like is that too much?” He’s really questioning it all. Normally Jungkook wouldn’t be so unsure. You’re just his everything. You fill him with a great sense of joy. Getting this right is crucial. 
“She’s going to love it.” His brother states on the other end of the phone calming your boyfriend down. 
“You’ve known her your whole life, don’t be so scared Kook. You know her better than anyone else and luckily she feels the same way. Be yourself, that’s who she fell for.” Jin tells him. 
“You’re right hyung! Thank you for always listening to me. I know I’m a lot.” Jungkook makes sure he expresses his gratitude. He’s thankful for Jin. Truly means it. 
“Yes, you are a lot. Now make her the happiest girl on earth.”
“Will do!” Jungkook states before hanging up. He takes one last look around. Everything is finally in place. So he gets up and then heads home to change.  
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Once he gets home he takes his phone out to text you. He forgot to check in with you while he was on the rooftop. 
-Hey baby, how’s your day going? 
Naekkeo🤍🪽: I miss you and I’m hungry!
Yoongi won’t feed me! He’s being weird, can we order dinner?
Jungkook smiles as he reads your message. Yoongi must be getting asked a million questions about food right now. He can already see your frown forming about the lack of nutrients in your body. In your defense, Yoongi does own a restaurant with Jungkook’s older brother Jin. Being food-deprived by him is weird. He decides to play it cool when he responds, but he’s also honest. 
- I can’t wait to hear about your day in person. As far as dinner, of course. See you when you get here!
Jungkook hurries and changes into something comfortable. He knows sweatpants and a hoodie seem crazy for a rooftop dinner and movie. It’s one of his more expensive ones though and he also knows you’re gonna want to cuddle while watching a movie, and that rooftops get a little chilly. He should be himself like Jin said. 
♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡
 He finally hears the door open and smiles at the sound of you walking in. He knows you’re doing your usual entrance routine with Bam. Teaching Bam to give you high fives was the coolest thing when he was a puppy. It’s cute that you still make sure he’s included when you walk in. It’s really nice to have you back home too.  
You finally walk into the room and see your boyfriend smiling at you as he sits on the bed, you climb onto his lap and kiss him. 
“Missed you so so much!” you’ve been waiting all day to see him. The excitement in your voice is evident. 
“I missed you too baby.” He says and then he watches you sit your head back up, noticing your brows are now furrowed in. 
“Wait, why are you dressed and not in home clothing? What’s the reason for this shirt blocking my view?” You ask him, tilting your head. You try and lift his shirt but he swats your hand away, cracking up in the process. 
“You can see me shirtless later! You’re about to change into something too. My hoodie is over there. You can keep your jeans on, but I recommend wearing sneakers.”
You tilt your head some more and Jungkook kisses the middle of your forehead.
“Always worrying. I’m taking you to dinner. Go change.” He pats you lightly on the butt.
You smile and get up. Dinner out of the house sounds like fun. You wouldn’t care if it was fast food. You genuinely love spending time with him. Always have. 
You throw on his hoodie and your sneakers since he recommended it. He holds his hand out for you to take, and you both head to his car. Once you’re both inside Jungkook starts searching for something. 
“Ah almost forgot. Blindfold time.” He says flashing a smile, his nose scrunching a little. 
“If you’re trying to kill me for taking so long to be your girlfriend, Jimin will find you.” You joke and he laughs. 
“No one is dying here. If you’re gone, then I can’t be your boyfriend. That would suck.”  He assures you but then continues. “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t take you on a proper date, hmm?” 
That makes you smile, per usual. You really weren’t expecting a date today. You would have prepared more, but you trust him. He would tell you if you looked crazy leaving the house for sure. Plus, you’re kind of already done up from hanging out with Yoongi.
“Anything you do is great. You would be a mediocre boyfriend though.” You say while pointing at him agreeing. You’re so cute. 
“And I don’t want that. I want to be the world’s best boyfriend. Come here.” He responds
You let him slide the blindfold over you, stealing a kiss before he can adjust the tightness to make sure you can’t peak. 
“You barely hesitated to let me put that on you. You probably like that, don’t you?”He’s laughing. Something you’ll never get tired of hearing. You pick up on his little comment though. 
You reach to feel for his arm since you can’t see, and once you do find it, you slap him playfully. 
“You’re always being kinky!” You say and he laughs some more. 
“You literally tried to strip me of my clothes a few minutes ago on the bed.” Fair point.
“I just wanted a peak!” You can’t even see him but it’s making your heart flutter. Putting one hand on your thigh as he puts the car in gear.
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“Okay, I’m gonna open your door, and crouch down to get on my back, okay baby?”
“You keep calling me baby, only future husbands can do that .” You say as you follow his instructions crouching down. 
“That’s not a problem for me at all. Been waiting my whole life for a chance. We can get married.” He is serious, whether you believe him or not. He doesn’t mean now of course but eventually, he’d love it. 
If Jungkook knows how to do anything- he knows how to make your cheeks red and have you smile like an idiot. You wish you could see his face right now. He probably has a smile as big as yours on his own. 
Once you’re on his back he starts walking and you recognize the movement of him going up some steps. You smile to yourself. He really could have told you to walk but he’s carrying you up flights of stairs, on his back. How can he be so manly but so cute all the time?
“Okay, we are here. I’m gonna sit you down now.” He crouches down and lets you off. You’re safely in the middle. 
“I wanna see!” You say. The amount of enthusiasm you have makes Jungkook’s heart skip. Seriously, Why are you so cute? He’ll have to remember to thank your mom another time for making you. 
He hurries and walks to the table he set up to get the flower bouquet and then he walks to you. Undoing your blindfold and smiling. 
“It’s officially our first date, I wanted to surprise you.” He sing-songs looking at you with the biggest smile on his face. Stretching his arms out to hand you a bouquet. It’s beautiful, just like him. The message with them makes you feel warm inside. 
’Thank you for choosing me, 
I am so happy that it’s finally us!  
HAPPY FIRST DATE TO  MY GIRLFRIEND  (never gonna get tired of calling you that)
- Koo &lt;3 ’ 
As you look around, you feel your eyes get teary and then you smile and look at him. 
“Jungkook! This is so nice!!” You say and reach for his face, kissing him softly on the lips. 
“ I just want you to know I feel really lucky to be your boyfriend.” He holds you close to his chest
“Kook, you really did all this for me?” You say peeking up at him. Jungkook looks down at you. Your pretty eyes glancing back at his. You’re always going to be his type. 
He smiles and nods his head proudly. “Well yeah… because I love you.” He says matter of factly. 
You return his smile. “I love you. I feel really lucky to be your girlfriend.”
“It’s me who should be thanking you for always sticking by my side. You have no idea how horrible things feel when you aren’t there with me. You deserve all of this and more.” He says kissing your forehead. 
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You’re now situated on the bean bags while the projector plays movies. Sitting in his lap-Just like he knew you would be.
“Do you remember when we found this place? ” He asks you as he holds you, bringing your hand to his lips to kiss it. 
“Yeah, I remember someone dragging me up a weird staircase at ten years old..” You giggle and poke his chest while looking up at him. 
“In my defense, we used to love a good adventure. It wasn’t anything too dangerous. We always stood in the middle. We always take the staircase that leads up here and not the ladder, it’s been a foolproof plan for a while.” He points out and brushes your hair out of your face. You guys have been reminiscing all night. The food was excellent, so now you’re paying minimal attention to the movie. He kisses your cheek and then he just stops. He’s staring at you…
“What?” 
“You’re just really fucking cute.” He says as he leans to kiss you passionately. Jungkook continues “And I’m glad you liked my idea, I spent all day trying to impress you. This just worked out way better than I expected.” He holds you tightly and then remembers something…
He didn’t even show you the snow globe he got to commemorate the occasion. He was too busy making sure you were eating.  He will never forget your face when he got you the first one, he also broke that one but…it was an accident.  He swears! He just finds it cute how happy you get every time he gives you one.
You part your mouth interrupting his thoughts. “I’ve been impressed by you my whole life, you have officially ruined me for any other guy. I was impressed back then, I’m impressed now.” You make sure he understands, as your fingers play with the zipper on his jacket. 
“Thank you, I’m glad that you love me just as much as I love you.” He says again smiling. He’s been doing that a lot lately. So have you. You’re with the right person and it couldn’t feel any better. 
 “You have a present on the table and I forgot to give it to you.” He’s looking at you. Dimples on display, eyebrows raised and another cute little grin is plastered across his face. 
Your head shoots up, so he stands up leading you to the table. Then hands you the box to unwrap the snow globe. A childhood picture of you and a young Jungkook in matching panda onesies from his 4th birthday. You’ve been asking for this photo for years and he always told you no because it was his favorite. 
“Koo! Oh my god! You really are gonna let me have this?”
He nods yeah one more time. He watches you shake the snow globe and skip around out of happiness. He’s happy just watching you enjoy it. Your joy shines through in this moment. He loves it. He loves you.
“If four-year-old me knew the girl who spilled banana milk on my panda pajamas would be the love of my life. He might’ve smiled more in this picture, instead of sticking his tongue out at you.” He says wrapping his arms around you from behind. 
“Interesting, you put your tongue into my mouth nowadays.” You’re so unserious, What is he gonna do with you?
“Now who’s the kinky one? Come here.” He says as he wraps his hand around your neck tilting your head upward lightly choking you as he swallows your moans into the kiss pushing his tongue into your mouth. 
“Proving me right?” You say raising one eyebrow and he nods his head yeah while grinning. Then pecks you one more time on your lips and kisses the tip of your nose. 
“One more gift.” He says. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a Jewelry box for tonight’s final touch - a necklace with his initials on it. He carefully places it around your neck. 
“There.” He says kissing the crook of your neck. 
You reach and touch the JK that now sits perfectly on your chest. Jungkook Is the man of your dreams. No question about it. 
“I love this! I’m never taking it off!” You say spinning in his arms to face him and shower him in kisses
“I got a necklace!” You start kissing his right cheek
“And it’s got my favorite person on it!” Now you’re kissing his other cheek. 
“I’m never gonna..” You say kissing him with all your being.
“Take it off.” He says finishing the phrase for you and smiling at you. You’re both giggling and just smiling at each other as he sways you back and forth in his arms. The fondness between the both of you is obvious. 
You both just stare into each other’s eyes for a while until you break the silence. 
“Wanna go home?” You ask him.  
He pecks your lips one more time spinning you in his arms. Your back is now to his chest. So, he slides his hand over your heart, sits his chin on your shoulder, and whispers into your ear.
“I’m already there.” 
Best. First. Date. Ever. 
Taglist: @diorh0seokie @taesungx @kimber-kook @jennafromhome @joyfulwobblerhoagieegg
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